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“It's a lot easier to be lost than found. It's the reason we're always searching and rarely discovered--so many locks not enough keys.”
-Sarah Dessen

"Happiness doesn't come from doing what you like, but rather, loving what you do."
-Becca & Scott (JC & AC)


Thursday, September 27, 2012

This is Me

Author's Note: This is my personal memoir from language arts reflecting on a very life changing event a few years ago. Please interpret the lesson from this story and comment! :D


"This is me."
As the song fades to an end, I ease into my final pose, breathing heavily through the smile that is plastered on my face-- not that it needs to be, I am fairly certain that if I hammered the cement grin off my face, I would still be smiling ear to ear. Although the crowd has no more than thirty five people, the audience roars in applause. My jaw really hurts; I just can't seem to wipe this beaming expression away. I gracefully stand up from the floor and politely curtsy before running "backstage" (which really wasn't backstage considering that I was dancing in a fish hatchery...) to greet my mother's embrace.
"Great job," she whispers and the moisture of her breath sticks in my hair. Maybe it will wash away some of this rock-hard hairspray and gel.
Now, I wait full of anticipation through the other dances, and finally, I hear, "Will all the performers please make their way up to the stage. Thank you."
Then.
"The winner of the 6 year old age group...."
The.
"The winner of the 7 year old age group..."
Moment.
"The winner of the 8 year old age group..."
Comes.
"Waukesha County's Favorite Dancer is.... Erika Ziolkowski age nine!"
 Ecstatic. On cloud nine. Can't wrap my brain around the fact that.... I am supposed to be taking my trophy and award! I force my feet in the direction of the judges. 
"Congratulations."
Running my fingers over the intricate designs of the dancer on top of the trophy, I promise myself to always live life to its fullest--give 103% effort. Spectacular things always come from the extra push.
I will always live that dance.

Retelling

Author's Note: As an assignment we had to write a retelling piece for the Reading Lab. This piece is retelling "What Happened to Goodbye" by Sarah Dessen.


Once her parents divorce, McLean becomes engaged with her ever changing personalities-- from cheerleader to geek, from New York to Lakeview, McLean is convinced that by inventing identities from place to place, it won't hurt to say goodbye. This 17-year-old is taken on a journey of reality, acceptance, and trust. Will this young girl ever find peace in one place?

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Meaning of Words


"Half of the world of is composed of those who have something to say, but can't; and the other half is of those who have nothing to say but keep on saying it." (Robert Frost)
There must be millions. Tens of millions of people that hold their voice inside of them. They have ideas that can change their community, their nation, our world.  These are the people that can impact, inspire, spark a revolution in the being of our people. But they are held back by the cage that entraps their expression, the wall too high for them to climb, or from fear of being put down by negativity. There must be another million people, the exact opposite of these.  Tens of millions of people that don't hold back.  Does that mean though, that they really have something to say? We as a community have to question whether or not our "leaders" of today really have ideas that can positively influence  us as a whole.
"Half of the world is composed of those who have something to say, but can't; and the other half is of those who have nothing to say but keep on saying it."
As many if not all of Robert Frost's pieces do, this particular quote from him left me thinking. Hard. I came to the conclusion that I agree with his statement… I just think that there should be additional information. Robert Frost first states "half of the world is composed of those who have something to say, but can't," and I completely agree.  He then says, "and the other half is of those who have nothing to say but keep on saying it," and I also agree here. Where is it then that I put up an argument? To be honest, I don't know. All I know is that while some people in this world are fighting the urge to speak, and others are repetitively stating their knowledge of nothingness, there are people who do have a voice, and put it to good use. They take a group of people with a common goal and help them to achieve or to move them towards that goal. Who are these people? Leaders. True leaders. While half of the world is fighting the urge to speak, and other half is repetitively stating their knowledge of nothingness, there is a small handful of people beyond the two halves, beyond the separation.
"Half of the world is composed of those who have something to say, but can't; and the other half is of those who have nothing to say but keep on saying it."
I distinctly remember a few summers ago, when I went to my first year at WASC leadership camp. So many new, exciting emotions, so many new experiences just waiting to be found, and so many new faces just waiting to build into everlasting friendships. I particularly recall doing a project-- having to make up a school and a flag for the school. It was interesting to see all of the different personalities in people as they shared (or didn't share,) ideas with the group.  Some people would keep stating their ideas over and over and over, while others didn't even want to speak. Eventually, our leader, Scott, stopped us and told us to look at how well we were really communicating in that situation. We all realized then that we should all get the chance to speak. We started a system where one person would start sharing their ideas, and when they were done, call on someone to share theirs, even if they didn't particularly want to be called on.  It was very fascinating to find that some of the best ideas came from those people that really didn't want to speak in front of the group. It just goes to show that true geniuses can come from even the shiest of people.
"Half of the world is composed of those who have something to say, but can't; and the other half is of those who have nothing to say but keep on saying it."

Twists and Turns

 Author's Note: This piece is what I used for my Writing Assessment. Please comment!

 
Life. A strange, peculiar, phenomenal gift; full of love, friendships, smiles, laughter… decisions. Life.  A web of lies, a quilt of regret, a book of tragedy. Life. A maze of right and wrong, left and right, yes and no’s. Life… a maze.

Questions fill every minute of every day. What should I wear tomorrow? Should I go to basketball practice tonight? Can I stay home from school today? You think so? Should I date him? Should I ask her out? Are you sure? Should I do drugs? Is this safe? What college should I go to? Will you marry me? Should we take her off life support? Should I risk others’ lives to save mine? Every question has an answer. These answers are what make up your maze. These are the paths of yes and no, sure and whatever, I do and  I don’t. These questions are the foundation of your maze.

Every decision we make in life leads us to a consequence. Every decision we make in life elongates our maze, complicates our maze. Every decision we make in life determines the future. If you come to a crossed road, you’ve got two choices. Left or right. Theoretically, a fifty percent chance of choosing the right path. Theoretically, a fifty percent chance of choosing the wrong path.  The thing is, even if we make the wrong decision, and we realize our mistake before further progressing, we can backtrack and try to undo what has been done. We can start over on the right trail. If you have the attitude of “Oh, I’m perfect and I don’t make mistakes,” well, good luck getting to the end of your maze.  Good luck getting past that dead end just in front of you that you fail to see.

Whether or not you choose wisely, it is important that you learn from your experiences. That you are able to say; “Alright, drinking when I am fifteen isn’t such a good idea, I should have said ‘no.’” Not only is it vital to learn something from these encounters, it is necessary for a successful trip through the maze to put that newly found knowledge to use. Next time you run into a similar situation, you can say “No way, not again,” instead of trying it “just one more time.”

Through the road of surprises, death, enchantment, mistakes, fluttery throats, flopping stomachs, loving hearts, it is important that we realize where we are heading in our maze. Learn from your experiences. Question the future. Live life to its fullest. Life. A web of lies, a quilt of regret, a book of tragedy.
Life.
A maze.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Last Flower

Author's Note: As a writing prompt/ journal given to us in Language Arts, this piece is supposed about the last living flower in a flower bed, but I would love to hear other interpretations. 



I bow to the ones before me.
I bend,
Lower,
Lower,
Lower,
Until I am practically kissing the ground.
I bow to the ones who have sacrificed for me.
I bend,
Lower,
Lower,
Lower,
And drops form on my petals.
I see all of the dead.
And I reminisce as I bend,
Lower,
Lower,
Lower.
Until I become one of them.

Friday, May 18, 2012

42

Author's Note: As a challenge, Mrs. Reagles assigned us to write from the opposite gender's point of view. The man in my story is 42... good luck!
 
"No! That is not what happened!" Gina cried defensively.
"Just shut up,  Gina," I sigh "You know it's true." The conflict deepens by the minute, the anticipation to get out of this "jail-cell" doubling every second.  Her cruel words fight against my silence for over an hour until I hear "Alright guys, session's over." I take my eyes off of the paperwork that lays in front of me and my eyes shift to something else. I'm stunned. In awe. It's my divorce attorney. My divorce attorney! Her eyes--  stars given by heaven. Her face-- a flawless canvas. Hot...
I'm in love. With my divorce attorney.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Poe Piece

Author's Note: We were asked to write a creative/essay piece based on a Poe piece. This poem may seem like it is really depressing but that's what Edgar Allan Poe does. Majority of his pieces are about suicide or murder in addition to insanity...I don't feel like this piece is one of my best... if not one of my worst. :) Comment please though!

 
I walk outside and abruptly jolt to a stop.
For, it is what I see.
The flowers are snickering, the sun glaring.
God, this world hates me.
Looking around to confirm the truth,
And that's just what I mean.
People staring, their teeth clenched.
God, this universe hates me.
Their looks penetrate through me,
Until I am just too weak.
If this world hates me,
Why don't I just leave?
My kitchen turns from a lovely place,
To one that is of shame.
The knives taunt,  the glass persuade,
God, what is this game?
My friends turn from loving companions,
To those of despair.
Isolation and loneliness fill me now,
God-- why this flare?
Anger and revenge  replace my drought,
Of isolation and shame.
For now I realize it is not my fault,
God, help me win this game.

For if they are playing my game, and my rules,
 There is no need to grieve.
They will have to pay, the damage done.
God, mustn't they leave?

Monday, May 7, 2012

Optical Illusions


In fourth grade, I was handed an "optical illusion" from my teacher, followed by instructions to focus on the picture and discuss what we saw.  Concentrating on what laid in my hand, I finally decided that the picture was a portrait of a young woman with a bouquet of flowers grasped in her hands. When bringing my perception to the class though, I was stunned at others' interpretations of the piece; majority of the class saw a man holding an umbrella! One picture, two different interpretations. The same thought applies to people; one person, two sides.

I learned from Rachel Joy Scott, a victim of the Columbine High School Shootings, that first, second, and third introductions can be deceiving of who a person really is. There is no reason to be prejudiced, to "pre-judge" someone.  You don't know their story, their hurt, their pain. As a society, we tend to look at people based on first appearances; we look for the "proper" jeans, the" pretty" hair, the "skinny" girls, for "perfect," when in reality we should be looking for beauty. I am not talking about top brand make-up, or designer clothes, rather, the beauty of their soul-- the good in them.  You may think one thing looking at these “optical illusions,” but you need to find the other side, the beauty.

One of the most recent, most common, and most hurtful ways to be prejudiced towards others: stereotyping.  Society is constantly being reminded by popular TV shows, magazines, advertisements that blondes must be dumb, people with glasses must be nerds, and those who wear a suit to work every day must be rich. Take a look at Disney’s High School Musical for example. You have the tall, muscular jocks with a basketball in arm, teasing the short, nerdy geeks with their noses stuck in a book. Then you observe the queen bee, most likely a rich, popular, and spoiled blonde with her “servant” by her side, who is in charge of it all. Not only is stereotyping frequently portrayed in films though, we make references to these stereotypes daily, possibly without even knowing it. If a brunette were to miss an easy question in math, we often hear, “you’re a blonde at heart.” If a shorter boy were to be on the basketball team, we would most likely laugh, saying, “you need to grow—like three feet!”Stereotyping is really just a missed opportunity in this world, a possible friend you will never have.

Although there are many ways to be prejudice towards others, the thing that makes the most difference, is your reaction to people.  Optical illusions tug on your brain, making you question if anything was really there. The same goes for the weighing of your reactions; you question yourself.
 
A common way to play it safe and “stick to the status-quo,” is to just ignore people, ignore their beauty, and ignore the opportunity that is knocking at your door. A person might first “pre-judge” someone, and say, (as an example,) “Oh, that girl is wearing lots of eyeliner… she must be Goth.” From here, society has mainly three choices: accepting the fact that the girl could be Goth, and therefore choosing to stay away, to simply acknowledge that a person is there, with no kindness of fear that they might be “weird,” or, to realize that if this person is Goth, they might need help, or they might just need a friend in this world.  Someone who would play it safe and play it cool would be the one staying away, far away, from the person who may need the most help. This is just another example of being prejudice.

If a person is not ignoring this opportunity, they might only be fulfilling it half-way. Like I mentioned before, another popular way to react to society is simply acknowledging the victim, with lack of care, out of fear that they might soon be the victim. In general, these people tend to feel unsecure and unsure of themselves, as they are unsecure and indecisive about making new friends. These typically are the people that need friends themselves, though they might not realize it, and not take full advantage of a great opportunity.

The most compassionate way to be accepting to people, is just that: accepting people.  As in life though, the right thing tends to be the hardest.  By first appearances, yeah, who’s going to want to hang out with the new kid labeled “weird?” But, if you think about it, who are “they” to label a person like that? Who are you to believe what “they” are saying without even giving others’ a chance? By stepping out of the boundaries others set for you, you are able to help others find a light in their lives and you will find a friend as well.

How many times have you heard the crowd gossiping about the latest “laugh stock?” I have personally heard it more than twice, and always had thought, “Oh… someone else will find them… someone else can do it.”  Wait—hold up. Who again is “someone?”The answer: you. You, reading this, are the first step to creating a “chain reaction of compassion” (quoted by Rachel Joy Scott.) You, reading this, are the first step to crossing the boundary. You, reading this, are the first step to helping others cross the boundary. You, reading this, are the newly found light in someone’s life. You, reading this, are the first step to seeing both sides of these illusions. You are the person to see the both woman with flowers and the man with the umbrella.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Chest of Childhood


A chest of childhood,
Lies in my attic.
Locked up day and night,
To keep it far, far away from the heart.
But every once and a while,
My heart yearns
For that innocence,
And every once and a while,
I seek a crevice to let my heart free.
I climb up the creaking stairs of past,
Turn the knob of the barrier,
And sit.
And sit.
As I inhale the sweet scent of faded wood,
And watch the sun glittering on the floor.
The light dances on the chest,
On the lock.
And I sit.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

My Tell-Tale Heart


Author’s Note: As an assignment to analyze different points of views in “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe, we were asked to look at the character’s point of view and make a decision as to whether or not they are reliable. By looking at the text evidence I found, I can infer that this character is not reliable; I found that he is insane and has lots of psychological issues—maybe just one more reason why this narrator should not be trusted. Our character’s point of view really sets up the whole story, though. His madness creates the interpretation of the piece as many things that he tells us he sees, aren’t all that or aren’t there at all.
While the craziness from one character’s point of view is on one side, there are always other characters that see the same situation in a different way. “The Tell-Tale Heart,” is based off of the murder of an old man—the murder probably seemed different to the victim rather than the criminal. If the story was being narrated by the criminal, you might initially think that the piece is about an old man who had done wrong, and the criminal is fixing that. If the story was being told through the victim’s eyes though, you may change your logic.
To portray this theory, I am re-writing “The Tell-Tale Heart” in the eyes of the old man.

             My butler had always dutifully fulfilled my requests as I silently retreated to my chamber. Every day, every night, the norm was as such.  Always complete thy duties, and thy shall be rewarded. And oh, did I reward that young fellow. Pounds by pounds, I paid the man with gold, money, and, perhaps most importantly, my trust. Although, my trust is something I gave up too easily, it is why I am here in the first place.
            Things began to change the day the young lad gained knowledge about my “evil eye.” It is said that those in which possessed “evil eye” would harm you greatly if looked into their gaze. Though I had believed the thought to simply be a myth, I cannot think of any other reason why I might have deserved this.
 My butler’s kindness shown through him that week as he had begun to check up on me nightly around the striking of twelve to make sure that I had not been harmed; recent burglaries were increasing my awareness and cautious greatly. That was my thinking then.  In theory, those doing more work should deserve more shillings, so I made sure to pay the man much when pay day came around. I had thought he deserved this reward, although now, I can only think of regret.
Perhaps it was just the trick of the light, but whenever I was calling him for duties, I would always catch him staring at me, at my eye. I simply could not bear to face the fact that my butler, the one I had ever-so-greatly trusted had believed the rumors, so I covered this blemish by paying him even more for his service. Even after increases in wage, I could not get my butler to stop glancing at my eye. I realize now, that this should have been the first red flag that went up in my head.
The night that everything changed for the worse, I was lying in my bed, fast asleep, until I heard my door creak. There was no other possible explanation, I knew this sound well. I bolted straight up in bed crying, “Who’s there?” Even with no response, no movement, and no other sounds, I sensed presence in my chamber. I should have gotten up to investigate this odd sensation, but I froze where I was and sat there for more than an hour.
It was then that he struck. After a long while of waiting for action, I had slowly drifted off to sleep again, giving my butler the perfect opportunity to make his move. I knew what was happening even though I seemed sleeping. I sensed it in a way indescribable.
I vowed to myself that my heartbeat would haunt him forever, cursing him for where I am now, even though I believe myself to be above.