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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)


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.

Monday, April 23, 2012

Maybe...


I wish someone had told me,
How it was going to be.
Once life had gone,
The same old song,
Maybe I'd have a chance.
Maybe.
I wish someone had told me,
The day sitting under the tree.
All the hurt, all the pain,
The never ending game.
Maybe I'd have a chance.
Maybe.
I wish someone had told me,
That it wasn't going to be alright.
That life isn't perfect.
And neither am I.

Maybe I'd have a chance.
Maybe.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Numbers


 Author's Note: As a tribute to the 13th anniversary of the Columbine High School shootings, I wrote this piece. This poem is very symbolic to numbers and yet, the meaning of them are so true. Please comment on what you think the numbers symbolize and maybe... maybe I'll tell you... :)

Twenty.
The life shattering number.
The number of pain,
The number of shock,
The number of death.
Thirteen.
The unlucky number.
The number of tears from the rose,
The number of minutes,
The number of victims.
One.
The fate or destiny number.
The number of seconds,
The number of anticipation,
The number of possibility.


Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Time

Always will be that force pushing you toward,
Toward goals, wants, dreams.
It is burning in your soul,
A soul full of flames.
 Fire of determination,
The determination sparking in you.
It sets you on fire and watches you go,
Go towards the sky, towards life.

Life is fueled by determination.

Always will be that force resisting you,
You being pulled away.
Away from the possibilities,
Possibilities that are simply that.
A band of regret,
Regret stretching across what could be.
The uncertainties of life,
Life puzzled, confused of the unknown.

Life is held in the hand of uncertainties.

Always will be determination and uncertainty,
Uncertainty and determination.
There will always be the battle,
Battle locking you in the middle.
You are enclosed in each,
Each fighting the other and each fighting you.
You are the only one that can stop it,
It is only time, now,
That can determine when you will shatter under the forces.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Entrance


Entrance by Dana Gioia is portrayed as an extended metaphor, the "entrance" symbolizing stepping out of insecurities of life; instead facing the new challenges that life throws at you. One of the first lines in this poem is “out of the room that makes you feel secure.” This line is saying that it is expected to go beyond the securities and, rather, to take a risk in life in order to make your life worth living. A few lines later it is stated “with eyes that have forgotten how to see,” and I think that this line is really disguised as “with a life that has forgotten how to have fun.” The meaning of this poem all in all was just to step out of the boundaries others and go beyond the expectations to have great memories.
After reading this piece I was inspired to leave the past behind and “gently set it free.”