Ok so it's been a LONG time since i've written in here. I'm writing not only to prove to certain people that I really havn't abandoned my blog, but also because I have something I just need to put out there because its been bugging me lately.
Ever noticed how school is based off the principal concept of putting a grade to a persons name? I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Why are we rated on our intelligence level? Thats all the grade is, a rating. Sure it may be a "score" given on the correctness of an assignment you were given, but how can it grade us for real?
I've become friends with one girl in particular to whom this concept has hurt. She is the sweetest, nicest girl who tries the very hardest in everything she does to get the top grade, to get an A or even a B. Still, her grades don't show her effort. Let me tell you, her bad grades arren't from lack of effort, and i'm NOT calling her stupid. It's just that the problems are more than her mind can handle, the concepts and formulas don't register to her as quickly as everyone else.
Now, picture yourself, this smart person in honors classes, most likely in line for scholarships and in special clubs because of your inteligence (such as Honors society or Science Olympiad, hey im not excluding myself here) Why are you getting the lucky break of free college and bennefits? My friend doesn't have a chance at a scholarship, but she works harder than i've ever had to in school.
Let me briefly mention gym class. Our GPA depends on the average of our grades, and many GPA's are ruined because of the lack of athletic ability in one class. May I ask why we are graded for athletic ability? Sometimes we give all we can and it isn't enough for that A.
Is this fair?!? Should our successfulness in life be rated on our intelligence? There are so many more ways to succeed, not only in college but in life in general, without being smart. Tell me your opinion.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Thursday, August 30, 2007
An important lesson I recently learned
Wow so it’s been a while… but as promised I’m not abandoning my blog! Maybe I’ll write about school later, but for now I want to write something I learned over the summer.
For those of you that don’t know, my younger brother “Rick” has Hemophilia, a rare bleeding disorder where he gets these enormous bruises that take a long time to heal. Well, I was invited to a camp for teens who either have Hemophilia, Von Willabrands (more common in girls, Hemophilia is rare in girls) or have a sibling with one of these disorders (aka, me). The trip itself was lots of fun, mostly outdoor activities with a few learning sessions mixed in so that it was also educational.
One such learning session stood out to me, because a woman with hemophilia (which is incredibly rare might I add! There are only about fifteen women in the US with it) came and talked to us about her life living with her illness.
She grew up in the 60’s, when medicine for Hemophilia was available, but they didn’t screen blood. She learned too late that she, her brother, her dad, and ALL of her friends from her hemophilia camps she went to as a child (she was then a teen) were infected with
1. AIDS
2. Hepatitis A
3. Hepatitis C
4. A variety of other blood transferable illnesses that she didn’t go into, just mentioned.
One by one, her hemophilia associates passed away, starting with her brother and then her dad and friends. Today, she is the only one still alive from her original friends. She went on to say that she takes 17 pills. Can you believe that? 17 pills!! And she went on to say that’s only in the morning! She takes another 17 at night! And they are the big kind, not the little ones like allergy pills. She has aching joints all the time, cant have kids, has a lot of doctors appointments, some days its hard for her to get out of bed… the list goes on and on.
Then she went on “but despite all my problems, I have learned to live my life with absolutely complaints of the quality of it. I have three children, even if they may be adopted, and I have learned to accept that pain is part of my life. One day I just told myself I need to focus on what I CAN do instead of what I CANT do.”
Wow that hit me HARD. Ok so maybe there are times when I say to myself “Gosh I really messed up this time, I can’t fix this problem or this problem is so hard” and then mope because I have discovered a weakness in me. Well look at this woman, she has a thousand problems and she still has a perfect outlook on her life. She has all these huge problems, but that doesn’t stop her. Why should a little bump in my own life get me down?
For those of you that don’t know, my younger brother “Rick” has Hemophilia, a rare bleeding disorder where he gets these enormous bruises that take a long time to heal. Well, I was invited to a camp for teens who either have Hemophilia, Von Willabrands (more common in girls, Hemophilia is rare in girls) or have a sibling with one of these disorders (aka, me). The trip itself was lots of fun, mostly outdoor activities with a few learning sessions mixed in so that it was also educational.
One such learning session stood out to me, because a woman with hemophilia (which is incredibly rare might I add! There are only about fifteen women in the US with it) came and talked to us about her life living with her illness.
She grew up in the 60’s, when medicine for Hemophilia was available, but they didn’t screen blood. She learned too late that she, her brother, her dad, and ALL of her friends from her hemophilia camps she went to as a child (she was then a teen) were infected with
1. AIDS
2. Hepatitis A
3. Hepatitis C
4. A variety of other blood transferable illnesses that she didn’t go into, just mentioned.
One by one, her hemophilia associates passed away, starting with her brother and then her dad and friends. Today, she is the only one still alive from her original friends. She went on to say that she takes 17 pills. Can you believe that? 17 pills!! And she went on to say that’s only in the morning! She takes another 17 at night! And they are the big kind, not the little ones like allergy pills. She has aching joints all the time, cant have kids, has a lot of doctors appointments, some days its hard for her to get out of bed… the list goes on and on.
Then she went on “but despite all my problems, I have learned to live my life with absolutely complaints of the quality of it. I have three children, even if they may be adopted, and I have learned to accept that pain is part of my life. One day I just told myself I need to focus on what I CAN do instead of what I CANT do.”
Wow that hit me HARD. Ok so maybe there are times when I say to myself “Gosh I really messed up this time, I can’t fix this problem or this problem is so hard” and then mope because I have discovered a weakness in me. Well look at this woman, she has a thousand problems and she still has a perfect outlook on her life. She has all these huge problems, but that doesn’t stop her. Why should a little bump in my own life get me down?
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Keep in touch
This is my final post of this school year. Although this is my last post to count for the Honors English class, I don't think I will stop writing in my blog. I hope you do the same. Many of you don't know it, but I read everybodys blogs. I may not comment on them all, but I read them. So keep it up! Visit the discussion board regularly too. It's been a fun year, see you all later!
Book of memories
It’s now the end of the year, and on a day where I had some spare time I looked back at my old blog posts to see what I had written. Well, it was an interesting experience. In some of my posts I saw a silly girl who had too much sugar in her system. In some I saw a tired teenager who was writing a last minute blog at 11:00 Sunday night. In some I saw myself exhausted of topics and writing on something I didn’t care about one bit. Yet, in some of them, I saw wisdom I didn’t know I had. I have to say I was impressed, I had completely forgotten some of the stuff I wrote back then and then it pops up again months later, and I learned from it. I also learned what I look like when I’m tired, bored, and hyper. That was also a learning experience (but I won’t elaborate).
My curiosity sparked by this odd encounter with my past self, I started reading back through entries in my English journal and my personal journal. Wow! Again I surprised myself with bits of knowledge I happened to put down during a writing assignment or while writing in my journal at night. I never realized that I had so much to say, and that some of it was so deep. Truthfully, it was sort of eerie to be reading my old entries and being impressed with what they said, I mean, who admires their own logic?!? I guess I do now.
One noticeably common attribute of all the “records” was my voice. At the beginning of the school year it was fairly, well, dull. There was no spirit in it; it was only me writing down what I thought. No examples of my point, no exclamations of opinion, no nothing. It was just my outer shell showing in my work. As the year progressed, however, they became increasingly interesting (this is only my opinion). In the beginning it was a tidbit of what I REALLY felt about my chosen topic, then it progressed to me bravely making a statement that (heaven forbid) someone may disagree with. Finally, in the more recent ones, they finally were WORTH READING! They were actually filled with a voice which no longer belonged to a repetitive robot!
What I mean by this is that since the beginning of the year my writing voice seems to have taken on a rather, um… sarcastic but interesting tone. I don’t know if this is good or bad but I know it’s better than the timid thing it was in the beginning. I guess that writing every week really does improve your writing.
I can honestly say that I am glad I kept all those journals and wrote in my blog all this time, reading back brought back so many memories I had forgotten, and it was fun to read my old opinions (silly or insightful). This is why I advise you to pull out your journal from the depths of your closet and start to write in it again (I did this last night for the first time in months) and never, ever throw away a journal or forget about your blogs. I’m positive you will value them someday.
My curiosity sparked by this odd encounter with my past self, I started reading back through entries in my English journal and my personal journal. Wow! Again I surprised myself with bits of knowledge I happened to put down during a writing assignment or while writing in my journal at night. I never realized that I had so much to say, and that some of it was so deep. Truthfully, it was sort of eerie to be reading my old entries and being impressed with what they said, I mean, who admires their own logic?!? I guess I do now.
One noticeably common attribute of all the “records” was my voice. At the beginning of the school year it was fairly, well, dull. There was no spirit in it; it was only me writing down what I thought. No examples of my point, no exclamations of opinion, no nothing. It was just my outer shell showing in my work. As the year progressed, however, they became increasingly interesting (this is only my opinion). In the beginning it was a tidbit of what I REALLY felt about my chosen topic, then it progressed to me bravely making a statement that (heaven forbid) someone may disagree with. Finally, in the more recent ones, they finally were WORTH READING! They were actually filled with a voice which no longer belonged to a repetitive robot!
What I mean by this is that since the beginning of the year my writing voice seems to have taken on a rather, um… sarcastic but interesting tone. I don’t know if this is good or bad but I know it’s better than the timid thing it was in the beginning. I guess that writing every week really does improve your writing.
I can honestly say that I am glad I kept all those journals and wrote in my blog all this time, reading back brought back so many memories I had forgotten, and it was fun to read my old opinions (silly or insightful). This is why I advise you to pull out your journal from the depths of your closet and start to write in it again (I did this last night for the first time in months) and never, ever throw away a journal or forget about your blogs. I’m positive you will value them someday.
End
Two months ago, sometime in March I think, I wrote about how much I was going to miss Fairfield and how sad I was to go to high school. I don’t know what happened in the past two months, but I don’t feel that way anymore.
Ok, I’ll admit I am still sort of sad about the fact that a bunch of my friends are going to Davis, and I am going to miss some of my old teachers (I have had some really good ones this year) but now I’m really excited for high school, instead of dreading it. For one thing, every tenth grader I have ever spoken to says that high school is way more fun than junior high. When I hear this I go “how? Ninth grade has been so much fun! How can starting all over again be even better?” but it’s true, everyone I talk to says that ninth grade was awesome for them also, but tenth grade is ten times more fun. I guess I’ll just take their word for it.
I also like the idea that there are eight classes, four a day every other day. I don’t know why this seems so cool to me but it does, I guess I just like it because it will give variety day to day. I just hope I don’t get all my boring classes one day and all the fun ones the other, that would suck!
I am also pretty excited to see some of my old friends again. In seventh grade I was surprised to see that some of the friends I expected to see at Fairfield weren’t at Fairfield. I do know though, that they are going to Layton High. So I know that I will be able to see them again next year.
One last thing, I don’t know if the rest of you feel this way, but somehow I’m tired of Junior High. I’m tired of being around the seventh graders; they are so small and annoying! Though I love everyone at this school, it’s the same faces day after day. I want to meet someone new every now and then. I have walked the same halls every day for three years, and I’m tired of it (strangely enough, walking the same halls every day for three years was my reason two months ago that I didn’t want to leave). Anyways, I am ready to go, and I’m excited now! High school sounds so fun that I can’t wait for it now. I will miss Fairfield, I know I will be missing it a lot that first week of school at Layton. But now my excitement outdoes my sadness of leaving. Goodbye Fairfield!
Ok, I’ll admit I am still sort of sad about the fact that a bunch of my friends are going to Davis, and I am going to miss some of my old teachers (I have had some really good ones this year) but now I’m really excited for high school, instead of dreading it. For one thing, every tenth grader I have ever spoken to says that high school is way more fun than junior high. When I hear this I go “how? Ninth grade has been so much fun! How can starting all over again be even better?” but it’s true, everyone I talk to says that ninth grade was awesome for them also, but tenth grade is ten times more fun. I guess I’ll just take their word for it.
I also like the idea that there are eight classes, four a day every other day. I don’t know why this seems so cool to me but it does, I guess I just like it because it will give variety day to day. I just hope I don’t get all my boring classes one day and all the fun ones the other, that would suck!
I am also pretty excited to see some of my old friends again. In seventh grade I was surprised to see that some of the friends I expected to see at Fairfield weren’t at Fairfield. I do know though, that they are going to Layton High. So I know that I will be able to see them again next year.
One last thing, I don’t know if the rest of you feel this way, but somehow I’m tired of Junior High. I’m tired of being around the seventh graders; they are so small and annoying! Though I love everyone at this school, it’s the same faces day after day. I want to meet someone new every now and then. I have walked the same halls every day for three years, and I’m tired of it (strangely enough, walking the same halls every day for three years was my reason two months ago that I didn’t want to leave). Anyways, I am ready to go, and I’m excited now! High school sounds so fun that I can’t wait for it now. I will miss Fairfield, I know I will be missing it a lot that first week of school at Layton. But now my excitement outdoes my sadness of leaving. Goodbye Fairfield!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I know I know... another boring assignment
Once again, sorry for putting you through the agony of reading a less than exciting school assignment as one of my posts. Lets face it, nobody ever reads these things. Anyways, here is my literary comparison on Walk two moons and To kill a Mockingbird.
The narrators in the books Walk Two Moons and To Kill a Mockingbird have similar voices and experiences, yet they differ at the same time. In both books there is a clear voice from each character and both have well defined personalities, which makes these books enjoyable to read and also similar in many ways.
Salamanca and Scout both like things the way they already are. Salamanca is severely distressed when she and her father move from their home in Kentucky.
“Just over a year ago, my father plucked me up like a weed and took me and all our belongings (no, that is not true- he did not bring the chestnut tree, the willow, the maple, the hayloft, or the swimming hole, which all belonged to me) and we drove three hundred miles straight north and stopped in front of a house in Euclid, Ohio.” –Salamanca
Salamanca is not at all happy at the move, she loved her old home. She wishes she could go away from the “rows of birdhouses” which make up her new neighborhood and return to her country home in Kentucky. Scout is the same way,
“…our summertime boundaries (within calling distance of Calpurnia) were Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose’s house two doors to the north of us, and the Radley Place three doors to the south. We were never tempted to break them…”-Scout
Scout is happy with the way things are and isn’t tempted to cause trouble. She has always done things one way and feels agitated when she is forced to change those ways, such as when Jem starts thinking he is too old for her and when Aunt Alexandra starts wanting her to wear dresses. You can guess without these examples that both girls prefer things to stay the same and don’t like change. I think both girls are smart in this way, I have never been one to stir up trouble and when I read about someone who does it makes me cringe. Both of these characters, however, handle themselves well and the stories flow easily because of their ability to go with the flow of life.
One difference between Salamanca and Scout, however, is their level of craving for information. Scout sucks up every bit of information about anybody and anything. She craves learning and gossip, every bit of information is useful and interesting to her.
“ ‘Lets go in.’ said Dill.
‘Naw, we better wait till they get in, Atticus might not like it if he sees us… we sped ahead of Reverend Sykes to the courtroom floor…we went up a covered staircase to the black balcony.”- Scout
Scout is so anxious to learn about the trial she pushes past people and hides from Atticus, otherwise she might be sent away. On the other hand, Salamanca wants nothing to do with her past. She wants to forget everything and pretend nothing has changed, although she knows her mother is dead.
“I prayed that we would get there by my mothers’ birthday- seven days- and that we would bring her home.”-Salamanca
Scout lives her life by the facts, Salamanca lives hers by fairytales. Scout ponders everything and wants to learn more and more about life and the people around her. Salamanca is content to push away any substantial information about her mother and accept what she has convinced herself is truth. Why does Salamanca live like this? I think she is afraid of the truth because her life is far from perfect, so she makes up a story that seems to make it all better, while it really makes it worse. I think Scout is the smarter one: she sucks up every bit of information and then pieces it together as she lives her life, she uses her brain to solve her problems and I think eventually, comes to terms with life more effectively than Salamanca does.
Another similarity between Salamanca and Scout is that they both always see the good in other people. Until Salamanca met Phoebe, she thought that although Mrs. Cadaver was a strange woman, she wasn’t all bad. She also felt sympathy for Mrs. Winterbottom when she left for a few days because she could see the good intentions in her act (Phoebe freaks out and thinks the lunatic kidnapped her).
“ ‘Oh Sal, come see Margaret.’ The lady with the wild red hair was Margaret…”
Scout is devoid of playmates her own age until Dill comes in the summer, and even then she is sometimes left by him. She quickly learns how to get along with the elderly people in her town because of this. She also is one of the few to realize that Tom Robinson meant no harm to anyone, he was framed for no reason at all. The entire theme of To Kill a Mockingbird is presented through Scout, and her realizing that not only should you look for the good in everyone, but don’t hurt anyone for no reason when you know that what you are doing is wrong.
"Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mocking bird."- Miss Maudie
In both books, a clear theme is shown. And the theme is shown through the characters, Salamanca and Scout. Don’t judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins, in other words, don’t hurt someone until you do what they have had to. Between running from the lunatic, or shooting Tom Robinson, people may have been smart to consider that thought.
The narrators in the books Walk Two Moons and To Kill a Mockingbird have similar voices and experiences, yet they differ at the same time. In both books there is a clear voice from each character and both have well defined personalities, which makes these books enjoyable to read and also similar in many ways.
Salamanca and Scout both like things the way they already are. Salamanca is severely distressed when she and her father move from their home in Kentucky.
“Just over a year ago, my father plucked me up like a weed and took me and all our belongings (no, that is not true- he did not bring the chestnut tree, the willow, the maple, the hayloft, or the swimming hole, which all belonged to me) and we drove three hundred miles straight north and stopped in front of a house in Euclid, Ohio.” –Salamanca
Salamanca is not at all happy at the move, she loved her old home. She wishes she could go away from the “rows of birdhouses” which make up her new neighborhood and return to her country home in Kentucky. Scout is the same way,
“…our summertime boundaries (within calling distance of Calpurnia) were Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose’s house two doors to the north of us, and the Radley Place three doors to the south. We were never tempted to break them…”-Scout
Scout is happy with the way things are and isn’t tempted to cause trouble. She has always done things one way and feels agitated when she is forced to change those ways, such as when Jem starts thinking he is too old for her and when Aunt Alexandra starts wanting her to wear dresses. You can guess without these examples that both girls prefer things to stay the same and don’t like change. I think both girls are smart in this way, I have never been one to stir up trouble and when I read about someone who does it makes me cringe. Both of these characters, however, handle themselves well and the stories flow easily because of their ability to go with the flow of life.
One difference between Salamanca and Scout, however, is their level of craving for information. Scout sucks up every bit of information about anybody and anything. She craves learning and gossip, every bit of information is useful and interesting to her.
“ ‘Lets go in.’ said Dill.
‘Naw, we better wait till they get in, Atticus might not like it if he sees us… we sped ahead of Reverend Sykes to the courtroom floor…we went up a covered staircase to the black balcony.”- Scout
Scout is so anxious to learn about the trial she pushes past people and hides from Atticus, otherwise she might be sent away. On the other hand, Salamanca wants nothing to do with her past. She wants to forget everything and pretend nothing has changed, although she knows her mother is dead.
“I prayed that we would get there by my mothers’ birthday- seven days- and that we would bring her home.”-Salamanca
Scout lives her life by the facts, Salamanca lives hers by fairytales. Scout ponders everything and wants to learn more and more about life and the people around her. Salamanca is content to push away any substantial information about her mother and accept what she has convinced herself is truth. Why does Salamanca live like this? I think she is afraid of the truth because her life is far from perfect, so she makes up a story that seems to make it all better, while it really makes it worse. I think Scout is the smarter one: she sucks up every bit of information and then pieces it together as she lives her life, she uses her brain to solve her problems and I think eventually, comes to terms with life more effectively than Salamanca does.
Another similarity between Salamanca and Scout is that they both always see the good in other people. Until Salamanca met Phoebe, she thought that although Mrs. Cadaver was a strange woman, she wasn’t all bad. She also felt sympathy for Mrs. Winterbottom when she left for a few days because she could see the good intentions in her act (Phoebe freaks out and thinks the lunatic kidnapped her).
“ ‘Oh Sal, come see Margaret.’ The lady with the wild red hair was Margaret…”
Scout is devoid of playmates her own age until Dill comes in the summer, and even then she is sometimes left by him. She quickly learns how to get along with the elderly people in her town because of this. She also is one of the few to realize that Tom Robinson meant no harm to anyone, he was framed for no reason at all. The entire theme of To Kill a Mockingbird is presented through Scout, and her realizing that not only should you look for the good in everyone, but don’t hurt anyone for no reason when you know that what you are doing is wrong.
"Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mocking bird."- Miss Maudie
In both books, a clear theme is shown. And the theme is shown through the characters, Salamanca and Scout. Don’t judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins, in other words, don’t hurt someone until you do what they have had to. Between running from the lunatic, or shooting Tom Robinson, people may have been smart to consider that thought.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Memoir of a Murdered Hamster
I wrote this as an assignment for creative writing. It's a true story. Bear in mind that I was only five, and had no idea what I was doing when this occured!
It is a big responsibility to have a pet. You have to clean its cage every single week, you have to feed it, and keep it happy. Most of all you have to love it. The more you love your pet, the happier it will be, and the happier it is, the more it will love you. That’s why I love my hamster very much. I want it to love me too, so I play with it all the time and make sure that it is never bored or sad.
I am only five years old, but I am very responsible. I know how to keep my hamster, Beauty, very happy and make her love me. I know how to give her tiny pellets of hamster food and sunflower seeds when she is hungry. When her cage gets dirty, I clean out every piece of shredded tissue paper and replace it with fresh, new tissue paper. Because I take such good care of her, Beauty and I are best friends.
Sometimes me and Beauty play games, her favorite one is swing, where I swing her back and forth in my arms and she gets all jiggled and jittery. Another one she likes is racing. I help her get buckled in my Barbie car and push her in it around my bedroom, sometimes she jumps our, but I know that she actually likes it. Sometimes I help her balance on balls or slide down the little orange slide outside. I think one day she will be able to do these tricks on her own and will be famous for being the world’s smartest hamster, but right now I still have to help her.
One time something strange happened when Beauty was playing airplane with me. I was flying her around high above my head and we where having lots of fun together, when suddenly she went limp in my hand. When I put her back in her cage she didn’t get up and hide in her cardboard tube like she usually does, instead she just laid there. I started to cry big raindrop tears, spilling down my pink Lion King t-shirt. Beauty was dead! We had been playing a game and she was dead! Mom came and helped me stop crying, and then told me to look in the cage. Beauty was running in her hamster wheel just like she always did! She was ok! Mom explained to me that sometimes when hamsters feel like they are in danger, they pretend to be dead so that the danger will leave them alone. I guess airplane didn’t make Beauty feel safe, so I decided that we shouldn’t play it anymore.
Today I thought of a brand new game for me and Beauty to play. I would put her in my plastic drum with all of the other instruments in it, and then shake it so that she could slide and bounce on them. I excitedly pry her out of her cardboard tube and put her in the drum. What fun she was going to have! I wish that I could be the one who got to play in the drum! Too bad I was so big that I couldn’t fit. I gleefully started to shake the drum, up and down, left and right, around in a circle. I could picture her sliding on the metal cymbals, then bounce of the harmonica and have a crazy ride in there! “That’s long enough!” I say to Beauty as I pull of the lid of the drum. She is lying very still again, just like when she played dead a few days ago. I guess she didn’t feel safe in this game either. “Ok we won’t play this one again, ok Beauty?” I reassuringly tell her as I lay her in the shredded tissue in the bottom of her cage. “See you in a few minutes, after dinner!”
After dinner, I skip back to my bedroom to play with Beauty again. This time we will drive in her car, since the drum game wasn’t fun for her. Wait a minute, she still hasn’t woken up! I wonder why? That’s really strange. I run to get mom. “Mom! Beauty is playing dead again and won’t wake up!”
Mom gets a weird look in her eye. “Let me come see.”
When we get to my bedroom mom gets a sad look on her face. “How long has Beauty been asleep?”
“Well, I shook the drum with her in it and she has been playing dead ever since.” I explain.
Mom sadly says that Beauty wasn’t playing this time, she really is dead. I shook the drum too hard. I start to sob and sink to the floor as I realize what I have done. “I killed her! I killed her!” I wail as mom tries to comfort me. I stay there for a long time, and then although tears are still dripping from my swollen eyes I stand up and peer in the cage.
Beauty doesn’t look like she is sleeping, not anymore. She looks dead. Cold and dead. I am a very responsible five year old who knows how to feed, and clean, and love, and kill her hamster.
It is a big responsibility to have a pet. You have to clean its cage every single week, you have to feed it, and keep it happy. Most of all you have to love it. The more you love your pet, the happier it will be, and the happier it is, the more it will love you. That’s why I love my hamster very much. I want it to love me too, so I play with it all the time and make sure that it is never bored or sad.
I am only five years old, but I am very responsible. I know how to keep my hamster, Beauty, very happy and make her love me. I know how to give her tiny pellets of hamster food and sunflower seeds when she is hungry. When her cage gets dirty, I clean out every piece of shredded tissue paper and replace it with fresh, new tissue paper. Because I take such good care of her, Beauty and I are best friends.
Sometimes me and Beauty play games, her favorite one is swing, where I swing her back and forth in my arms and she gets all jiggled and jittery. Another one she likes is racing. I help her get buckled in my Barbie car and push her in it around my bedroom, sometimes she jumps our, but I know that she actually likes it. Sometimes I help her balance on balls or slide down the little orange slide outside. I think one day she will be able to do these tricks on her own and will be famous for being the world’s smartest hamster, but right now I still have to help her.
One time something strange happened when Beauty was playing airplane with me. I was flying her around high above my head and we where having lots of fun together, when suddenly she went limp in my hand. When I put her back in her cage she didn’t get up and hide in her cardboard tube like she usually does, instead she just laid there. I started to cry big raindrop tears, spilling down my pink Lion King t-shirt. Beauty was dead! We had been playing a game and she was dead! Mom came and helped me stop crying, and then told me to look in the cage. Beauty was running in her hamster wheel just like she always did! She was ok! Mom explained to me that sometimes when hamsters feel like they are in danger, they pretend to be dead so that the danger will leave them alone. I guess airplane didn’t make Beauty feel safe, so I decided that we shouldn’t play it anymore.
Today I thought of a brand new game for me and Beauty to play. I would put her in my plastic drum with all of the other instruments in it, and then shake it so that she could slide and bounce on them. I excitedly pry her out of her cardboard tube and put her in the drum. What fun she was going to have! I wish that I could be the one who got to play in the drum! Too bad I was so big that I couldn’t fit. I gleefully started to shake the drum, up and down, left and right, around in a circle. I could picture her sliding on the metal cymbals, then bounce of the harmonica and have a crazy ride in there! “That’s long enough!” I say to Beauty as I pull of the lid of the drum. She is lying very still again, just like when she played dead a few days ago. I guess she didn’t feel safe in this game either. “Ok we won’t play this one again, ok Beauty?” I reassuringly tell her as I lay her in the shredded tissue in the bottom of her cage. “See you in a few minutes, after dinner!”
After dinner, I skip back to my bedroom to play with Beauty again. This time we will drive in her car, since the drum game wasn’t fun for her. Wait a minute, she still hasn’t woken up! I wonder why? That’s really strange. I run to get mom. “Mom! Beauty is playing dead again and won’t wake up!”
Mom gets a weird look in her eye. “Let me come see.”
When we get to my bedroom mom gets a sad look on her face. “How long has Beauty been asleep?”
“Well, I shook the drum with her in it and she has been playing dead ever since.” I explain.
Mom sadly says that Beauty wasn’t playing this time, she really is dead. I shook the drum too hard. I start to sob and sink to the floor as I realize what I have done. “I killed her! I killed her!” I wail as mom tries to comfort me. I stay there for a long time, and then although tears are still dripping from my swollen eyes I stand up and peer in the cage.
Beauty doesn’t look like she is sleeping, not anymore. She looks dead. Cold and dead. I am a very responsible five year old who knows how to feed, and clean, and love, and kill her hamster.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
The meaning of a birthday
Yesterday was my birthday, which is fun in all respects since I was able to lounge all day and basically do nothing but enjoy myself. Of course what exactly is a birthday besides an exact measurement of your age? Only on your birthday can you say “I am fifteen”, if you want to get technical then on any other day you would have to say “I am fifteen and one day old.” So that is all a birthday is, correct?
Friday night I watched movies until midnight and happened to be awake at 11:59 PM, meaning I was witnessing my last moment as a fourteen year old. As I watched the clock turn to 12:00 and I officially turned fifteen, I can’t help but say it was uneventful. I didn’t grow two inches, I didn’t suddenly gain a huge amount of knowledge, I didn’t feel anything.
What I find interesting about this is that although it really made no difference which minute it was, people treat you differently when you are fourteen than when you are fifteen. When you are fourteen you are “only two years past childhood.” When you are fifteen you’re at the age where “You can get your permit now! Only a year until you date!” You are a full fledged teenager. This is how I observed people treating me these past few months, it’s not like they purposely show it or anything, but something about having that higher digit on your age seems to make people act differently around you, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I suddenly had some dramatic change in that minute between 11:59 and 12:00.
A few months ago I was with my cousin whose birthday was in August. Here’s the dialog: “So you are fifteen right Anthony?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow you are getting so grown up!” (face beams) “What about you Starchild? You’re fifteen also?”
“Almost, my birthday is in a few months.”
“Oh that’s nice.” (Turns and walks away)
It’s not like they TRY to do this, but it was like that with everyone we talked to at the event. I find it unfair that they judge us according to our numerical age without spending five minutes to find evidence for their conclusion. I know tons of fourteen year olds (most of them my good friends) who act fifteen or older. I also know more than enough fifteen year olds who couldn’t pass for a hyperactive twelve year old.
I don’t think that your actual “age” has anything to do with how long you have physically been alive. Your age depends on how you act and what you do with your life measured against how much time you have had to do something worthwhile in it. Had you never once moved from your couch and skipped school whenever you could, then hey you are no better than a lazy five year old. I’m not trying to offend anyone but when I see someone who calls themselves eighteen, an “adult”, but they have never done a productive thing in their life, it makes me just a little irritated.
I just hope that I am living up to my new title as a fifteen year old. I don’t want to be “fifteen” years old, but only “eight meaningful moments” years old.
Friday night I watched movies until midnight and happened to be awake at 11:59 PM, meaning I was witnessing my last moment as a fourteen year old. As I watched the clock turn to 12:00 and I officially turned fifteen, I can’t help but say it was uneventful. I didn’t grow two inches, I didn’t suddenly gain a huge amount of knowledge, I didn’t feel anything.
What I find interesting about this is that although it really made no difference which minute it was, people treat you differently when you are fourteen than when you are fifteen. When you are fourteen you are “only two years past childhood.” When you are fifteen you’re at the age where “You can get your permit now! Only a year until you date!” You are a full fledged teenager. This is how I observed people treating me these past few months, it’s not like they purposely show it or anything, but something about having that higher digit on your age seems to make people act differently around you, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I suddenly had some dramatic change in that minute between 11:59 and 12:00.
A few months ago I was with my cousin whose birthday was in August. Here’s the dialog: “So you are fifteen right Anthony?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow you are getting so grown up!” (face beams) “What about you Starchild? You’re fifteen also?”
“Almost, my birthday is in a few months.”
“Oh that’s nice.” (Turns and walks away)
It’s not like they TRY to do this, but it was like that with everyone we talked to at the event. I find it unfair that they judge us according to our numerical age without spending five minutes to find evidence for their conclusion. I know tons of fourteen year olds (most of them my good friends) who act fifteen or older. I also know more than enough fifteen year olds who couldn’t pass for a hyperactive twelve year old.
I don’t think that your actual “age” has anything to do with how long you have physically been alive. Your age depends on how you act and what you do with your life measured against how much time you have had to do something worthwhile in it. Had you never once moved from your couch and skipped school whenever you could, then hey you are no better than a lazy five year old. I’m not trying to offend anyone but when I see someone who calls themselves eighteen, an “adult”, but they have never done a productive thing in their life, it makes me just a little irritated.
I just hope that I am living up to my new title as a fifteen year old. I don’t want to be “fifteen” years old, but only “eight meaningful moments” years old.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
A couple of weeks ago I was in Disneyland for spring break. One thing I noticed was that is was slowly becoming “modernized”, meaning the happiest place on earth was slowly becoming just like every other amusement park.
If you have ever been to Disneyland, you know that Space Mountain is one of the best rides there. I went a couple of years ago and it was my favorite ride, it was pitch black inside and you had no idea which direction you were going to be jerked next. There were amazing space decorations hanging next to the track and a million tiny light bulbs made it appear that you were surrounded by stars. In general- it was really cool. Naturally I was psyched to go on it this time around, but I was more than a bit disappointed. All of the cool decorations, gone. Space Mountain had turned into Rock ‘n roll mountain. A head banging song had replaced the techno-style music, and the decorations had been replaced with strobe lights, giant orange and purple fluorescent lights, and silhouettes of people doing the disco (???). The track was now lit up by the fantastic array of color, so the previously jerky unpredictable roller coaster was in plain view and sadly, not as exciting. I’m not saying that it wasn’t fun, but I preferred the old way better.
Another thing I saw at Disneyland was that Sleeping Beauty’s Castle (the giant in front of the park) was closed. I found out that the castle you used to be able to walk through is being remodeled into a small hotel. Imagine! Getting to stay the night right in Disneyland! Pretty cool right? Now imagine all those people who will never get to walk through that amazing castle ever again. It sounds nothing like anything Walt Disney himself would have approved of.
That was only in Disneyland, the last place you would ever expect to change. Look around, beautiful farmland and open fields are quickly being made into commercial subdivisions. Perfectly good computers are being thrown away because they aren’t good enough for today’s software. Is it really necessary to make so many changes? The new stuff is amazing, but what was wrong with the old?
It’s not bad to upgrade things every now and then; in fact it is a blessing. However, I think that sometimes it’s too much. We get so caught up in the latest and greatest that we can’t appreciate what is sitting next to us. The other day my family and I went on a walk to an abandoned park down our street. The park was beautiful, enormous trees that had to be at least fifty feet tall (don’t tell me you prefer six foot trees planted in front of new houses), monuments to the first settlers of Utah, picnic tables and barbeques for family gatherings. I had forgotten all this was even there because a few years ago the park was closed. The government decided a new on-ramp to the highway is going to be built in the next year or two. The park will be bulldozed all for the sake of saving thirty seconds of your drive. Tell me, is it worth it?
Is there something wrong with leaving things the way they are?
If you have ever been to Disneyland, you know that Space Mountain is one of the best rides there. I went a couple of years ago and it was my favorite ride, it was pitch black inside and you had no idea which direction you were going to be jerked next. There were amazing space decorations hanging next to the track and a million tiny light bulbs made it appear that you were surrounded by stars. In general- it was really cool. Naturally I was psyched to go on it this time around, but I was more than a bit disappointed. All of the cool decorations, gone. Space Mountain had turned into Rock ‘n roll mountain. A head banging song had replaced the techno-style music, and the decorations had been replaced with strobe lights, giant orange and purple fluorescent lights, and silhouettes of people doing the disco (???). The track was now lit up by the fantastic array of color, so the previously jerky unpredictable roller coaster was in plain view and sadly, not as exciting. I’m not saying that it wasn’t fun, but I preferred the old way better.
Another thing I saw at Disneyland was that Sleeping Beauty’s Castle (the giant in front of the park) was closed. I found out that the castle you used to be able to walk through is being remodeled into a small hotel. Imagine! Getting to stay the night right in Disneyland! Pretty cool right? Now imagine all those people who will never get to walk through that amazing castle ever again. It sounds nothing like anything Walt Disney himself would have approved of.
That was only in Disneyland, the last place you would ever expect to change. Look around, beautiful farmland and open fields are quickly being made into commercial subdivisions. Perfectly good computers are being thrown away because they aren’t good enough for today’s software. Is it really necessary to make so many changes? The new stuff is amazing, but what was wrong with the old?
It’s not bad to upgrade things every now and then; in fact it is a blessing. However, I think that sometimes it’s too much. We get so caught up in the latest and greatest that we can’t appreciate what is sitting next to us. The other day my family and I went on a walk to an abandoned park down our street. The park was beautiful, enormous trees that had to be at least fifty feet tall (don’t tell me you prefer six foot trees planted in front of new houses), monuments to the first settlers of Utah, picnic tables and barbeques for family gatherings. I had forgotten all this was even there because a few years ago the park was closed. The government decided a new on-ramp to the highway is going to be built in the next year or two. The park will be bulldozed all for the sake of saving thirty seconds of your drive. Tell me, is it worth it?
Is there something wrong with leaving things the way they are?
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Why can reading help us?
Why should we read? The obvious answers come to mind: It makes you smarter, improves your vocabulary, and is helpful in surviving in society. But what underlying benefits does reading provoke?
To me, reading is an escape from an otherwise uneventful life. Compared to the characters in books, my life is incredibly dull. As I read I unconsciously place myself and my close friends in the places of characters in the story. Then as I read the story, I feel like it is actually happening to me even though I know it isn’t. Depending on the personality and physical qualities of the character, my mind takes one of my friends and puts them in place of the character, only with a different name. A specific example of this is while I was reading Eragon, my friend *Hilary suddenly became Arya without me realizing it until later. Hilary has long dark hair and a similar personality to Arya, so I unconsciously chose her for the part. This same “choosing friends in place of characters” even exists with people who are only acquaintances of mine. They are chosen as less important characters, as they are less important in my life. I don’t know if everyone does this, but I’m guessing we all do.
I think that one huge advantage of reading is this sort of unconscious thinking; which processes thoughts and transforms them into a subconscious story focusing into MY life. This is sort of like learning without trying to; without knowing it.
Everybody realizes “learning teaches you stuff.” What sort of stuff? The stuff in textbooks? I think not. I have never met a person who enjoyed reading a textbook for even five minutes. We read books because we enjoy them, not because we know they will make us smarter. So why can we get lost in a book for hours and still claim to be gaining knowledge? I don’t believe The Giver teaches us anything school related. I don’t believe A Wrinkle in Time, The Pigman, Fahrenheit 451, Great Expectations, or any other books we may have read in the past year teach us anything about science and history. No, they teach us things we don’t learn in school. The Giver and Fahrenheit 451 are warnings against a dim future. Great Expectations is telling us to take life as it comes; don’t hold on to grudges from the past or scramble towards the future. The Pigman and A Wrinkle in Time teach us to take caution in who you trust, and how much you care to give of yourself before knowing a person. This is taking five books and mentioning ONE thing they teach us. There are dozens more in each, and I can not have spotted every one of them. There are millions of books, billions. It’s not a wonder that we learn so much from reading! Every book tells us, if we care to look for it, something we can use in the real world one day. Perhaps if we read enough, we won’t be grasping for ideas when a really tough situation appears. We will already know how to handle it.
I’ve only mentioned two reasons why we should read, but there are more. Enjoy yourself and gain something useful at the same time. Why NOT read?
To me, reading is an escape from an otherwise uneventful life. Compared to the characters in books, my life is incredibly dull. As I read I unconsciously place myself and my close friends in the places of characters in the story. Then as I read the story, I feel like it is actually happening to me even though I know it isn’t. Depending on the personality and physical qualities of the character, my mind takes one of my friends and puts them in place of the character, only with a different name. A specific example of this is while I was reading Eragon, my friend *Hilary suddenly became Arya without me realizing it until later. Hilary has long dark hair and a similar personality to Arya, so I unconsciously chose her for the part. This same “choosing friends in place of characters” even exists with people who are only acquaintances of mine. They are chosen as less important characters, as they are less important in my life. I don’t know if everyone does this, but I’m guessing we all do.
I think that one huge advantage of reading is this sort of unconscious thinking; which processes thoughts and transforms them into a subconscious story focusing into MY life. This is sort of like learning without trying to; without knowing it.
Everybody realizes “learning teaches you stuff.” What sort of stuff? The stuff in textbooks? I think not. I have never met a person who enjoyed reading a textbook for even five minutes. We read books because we enjoy them, not because we know they will make us smarter. So why can we get lost in a book for hours and still claim to be gaining knowledge? I don’t believe The Giver teaches us anything school related. I don’t believe A Wrinkle in Time, The Pigman, Fahrenheit 451, Great Expectations, or any other books we may have read in the past year teach us anything about science and history. No, they teach us things we don’t learn in school. The Giver and Fahrenheit 451 are warnings against a dim future. Great Expectations is telling us to take life as it comes; don’t hold on to grudges from the past or scramble towards the future. The Pigman and A Wrinkle in Time teach us to take caution in who you trust, and how much you care to give of yourself before knowing a person. This is taking five books and mentioning ONE thing they teach us. There are dozens more in each, and I can not have spotted every one of them. There are millions of books, billions. It’s not a wonder that we learn so much from reading! Every book tells us, if we care to look for it, something we can use in the real world one day. Perhaps if we read enough, we won’t be grasping for ideas when a really tough situation appears. We will already know how to handle it.
I’ve only mentioned two reasons why we should read, but there are more. Enjoy yourself and gain something useful at the same time. Why NOT read?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Why do we want something that will only corrupt us...
I’ve been thinking lately (scary music starts now) (JK) If you look around you see a lot of celebrities GONE BAD. You hear a new story everyday about some movie star who has some emotional problem they didn’t have before, one getting their 4th wife, one shaving their head (???) and I wonder… how can perfectly normal people end up like this?
There was a time when me and my friends would jump around the room in tune to Brittney Spears latest songs, they were harmless back then. I remember reading about her in one of those CD pamphlets that comes with the disk, it showed some pictures of her walking by the great salt lake, of all places! She was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, nothing like her recent attire. She my role model when I was eight years old, but that changed quickly. Within a few years she transformed into the being she is today, a bald playboy model who doesn’t know what to do with her life.
Not all cases are as extreme as Brittney’s, but it seems that every celebrity is slightly…different since becoming famous.
We are the same way. If we suddenly become popular, it most likely goes to our heads. Even worse, if we gradually become popular it slowly changes us, so that we and most of our friends barely notice it until we are suddenly at the top looking down, and don’t want to go back. I think most of us can think of several people who have changed since becoming “popular.” There are a few exceptions of course, but not many.
The strange thing is, ARE they popular? Everybody hates them unless they are one of the few who retained their former personality when they changed social status. The so called “popular” people are the ones we secretly trash because they bother us so much. Popularity is only a figment of their imagination! It only exists in their mind, yet, the majority of us still strive to achieve popularity! What is it that is so desirable about being bad mouthed? Apparently we WANT a bad reputation! I don’t understand it. Being popular isn't bad, but it is when you do what most do with popularity it is.
I had a friend in 7th grade who is a perfect example of this. “Tracy” was an average girl, a lot like me and we were good friends in Utah studies. That is, until she got a hold of eyeliner and a curling iron before most of the girls in 7th grade. Then she snagged a boyfriend and became popular. To this day I think she has a small group of friends and has had miserable dating experiences numerous times. She ignores me now; somehow I think it’s for the better.
I have to admit, I’m not sure how I would act if I was suddenly popular. Would I change like most? Or would I stay the same? I’d like to believe I would stay the same, but something tells me I wouldn’t. I hope I never have to be badmouthed because I was a person who changed for the worse.
(Rest assured, none of the people I referred to here are in our honors English class)
There was a time when me and my friends would jump around the room in tune to Brittney Spears latest songs, they were harmless back then. I remember reading about her in one of those CD pamphlets that comes with the disk, it showed some pictures of her walking by the great salt lake, of all places! She was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, nothing like her recent attire. She my role model when I was eight years old, but that changed quickly. Within a few years she transformed into the being she is today, a bald playboy model who doesn’t know what to do with her life.
Not all cases are as extreme as Brittney’s, but it seems that every celebrity is slightly…different since becoming famous.
We are the same way. If we suddenly become popular, it most likely goes to our heads. Even worse, if we gradually become popular it slowly changes us, so that we and most of our friends barely notice it until we are suddenly at the top looking down, and don’t want to go back. I think most of us can think of several people who have changed since becoming “popular.” There are a few exceptions of course, but not many.
The strange thing is, ARE they popular? Everybody hates them unless they are one of the few who retained their former personality when they changed social status. The so called “popular” people are the ones we secretly trash because they bother us so much. Popularity is only a figment of their imagination! It only exists in their mind, yet, the majority of us still strive to achieve popularity! What is it that is so desirable about being bad mouthed? Apparently we WANT a bad reputation! I don’t understand it. Being popular isn't bad, but it is when you do what most do with popularity it is.
I had a friend in 7th grade who is a perfect example of this. “Tracy” was an average girl, a lot like me and we were good friends in Utah studies. That is, until she got a hold of eyeliner and a curling iron before most of the girls in 7th grade. Then she snagged a boyfriend and became popular. To this day I think she has a small group of friends and has had miserable dating experiences numerous times. She ignores me now; somehow I think it’s for the better.
I have to admit, I’m not sure how I would act if I was suddenly popular. Would I change like most? Or would I stay the same? I’d like to believe I would stay the same, but something tells me I wouldn’t. I hope I never have to be badmouthed because I was a person who changed for the worse.
(Rest assured, none of the people I referred to here are in our honors English class)
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
My literary analysis
Ok now I know that no one ever reads school assignments because they bore us to death, but I need time to think of better ideas. Bear with me on this one until I can think of something else to write about.
This book is about a young boy, Pip, who is born into a simple English life in the country. He is destined to become a blacksmith, that is, until a mysterious benefactor fulfills his hopes and dreams by supplying him with all the money a wealthy Englishman could want. The theme that comes across in this book is: Be thankful for what you have, don’t constantly yearn for something bigger and better, but find happiness in what you have. As Pip progresses through the story, he finds that all he ever wanted he had at his original home. By becoming an English gentleman he spoiled his chance at a happy life.
Page 344: “I would not have gone back to Joe now, I would not have gone back to Biddy now, for any consideration: simply, I suppose, because my sense of my own worthless conduct to them was greater than every consideration. No wisdom on earth could have given me the comfort that I should have derived from their simplicity and fidelity; but I could never, never, never, undo what I had done.”
In the passage, Pip is realizing for the first time what he has done to his life. Until then, he thought that his new way of life was making him happy. Then his benefactor reveals himself and Pip realizes that it was all just a fantasy and that he is actually miserable. He wishes that he could take back what he had done, but knows that by now it is too late to do so.
This part of the story is a huge shock to everyone who reads it. In fact, it was a part of the book that I really enjoyed. The total shock that the criminal is his benefactor is clearly presented in Pip, and therefore in all the readers. He is feeling sad and regretful, realizing what road his fantasies have led him down. The only reason he wanted to be a gentleman was to impress Estella and before she came into his life he was destined to be a very happy man. He It is a terrible moment for him. He realizes that he always felt safe and content with Joe and Biddy but never realized it. This is a turning point for him in the story.
The passage clearly conveys how Pip feels; he knows that without the revealing of his benefactor, he would never have gone back to Joe and Biddy. He realizes what kind of a person he was being towards those who had always been so kind to him. It’s a sad moment for him, solemn and gloomy. If he could go back he would, but it is impossible at this point.
What the author is trying to tell us in the passage is that we should be grateful for what we have and not greedily climb upward for more. Pip lost happiness by trying to be someone he could never be happy being. He tried to get more and more, and ended up helplessly falling before his friends pulled him back on his feet. The theme of the novel is told through Pip’s story, and we can learn from it if we try to.
The author is giving us advice on how to be happy in life by telling us a story of a boy who dreams of a classy life; which is a symbol of an average person like us dreaming of great fame. Overall, the theme teaches us to be content with our lives and find the good things, not the coarse hands and dirty boots, in our own lives.
My literary analysis.......
This book is about a young boy, Pip, who is born into a simple English life in the country. He is destined to become a blacksmith, that is, until a mysterious benefactor fulfills his hopes and dreams by supplying him with all the money a wealthy Englishman could want. The theme that comes across in this book is: Be thankful for what you have, don’t constantly yearn for something bigger and better, but find happiness in what you have. As Pip progresses through the story, he finds that all he ever wanted he had at his original home. By becoming an English gentleman he spoiled his chance at a happy life.
Page 344: “I would not have gone back to Joe now, I would not have gone back to Biddy now, for any consideration: simply, I suppose, because my sense of my own worthless conduct to them was greater than every consideration. No wisdom on earth could have given me the comfort that I should have derived from their simplicity and fidelity; but I could never, never, never, undo what I had done.”
In the passage, Pip is realizing for the first time what he has done to his life. Until then, he thought that his new way of life was making him happy. Then his benefactor reveals himself and Pip realizes that it was all just a fantasy and that he is actually miserable. He wishes that he could take back what he had done, but knows that by now it is too late to do so.
This part of the story is a huge shock to everyone who reads it. In fact, it was a part of the book that I really enjoyed. The total shock that the criminal is his benefactor is clearly presented in Pip, and therefore in all the readers. He is feeling sad and regretful, realizing what road his fantasies have led him down. The only reason he wanted to be a gentleman was to impress Estella and before she came into his life he was destined to be a very happy man. He It is a terrible moment for him. He realizes that he always felt safe and content with Joe and Biddy but never realized it. This is a turning point for him in the story.
The passage clearly conveys how Pip feels; he knows that without the revealing of his benefactor, he would never have gone back to Joe and Biddy. He realizes what kind of a person he was being towards those who had always been so kind to him. It’s a sad moment for him, solemn and gloomy. If he could go back he would, but it is impossible at this point.
What the author is trying to tell us in the passage is that we should be grateful for what we have and not greedily climb upward for more. Pip lost happiness by trying to be someone he could never be happy being. He tried to get more and more, and ended up helplessly falling before his friends pulled him back on his feet. The theme of the novel is told through Pip’s story, and we can learn from it if we try to.
The author is giving us advice on how to be happy in life by telling us a story of a boy who dreams of a classy life; which is a symbol of an average person like us dreaming of great fame. Overall, the theme teaches us to be content with our lives and find the good things, not the coarse hands and dirty boots, in our own lives.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
We are such complainers.
From watching my friends and stepping back to take a look at myself, I have realized that we teens are really obsessive. About what? Well… our grades (some of us), our looks, but mostly if seems like we obsess about are the problems in our lives.
I think that realistically, our successes outnumber our mistakes. But whenever I talk to my friends, four out of five responses to "what’s up?" are about some sort of way that they messed up or how somebody else messed up and caused them problems. I am positive that a bunch of good things happened to them also, but they chose to focus on the bad. When I realized this, I thought that by chance I had chosen every pessimist in the school as my friend. Then I realized that I do it to! Everything I tell my friends is usually about some injustice I have been unfairly faced with in the past twenty four hours. Just yesterday I realized I had accidentally forgotten to bring home an important homework assignment I was supposed to finish over the weekend. It was a group assignment, so my mistake affected four other people’s grades. Through some luck I found a way to work it out. But when I got home late last night from a regional dance, I realized that one of the topics I used when an awkward silence happened between me and the person I was dancing with was the story of my magnificent mistake. Of course I presented my story in an amusing way so that I didn’t sound like a complainer, but I being negative nonetheless. *Slap myself in the face* Why was I using my shortcoming as a topic for friendly conversation?!?! Like a complete stranger cares that I messed up! Like they will fondly remember me as "the girl who told me all about her forgotten homework assignment." Obviously I need to think twice about my attitude before I let things slip out of my mouth!
The sad thing is that I hear stories of woe much like mine from friends almost every day. Why do we complain so much? Is there some unwritten rule that we must complain no matter what? Do we WANT our friend to pity us? Are the good things that happen to us extremely boring in comparison to the bad? Depends on the way we present it… I think many of us find it easier to make a C- we got on a math test sound exciting than the A we got on the science test. If we say "Mrs. ______ is so dumb! She gave me a freakin’ C- on the math test!" then we get sympathy from everyone. In comparison if we said "Guess what! I got an A on the Science test!" then we could expect people to say "so and so is such a bragger, all they can talk about is their good grades."
We hate the people that brag, and I complain about the people that complain. How do we stop the circle? We are drawn to those who are positive and happy all the time; they are the ones who are fun and calming to be around. The people that complain constantly we generally draw away from, they only add their problems to the ones you already have and make you stressed.
So, how about when you see your friend in the hall, you tell them one good thing that happened before telling them the dozen bad things you have been longing to tell someone all day? Who knows… it could work.
*How ironic… I am complaining in a blog about not complaining*
I think that realistically, our successes outnumber our mistakes. But whenever I talk to my friends, four out of five responses to "what’s up?" are about some sort of way that they messed up or how somebody else messed up and caused them problems. I am positive that a bunch of good things happened to them also, but they chose to focus on the bad. When I realized this, I thought that by chance I had chosen every pessimist in the school as my friend. Then I realized that I do it to! Everything I tell my friends is usually about some injustice I have been unfairly faced with in the past twenty four hours. Just yesterday I realized I had accidentally forgotten to bring home an important homework assignment I was supposed to finish over the weekend. It was a group assignment, so my mistake affected four other people’s grades. Through some luck I found a way to work it out. But when I got home late last night from a regional dance, I realized that one of the topics I used when an awkward silence happened between me and the person I was dancing with was the story of my magnificent mistake. Of course I presented my story in an amusing way so that I didn’t sound like a complainer, but I being negative nonetheless. *Slap myself in the face* Why was I using my shortcoming as a topic for friendly conversation?!?! Like a complete stranger cares that I messed up! Like they will fondly remember me as "the girl who told me all about her forgotten homework assignment." Obviously I need to think twice about my attitude before I let things slip out of my mouth!
The sad thing is that I hear stories of woe much like mine from friends almost every day. Why do we complain so much? Is there some unwritten rule that we must complain no matter what? Do we WANT our friend to pity us? Are the good things that happen to us extremely boring in comparison to the bad? Depends on the way we present it… I think many of us find it easier to make a C- we got on a math test sound exciting than the A we got on the science test. If we say "Mrs. ______ is so dumb! She gave me a freakin’ C- on the math test!" then we get sympathy from everyone. In comparison if we said "Guess what! I got an A on the Science test!" then we could expect people to say "so and so is such a bragger, all they can talk about is their good grades."
We hate the people that brag, and I complain about the people that complain. How do we stop the circle? We are drawn to those who are positive and happy all the time; they are the ones who are fun and calming to be around. The people that complain constantly we generally draw away from, they only add their problems to the ones you already have and make you stressed.
So, how about when you see your friend in the hall, you tell them one good thing that happened before telling them the dozen bad things you have been longing to tell someone all day? Who knows… it could work.
*How ironic… I am complaining in a blog about not complaining*
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Goodbye Fairfield...
Recently I realized that 4th term is in two weeks. Where did the year go? Where did junior high go? There is only one term left in our junior high experience! To me that is really scary!
We have spent our last three years of life at Fairfield, from the time when we were puny 7th graders trying not get stepped on in the halls to the present day where we are trying not to trample the shorty squeezing past us in the hall. I have spent my best and worst years of school here at Fairfield. Every day for the past three years I have walked the same halls and seen the same people. I know the names and faces of 95% of the 9th grade. For years I have swapped stories with my friends of the times the hall nazi terrorized us, the time we almost got caught with our cell phone out, the time we DID get caught with our cell phone out and had to go get it from the office. I don’t know if I can even explain it, but Fairfield feels like a second home to me and I’m sad to leave it in three months.
It’s not that I’m not excited for high school, I am. High school sounds like it will be really fun, and I got lucky enough that most of my friends will go to Layton with me. Still, there are the other friends whom I have made these past two years, whom I will really, really miss when we have to say goodbye on the last day. Among them are my two oldest and dearest friends, ones I have shared classrooms with since third grade, who will not be going to Layton (and they happen to be in our honors English class, you know who you are.) To all my other friends: I love you guys tons and I look forward to seeing you in high school! Even all the people whose names I know, but nothing more about them. I’m still sad to see them go, I don’t know them but I have heard their jokes, seen them in the halls, and been their rivals in the war to get good grades (we all know we secretly compete, just a little.)
I don’t know how to explain it, but I am really going to miss Fairfield. The teachers I’ve had were amazing (for the most part) I have met some very close friends here, I have spent my life five days a week here, and I can’t imagine what I will be doing on the last day of school, when we are signing yearbooks and saying our final goodbyes to the halls, the amazing teachers, and our beloved friends; never to see them again. We can visit, but it doesn’t replace it. Somehow the previous summer vacations were much more inviting because I knew that I would see everyone again in a mere three months.
Does anybody else feel this way? Or am I thinking too far ahead and making a big deal about nothing? In closing I say this: A tribute to Fairfield! Those new 7th graders have a great experience ahead of them!
We have spent our last three years of life at Fairfield, from the time when we were puny 7th graders trying not get stepped on in the halls to the present day where we are trying not to trample the shorty squeezing past us in the hall. I have spent my best and worst years of school here at Fairfield. Every day for the past three years I have walked the same halls and seen the same people. I know the names and faces of 95% of the 9th grade. For years I have swapped stories with my friends of the times the hall nazi terrorized us, the time we almost got caught with our cell phone out, the time we DID get caught with our cell phone out and had to go get it from the office. I don’t know if I can even explain it, but Fairfield feels like a second home to me and I’m sad to leave it in three months.
It’s not that I’m not excited for high school, I am. High school sounds like it will be really fun, and I got lucky enough that most of my friends will go to Layton with me. Still, there are the other friends whom I have made these past two years, whom I will really, really miss when we have to say goodbye on the last day. Among them are my two oldest and dearest friends, ones I have shared classrooms with since third grade, who will not be going to Layton (and they happen to be in our honors English class, you know who you are.) To all my other friends: I love you guys tons and I look forward to seeing you in high school! Even all the people whose names I know, but nothing more about them. I’m still sad to see them go, I don’t know them but I have heard their jokes, seen them in the halls, and been their rivals in the war to get good grades (we all know we secretly compete, just a little.)
I don’t know how to explain it, but I am really going to miss Fairfield. The teachers I’ve had were amazing (for the most part) I have met some very close friends here, I have spent my life five days a week here, and I can’t imagine what I will be doing on the last day of school, when we are signing yearbooks and saying our final goodbyes to the halls, the amazing teachers, and our beloved friends; never to see them again. We can visit, but it doesn’t replace it. Somehow the previous summer vacations were much more inviting because I knew that I would see everyone again in a mere three months.
Does anybody else feel this way? Or am I thinking too far ahead and making a big deal about nothing? In closing I say this: A tribute to Fairfield! Those new 7th graders have a great experience ahead of them!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Track conditioning=good. Not in my book
This happened to me on Friday.
I rolled out of bed at 6:05, which is forty minutes earlier than I usually get up. As I clumsily got ready for conditioning I decided to skip makeup and threw my hair up in a bun (which means that it wasn’t going to be a high maintenance morning.) As my dad drove me to school in the dim morning light I wondered if conditioning was going to be worth it. I am planning to join the track team this year and as the intercom announcements said “anybody serious about track should be there” I decided I had better go. Conditioning itself isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Pretty much we jogged laps around the gym for a half hour; that was it. Nothing I couldn’t have done at home around my neighborhood. Then I realized a horrible thing… I had left the bag which contained my change of clothes, cell phone, etc at home by the back door. I called my mom and asked her to bring me my bag, she said yes but wasn’t happy about it (it was around 7:15, she needed to drive my brothers to school and this really got in the way of her schedule.) Since I didn’t have my cell phone for her to call me on when she was outside, I had to wait by the office and watch for her. Yes, it is my fault for forgetting my clothes, but that didn’t make the situation prettier. So there I am… 7:15 a.m. dressed in gym clothes, sweaty red face, no makeup, hair falling all over the place, you get the picture. And OF COURSE this happens on the ONE morning, the morning of the talent show, that there are ACTUALLY going to be people in the commons at 7:15. Everybody even semi-involved in the talent show was required to be there at 7, so I got my fair share of weird looks from people I don’t even know. Ugh… NEVER AGAIN will I put myself through such an experience! Track conditioning is hereby canceled from my life. I will condition on my own, thank you very much. Let this be a warning to all you who go to conditioning…
I rolled out of bed at 6:05, which is forty minutes earlier than I usually get up. As I clumsily got ready for conditioning I decided to skip makeup and threw my hair up in a bun (which means that it wasn’t going to be a high maintenance morning.) As my dad drove me to school in the dim morning light I wondered if conditioning was going to be worth it. I am planning to join the track team this year and as the intercom announcements said “anybody serious about track should be there” I decided I had better go. Conditioning itself isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Pretty much we jogged laps around the gym for a half hour; that was it. Nothing I couldn’t have done at home around my neighborhood. Then I realized a horrible thing… I had left the bag which contained my change of clothes, cell phone, etc at home by the back door. I called my mom and asked her to bring me my bag, she said yes but wasn’t happy about it (it was around 7:15, she needed to drive my brothers to school and this really got in the way of her schedule.) Since I didn’t have my cell phone for her to call me on when she was outside, I had to wait by the office and watch for her. Yes, it is my fault for forgetting my clothes, but that didn’t make the situation prettier. So there I am… 7:15 a.m. dressed in gym clothes, sweaty red face, no makeup, hair falling all over the place, you get the picture. And OF COURSE this happens on the ONE morning, the morning of the talent show, that there are ACTUALLY going to be people in the commons at 7:15. Everybody even semi-involved in the talent show was required to be there at 7, so I got my fair share of weird looks from people I don’t even know. Ugh… NEVER AGAIN will I put myself through such an experience! Track conditioning is hereby canceled from my life. I will condition on my own, thank you very much. Let this be a warning to all you who go to conditioning…
A couple of Poems I wrote....
My Brother Ate My Homework
“My brother ate my homework.”
I told my teacher one day
I don’t know how he got it
but he chewed it and ran away.
I chased him all over
under tables, chairs, and the bed.
He thought that he could get away
“but he will not!” I said.
He ran from me for quite some time
then stopped to catch his breath.
Though tired too, I caught his arm
and said “you’ve met your death.”
Of course I would not hurt him
I’m kind and loving you know.
But when I saw my ripped up work
I wanted to give him a blow.
Fixing up the broken mess
of the homework my brother ate,
was really hard! At last I said
“homework, for you it’s too late!”
I told this to my teacher
But she would not believe me.
Instead she said “go down the hall,
the principal you must see.
That is why I sit here now
in a huge chair, soft and new.
The principal says I’m telling lies
but you believe me, don’t you?
I told my teacher one day
I don’t know how he got it
but he chewed it and ran away.
I chased him all over
under tables, chairs, and the bed.
He thought that he could get away
“but he will not!” I said.
He ran from me for quite some time
then stopped to catch his breath.
Though tired too, I caught his arm
and said “you’ve met your death.”
Of course I would not hurt him
I’m kind and loving you know.
But when I saw my ripped up work
I wanted to give him a blow.
Fixing up the broken mess
of the homework my brother ate,
was really hard! At last I said
“homework, for you it’s too late!”
I told this to my teacher
But she would not believe me.
Instead she said “go down the hall,
the principal you must see.
That is why I sit here now
in a huge chair, soft and new.
The principal says I’m telling lies
but you believe me, don’t you?
Where do my poems hide?
I smell them in
the enticing scent of the first warm breeze
which fills your lungs and tosses your hair
as spring announces it’s coming.
I feel them in the utter
stillness
that encompasses the land
as fresh snow blankets every stone and tree in the rolling hills.
I hear them in the
snap
of a leaf being crushed beneath your boot
while passing under an oak tree
shedding its autumn plumage.
I see them in the
sun soaked fuzz
of a tabby cat’s fur who is basking
in the warm soil of a vegetable garden among the
cantaloupe blossoms.
I taste them in the
sticky scarlet juice
which bursts from a plump segment of an overly ripe raspberry
drooping on its stem.
It is here I find my poems.
I smell them in
the enticing scent of the first warm breeze
which fills your lungs and tosses your hair
as spring announces it’s coming.
I feel them in the utter
stillness
that encompasses the land
as fresh snow blankets every stone and tree in the rolling hills.
I hear them in the
snap
of a leaf being crushed beneath your boot
while passing under an oak tree
shedding its autumn plumage.
I see them in the
sun soaked fuzz
of a tabby cat’s fur who is basking
in the warm soil of a vegetable garden among the
cantaloupe blossoms.
I taste them in the
sticky scarlet juice
which bursts from a plump segment of an overly ripe raspberry
drooping on its stem.
It is here I find my poems.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
This makes me sound like an ET chaser… great.
Ok I have been thinking lately. In science we have been watching these movies on whether or not there is “intelligent” life like us out there in the universe. It goes through all these reasons why there could be and why there couldn’t be life out there. All of their reasons make sense, but even before seeing that video I always sort of assumed that there was something else out there. I mean, the universe is huge! Earth is tiny compared to our sun, our sun is tiny compared to our galaxy, and even then there are hundreds of billions of galaxy clusters scattered throughout the universe. In my mind, there is no way that we are the only ones that exist in the huge inter workings of it all! There is tons of space out there, how can we be the only dot of life existing in the universe?
There is no way to prove it of course. We have never ACTUALLY seen life from other planets, but who’s to say that it makes it impossible? I realize that we ourselves are only beginning to consider travel to Mars, a planet only a few thousand miles away from us. In a few centuries, if at all, may we even be able to send humans to another star. And we say “well, if there is life out there at all, then they would have visited us by now.” I don’t think so; I think that they probably just having as much trouble getting to our planet as we are to theirs. If there are planets close enough to us who have life, have the resources to make some sort of spaceship, and even care enough to wonder if we exist, then maybe one day we will meet them. But so far we are doing a pretty lousy job of creating the sort of “war of the worlds” simulation for other planets that we so often dream will happen to our own; we have yet to attack another planet. Since we cannot leave our planet and “invade” theirs, they probably can’t do the same to us.
I am not trying to prove anything; there is no way to know for sure that there is life besides us. But there are slim chances that we are the only ones out there. Whatever way you want to look at it… if you believe that God made us and we are the one and only then that’s your view, and if you think that God made multiple planets then that can be your view. If you believe that we were one of the lucky few whose planet came to support life then you can have that view. There is no right answer. My view just happens to be that there must be more than us in the universe, that’s all I’m trying to say. There is too much space out there to have us be the one speck of life that exists.
Ok I have been thinking lately. In science we have been watching these movies on whether or not there is “intelligent” life like us out there in the universe. It goes through all these reasons why there could be and why there couldn’t be life out there. All of their reasons make sense, but even before seeing that video I always sort of assumed that there was something else out there. I mean, the universe is huge! Earth is tiny compared to our sun, our sun is tiny compared to our galaxy, and even then there are hundreds of billions of galaxy clusters scattered throughout the universe. In my mind, there is no way that we are the only ones that exist in the huge inter workings of it all! There is tons of space out there, how can we be the only dot of life existing in the universe?
There is no way to prove it of course. We have never ACTUALLY seen life from other planets, but who’s to say that it makes it impossible? I realize that we ourselves are only beginning to consider travel to Mars, a planet only a few thousand miles away from us. In a few centuries, if at all, may we even be able to send humans to another star. And we say “well, if there is life out there at all, then they would have visited us by now.” I don’t think so; I think that they probably just having as much trouble getting to our planet as we are to theirs. If there are planets close enough to us who have life, have the resources to make some sort of spaceship, and even care enough to wonder if we exist, then maybe one day we will meet them. But so far we are doing a pretty lousy job of creating the sort of “war of the worlds” simulation for other planets that we so often dream will happen to our own; we have yet to attack another planet. Since we cannot leave our planet and “invade” theirs, they probably can’t do the same to us.
I am not trying to prove anything; there is no way to know for sure that there is life besides us. But there are slim chances that we are the only ones out there. Whatever way you want to look at it… if you believe that God made us and we are the one and only then that’s your view, and if you think that God made multiple planets then that can be your view. If you believe that we were one of the lucky few whose planet came to support life then you can have that view. There is no right answer. My view just happens to be that there must be more than us in the universe, that’s all I’m trying to say. There is too much space out there to have us be the one speck of life that exists.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Culture...where would we be without it?
Where would we be without culture? Without our art, literature, music, dance, etc we would be nearly as uncivilized as our ancestors of thousands of years ago. It is these elements of fine art and culture that set us apart from them.
I sat down and pondered this for a while, and came upon the following ideas:
Without literature or even a written language we would have a completely different lifestyle. We wouldn’t have computers for there would be no binary code, the written bits of data that make our computers run. With no computers there would be no television, no cars, no microwaves, no calculators (now isn’t that a scary thought, we rely on them so much we could not function without them) and many other things which we rely on daily to perform simple tasks we have grown so accustomed to have the computers perform for us. Without writing we would have no way of recording history and would still bargain for things with objects instead of money, since there would be no way to write down a price for each item. Can you imagine going to the market (if there even was such a thing back then) … you step in with a chicken under each arm, stroll up to the manager and say “I will give you these two chickens for a pound of apples and a new hunting knife.” Then with your new hunting knife and the pound of apples you return to your shack (there are no bulldozers or other devices to build the sort of houses we have today since the way to make them involves writing.) For the rest of the day you work in your garden to grow a few crops or wander in the surrounding valleys to find food (since there is no other option now that you have traded in your only chickens.)
Sounds pretty fun right? Not in my opinion. Luckily someone invented writing so that all of our modern conveniences exist.
And again, where would we be without art, acting, dance, etc.? Since almost all of our forms of entertainment revolve around these things, without it we would have no fun, ever. Think about it, television- it all started with actors and actresses which then turned into cartoons and soap operas. Before that there was acting on stage to entertain us with stories much like those we would see on TV nowadays. Then there is dance. We can go see dance performances or participate in them for entertainment. And art… besides enjoying drawings, photos, and paintings, we would not have writing without it because writing evolved from art. So basically, without culture, we as humans would be NOWHERE. So don’t take for granted electronics, entertainment, even the books we read for school. Somebody somewhere in time had to invent these things and without it our lives would be incredibly different.
I sat down and pondered this for a while, and came upon the following ideas:
Without literature or even a written language we would have a completely different lifestyle. We wouldn’t have computers for there would be no binary code, the written bits of data that make our computers run. With no computers there would be no television, no cars, no microwaves, no calculators (now isn’t that a scary thought, we rely on them so much we could not function without them) and many other things which we rely on daily to perform simple tasks we have grown so accustomed to have the computers perform for us. Without writing we would have no way of recording history and would still bargain for things with objects instead of money, since there would be no way to write down a price for each item. Can you imagine going to the market (if there even was such a thing back then) … you step in with a chicken under each arm, stroll up to the manager and say “I will give you these two chickens for a pound of apples and a new hunting knife.” Then with your new hunting knife and the pound of apples you return to your shack (there are no bulldozers or other devices to build the sort of houses we have today since the way to make them involves writing.) For the rest of the day you work in your garden to grow a few crops or wander in the surrounding valleys to find food (since there is no other option now that you have traded in your only chickens.)
Sounds pretty fun right? Not in my opinion. Luckily someone invented writing so that all of our modern conveniences exist.
And again, where would we be without art, acting, dance, etc.? Since almost all of our forms of entertainment revolve around these things, without it we would have no fun, ever. Think about it, television- it all started with actors and actresses which then turned into cartoons and soap operas. Before that there was acting on stage to entertain us with stories much like those we would see on TV nowadays. Then there is dance. We can go see dance performances or participate in them for entertainment. And art… besides enjoying drawings, photos, and paintings, we would not have writing without it because writing evolved from art. So basically, without culture, we as humans would be NOWHERE. So don’t take for granted electronics, entertainment, even the books we read for school. Somebody somewhere in time had to invent these things and without it our lives would be incredibly different.
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