You'll Love These February Writers!

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Be sure to read all the new pieces for February, and comment  on at least three of them.  (follow the guidelines below, if you've forgotten.  Comments are due on the blog AND in class (hard copy) by March 6.

Remember:
All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this month.  Everyone is required to comment on at least three different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your comments, complete with dates and times, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by the due date.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"I Was There" by Frederick S

We used to walk to school together. It was what I looked forward to every morning. I would wait on the park bench 5 minutes prior to her getting there. I would watch the trees sway and the birds chirp and then I would see Her walk up to me; gracious in every step just as the world slowed down around her. Her glowing blue eyes and wavy black hair would bring everything back as if the atmosphere was holding its breath and released it in that moment. We would talk about everything; from food to Chemistry and from the future to our favorite books. Anything seemed to be easy to talk about with Her. I would listen to Her talk about the deepest aspects of her life, even Her relationships but I would always wonder if She noticed.

                                                

After high school, we still kept in touch; chatting as much as we could about our college life a couple times a month. She told me of the guy that She started hanging out with and when I said I wasn’t seeing anyone she would say, “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone.” I would sigh and change the subject because I was starting to doubt if she would ever notice. I stood beside Her when her father died and cared for her while she mourned for the year.

She asked me to walk Her down the aisle on her wedding day; hand Her off to the same guy who she met in college. Then I let her cry on my shoulder after he left because she miscarried three times. I supported her when she took him back after he apologized for leaving her, and beating her, and cheating on her. But I was almost sure she hadn’t noticed. I was there for Her when the kids that She adopted had graduated college and was even there for both of their weddings. I stayed with her after He passed away.

It was a good year when She asked me to travel the world with her. We saw all 196 wonders of the world and then spent a day observing penguins. We did all the classics; the Eiffel, the Great Wall of China, Tower of Pisa, then the Opera House. Who knew opera could be so moving and weird at the same time? By the time we made it back it was just in time for her to see the birth of Her grandchild. Those years I remember the most. She was always smiling then; as if the world made sense again. I can still see the last time I saw her smile. I always wanted to ask her then if she noticed. But at Her funeral, I still couldn’t find the strength to do it. Now I still wait on that bench and watch the birds whistle and the trees creak and wait for Her to walk down the sidewalk again but wonder; ‘Did she notice? Did she notice we were in love?’

"Sad Satire" by Jacob H

     There exists, within a tiny corner of the spacetime continuum, a small hypothetical universe. Within this hypothetical universe there lies a hypothetical galaxy housing a hypothetical solar system in which resides a hypothetical plant which will hereby be referred to as Fake Planet XI. On Fake Planet XI there lives a hypothetical boy, residing in a hypothetical house on a hypothetical street contained within several other hypothetical sublevels of organization whose importance is trivial and thus they will be excluded. This is the story of that boy.

     He awoke with a start in response to the violent assault on his ear drums. Recognizing his alarm, he peeled himself off of his sheets like the price tag from a regifted Christmas present. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he stared into the mirror as if hoping to see anything but his own reflection staring back at him. He hated seeing himself, it was a constant reminder of the infuriating mediocrity of his life. He was intelligent, well fed, blessed with a stable household in the middle class and yet something made it all seem so intolerable. After attempting to wash away a lifetime of sin with a scalding shower, the hypothetical boy eventually accepted his life and moved to dress himself for the six hour purgatory called “school.” He knew, however, as he plopped himself down into his office chair that he hated himself, he hated the fact that he was intelligent enough to see that the world around him had gone to hell in a handbasket but not intelligent enough to do a damn thing about it, he hated the fact that he was surrounded by so much stupidity and worthlessness that he was forced to reevaluate his own self worth to be just high enough to keep suicide out of the question. It was at this point that he stopped, stopped and thought for a moment about his situation. He realized that Fake Planet XI was a world where inconsistent outpourings of emotions were not enough. A world where anything not intentionally, explicitly, and overbearingly shoved down the throats of humanity was simply swallowed by the infinite stupidity of the world in which the hypothetical boy lived. In a fit of passion he swiveled dramatically in his chair and, fingers flying on his keyboard, typed out four words in, of course, Comic Sans (the most refined of fonts) size 50. He rolled away from his desk, pointing his eyes to the sky as though waiting for the judgment of some hundreds of gods. Four simple words which meant very little to the hypothetical boy in his hypothetical universe, but not because they were insignificant, but because after these four words were written, nothing was quite so hypothetical. He looked sadly onward, unsure if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, or if it had simply crushed him into nothingness, and repeated to himself shakily the four words which forever changed the course of his life “I am Jacob Horne.”

"Finding Peace" by Haylie D

My name is Serenity.  I am seventeen years old and I am insane. Telling people my story is rather hard for me but here goes nothing. When did I become insane? I’m not too sure on where it all began.  I remember when I had hardly one concern at all and knew absolutely nothing about what it’s like to be genuinely scared and alone.  My life was this great for as long as I could remember.  People think that what they have is so secure and nothing or nobody could take it away from you….and it’s that exact idea that screws us all.  And when it is taken away from you (because it’s bound to happen) you’ll begin to feel pain.  When I say pain I mean feeling pain in a way you never thought you were capable of feeling.  But is pain truly temporary like everyone says? Yes.  Can temporary mean 9 months? Yes.  The scary part is not knowing.  Not knowing when it’ll stop, let alone get better.  And you can’t help but feel so much anger towards to person who caused this.  Most likely the anger will turn into sadness, then back to anger again, etc.  I would say that the absolute hardest part for me was the worrying.  Worrying myself sick. Literally. I would lie in bed at night forcing myself to get some rest.  Then would wake up around 4 AM because I couldn’t stop shaking.  I wasn’t in a good place then but I think that’s about where I realized I’m insane.  But if I’ve learned one thing in the past 2 months it’s that nothing lasts forever, not even the pain.  I will tell you that it’s all a mental game, nothing more. A positive mindset will go a long way.  Do you think it’s bad to fight for something you want?  No.  But it’s even more important to know what you believe in and what’s worth fighting for before anything permanent is done.  So here’s some advice you’ll need; hold onto what you believe, know when to fight but know when to let go, and most importantly forgive.  Don’t forgive because you think you have to; it won’t make you any less insane, do it because it’ll give you peace of mind.  I’ve accepted things far beyond what I viewed as capable. After all, my name is Serenity isn’t it?

"Deprivation" by Vivian T

Jason was sulking around the house, bored out of his mind, waiting for inspiration to hit him. He passed the loft and was surprised to see Tim on the floor with his face pressed against the laptop screen. Cans of Monster surrounded him, but Tim still struggled to stay awake.

And Jason has nothing better to do. So hee decided to stick around to annoy Tim.

“You know that stuff can kill you right? It’s called Monster . It’s basically telling you that it’s going to kill you,” Jason said while intruding Tim’s space.

Jason’s voice echoed throughout the loft and startled Tim. But he quickly regained his composure and rolled his eyes. “This is coming from the boy who smokes .”

“Hey! I’m trying to quit.”

Tim snorted and continued to type in silence. Jason sprawled himself across the floor and picked up a can of Monster and examined the contents. “Natural flavors? Natural flavors of what? Gasoline?”

“Cigarettes have arsenic, nicotine, ammonia, and so much more, and you’re lecturing me about natural flavors ?”

“I said that I was quitting! Besides, I’m just trying to watch out for you.”

Apparently, this strikes a nerve because Tim, finally, takes his eyes off the screen. “Did Dad send you in here? Look, I’m fine alright. I’ll sleep when I’m done.”

“What are you?” Just then, Jason noticed Tim’s face. The bags under his eyes seemed even darker because of the pastiness of his skin.

Jason quickly plastered the back of his hand against Tim’s forehead. Freezing. “Jeez, Timmy. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“I’m fine ,” Tim emphasized.

“ When ? And I’m talking like a real good night’s sleep and meal.”

Tim huffed and muttered incomprehensibly.

“What?”

“I said ‘A few days.’”

“ A FEW DAYS?!?! ”

“I’m FINE !”

“ BULLSH** !” And right on cue, Tim let out a huge yawn. His eyes widened at the fact that his own body betrayed him.

Jason glared at Tim. And in one swift movement, he scooped up Tim and threw him over his shoulder.

“ HEY !” Tim shouted, wriggling in his brother’s grasp.

But Jason didn’t stop until he had reached Tim’s room and threw him ungracefully onto his bed.

Honestly, Tim would’ve argued with Jason. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyelids began to droop.

“Jay, I really can’t. I have so much homework to do,” he mumbled.

“You work too hard. Take a break.”

“But.”

“Look. You’re going to sleep. And when you wake up, you’re going to eat. And then you’ll realize that the world didn’t explode just because you didn’t do your homework and then you’ll realize that you’re fine.”

By now, Tim’s eyes were closed and there was some soft snoring.

Jason eyes the permanent marker near Tim’s desk and is struck with inspiration. He can’t pass up the opportunity. He’s not that strong.

Tim woke up with colorful profanity on his forehead and a plate of food by his desk.

"Mystery" by Hallie D

            Yes I am the man who climbed the cliffs and passed through the fog and now I’m here to tell you what happened on my adventure. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning when I was fishing in my boat like usual, but for some reason I became very curious about the the fog that was on top of the mountain. My mother has warned me about the fog but I disregarded what she told me and started off in the direction of the cliffs. As I got closer to the cliffs it felt like they were hypnotizing me. I know that might sound ridiculous but all my focus was on the cliffs and the fog. Once I reached the shore I tied the boat off and thats when the real adventure began. At first, climbing the cliffs was quiet easy but it hit me all at once when I looked down and realized how high the cliffs actually were. My fingers were cold and cramping from the crisp morning breeze, but I was to determined to find out what was behind the fog so I trailed on. My legs were burning from climbing, my back and neck were aching and at this point I felt like giving and lying down, but sadly there is no where to stop and rest. As I get closer, the hardest part of the journey is coming to an end.

            Finally I made it, I've never been so happy to lay down in my life. When I caught my breath and stood up I could hardly see the ground beneath my feet. The fog was thicker than I thought it would have been. The fog must have gone on for at least three miles before I reached the end. Everything beyond the dark mist was absolutely beautiful. As I ventured into the new land I stumbled across strange insects and amazing flowers but the best thing I found was a fruit that tasted like a mixture of a tangerine and a pineapple, but ten times better. I spent all day stuffing my face with all these magnificent exotic fruits. I thought it was about time for me to go home since i had spent almost all day and I promised my mother that I would be home in time for dinner. I made my way down the mountain and got into my boat not really observing what condition it was in. Looking bak now, the boat was in horrible condition, with cracked paint and a dying engine. When I made it back to the dock everything looked different from when I left, but how is this possible if I have only been gone for a few hours? I walked down these some what familiar roads and made my way to my home. I see remainders of what once was my home. I searched for familiar faces but I found none so I asked a kind lady what year it was and she said “2015”, which was exactly 70 years from when I left for the island in 1945. I now am starting to realize what is really behind the story of the fog. No one has lived to tell it because by the time you get back from the trip, time for you has paused, but down in the village time will still continue on. So I would highly recommend staying away from the anomalous fog.

“Thank You For Everything” by Caitlin N.

She cut herself every single day. From the second she woke up, in the bathroom during lunch, the minute she got home from school, and before she said a prayer to go to sleep at night. The only peace she ever got was when she was asleep. But even during those times she was uneasy in her dreams.

Her mom yelled her at day and night. Her dad was no longer around. She got bullied at school. It was like the suffering never ended.

Every day as she pressed on that blade, she’d ask for the courage to press down deeper to leave this world. She didn’t want the gift of life. It wasn’t even considered a “gift” to her. She was done.

As she reminisces back to those days, she kisses her boyfriend softly saying straight from her heart, “thank you for everything." She interlocks her fingers with his and presses her cheek against his lips. This was the happiest she’s ever been.

As she reminisces back to those days, she carries the blade once again. Staring at it, thinking, with tears going down her face. She presses it one more time upon her wrist softly and gently and whispers, “thank you for everything."

As she reminisces back to that day she threw that blade in the trash, she smiles at her husband and says, “thank you for everything.”

As he reminisces back to that day, he whispers to her and their newborn baby, “thank you for everything.”

"Angels in Disguise" by Bethany S

            Hi. My name is Bethany and I’m writing for the awareness of children who have special needs. I have a little brother named Bradley, he is 9 years old and he has Williams Syndrome. He is the sweetest little brother I could ever have. He is my little angel, I love him to the moon and back, and a lot of other kids at his school do to. They all know him and say “Hi Bradley” when they pass him. He even has a couple “girl friends” they are always trying to kiss him, the teachers have to pull them away sometimes. But then there are those who stare at him when we go places. I mean I understand if it’s a child and they don’t know, but even grown ups will stare and I’m just like hey would you like if I stared at you because you aren’t perfect or something like come on. Another thing that just made me mad was on a documentary we had to watch in class, a lady that had a teen with autism was saying that she knows how “people say that these children are angels but they aren’t!” Well I mean really, she said that about her daughter on TV! I saw her daughter, and she wasn’t even close to as difficult it can be to handle autistic kids. She could walk, talk, feed herself, and take a little more care of herself than most other special needs children. My brother can’t even do half that. But I still think he’s perfect. The last point I want to stress is kids like us. Ok I Know  it might be weird but it really annoys me when I hear people say retarded. But that’s an actual word people use for children with special needs for the mentally challenged, like my brother. I mean think, when someone says to someone “you look retarded,” when they look stupid it is really saying that retarded children like my brother look stupid. Sure maybe they don’t look like us but on the inside they are so sweet and they are way tougher. Just imagine being given weird looks every day and being afraid to be made fun of just because the way they were created. But maybe just maybe I always think, what if, what if they are just angles in disguise, sent by God as a test to see who is worthy. Who treats them respectfully and to watch what we do………Just think…… they could be……                                                  ANGELS IN DISGUISE.

So the next time you want to say retarded, think or you see a special needs child don’t stare, smile maybe they will return the favor

"The lie" by Jocelyn R

             It was only a month ago that we both had said,” I do.” We had just come back from our honeymoon. We were so happy we were moving into our new house. The house was so beautiful, it was my dream house. It was so huge it was our mini mansion. It was his surprise for me. He knew me so well. He told me he loved me every morning and every night. That’s why I couldn’t believe he would cheat on me. At first he wouldn’t let me go through his phone. He’s reason was because he needed privacy. I told my sisters about this and they told me not to worry.

My sister invited us to her house to eat lunch one day. He was acting secretive he got a phone call. He answered it and left the room without saying anything, when he came back he looked nervous. An hour later he said he had to leave without any excuse. After he left my sister told me to follow him, so I did. He went into the city to a café. There he met a blonde tall beautiful women.  I just couldn’t believe it, did my eyes deceive me! He hugged and kissed her, then they went to his car. I followed them back to our house! Our house! How could he do this to me?  In our house? The house we were going to have a family in. They went inside, I waited a while to go in. When I went inside I was loud and said, “Honey I’m home!” I heard feet come down stairs it was her she was surprised to see me. Then he came downstairs he said, “It’s not what it looks like.” After he said that I just left and she chased me and apologized she told me she fell in love with him. During that week I divorced him and I couldn’t be happier.

"Tsekuno's Life" by Bryan A-D

 

    Naruto was sitting by the fireplace and remembering his lovely wife, Hinata. It’s been ten years since she died at the hands of Pain, a member of the Akatsuki. After all these years he still perceives her death as a result of his carelessness. As she took her last breath h promised to protect their child, Tsekuno, as much as possible. Tsekuno came running into the room. “Dad, I passed the first round of the Chunin Exams." "You did son. That’s amazing." Tsekuno had his father's hair and burning spirit. He had his mom's special chakra eyes. Tsekuno also had the soul of the nine tailed fox coursing through his veins. "Cool shows me what you got. Use some of the justsu you learned." Jutsu are moves that require chakra, energy. Tsekuno use his Clone jutsu. Suddenly there were 20 copies of him and they all attacked Naruto. “You can’t beat me with that type of jutsu." He blocked all of the clones repeated attacks. "Now try demon fortress." Tsekuno focused his chakra into the ground causing a star insignia that has 9 points to appear on the ground. Naruto walked on it and there was a great pressure forcing him to the floor and sucking his chakra out of him. “Good work son. Go to bed the second part of the exams is a tournament tomorrow." They got up early the next day and arrived at the stadium where the tournament will be held. The first round Tsekuno had to battle a ninja that uses water jutsu. Tsekuno progressed all the way to the final battle. He was facing Josiah, the son of Gaara. Gaara was the finalist Naruto faced when he was younger. The battle begins. Tsekuno rushes at Josiah with his dagger. Josiah evades it effortlessly. He uses his Sand Grip jutsu to get a hold of Tsekuno it looked like the end. Suddenly something was something to Tsekuno. His eyes were turning red and he started transforming into the nine tailed fox. Tsekuno unlocked a new form. He started to attack using all his strength at once. Josiah falls in pain losing the match. Tsekuno looks up into the sky and says “I finally did it mom."

"Hating the Day of Love" by Holly M

Don’t get me wrong, I love most of the holidays. Thanksgiving is great, Christmas is spectacular, and Halloween is amazing, but there’s one holiday that I absolutely hate and that’s Valentine’s Day. Scrooge to Christmas is like me to Valentine’s Day. Every single cell in my body hates Valentine’s Day, I just loathe it.

Eleven years ago, I spent Valentine’s Day in the hospital with a broken arm and twenty stitches. Seven years ago, I fell off my bike and broke my wrist on Valentine’s Day. Five years ago, my kitchen set on fire on Valentine’s Day. Three years ago, my cat died. Guess what day? That’s right, Valentine’s Day. For some reason, everything bad happens to me on Valentine’s Day. Every other day of the year is fine, except for the wretched day of February fourteenth.

From a day that was honoring Saint Valentine, Valentine’s Day has become into a day filled with chocolate, flowers, and love. This Valentine’s Day, people in the U.S. will have spent $13.9 billion dollars for Valentine’s Day. 257 million roses are sold every Valentine’s Day. 58 million pounds of chocolate has been sold the week of Valentine’s Day. That is quite a production.

But what’s worse than an average Valentine’s Day is a Valentine’s Day at high school. There’s just couples literally everywhere and its drama, drama, and more drama. There’s probably more drama than the Bachelor and Game of Thrones combined in the month of February at high school. It’s gross to see couples literally making out in the school hallways. It’s almost impossible to go directly to class without dodging a couple in hallways, around corners, or on the stairs.

So on this dreaded Valentine’s Day, I’m staying home, hopefully away from all the bad luck that surround me on that day. While other people celebrate their love or complain about being single, I’ll be sleeping the day away hoping February fifteenth comes fast. Wake me up when this whole wretched Valentine’s Day ends.

"The Name Game" by Isabelle H

Isabelle.
This name was bestowed upon me not because of its gorgeous French background or because of its deep, sentimental meaning, but because both my older sisters’ names are Chantelle and Michelle and dearest mother wanted to be one of those parents who had a cute little pattern in their kids’ names.

And I admit, it would have been cute… if she could actually match the names with the faces. Here’s some actual dialogue my mom exchanged with me “Hey Chantelle ah i mean Michelle, i mean Snuggles... Isabelle, could you come downstairs?!”

Really mom?  Even after you shuffle through every possible name, I still come after the dog?

And I understand mom, it’s totally fine. You can get confused with all of us youngins around, and that is completely reasonable. And hey, at least you get my name right. ...Everyone else however, does not get off scotfree.

9 times out of 10 I will get called Elizabeth right after introducing myself: looking at you Starbucks lady and you driver instructor man. For what reason, I may never understand.

And if it’s not Elizabeth, it’s some other messed up variation of my name, Isabella,Elizabelle, Elizabella. It has come to the point where I have looked in the mirror and introduced myself just to find out if I was somehow screwing up my own name. Surprisingly, it turns out that no matter how many times you repeat the syllables Ehsahbell, it does not transform into an entirely different name.

 I vividly remember this one time when I was on Skype with my beloved Grandma. At this point, I hadn’t seen her in ages and was excited to have my first conversation with her in years. I don’t think I will ever forget her first words to me. I slowly made my way up to the webcam and... “Oh! Hi, IIsaINKOBELLE.”

WHAT. Like, Grandma, I love you and all, BUT THAT IS NOT EVEN CLOSE. Where did the ‘n’ come from, or the “k”? In a moment of weakness, I made the unfortunate mistake of sharing this story with a couple of people and, lo and behold, it has now become a running joke in my family and friends to call me Inkobelle or as my cousin recollects it, Anklebelt. Sigh .

I would have never imagined that this 3 syllable, 8 lettered word would become such a trying battle. You might ask, “Elizabeth, why don’t you just change your name?” Well, I too have given thought of this possibility and brought it up to my mom about a month ago. Her response “I GAVE YOU THAT NAME. HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK OF CHANGING IT? You know, in my country…”

I don’t know if it’s the spelling of my name, or if it’s hard to remember, or maybe, just maybe I really do look like an Anklebelt. It has been a growing struggle, but I have been slowly getting used to the slight inconveniences that my name gives me. In fact, they might even be becoming a part of my identity. I’m starting to learn that sometimes, when life gives you lemons, you just need to say “Hey, thank you Life. I appreciate that,” even if the lemons are all moldy and gross and you know that when you get back home you’re just going to throw them away.

Maybe these “Isabelle” centered hindrances aren’t so bad after all, I mean, they’re nothing compared to the ones that my last name give me. With love, Isabelle Huynh

"How to obtain the Swagalicous title of 'Swag'" by Erick V

         Everybody in the world always dreams about one day achieving perfection. With perfection comes great admiration from the whole wide world. One may ask themselves, “How do I obtain this perfection?” Well, the answer is very simple, as one may obtain this through obtaining the title of Swag. Once one has Swag, great recognition, athletic skills, amazing admiration, and profound intelligence shall come to the person. Since I myself have obtained the all-mighty title of Swag, I have seen all of these attributes of Swag in myself. For example, when I walk around the mall, all the girls begin to smile and giggle to themselves because they don’t know how to speak to such greatness. When teachers give back my test, they give me the best grade achievable, the F, which stands for fantastic! Not only that, students and adults of all kind, talk behind my back, probably praising me and wishing they could be me. Now onto the steps to obtain swag.

     The first step is to dress like a person with Swag. One must buy tight jeans that you can find in the children section in any clothing store in the mall. These people with Swag in the picture shown below, perfectly demonstrate how a person with Swag dresses. While one wears those tight jeans, they must ensure that they sag the jeans to allow for the boxers to be displayed to the entire world. Not only that, but the person must also wear an expensive hat all day long. They need to wear either vans or Nike shoes, and to finish the whole image up, they need to wear a shirt, sweater or anything of the kind that proves your worth. If one dresses like a person with Swag, than he shall receive many benefits. For example, the person shall be so stylish, that people will gaze and look at the kid with a puzzled look saying to themselves, “are my eyes decieving me or am I actually witnessing such an amazing person with Swag.” Also the person’s athletic performance shall improve dramatically, since they shall be wearing the most comfortable tight children jeans that shall allow them to run like they have never have ran before.

         Nextly, is to impove ones language. The person must use words and phrases such as: “ Let’s bounce”(To say lets go), “ Let’s dip”(To say lets leave),”essay, foo, bruh, dude,brah,(to call friends), yolo (to say bi to life), hashtag…., exc…. Using this language improves your intellect, as teachers and students will be shocked and give a puzzled look while thinking to themesleves , “this kid is utilizing such high level vocabulary and language in his every day life.”

       Lastly, is to care about ones own apperearnce first before anything else. This brings upon profound intelligence since the person will begin to receive the ultimate grade everybody wants, which is the F for fantastic, instead of the A for awful. Getting the best grade in the class will have the persons fellow clasmates and people around him respect him even more.

      In conclusion, if one follows these 3 easy and simple steps, one shall receive the title of Swag that comes with, great recognition, athletic skills, amazing admiration, and profound intelligence. Start today, and tomorrow experience greatness and perfection with the title of Swag. Good Luck!

"Castles and Mud-Pies" by Kinzah K

            Eight  years later, here I am sitting on a park bench, shaking things up from the daily routine , watching the lives of others before continuing on with my own. There was a couple holding hands, smiling, and laughing. They looked like they were in a new relationship taking a stroll along the side of the park just enjoying their time together.  There were children screaming, running, and laughing completely ignoring everyone else around them. How do they do that? How are they able to just let loose and be free? I miss it. Why can’t I be just like them anymore? Loss of innocence? Maturity? Maybe.  Or what about expectations?

             Suddenly, as I am just casually observing the world around me, a conversation in the park across from me catches my attention. “DADDY DADDY DADDY. LOOK! I made this castle all on my own. Don’t you love it?”, says a girl with hopeful gleam in her eyes. Her dad looks at it and just nods with a slight smile across his face. "DADDY DADDY DADDY! Look I made a mud pie!", says a boy, with an equal amount of gleam in his eyes, who looked just a few years younger than the girl. The dad then turns from the girl and goes to the little boy for a great big embrace. "I am so proud you. You are so talented, I know you will be the one to make me happy." The little boy turns around and walks over to the girl, who I presume is his sister,  laughing, not completely acknowledging what his dad had just said to him. At that moment, instantly, all I could think about was how the little girl was feeling, I looked over at her and she stared at her brother with slight hatred that she couldn't even pinpoint.  I knew exactly what she was feeling. It was jealousy. Deep jealously. Jealousy she wouldn't understand for years.

"Opening Eyes Opening Minds" by Megan G

Throughout the seventeen years of my life, I’m very proud of the values, morals, and ethics that were taught to me growing up.  I grew up with a father who practiced Judaism and a mother who practiced Christianity. Although these religions have different views, they have similar morals such as compassion.  My parents have shaped and instilled in me to be compassionate toward all people regardless what they look like, where they come from, or what they believe in.

In elementary school, the morals my parents taught were put to the test when I was given the opportunity to work with autistic children. When I was in my third grade class, my attention was grabbed by a boy who was taught separate from the rest of the class. I could not understand why he was given different class work, or why no one wanted to play with him at recess. One day before recess, I asked his teacher, Mrs. Porter, if I could play with the boy Connor because he was playing alone with her.  When I played with him at recess, a lot of the other children would tease Connor saying why someone so smart is playing with a kid so stupid that they need their own personal teacher. I did not see Connor the way others would and I would try to protect him from the cruel words the other classmates would say.

Despite the crude comments given by others, I continued playing at recess with him for the whole year.  I realized I had great compassion and patience for these children with their disability.  I would ask questions to his teacher and try to learn as much as possible from her. Mrs. Porter ignited a spark in me to pursue a career working with children that had mental disabilities.

During my sophomore year, I worked at Loma Linda Hospital as a volunteer. I requested to work with an occupational therapist to observe their daily routine working with mentally ill children. For six weeks I worked with an occupational therapist at the behavioral medicine center. I soon learned, not only did the occupational therapist work with autistic children, they also worked with children that had birth defects, birth injuries, sensory processing disorders, behavioral problems due to traumatic injuries, and mental health disorders. My eyes were open to the countless amount of people I could help and was eager to learn as much as I could in a limited amount of time.

From my religious influences from my parents to the experiences in school and my community, these have greatly shaped my values that one should have compassion for one another and to do so in a patient manner. These are the values that I hope to practice in my aspired career as an occupational therapist. When I treat my patients, I plan to see them as the person they are and not the disability they have. I would like to be there to celebrate every patient’s triumph with ongoing development and growth, and encouraging them to rise and continue with every struggle or set back.  These moral values have given me a great foundation to pursue my dreams and aspirations to help others in the field of behavioral medicine. 

Finally! New Stories to Read!

Hooray!!!  
Be sure to read all the new pieces for December and January, and comment (follow the guidelines below, if you've forgotten.  This month, because it's actually two batches of writers, you are required to comment on a minimum of FIVE pieces, not three.  Due date for comments on January writers is Friday, February 6th (in class AND on the blog)

Remember:
All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this month.  Everyone is required to comment on at least FIVE different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your comments, complete with dates and times, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by the due date.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"Introducing The New You " by Milani T

“So, how exactly do I come out to my parents?” 

“What will their reaction be? Will they hate me?” 

“Do I hate me?”

“This is who I am, love me or leave me.  I’m Hannah Greylynn. I am a 24 year old successful  creative director in a well established advertising company. I’m fun, outgoing, financially independent and I hate pickles on my burgers. I am proud supporter of the LGBT community and a recently self- declared lesbian. I love and accept who I am and damn, there should be a step by step instruction book on coming out to your family!”

Peter- “There is. It’s called “My Journey Out of the Closet.”

Hannah- “Where were you with this book three years ago!”

Peter- “Trying to grasp the fact my girlfriend of five years is a lesbian.”

Hannah- “Jeez Pete this is not about you today, any other day to be selfish would be fine, but not today.”

Peter- (Calmly) “I know Hannah this is your moment. All about you, but why did you choose your parent’s annual New Years Eve party to come out to them.

Hannah- “ It’s the New Year! That means a new me. The real me, plus they can’t make a scene with our neighbors here.

Peter- “Okay not that they would, but what about your grandma, didn’t she just leave the hospital last week due to some form of a heart condition? Will she be okay?”

Hannah- “Oh she’ll be fine, I’m not worried about coming out to her. She is a strong supporter of the LGBT community, so much so her and her bingo friends compete over whose closer to their gay hairstylist. She finds the gay community exciting and finds Neil Patrick Harris an elixir for a long life. Not entirely sure what she means by that, but sounds positive.”

Peter- “Oh Grandma Greylynn you are something else. Oh, what about Ben, does he know already. I figured since you guys are twins you have some type of twin telepathy feel going on...”

Hannah- (Irritated) “Ben knows nothing, but I guarantee you that *ick will make this about him in some way, always craving attention, always trying to one up me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he eloped with some woman he met online the moment I come out. You know he purposely scheduled his driving test the day of my 11th grade dance recital.”

Before Pete could answer Hannah’s mom calls them both down for the New Years countdown.

Mrs. Greylynn- “Hannah, Pete time for the countdown, get your heinies down here!”

Hannah-(Hyperventilating) Sweet Mother Teresa! I can’t do this I need to see more coming out videos! I’m not ready Pete I’ll do it next year.” 

Peter- “No Hannah stop, you’ll do this now. You owe it you yourself to be yourself. They’ll love and accept you the same way I did and the same way you did, and if for some inexplicable reason they don’t, just remember it is your life and you don’t need their approval. If they really love you they’ll accept you for you and move on.”

Hannah- (tearing up in the eyes) “Thanks Pete, *sniffs* you’re a great friend, now if only you were a woman (jokingly).”

Pete-*sighs* “Ha..right.” 

Hannah and Peter head down the stairs. Hannah *heart rate increases* looks around to sees her family gathered around the t.v counting down the seconds. She times the exact moment she will tell them. 

GreyLynn Family- 5...4...3...2..

Hannah- “Mom, dad, grandma I’m....”

Ben- “I’M GAY MOM AND DAD!”

Hannah- “Son of B....!”

Grandma Greylynn- “I knew it! haha wait till the girls at bingo here about this. Got my own Neil Patrick Harris Elixir right here HA ladies!” *throws hands up as though just winning the lotto*

Mr. Greylynn- *opens wallet takes out a 20 dollar bill and hands it to Mrs. Greylynn* “Son we...well your mother and grandma knew, but we love you regardless...”

Mrs. Greylynn- “We are so proud that you came out to us, we know that this must have been really hard for you.”(Canadian accent)

Ben- “Well it helped having “ My Journey Out of The Closet” as a step by step self help book for coming out.” *glances over at Hannah and smiles smugly*

Mrs. Greylynn- “What a great way to start off the New Year! Thank you for sharing this news with us. We’re so happy you can finally be yourself *hugs Ben tightly* Now who wants cake.”

Everyone- WE DO!” *all at once head into the kitchen*

Hannah stands in disappointment yet relief knowing that she will be accepted whenever she decides to introduce the new her.

Mr. Greylynn- “Hannah so sorry you were about to tell us something. What was it?”

Hannah-*smiling* “Just that I love you guys.”

Mrs. Greylynn- “We love you too Hannah Banana.”

End.

"Your Eyes Can Play Tricks" by Michael H

      It was a cold, snowy winter day. A 17 year old girl named Rose. Rose parents had to go on a business trip, so they left her home alone. After saying their goodbyes Rose went to the couch, got a blanket, and watched a movie. The Television was next to a see through sliding door which led outside. While watching her movie, Rose noticed something getting closer to the window. As she focused, a figure appeared at the window. At first she thought he was lost, until the man slowly pulled out a knife. Immediately Rose started panicking and she froze with fear. The man was staring at her while pointing a knife towards. Rose then pulled the blanket she had over her head. She took out her phone and started dialing 911. All Rose could do was wait in fear. After a couple minutes of waiting, Rose heard a knock at the door and immediately she got up and sprinted to the door. The police came in and Rose explained the story to them. The police then inspected outside where the man was standing to look for footprints. There weren't any. While the police were outside inspecting, Rose was inside waiting to hear the news the police gathered. All of a sudden there was a scream and the police rushed inside the house to see what was wrong. All they saw was Rose on the ground with a huge wound in her stomach, and a man with a knife standing over the body. This man was wickedly smiling and staring maniacally in the police eyes. The man had just killed Rose. In the end, Rose wasn't seeing a man through the window, she was seeing a reflection of this crazed murder. He was inside the house the whole time, waiting to strike. Your eyes can play tricks on you.