Journal Entry ||Divorced Parents|| (3)

Dear Diary,

Who knew a divorce would change my life so drastically?

The house felt so empty now. No more sounds of my dad making food in the middle of the night. No more waking up to my mom blasting her Gospel music. The once beautifully decorated walls filled with memories were now blank. The beautiful wedding pictures, the family outing albums...gone. The millions of my father's degrees...gone.

Of course I woke up to an empty house this morning, no different then any other morning after the divorce. The lunch money accompanied with the usual note "for Magi...from Papi"—wasn't there. "You know honey, I took on a few more shifts at work just so we can stay on our feet. Try and start saving your money, you know I won't be able to give you lunch money everyday like your father did." Quickly pushing my mother's voice out of my head, I grabbed my purse and went to school.

"I hate Thursdays," I said flipping through my Physics notebook. Overhearing my comment, Amanda replied, "I know right. It's so0o close to Friday but not really. And my parents always go out for dinner on Fridays leaving me all by myself. They're home all the time, I can’t stand it. I can't wait till tomorrow!"

"I definitely don't remember asking you" I said mumbling under my breath.

'Leaving me all by myself'...wow. Being alone in the house drives me insane. Mom has to work more often so we don't lose the house. Papi moved out a few weeks ago and has never stepped foot back here. How can being left alone be so great? I would give anything to have my parents home all the time.

The rest of the school day got worse.
“Any intentions?”
“My parents ‘cause they just bought me a new car!!”
“It’s my parents’ anniversary today.”
I could have sworn I missed the memo that it was "talk about my parents day".
The 2:21 bell rings. Volleyball time! the only thing that's been getting my mind off of the divorce. After getting subbed out in the second set and going back in just a few minutes later, I looked out into the bleachers. Seeing all the parents there cheering and giving words of encouragement to their daughters got to me. Why can’t I have that? "Macda, what the hell, the ball was right in front of you," said Smarthine with aggravation. "I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
But it did. I kept missing passes, missing serves, and bumping into my teammates. My mind wasn't on that game at all. I kept thinking of going home to an empty house, knowing that my father wouldn't be waiting for me with chicken teriyaki like he always had on Thursday nights.

Why can't things go back to the way they were? When I'd hear my parents play fighting about who would take a shower first. Or the surprise anniversary, birthday, and Mother's Day gifts my dad always seemed to have planned at least four months in advance. Or even my mom cracking jokes on my dad's beard—hilarious.

But it'll never be like that again.

Journal Entry ||Perspective of a Teenager Getting Cheated On|| (2)

Dear Diary,

4 a.m. …again.
Why the hell was this the 5th morning I woke up stressing over him?
He definitely wasn’t losing sleep over me.
After seeing him in the back corner behind the vending machines with Michelle last week, all I could do was cringe in pain every time he’d kiss my lips. Two years—down the drain. He didn’t know I saw him and I haven’t exactly found a way to confront him yet.
I mean, how do I bring that into conversation?

Going to school today was the worst. Arriving their just in time to get my books and walk to class, there he was… waiting for me as usual.
“Baby, I got an A on my Calculus test!” as he approached to hug me.
“Aww good job babe, I’m so proud of you.”

Lie.
I could careless.

“Baby you ok?” he hesitated, sensing the falseness in my voice.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I love him, but why punish myself for his wrongdoing?
He kissed me. I broke down.
I told myself I was going to stay strong. Why was I crying? This makes me look so weak.

“Macda-Nut we’re ‘bout to be late. Hurry up!!!” screamed a familiar voice running towards me. As Dora grabbed my right arm, unaware of what was going on, she pulled me into English class.
I wished those 50 minutes had never ended because walking through the hallways was brutal.
“I heard Gabriel’s been cheatin’ on her ever since they started goin’ out”
“Yo, Gabriel’s a G…two girls at the same time?”

Was I the only one that didn’t know? From the beginning, the “be careful with Gabriel” and “keep an eye on him” comments never hit me. I felt betrayed and hurt. Opening my locker, all I could do was stare into darkness and cry. The pain was unbearable. My body felt paralyzed. After two years of giving him everything, living to make him happy. It was like a glass splinter working its way into my heart. It was a soul hurt. A real-gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I need to end this.

Journal Entry ||Pregnant Teenager|| (1)

Dear Diary,

3 months, 23 days, and 10 hours to go.

Waking up to a mouth full of vomit isn’t exactly my favorite kind of morning… but that’s exactly the one I had. Barely making it to the toilet, I sat on the bathroom floor and threw up my macaroni and cheese dinner. As the last chuncks came out, I remained there. Of course there were mirrors all around forcing me to stare at the ugliest person I’ve ever seen. It was almost 7 o’clock so I showered, got dressed, and tried to make myself look half decent.
Getting in the car was ridiculous today. As my stomach pushed against the steering wheel, I felt him kick back (as if he hasn’t caused me enough pain already). I quickly adjusted it and drove to school. As usual, all I could do was ask stupid questions that I already knew the answers to.
“How could I let this happen to me? What the hell was I thinking?”

Then the lingering one in the back of my head, "Abortion?"
Quickly shot down by the few morals I had left, "Hell no."

School definitely didn’t make my day any better. Friends? Sure. If friends are the ones that walk with me to class then sit in a corner and talk about how much of a hypocrite I am. I mean, who could blame them? Last year, all I did was talk about the importance of chastity and abstinence. Now look at me. In three months, I'll be a mother taking her child to school with her. Sitting in second period, all I could hear were the guys laughing, “Wait till marriage my ass. She couldn’t even wait till she was 17.”

Ouch.

(They knew my birthday was in six days)

School went by as usual—dirty looks, under breath whispers, rude comments. Leaving that parking lot would have been the best feeling if I didn’t see my old volleyball teammates laughing and talking about their last league game today. I miss them. I should have been on that van.

Home was no different from school…maybe even worse. Speaking to myself as I walked through the front door, “How the hell am I going to support a baby? I’m only 16.” Of course my brother looks at me in disgust and needs to add his unnecessary comments, “Who told you to open your fuckin’ legs Macda. Man, in 3 months you're gonna be a mother. You’re a lil’ hoe like all the rest of them, talking about ‘oh I’m waiting till marriage’ yeah the fuck right. How can you even pray at night?”

I stayed quiet of course. He didn’t have the right to talk to me like that, but what did it matter. At least he spoke to me. My parents haven’t said a word to me for 5 months and 7 days. My grandparents blame me for their high blood pressure.

Like everyday, I fled to my refuge—my room.

When will I ever be happy again?



3 months, 23 days, and 9 more hours to go…

Notes on a Blind Teenager

What do I look like?
Why are there some people singled out as prettiest or most hadsome?
Am I pretty?
Do people laugh and make fun of me right in front of my face?
I hope the seats arent moved around in class today.
All I can do is touch, listen, smell...
Am I up to date with fashion?
people are getting really annoyed with me bumping into them
I'm sick of all the questions (can you see this? how about this?)


insecurities-->
does my body look like the most popular girl in school's body?
why don't any boys want to talk to me?
i'll never get a boyfriend
why don't I get invited to parties or dances?

i'm human just like everyone else
i have feelings and emotions
i can hurt, cry, laugh...love

"How do you know where to sit in your classes?"
"It's a routine, i just get used to it...kind of like crying myself to sleep"

||From Me to God|| (5)

Dear God,

Q. Why do bad things happen to good people?
A. Randomness

What? Is that answer supposed to console a grieving family after a loss?
“Hey I’m sorry to hear about your mother, the woman that has done everything for you from the day you were born. It’s just randomness.”

Or maybe, after your best friend gets kidnapped and almost raped, I’m sure the emotional hurt will ease after hearing,
“Yeah, I heard about that guy putting a gun to your head if you didn’t have sex with him, don’t worry, it was just randomness.”

Lord, are we supposed to live based off of randomness. I’ve never understood that and I don’t think I ever will. Opposed to randomness you’ve done so much for us. Our health, food to eat, homes to live in, loving families…the list goes on. Why is that I always focus on what’s wrong.
I’m not gonna lie… I’ve lost my way. Going to church hasn't felt the same. I don't want to feel like this. I want to praise your name and worship you. But it’s getting so hard to. I’m not perfect, but there’s so much pressure to try and act like I am to the point where I’m becoming a whole other person. I wouldn’t call it living a double life, but it's certainly heading in that direction. And my grandmother, she's really sick. I can't remember how many times my family has prayed asking you to heal her. Also, how can something end up so perfect but hurt me in the process. I feel like I'm rambling, but the millions of questions and thoughts in my mind need to be expressed. I know our lives are predestined. Was I predestined to get hurt without reason? Were millions of people predestined to be homeless after Hurricane Katrina? Prayers after prayers after prayers.

Then I stopped feeling that my prayers were being answered.

I started looking for answers in all the wrong places. I forgot who I was, got caught up in this world. It’s just that, every time a wound healed, something else took that healing away. I was blind. I tried to stop the rain. Nothing worked.

I finally got on my knees.

Father, can you hear me?
I know it’s been a long time. Do you still remember my name? I tried to keep my mind on you but trouble kept calling me. I can't change the past. I don't want to hurt anymore. I should have never doubted your love for us. Please, helpe me believe because I'm having trouble seeing past what I see right now. If you can hear me, can you give me a sign because I don't feel you like I should. My faith is almost gone and I can't hold on much longer.

Help.

Love,
Macda

||Body part to Self|| (4)

Dear Macda,

Left and Right ears here.
We have a few things to discuss with you.
We don’t mean to make you feel bad but we’re heated.

Two summers ago, you let some lady stab us. Not only could we barely understand what she was saying, but then we were sore for a good two months. How could you be so inconsiderate? We felt like infecting ourselves just so you could realize how much that hurt us. After a lot of consideration (which you are lacking), we decided not to because the medical bill—not cheap. Consider that a favor.
Now, we’re guessing you have some type of OCD where you can’t take showers with our rings on. That’s kind of getting to be a bit annoying considering that you are poking us more often. JUST LEAVE THEM IN, YOU PSYCHO!
And what’s going on with us wearing these heavy rings all of a sudden. We DO NOT have strength for that, and to be honest with you, they’re ugly. Get rid of them.

Blasting music in your car needs to end. I completely understand that it’s not always your fault. So to make it easier for you, we had lunch with Carla and Carla’s ears and a compromise is definitely in the works. Also for your birthday present, we’ve been trying to create a toning device in which we can tone out your mom whenever we sense a raise in the volume of her voice. We hope you appreciate it.

One more thing before we go. We’re kind of jealous that hands, neck, and head are always warm and looking cute in designer during the winter season. Hands always rub it in and they've been getting pretty personal. It's so annoying, especially when they’re the one’s keeping us warm. When are we gonna get the hook up?

You beloved,
L.R. Ears

||From God to Satan|| (3)

Dear Lucifer,

Stop. Honestly, just give up. This whole corrupting my followers business you have going on, it’s not working. You are being a hypocrite. For a time, you wanted to be in heaven. You made the choice to leave. After you made Adam eat that apple, I knew you’d be a problem.

Killing, hatred, cheating, jealousy. Wow! What great effort you’ve made. Haven’t you ever noticed that after your attempts of influencing my followers, they almost always comeback to me asking me for forgiveness. How many people ask you for forgiveness? Is there a specific day of the week set aside just for you? Are there thousands of writings describing your desires for humanity? Oh, wait, I guess you’re somewhat mentioned in the Bible. Face it, I have elementary, high school, and college courses about me. You’re below me, literally.

Just to let you know, mistakes and slip-ups, perfectly okay with me. Go ahead and try to hurt my disciples, you’ll soon be disgraced and turn back in shame. You intend to harm them, but that just makes them stronger. Your evil spirits don’t come close to my Holy Spirit. Starvation and poverty—not your doing. Stop taking credit for it. It’s part of the randomness of the world. I’m sure you think it’s benefiting you but have you forgotten about Mother Theresa or Emily Samek?

Well Lu, tomorrow’s Sunday so I need to go prepare to switch up a few sermons. Before I go, I just wanted to give you some words of advice… or more like commands: Don’t you dare try to touch my followers. I have wayyyyy more power than you do.

I bless you.

Love,
The Man Upstairs

||From Aborted Baby to its Mother|| (2)

Mommy dearest,

My life is great and I owe it all to you. I decided to give you a copy of my biography outline, Barnes & Noble has been harassing me for the book but I haven't had the time to finish it. They're just excited because according to the critics..."it's new and unique. A biography written as a letter to his Mom from the perspective of specific ages."

Let me know what you think and what I should add.

6 months

You were so nervous bringing me to school with you today. I felt you're heart beating every time you'd pick me up to hold me. I saw some eyes on us mom, but who cares. As long as you have me right. That’s all that matters. I'm gonna make you such a proud mommy.

8 months

I know you're still upset that I'm a junior but at least you've gotten through this long with it. Don't worry, when I'm old enough I'll have people call me by my middle name just to make you happy.

1 year old

I said my first word, "Dah dah". Daddy was so excited. You were too but I know you wanted me to say "mommy". It's okay though, I'll probably get to that in a few months.

4 years old

Dr. Seuss—best books ever. Thanks for coming to my preschool graduation. It was awesome looking out into the crowd and seeing you and Daddy's face. I was so nervous Mommy. Learning how to read last year was the best. You never gave up when you were teaching me. And now I'm reading in front of all the jealous parents that wish they're kids could read. I hope I'm making you proud.

6 years old
It's set. I want to be a firefighter when I grow up. All the boys in the 1st grade want to be one too. The girls thought we were weird but I don't care,they all have cooties anyway.

8 years old

Learning how to ride the bike Grandma got me was so hard. Daddy told me that big boys don't cry so after I scraped my knee, I came to you crying. I didn't want Daddy to see me.

10 years old

I surprised you today after your hard day of work with my spelling bee award. It was a piece of cake Mom. I guess all the random words you have me spelling paid off.

12 years old

Skip 6th and 7th grade? How come you didn't ask me mom? My principal should've talked to us together. I feel so young in the 8th grade. Even though everyone's really excited for me, I'm nervous. I guess it's fine because you know best. Oh, I made your favorite for dinner today—macaroni and cheese.

14 years old

I miss 9th grade. Sophomore year is boring. Especially because I'm taking AP classes with all Juniors and Seniors. They said that 10th grade classes are too easy for me, but it doesn't really matter to me.

16 years old

President of the school soon to be President of the United States. Senior year's the best. I rule the school. After being named the captain of my football team, I knew this would be a good year. Just a little stressful with SATs and College Applications.

18 years old

I miss you Mom. I'm not gonna lie, being in a dorm is a new experience. Although it's my second year here, it still feels awkward without your delicious coconut shrimp. Isn't it great not paying for my education. After getting a 2400 on the SAT’s, seeing tears of joy run down your face. That made me so happy.
20 years old
What would I have done if you weren’t beside me when I gave my speech today? Discovering a symptom-less cure for AIDS is such a big deal. There were so many people to thank but of course you were number 1. I’m so excited to go to Africa and give this medicine to all those who need it.

Too bad none of this ever happened, and never will

You killed me.

Sincerely,

Your son that would've made a difference

||To My Future Husband|| (1)

Dear Future Hubby,

I prayed for you last night,

As I have been every night for the past year. I prayed that God would keep you safe. I prayed that He would help you with whatever troubles you may be going through. I hope you're doing okay with everything. There's not a day that comes when I don't think of you.

The past year hasn't been the best for me and relationships. It always comes down to trust issues or my values that get in the way. I've been hurt a lot so my trust has definitely been damaged. Just to let you know, I've decided to wait until we’ve gotten through this day to share my soul with you. Waiting till marriage has definitely been a challenge, but if you’re reading this letter, I’ve accomplished it. I know it’s kind of early to make such a big decision (considering I’m only 16) but after being cheated on because I won't "put out", I realized that I'm just going to get hurt if I do. I really can't handle that type of pain right now.

If I married you, you’re wonderful. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know that God has blessed me with your existence in my life. You’re my other half. When I’m upset and frustrated, you are always there to calm me down. Whenever I’m feeling discouraged, your love is always there to encourage me. When I’m emotionally distressed, you are the one to console me. When I think I’m right, you always let me know I’m wrong (I love that). I can be really stubborn, but your patience is going to help me change. Swallowing your pride for me is never a problem. I hope you’ll be the one to love me forever.

I love you


Love always,
Your Wifey


p.s. I can't wait to have our son.

Forgiveness Letter (Write a letter to yourself from someone you hurt)

Dear Macda,

Trust. The one thing I thought would never be a problem. I thought we were on the same page when it came to trusting each other, but apparently not. You would constantly say you trusted me. You would have no problem with me spending time with my female friends or even speaking to them on the phone. That's what set you apart from all the other girls. You weren’t jealous. You knew how I felt for you, and that's all that mattered. Then all of a sudden, you question my feelings for you. You let your insecurities overcome your thoughts and even your behavior. You said you trusted me but I could no longer take your word for it. Actions spoke louder than words. You stopped trusting me.

It has been a long time, but my soul has been harboring a grudge my pride has refused to release. It hurts that I can walk right past you as if you were never a huge part of my life. We used to be able to speak for hours and now, I can’t even approach you with a hello. If Jesus says to forgive 7 x 70 times, why has it taken me so long to forgive once? I guess time really does heal all wounds. Whether this makes a difference or not, I forgive you. I forgive you for making me feel as though our memories made together were a waste of my time. I forgive you for making me feel hurt and inadequate. I forgive you for not trusting me but lying to my face saying you did. Forgiving you certainly will not change the past, but it will definitely improve the future.

Sincerely,
Jesson

My Continuations

Our mouths dropped and a blanket of anxiety wrapped around us. This was it.
"Kill it!!!"
One point away. Four of my teammates and myself instinctively got low to cover as our captain jumped up in perfect position. The moment was in slow motion. The anxious crowd's breath hit us like a heat wave. As if hosting the tournament game wasn't great enough, we actually had a chance of winning it. Ready to cover, we stared intently at the ball. After everything we were told during practices, this was definitely the time to apply them. Anythings could go wrong: a mishit, a tip, a net touch.

Chritina's hand followed through. Slap! The referee's whistle blew. Tears ran down everyone's faces.

I could tell it was coming. Anyone could. His cold and hallow glance said it all.
It wasn't fair. Being cheated on...then dumped? Every single type of emotion swarmed within me. How was it my fault when all I did was trust and all he did was lie. Picturing it in my mind, I felt sick to my stomach. Sitting there alone in the dark, I felt paralyzed.
Vulnerability had accompanied what I thought was love.

You build up all these defenses and a whole suit of armor so nothing can hurt you. Constantly telling yourself "The wall's not coming down." Then one stupid person, no different then any other, wanders into your life. You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or hold your hand, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

I felt paralyzed. All I could do was stare out of the window for what seemed to be eternity.
I've always loved the atmosphere of hospitals, but that day was different. The tears were unending.
Cancer, the only word I heard from the doctor. I couldn't handle it. Questioning God as if my answers would be found in the street lights, I stared. I stared at anything but her:the t.v., the window, the nurse, my mother.

Why? The common question that God has to deal with on a "milisecond" bases.

After her living with us for five years, the house felt empty without her presence during her stay at the hospital. "Grandma's going to be okay..." my mother reassured me.

And she was.

The six a.m. phone calls stopped. Why was he doing this...
Waking up to his voice had become a ritual for the past few months. He made me happy. I couldn't imagine my morning without it. Royalty had become engraved in my mind. I was his princess.

Then one day it ended.
"Ahh, it's already 8!!!" Showering then rushing out of the door with my uniform half on, I ran to catch the next bus. After collecting my thoughts and organizing myself I stared out of the window. "Wait." Frantically searching for my phone, I checked the envelope icon on the screen. It read: "I messed up."


Waking up to his voice was no longer a ritual. He no longer made me happy. I couldn't imagine my morning without an alarm clock. I was his princess.




But apparently not his queen.

Pieces of ripped up envelope covered the kitchen floor as the house phone rang off the hook.
"Thank you Lord!!!!!" shouted my mother. Tears ran down our faces. All the hard work, all the dedication, paid off. All the praying and church support, paid off. Unable to stop moving, the world was called. The 10 aunts in Canada and the 8 aunts in New York. The cousins in Haiti and the uncles in Florida. News traveled fast as close friends and relatives called the house.

The crumpled letter caught my attention, and once again I read.
"We welcome Macda Gerard to our Trinity Catholic community and are pleased to offer her a full scholaship"

Continuing Mr. George's Intros

A post is far better than a deer....or at least that's what I told my parents.

Anxiety overwhelmed my entire being. The sweat dripping from my palms could have drowned me. "I can't believe this," said my mother gazing out of the window for what seemed to be eternity. What was outside was a lot easier to handle then what was in. How could I have done this, and how could I have lied." "Yes, one was severely injured" said an authoritative voice through what seemed to be a walky-talky. "No, don't try to move, you'll make it worse." These voices lingered around the room as I had slowly regained consciousness. Looking around, I felt a strong blow. To the left, was the one person that knew me best, the one that would steal my clothes regardless of if it fit her, the one who called me "little brother". "Yeah the post happened to do an absurd amount of damage to the vehicle" said the walky-talky.

Why her? Why not me?


She didn't wake up till 8 months later.

50 cent and the pervoscope....the only two ingredients to a successful spring break.

Ready to leave our hotel room and get some dinner, something caught my attention; not so much something as someone. Was that who I thought it was? The intentional disguising of sunglasses and hat turned out to be what had brought the most notice.

"Heyy uh, I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit," I said.

Waiting for my friends to leave, I sprinted to the door. Peering out of the eye hole, a light shone through the door of my destination room. What's the worse that could happen?

Quickly, I approached the door and felt myself push. More clothes, food, and jewelry one could ever imagine. Snooping through envelopes and trying on at least 15 pairs of sneakers...I felt a hand on my shoulder. Attempting to move my paralyzed body, an extended hand came toward me.

"Curtis Jackson...you?"

Roses leading to her front door, and frozen M&Ms in the pool, the only ingredients to a successful homecoming request.

Heart pounding and palms sweating, rushing to perfect the scenery. Was I missing anything? Headlights flash past the window as I hear her tires rolling against the pavement. My hand glides against the light switch and the room goes black. The click of the key echoes around the room. The door swings open, there she was. My queen.

"Hello?" her black silhouette stands in the doorway.

"Surprise!!!!" comes from the guests.




"Welcome back Mom"

Mint Chocolate Brownie ice cream on my bed, and love in my heart.

There she was with two spoons, as she had always been for the past four years on every Sunday night. Gazing at her smile gave me the same feeling that I've had since the day she bumped into me in the hallway. The gentleness in her voice continues to send chills down my spine, the warmth of her touch fills my heart with the contant reassurance that she will be there. Sharing the only type of ice cream that I've ever eaten, my life felt complete.

18 roses on her balcony seemed like a good idea at the time...

Coming home from such a stresstful semester, she was the only thought on my mind. I had to do something special. As the roses lay in the bed of snow, I stepped back to admire my work of art. Anticipating her call of gratitude, a sense tranquility came over me. Minutes went by, then hours, then soon days. Nothing. What was going on?
After what seemed to be eternity, the phone rings.

"Are you Philip George?" said a deep voice.

Worry swelled up insde me, causing my heart to clench as the background voices increased to blend of crying and shouting. "How could she? We told her to stay off of it, too much ice!"..."She was our only daughter"



"We have bad news regarding Miss Erica".......

:::..Cliff Hangers..:::

• Our mouths dropped and a blanket of anxiety wrapped around us. This was it.

• I could tell it was coming. Anyone could. His cold and hallow glance said it all.

• I felt paralyzed. All I could do was stare out of the window for what seemed to be eternity.

• The six a.m. phone calls stopped. Why was he doing this...

• Pieces of ripped up envelope covered the kitchen floor as the house phone rang off the hook.

|| Unflattering Moment..again ||

Her name was Flore, or as I called her, Nenen, Godmother in Creole. Someone who is given the responsibility by the parents of the infant to care and always be there for the child in times of happiness and hardship is what a Godmother should be. Many people did not have a Godmother and I was one of the privileged children who did especially one who was just 10 years older than me. Constantly calling to check up on me or sending me birthday gifts, she held a special place in my heart. However, around the age of seven, the gifts and phone calls stopped.
From the ages of seven to thirteen, I had not heard from Flore. Never bothering to call when I would be extremely sick in the hospital, never bothering to return any of my messages. My Godmother missed out on dance recitals telling my mother she was going to surprise me but never showing up. At fourteen, I had one of the most important events of my life, my Baptism. Everyone was there but her. A few days later, anger began to bottle up inside of me. Did she forget who I was or did she simply not care. After a few weeks, I discovered that her wedding that I was supposed to walk in already happened. Fury and frustration overwhelmed me, she was unforgivable.
A few days following, I had called her knowing that I may do or say something completely out of my character. "I hate you! Do what you do best, stay out of my life." The conversation lasted an hour and finished with a plea of forgiveness and me ending the call midway through her sentence. I never called back nor did I ever feel the urge to. Two years later, I answered a call from a number that greatly resembled a Boston Medical Hospital number. “Macda?” said the voice. It was a familiar voice that immediately filled me with anger. “What?” I responded, aware of who was speaking. Sobs and hysterical crying filled my eardrums, “I’ve been diagnosed with a brain tumor.”

"Me Talk Pretty One Day"

1. Sedaris took a potentially boring experience and turned it into a humorous essay through openly making jokes about his own misunderstandings and making sarcastic comments regarding the teacher. Sedaris explains that although he would make an effort to do his homework, it would always result in complete nonsense: “I’d fool with the thing for hours, invariably settling on something like ‘…Just give me a moment while I strap on my wooden leg’ ” (276). Sedaris also includes someone that certainly does not make this experience easier for him—the teacher. To add humor to this experience, he expresses sarcasm when making comments about the teacher: “She hadn’t yet pushed anyone, but it seemed wise to protect ourselves against the inevitable,” (276) and “Fall arrived and it rained every day, meaning we would now be scolded for the water dripping from our coats and umbrellas” (277).
The funniest parts of the essay were Sedaris’ blunt remarks: “I find it ridiculous to assign a gender to an inanimate object incapable of disrobing and making an occasional fool of itself” (276).
Deadpan humor closely relates to a type of dry humor or humor conveyed in a monotone manner. Through this essay, deadpan humor was delivered in a subtle way that did not seem exaggerated or forced: “We didn’t know it then, but the coming months would teach us what it was like to spend time in the presence of a wild animal, something completely unpredictable” (276). Sedaris simply expresses his humorous thoughts with the straightforward approach.


Sedaris reveals parts of himself throughout the story by first explaining his current situation and then poking fun at several of his flaws and misunderstandings. He explains that he is a returning forty-one year old student in a class filled with young and attractive people. Sedaris also interprets sentences by substituting words he did know with nonsense words: “‘Even a fiuscrzsa ticiwelmun knows that a typewriter is feminine’” (276). This represents Sedaris’ difficulties when attempting to understand his teacher’s French. He also shows how intimidated and insecure he was by explaining that he would no longer do anything that involved speaking. Towards the end of the essay, Sedaris comes to a complete understanding as to why he had been having so much trouble: “Understanding doesn’t mean that you can suddenly speak the language. Far from it. It’s a small step, nothing more, yet its rewards are intoxicating and deceptive” (277).

|| Unflattering Moment... ||

The summer of 2007 in Canada was a memorable one, in a negative sense of the word. Every day, my cousins and I would walk around, go shopping, and spend time with each other. We were all very close; however, I have always felt set apart from a lot of them because the way they were raised, certainly was not how I was raised. I was brought up to take my religion very seriously and follow everything that was instructed to me. My cousins were of the same religion; however, according to them, they were not “into it as much”.
All my life, I had felt content without wearing jewelry, because as a Pentecostal Protestant, that was one of the minor things we were not allowed to do. That quickly changed. One day during that summer, my cousins and I went to the mall to shop. All of a sudden, I felt myself being pushed onto a chair as a woman with a piercing gun in one hand and cleansing alcohol in the other hand stood at my side. I was extremely hesitant and desperately tried to use any and every excuse I could think of to possibly get out of this situation while straying away from my real reason— the religious one. Finally, I said, “I don’t really need my ears pierced, and plus we’re Protestant”. As my cousins exploded with laughter, I felt lower than I ever have before. I should have known they would not understand it from a religious standpoint. For a moment, I got angry at myself for being so devoted to my religion. Feeling extremely embarrassed, I gave in. After getting my ears pierced, I attempted to justify the fact that getting my ears pierced was not exactly against my religion, wearing jewelry was; knowing that once I had gotten my ears pierced, I would have to wear earrings to keep them from closing. That eventually led to wearing all types of jewelry and no longer second guessing myself when I would do it. It has become a part of who I am but is still looked down upon by religion and especially by my church.

"Shooting an Elephant"

1) How is this a story about two disparate major themes? How are these themes intertwined?

“Shooting an Elephant” is a story about a British officer in Mulmein, Lower Burma. It is a story regarding two disparate themes: hatred of imperialism and susceptibility to peer pressure. Both themes are intertwined through a British officer who is against British oppressors; however, had a job to do. The British officer was all for the Burmese people but the Burmese had labeled him as the enemy.
The intertwining of the themes is seen when the British officer is faced with a problem. An elephant stricken with must has gone loose and the officer is summoned to handle the situation. After watching the elephant, the officer believes that it is harmless and wants to leave it alone. However, if the officer does not kill the elephant, he is not doing what the people want of him which may result in more hatred of the British. The officer felt the will of the people urging him to kill the elephant. He eventually falls to peer pressure: “For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the ‘natives,’ and so in every crisis he has got to do what the ‘natives’ expect of him” (224). It could have possibly been the officer’s hatred of imperialism that caused him to do what the people wanted of him; to show that he was all for the Burmese. It could have also been the officer’s susceptibility to peer pressure playing a part in his act of shooting the elephant, because he felt that he had do what he could to erase the hatred that his title brought him.

2) What tactics does Orwell employ when revealing unflattering aspects of himself?

Orwell reveals unflattering aspects of himself by explaining how he would have liked to be seen compared to what he really was. In a sense, Orwell wanted to be seen as a well-liked hero among the Burmese for killing the elephant. He wanted to feel accepted, “but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those yellow faces behind” (224). Orwell explains that he lets go of his thoughts, opinions, and who he is to conform to the will of the natives: “He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it” (224-225).

10 Steps to Being Popular

1. Never do Homework/Schoolwork! This is a must. No one will think you’re cool or want to be like you if you are constantly being a studious and hard worker.

2. Say no to drugs? Whoever thought of that? Smoking is the best and can only get you part of the cool crowd at school. Doing it only on the weekends is definitely not enough. Make sure you smoke right before going to school.

3. Have friends but never let them think they can have a say in the friendship. Saturday nights depend on what you want to do, not what they want to do. If they want seafood and you want meat, off to McDonalds!

4. Abstinence and Chastity. What a joke! If you’re not getting some action or not putting out, your popularity status is diminishing by the millisecond.

5. ALWAYS WEAR DESIGNER CLOTHES! Salvation Army and the Thrift Shops are DEFINITE no’s. Gucci, Coach, and Burberry are the only stores that must exist in your mind. Showing off your clothing will show how wealthy you are.

6. Always drink alcohol excessively. Having a hang-over is the best feeling especially when you’re at a party with a bunch of failures.

7. Choose your girlfriend/boyfriend very carefully. Looks and appearance are the most important. If he/she’s not popular, don’t even bother breathing the same air.

8. Tiny pimple on your cheek? Don’t you dare go to school. Stay home and mope around your paralyzed cousin and your AIDS+ aunt telling them it is the end of the world and you’re going to die.

9. Family time—pointless. Why spend time with your family when you can dictate your friends’ every move. Families often symbolize losers and that is not cool. Make sure you make them aware of that at any chance you get.

10. Always make sly and rude comments that put others down while bringing your own self-esteem up. No one should ever feel equal or superior to you regardless of who it may be. For example, your best friend, sister, or boyfriend. They live to make you happy.

The Drinking Age Should Not be Lowered

Why repeal or weaken a law that saves lives? The concern of lowering the legal drinking age has been swarming college campuses, presidential debates, and National Safety Groups all over the country. Many believe that keeping the drinking age at twenty-one is the best thing to do for our society, while others believe that lowering it is fair considering all that can be done at the age of eighteen. However, research has shown that lowering the legal drinking age would result in an increase of teenage drunk driving and the influencing of teens at a younger age to drink which could ultimately damage their development.
In our country, drunk driving accidents have exponentially decreased due to the legal drinking age of twenty-one. In a study by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, from 1975 to 2003, the raising of the drinking age saved 22, 798 lives on our roadways. It is also true that when driving while under the influence, teens are less likely to wear a seat belt resulting in higher risks of death in the case of an accident. Yes, drunk driving may also occur with adults over twenty-one, however, it is the leading death among teens, killing thousands yearly. Teens are less responsible and are more likely to abuse alcohol privileges. Many suggest more education on safety with alcohol; however, teens in driving school are being informed of the dangers and consequences of driving under the influence but no change has occurred. Being required to abstain from drinking alcohol until twenty-one also makes alcohol less accessible to younger teens.
When considering lowering the drinking age to eighteen, one must presuppose that eighteen year olds are influential on youth ages fourteen to seventeen. Younger teens tend to emulate their friends, in particular, those who are slightly older. Therefore, if the drinking age is lowered, older friends are able to legally drink, and younger teens will be exposed to alcohol more often. This will also make alcohol more readily available. As a result, younger teens will begin to develop bad habits such as binge drinking, excessive consumption of alcohol. As a result of that, alcohol abuse problems may arise at an earlier age severely damaging the liver and brain development of young teens. On the other hand, several find pleasure in it.
It has been said that drinking alcohol can be a means of bringing joy but can also impair ones judgment and cause dehydration and nausea. This does not exactly sound like joy to me. There may be an increased desire to drink for people when turning twenty-one; however at that age, people are more responsible and conscientious of their actions in comparison to a teenager. One must concede that, at the age of eighteen, a person can in fact get married, vote, fight for their country in a war, serve on a jury, and more. However, one must be twenty-five to serve in the U.S. House of Representatives, thirty to be a member of the Senate, and thirty-five to run as President. The times at which a person can do certain things vary at different ages and the drinking age happens to fall at the responsible age of twenty-one.
Many would like to have the legal drinking age lowered; however, doing so will simply result in more deaths and the increase of irresponsible and foolish behavior of teens. There is no need for the drinking age to be lowered because it would merely increase the accessibility of alcohol to the youth. It may also encourage the drinking of those that may not have even thought of alcohol until it became available to them. The government should set up better ways to educate their citizens on consequences and dangers of alcohol and through that, enforce the importance of refraining from alcohol until the age of twenty-one. Underage drinking is certainly a problem, lowering it is not the solution.

Self-Esteem

Self-Esteem

To have self-esteem means to have confidence and respect for oneself. Several people vary as to having high or low self-esteem. It is not something that can be taught. It is a quality among several people and is often a result of ones gifts or talents. Slater shows high self-esteem to be detrimental to society and also saying, “people with low self-esteem seem to do just as well in life as people with high self-esteem. In fact, they may do better, because they often try harder.” That is not always the case.

Those who have high self-esteem may use it as a means of helping others to feel better about themselves, while those with low self-esteem may often be depressed and pessimistic. People with high self-esteem are also more prone to handle stress and overcome hardships better than a person with low self-esteem, considering the confidence they have in themselves in which to do so. Those with high self-esteem tend to be mistaken as arrogant or conceited. However, the confidence that is exemplified should be seen as encouraging and heartening for those who may be discouraged or insecure.