Quiet Girl Gone Wild

There are so many memories that I can recall in eighth grade. There are so many friends that I have and that I’m proud of, but one of the memories that I can remember so clearly is meeting my friend Paola. We’re still friends by the way. I’ve met so many nice people that have become my friends, but Paola didn’t greet me with a smile. Even though the first time we met wasn’t the best, we’re really good friends along with our other friends.

The day started with the ring of the bell, the shuffling up the stairs, and the meeting of new people. Everyone walked into class with their really light backpacks and the faces of tired and bored people. It’s the first day of school…yay… I sat in my group of friends from the past year and waited for Spanish class to start.

The bell rang and Mr. Rios came out, “someone needs to sit next to her,” he said pointing to a girl in the corner. She sat on a table alone instead of being surrounded by friends…she was new. I raised my hand and got up to sit with her. I smiled and asked what her name was.

“What’s your name?” I said with a smile.

“Paola,” she said while looking down. I kept bombarding her with questions, Where are you from? Why are you so short? Is it normal? Why are you so quiet? “You can relax here, I mean nothing’s going to happen,” I said smiling again. Mr. Rios announced the transfer of classrooms and I walked alongside Paola. Later I introduced her to the rest of my friends, and that’s how we all became friends.

Now we’re all very good friends, Paola isn’t the shy girl she once was. She is now confident, friendly, and a great person to hang out with. All of our friends appreciate having her as a friend, and I’m sure that we’ll all be happy to meet new people next year. I’m really happy to have such great friends, but I haven’t exactly mentioned all of them. Sorry that I haven’t mentioned you, but you guys should know that you’re an important aspect of my life. I love you guys so much.

Jem's Journal Entry

Yesterday was the trial that I went to watch with Scout and Dill. Even though Atticus was defending Tom Robinson, he was still found guilty. The trial wasn’t fair! I thought that we would’ve won, but unfortunately we lost. I’ve noticed that there seems to be a caste system in Maycomb County. The top are the Finches, the next ones are the Cunninghams, after the Cunninghams are the Ewells, and lastly are the blacks. Each one of these groups looks down on the blacks and would rather believe a white person.

Something else happened yesterday too. Mr. Ewells spat in Atticus’ face. He threatened to kill him…Now I’m really scared for Atticus. Atticus told Scout and me not to be scared, but I still am. I’m scared of what is going to happen in the future, I’m scared of what Mr. Ewells will do.

Then this morning the blacks showed their appreciation in a really nice way. They left us hunks of salt meat and other foods. They really appreciated what Atticus did during the trial. I don’t understand why the jury decided he was guilty. I am very disappointed in the trial because it isn’t right. They would rather listen to a white person instead of a black person.

I can’t see this type of thing without being disappointed. It’s not right and it’s not fair. I’ll be a lawyer like Atticus. I know I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m sure I can do this. I know Atticus might not be here the day things change, but I’m determined to change the fairness.

To Kill a Mockingbird Cover

I chose to make my cover like this because I wanted the feathers and tree to symbolize and mean something. The feathers symbolize the innocence of mockingbirds, and also the sin of killing one. The tree represents the tree near the Radley's place, and how the tree played its part, but the color adds drama to the heart of the story. The cover really shows the heart of the story, and shows the sin of killing a mockingbird.

Maycomb's Daily

Silver Screens and Emerald Green Trees

The book Lord of the Flies by William Golding and the movie directed by Harry Hook, differ because the movie skipped the scene where they vote chief. Also the movie includes a pilot in the story, and having the boys being American instead of British in the movie.

The movie skipped one of the most crucial scenes in the book. One of them is when Ralph is elected chief, the author means to say that the boys need parental guidance because they need order and they are stranded. Without the scene in the movie it doesn't show the rivalry between him and Jack as well as in the book. The rivalry between Ralph and Jack doesn't really develop in the movie, but in the book you can see that the tension gather until the groups separate.

Another character was added into the movie and made it different from the book; the movie added a pilot to the story. Having a pilot in the movie shows that there is an adult figure, but he isn’t acknowledged as a parental figure. The director kills the pilot off in the movie because it shows that when people are terrified they do crazy things. Adding the pilot and then killing him off shows their fear and the developing savagery.

The book has the boys being British but in the movie they are American. This changes the story because it takes away from the meaning of what the author was trying to say. In the book, the British boys were more civilized than the Americans. Changing their nationality took away from the significance of from being civilized to turning into savages. Because the movie changed their nationality to being American, you can’t see the development of the boys becoming savages.

The movie Lord of the Flies directed by Harry Hook is unlike the book by William Golding because of many reasons. In the book there was a scene where the boys elect the chief, but in the movie there was no election. In the movie there was another character added but not in the book and from the boys being British in the book the movie changed the boys to being American. Although the movie was acted well, I believe that the book was better than the movie because it had all the necessary scenes to make the story flow.

Lord of the Flies Tanka

There were snarls, crashes.

There were flying limbs and fists.

Jack and his hunters

are vicious and merciless

just like the devil.

You Can't Have It All

But you can have sweet, sticky, strawberry lollipops like a dream of new white leather in a sedan.

You can have the soft, smooth petals of a peony blow across your face as it takes flight like a new born fledgling.

You can have the command of your older brother to make him a five star meal in less than 30 minutes.

You can have a fun day that turned cold to the bone after you make your brother's nose bleed. When you're dad looks at you with a face that says "Look what you did, don't even think about coming in here."

You can think love is just holding hands and sharing sodas, but sometimes it's more and sometimes it's less.

You can have those days where your house is like a blank piece of paper but a single box in the center of the room.

You can't have that boy that every girl dreams of, but you can have the best friend to share everything with. The one who will always come first.

You can have the little park where you're all alone in front of your house to drown in tears for a couple of hours.

You can't have the get out of jail free card, but you can go around the board like everyone else.

You can have the dream of California, the Golden Gate Bridge, and beeping cars in the middle of rush hour.

You can have your friend squeezing fresh limes on a Sunday afternoon, for sweet key lime pie.

You can have your friend tackle and knock you down as we both playfully fight over the TV remote.

You can have your grandma flood the cemetery with sorrow, just like when Harriet Tubman led the slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad.

You can have that friend that spins threads into gold to make wishes come true.

You can have the steaming, strained brain of too much homework but not enough time.

You can't be friends with the most popular girl, but you can be close to the girl who'll paint your nails even when you've caught the flu.

You can be grateful for windows to let you hear the bird's song, even early Saturday morning.

You can have the warmth of the sun on your back slowly roasting you as if you were sunbathing a grill.

You can have the annoying big brother that won't listen to anything you ask, but you will miss when he leaves to start his life.

You can't have that shining smile anymore, that kind hand that will always reach out to you, and that welcome that can't even be competed with. But you can have the same face watching over you like your guardian angel.

You can think you can do it, but soon realize even a sapling needs support.

You can have 15 minutes before school to look for your imperfections, the ones that you know will always bring you down.

You can mix and match the colors of clay, make a butter-fish, and an angel-fly.

You can have all of your friends guiding you, holding their hands and following them.

You can have eye bags under your eyes stuck alone with a can of Nutella and an abused laptop, the things a girl would do for her father.

You can sit there on the steps while the sun shone brightly; it dimmed to the beautiful orange sunset. Are they ever coming back?

You can't cross the bridge without meeting the troll. But you can meet the fairy godmother that will grant your wish for everything you can't have.

Poetry Notebook

The Angel Within You

selected by Stephanie Huie

Theme: Angels

Description: When I'm feeling down in the dumps I read these poems. They help me get back on my feet and makes me feel like I can actually do something. The ones that will look out for you and guide you to the right path. They'll be the ones who save you from the dark. Poems can bring back what you think you've lost, but what you've hidden within.

Synopsis: You can't see them, you can't feel them, you can't hear them, but angels will be there.

My Guardian Angel by Robert William Service

Do You Hear The Angel Speaking? by Faye Diane Kilday

Touched by An Angel by Maya Angelou

Sleeping Angel by Raymond A. Foss

Sing Softly the Songs of Your Angel by Timothy Venard

They Are Always With You by Crystal Bell

Your Angel by Bobby Dinev

Our Precious Angels by America Diane Davidson

You're My Angel by Dr Nihar Ranjan Ray

Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

Publisher: Scribner

Genre: Memoir

Where I got it: When I was looking for an interesting book to read I found this book on Mrs. Meadow’s desk.

One sentence summary: Frank McCourt’s childhood with a drinking father and a mother trying to keep her family alive; is a struggle of poverty and sadness that is always able to make its entrance.

First sentence: My father and mother should have stayed in New York where they met and married where I was born.

First chapter review: The first chapter is an opening door to Frank McCourt’s childhood. In this chapter the author writes about how his parents met and got married in New York. He mentions that he had four brothers and at last received a baby sister. During this chapter he describes how the death of Margret—the baby sister—affected his father’s drinking habit and their decision to move back to Ireland.

Verdict: I would put this on the list of books that you’ll take time to read or read a couple times for all the details and events. I would suggest this book to anyone but young children because of death. This story is an excellent book; even better for some who have gone through a tough childhood. It will leave you wanting more.

Cover comments: Shows a filthy boy leaning against a wall without his shoes. The run down building and streets show the neighborhood isn’t as great as you may think. Though we can only assume the boy is poor, he still has a smile on his face.

Pale Cherry Blossom-Benjamin Moore 2101-60

A clear droplet

smashed and scattered.

The sky dying,

the sun buried,

the clouds awakening.

She was the lone cherry blossom.

She was ripped,

torn,

stepped all over.

She was cracked,

rigid,

and sharp.

She was broken glass.

She ran,

tripped,

and fell to her hands and knees.

The petals flew into

the distance over

the horizon.

They danced

and ran

and landed softly.

She panted,

gasping to catch her breath.

She crawled

like a toddler,

under the blossoming tree.

She leaned

with fairness

with her face in a pool

and gray, gaunt eyes

that lost life.

She was the lone cherry blossom.

The only one

that soared high up,

until shot down.

She started staring

with cold eyes,

dark eyes,

dead eyes.

The scared girls

walking down the street turned,

and clung

to their boyfriends.

She flinched with envy,

why couldn't that be her?

Why didn't she choose the right one?

What did she do to deserve pain?

She was the lone cherry blossom.

The one that always flew high.

The one always shot down.

The one that gets hurt.

Her soft hands

gently rubbed

against her cheek.

The imprint stayed,

the pain stayed,

the handprint stayed.

He's mean,

he's cruel,

he's her boyfriend.

The small petals float

and circle around

the trunk of the tree.

They understand,

they have lived,

they have died,

only to be reborn again.

She is the twirling petal

that drifts high,

until it's pulled down by gravity

turning pale and dry.

The petals surround her.

The one lone cherry blossom

flies high with them,

not to be shot down.

We Said We Would

He lost himself in a maze.

Grass was worn away,

on two sides was the beach.

Business...not fun.

Talking... not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

We were going to have water,

but the shells are dry.

We said things,

but we don't do.

We said we'd have water

from the stream.

We said we'd have it

in coconut shells,

but we drink from the river.

There's no coconut shells,

no fresh leaves,

and no water from the stream.

Business...not fun.

Talking...not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

We sleep in shelters,

but who built them?

Who build all three?

Who built the shelters

that we need?

Everyone built the first.

Four built the second.

Two built the last.

Business...not fun.

Talking...not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

Waste time on small fires.

From now on

only the mountain fire.

We nearly set the island on fire.

I have the conch,

I am chief

so listen to me.

The littleuns know the beastie.

The littleuns know it's real.

The littleuns know they're frightened.

The boys stood in the darkness.

A thin wail chilled them,

and Percival

was lying in the grass.

Where I'm From

I am from the swaying trees

and blooming flowers in my backyard,

from Home Depot and Lowe's.

I am from the red ant hill in my living room,

the small grey painted room

with the queen sized bed I jumped on every time.

I am from the plants cramped in flower pots,

the small "good luck" bamboo plant sitting on the table.

I am from the red packets of money

my parents give me and "don't go too far from home."

From "mommy I want more toys" to "hey kids we're moving."

I am from flying above the ocean

halfway around the world.

I am from packing with flat cardboard boxes.

I am from birthday cakes once in a while.

I am from eat the whole cake and not just the frosting.

I am from eating fruit every week instead of sweets.

I am from "confess before you're gone" and "tell me when you're ready."

I am from "I'll be here for you" to "don't put yourself down."

I am from "risks are good for you cause what's the worse that can happen?"

I am from taking the cookie and get caught.

I am from praying at temples and praying on Chinese New Year.

I am from telling dad what I want for Christmas and knowing what's coming.

I am from those moments.

A tree identical to others,

but special on its own.

Japan's Earthquake

The earthquake in Japan was an extremely tragic time. I was one of the victims, so I know how the people grappled with the shock. The oceans deployed waves the size of cranes and two story houses, destroying everything in their path. And this was just the beginning.

I was sitting in my tiny cubical trying to do my job. It was crucial that I finish my report before my boss threw another tantrum over my work. I had to be adept, every single letter had to be quadruple-checked. After I finished with that, I was to make a dent in a copious amount of paperwork that were stacked on my desk. There was obviously no time to banter with my colleagues, no breaks either.

I remember putting the finishing touches on my report, and the next minute paper was falling, lights were swinging and crashing. People were running around screaming. This was the definition of chaos. Walls cracked with bits of dried paint hitting the floor. The roof crackled as it split, making it appear to have a layered texture. You have to be fastidious about where you're going to step, being careful not to twist your ankle on debris or cut yourself on shattered glass. The fitful floor started to crumble and shake again, and I lost my footing.

People were grasping for something to cling onto. Our town was so small, I could have heard the screams from the elementary school down the block. Though after about five minutes the earthquake lightened up, after the earthquake came aftershocks and a tsunami to top it off. The tsunami decelerated after a long time—and many deaths—but still trudged on.

After all these events we were told it isn't over, but for now we're trying to get ourselves together. The other countries facilitated our situation by helping us with supplies, medical help, and rescuers. It can only get better, right?

The Late Bloomer's Revolution

The memoir is about a woman named Amy Cohen who has had either bad luck, or just a horrible life. Amy has been in so many relationships, that it’s so hard to count all of them. Every time she dates a guy, she sees them going further than they really will. She thinks of them as the “one for her” and that’s when the guy breaks up with her. She realizes that she’ll just be hurt every time and stays away from love. Now she is in her mid-50’s she has become attached to this one man, and they end up getting married with her saying “I do” confidently.

I think that this book was very well put because I could see how hard her life was. I could see that she was the one trying so hard to stay together with all of the guys, but somehow they thought of her effort as a bother. This book made me learn that just because you’re desperate; it doesn’t mean you should rush into another relationship. Give love time, and it’ll come to you.

The title reflects on how she struggled through most of her life but in the end she gets everything back together. She became even better than she was before. The title of the memoir is actually very important to give a hint about the plot. The title makes the reader think “What happens in this book? I’m going to take this book because it sounds interesting.” The title makes the reader curious about what the book could be about. The title helps move the plot as well because the reader will have the title in the back of their mind while they read.

This book was organized as beads on a string because she goes from one time to another time. She describes how she feels each time and clearly shows her thoughts by her actions. In the book there aren’t many dates and there are no exact times. She shows how she feels so much that you feel like you know her already.

The memoirist came to know that she was being too self-centered about some things. How she wanted a wedding with some people and didn’t consider the other person. She didn’t think about her mother as much as her mother thought of her. She thought that everything her friends said was either from their pity or that they were trying to sympathize with her.

Lines We Love:

“Maybe, after all these years, I finally understood what my mother meant when she said, “People who want to be married are married.””

“I was sad, but I was functioning—eating, sleeping—which was so unlike me.”

What I Believe

I believe in chocolate chip cookies.

I believe looking at

the orange sunset,

will heal your wounds.

I believe that the world

needs rain,

to wash the down the pain.

I believe music brings back nostalgic memories.

I believe if trees

sway in the wind,

birds will learn to fly.

I believe if flowers

can bloom,

children can too.

I believe if you

look at the sky,

you look into yourself.

I believe if you

give a smile,

you'll get a smile.

I believe that

nature cannot be replaced.

I believe when leaves

grow back,

the tree stays the same.

I believe forgiveness

cools the sting,

and warms the heart.

I believe caring

is a beautiful form of love.

Arrogant Much?

Bobby claimed he was "lionized" by everyone at school, that he was the person everyone wanted as a friend. I have known him for most of his life, but have never seen him as arrogant as now. At the beginning I thought it was just a stage, then I realized this narcissistic idiot was changing.

It started in the fifth grade, when Tim (THE geekiest boy in the school) accidentally bumped into Bobby. Tim broke into tears and apologized like CRAZY, but something unexpected happened. Now normally BOBBY would be the one apologizing and crying his eyeballs pink. However this time he was different...WAY different. He grabbed Tim's arm and threw him into the concrete wall with a fierce look in his eyes...a look I have NEVER seen before.

His eyes were big and magnified, he pupil was thin and long. What has he done? I had to be meticulous to help the innocent bystander up, obviously if Bobby had a problem with Tim he would have a problem with me helping him up...but that wasn't the case. Bobby just glared at the kid and walked away...leaving me behind. Poor Tim...his glasses had cracked, his trousers had ripped, and his shirt was stained with blood.

"It's a stage, there's no way Bobby would do this kind of thing." I got Tim on his feet, and helped him limb to the nurse's office. He could barely even limb a meter with a bloody chest and bruised leg. He had always tried to be assimilated into the school crowd and popular clicks, but the people would always put him down and made him feel unwanted. I remembered the dissension between Bobby and I about trying to have Tim as our friend.

"No way! I don't wanna be his friend! He'll ruin my image!" Bobby had said the day before. He stared at me like I was some lunatic.

"Oh my gosh! Will you give it a break? YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE AN IMAGE!" I screamed at him. "Fine, you know what? I'll be his friend, I couldn't care less if you backed me up or not. Go hang out with some other friend." I knew that he'd come crawling back to me backing me up. The next morning after first period he came back and begged me to forgive him...though I could still tell he wasn't happy about befriending Tim. So we started walking and then the event happened. Pretty arrogant huh? Guess that I'll just have to live with it...hopefully he'll change before too long.

The Hidden Compartment

The pale drunk man got down from his bright red truck. Boxes were stowed in the back filled with Styrofoam and picture frames. The Styrofoam shaped as two thumbs stuck together, the picture frames with shiny rims and photos of one bizarre girl. Underneath lay a hidden compartment not even a detective would have noticed. The shade of color was EXACTLY the same as the inside of the box. The only way to open the hidden compartment was either rip through three inches of paper...or just pulling on the tiny latch that you couldn't see with the naked eye in the dark.

"Hurry up you 'Hic' fools! Before the officials come apprehend us on their theory of us conspiring! My God! Just because the country is having an anarchy doesn't mean you have time to laze 'Hic' around!" The man had said screaming it loud enough for the whole border of Mexico to hear. He staggered and pointed to the men carrying the boxes to another motor vehicle. One man-who didn't have the time to tie his shoe-slipped and slid across the concrete floor scraping his knee. The box spun counter-clockwise and eventually hit a tree as it spread the contents around. Suddenly white powder poured onto the street from the secret compartment. Many grams of smuggled in powder could only mean one thing...drugs. Of course the men had no idea what they were really smuggling. After the spill all the men picked up their last boxes and dumped them onto the cold night street. The man who had scraped his knee got up (limping) and lit a match. They all stomped away home as the fire burned profusely, and the pale man...had collapsed.