This moment
The most important
The most exciting
The most frightening
Of our lives
Recurring
Every performance
Every act
Every time the curtain falls
Listen
Do you hear them?
Noise
Thunder
Waves
Applause rolling over us
Like an African stampede
Hear the rain begin to fall
Wash over us
Smile
Hear the applause
Monday, November 19, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Easy How-To's: A Halloween Haunt
Here’s the thing about Halloween: everyone likes ghosts and ghouls and black cats and all of the other wonderfully creepy things associated with the holiday, even if they don’t admit it. Whether it really was once a holiday with meaning or just a scam for the candy companies to make money, Halloween is a fun occasion for all. Personally, I like the dressing up part the best. That, and all of the crafts and activities that kids do around this time of year. For this festive issue of The Perspective, I thought I would write about a little thing I found online at one point in my life. It’s a recipe for the cutest little ghost cupcakes ever. And fortunately for me, it’s hassle-free and the (black) cat’s meow!
Ingredients:
For the cupcakes/cake, I used a standard Betty Crocker cake mix and frosting. I know there are crazy people out there who like to make their stuff from scratch, and if that’s you, by all means go ahead. The kind of cake doesn’t really matter in this case.
However, for the cake mix I used (Devil’s Food Cake) I needed:
3 eggs
1 ¼ cup water
1/4 cup vegetable oil
For the ghosts and gravestones:
12 normal sized marshmallows
White frosting (again, store bought Betty Crocker works fine)
Graham crackers
Script icing (I’m not exactly sure if this is the name for it, but it’s the stuff that comes in the little bottles for writing things on cakes and whatnot)
*Note: Because this was for my brother’s birthday party, I only made 12 cupcakes and a mini cake. Most recipes make 24 cupcakes, but I just poured the extra bat-ter into a little cake pan. Whatever works best for the occasion is fine. After all, this recipe isn’t set in stone (pun intended).
Instructions:
Follow the directions on the box of cake. It’s not that hard.
1. After the cupcakes are cooled completely, frost them with witch-ever frosting you wish.
2. Take a marshmallow and take the top off (this would be the flat part of the marshmallow)
3. With your fingers, squish and mold the sticky part of the marshmallow into the shape of a ghost. If this seems a bit vague, just use your imagination.
4. Repeat this process as many times as desired, putting the ghosts on the cupcakes. The frosting should hold them in place.
5. Use the script icing to draw a face on the ghosts. Then they don’t look like such deadbeats.
6. For the gravestones, take a graham cracker and break it in half. If you have the big rectangle ones, break it in half again.
7. Frost both sides of the cracker with the white frosting.
8. For each gravestone, use the script icing to write “RIP” on them. The other ones can have names of people or other creative things. If you’re at a dead end for ideas, there’s plenty of inspiration online.
9. Stick the gravestones into the cake as desired.
10. I didn’t do this on my creation, but you could also add some other candy or decorations to liven it up a bit.
11. After all of the creative touches have been added, voila! Your graveyard is finished with finesse.
No bones about it, this fun recipe is a great way to kill some time one afternoon, or to wrap up a great party. If you’re feeling really festive, you can also serve ice scream at the party. Just make sure that if you serve chicken there’s no poultry-geist in the pantry, because that would really suck for your vampire friends. To accommodate them, you could serve some necktarines. For all your nerdy friends who come, you could divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter and get pumpkin pi. And when Bambi arrives with a ghost friend, be sure to lock up your panda bear because there will be lots of Bamboo around. Whatever you end up making, take care to make a lot of it because the werewolves’ cousins (the what-wolves, who-wolves, and when-wolves) are all in town, and they eat a doggone large amount of food.
Okay, enough puns. I know they’re really rotten. They’re killing me just as much as they’re killing you. Fangs for reading! Have a happy Halloween!
Monday, October 1, 2012
A Riddle
My first three are a wordless tune
My fourth is thirteenth
My fifth is individual, not a team
My sixth is the middle of end and beginning
My seventh starts go and ends the song
My eighth is a bee that makes the wrong sound
My ninth is in fire and light
My tenth is an angry dog's cry
And my last ends the world
What am I?
My fourth is thirteenth
My fifth is individual, not a team
My sixth is the middle of end and beginning
My seventh starts go and ends the song
My eighth is a bee that makes the wrong sound
My ninth is in fire and light
My tenth is an angry dog's cry
And my last ends the world
What am I?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Ballerina Fish
Prompt: Compare a fish to a ballerina
A fish moves through the water
Effortlessly twirling fluttering fins
Shimmering scales reflecting sun
A ballerina in costume
Leaping, sliding, graceful gliding
Floating, suspended, motionless
Tirelessly practicing time-worn routines
Lurid motions mesmerizing
Beautifully harmonious melodies
Swaying, swinging, bobbing, singing
A dynamic flight of frenzied flurry
Slow and mournful, quick and hurried
Dancing, swishing, whispered wishing
Incessant motion,
Never ceasing
Around and around and around once more
Never touching floor
Living, breathing, loving, being
This never-ending masquerade
Activity that never fades
Dazzling display
Glittering, glowing, flowing, gleaming
A ballerina in a bowl
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Stormy Gold
This post has a little story behind it. My dad is currently preparing for an interview to be a 5th grade teacher, and in an effort to find a suitable "lesson" to teach to his interviewers, he has been looking for inspiration in the world around him. Well, the world is currently involved in the biggest international sports event there is: the Olympics. By searching for a subject to teach on, my dad has inspired me by some of his ideas. So, thanks in advance for this great prompt!
Prompt: How would it feel to be standing on the podium receiving a gold medal in the Olympics?
I take a step into the room and a roar greets me. It is as deafening as thunder. The bright lights of the room are blinding, like lightning, and I can imagine I’m in the middle of a storm. That isn’t too hard to believe: just hours ago wasn’t I drenched to the bone while making a mad dash for the gold? The pool isn’t so different from rainclouds.
I take the step up that will elevate me above the other two medalists. As the strap is placed around my neck, I feel myself swelling with pride at what I have accomplished for my country. I listen, although it is no longer thunder I hear but birdsong, the ballad of my nation. The storm is over; I’ve made it. The camera flashes glitter like raindrops on the landscape. I take a deep breath, inhaling the air of victory. It smells sweet like the earth after a rain. I raise my arms, smile, and know that this golden sunlight is where I truly belong.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Barefoot
Some shoes tell a story: where you’ve been, the places you’ve seen, the streets you’ve walked. They can tell of where you are, or where you’re going. So much can be said for a single pair of shoes. The ratty holes of the worn out boots that sit on daddy’s shelf. They speak of hard times in the fields and long days at work. The soft mauve slippers under mom’s desk. They whisper the lullabies she sang when the storms blew loud outside. The dusty baseball cleats in the hall closet. That game brother almost won. The dancing shoes hung in sister’s closet. A routine much-practiced and rehearsed, only to be crushed by a sprained ankle. So many shoes for so many stories.
I walk barefoot down the streets, in the halls, and through the crowds. My story stays the same, for my shoes, they never change. My feet are always with me, wherever I may go. They come when I want no one else to follow. They hold the stories that make my life, my personal repertoire. Other’s shoes can tell their tales, every single pair. For me, there’s only one shoe to wear, and my feet are always bare.
I walk barefoot down the streets, in the halls, and through the crowds. My story stays the same, for my shoes, they never change. My feet are always with me, wherever I may go. They come when I want no one else to follow. They hold the stories that make my life, my personal repertoire. Other’s shoes can tell their tales, every single pair. For me, there’s only one shoe to wear, and my feet are always bare.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
How Can a Snowflake Be One of Many
How is it
That a fish can remain motionless,
Suspended in the water?
Why do butterfly’s wings make
Less than a whisper
When they pass by your ear?
Why do bats fly out
When the sun goes down
And the moon comes out to play?
How do the flowers flaunt
Such a vibrant display,
Like a rainbow of hues and tones?
Why do pennies in a wishing well glint,
Shining in the sun,
Making them look like stars so bright?
How can a snowflake be one of many
But still remain unique?
Why are raindrops caught in a spider’s web
Such a dazzling scene?
Do ladybugs dance and beetles prance
To the tune of nature’s song?
Do the larks and sparrows mind the wind,
Or do they sing along?
Do the busy bees
Buzz along as they please
In the midst of pouring rain?
Does the fieldmouse twitter in perfect delight
When it finds a bit of grain?
What sound does the old tree make
When it’s too tired to utter a creak?
Which path is it we find instead
When we lose sight of the one we seek?
How can a palace be no more to some
Than a lowly little shack?
And when I look in the mirror,
Who will I see?
Who will be staring back?
That a fish can remain motionless,
Suspended in the water?
Why do butterfly’s wings make
Less than a whisper
When they pass by your ear?
Why do bats fly out
When the sun goes down
And the moon comes out to play?
How do the flowers flaunt
Such a vibrant display,
Like a rainbow of hues and tones?
Why do pennies in a wishing well glint,
Shining in the sun,
Making them look like stars so bright?
How can a snowflake be one of many
But still remain unique?
Why are raindrops caught in a spider’s web
Such a dazzling scene?
Do ladybugs dance and beetles prance
To the tune of nature’s song?
Do the larks and sparrows mind the wind,
Or do they sing along?
Do the busy bees
Buzz along as they please
In the midst of pouring rain?
Does the fieldmouse twitter in perfect delight
When it finds a bit of grain?
What sound does the old tree make
When it’s too tired to utter a creak?
Which path is it we find instead
When we lose sight of the one we seek?
How can a palace be no more to some
Than a lowly little shack?
And when I look in the mirror,
Who will I see?
Who will be staring back?
Friday, May 25, 2012
Catching Fireflies
I don't really remember much. All I have left are a few fleeting memories of that time. I must have been only two or three, because my brother wasn't born yet. At least, not from what I can tell. It was night. We were camping somewhere with a cabin that had two bunk beds in it. My dad had brought his guitar and we were sitting around the campfire singing camp songs. I think we may have been on a church trip or something, because I vaguely remember a few kids sitting there with us. There may have been more. That would make sense since my parents both were involved in youth ministry when I was young.
That's not the main thing I think about, though. What I remember most strongly is a time right before we lit the fire, or right after it went out. It was dark all around, but I could see the outlines of the trees surrounding me. I had hold of my mom's hand. Then, she pointed something out to me. It was a small little light floating a few feet away. I was mesmerized. I had never seen anything like it. What kind of magic was this? I don't think I could understand what my mother said, but she brought out a jar and showed me how to capture the lights. After we had a fair amount, we must have let them go because the next thing I know is I crawled into one of the bunks next to my mom. She turned the lantern off and I fell asleep.
That's not the main thing I think about, though. What I remember most strongly is a time right before we lit the fire, or right after it went out. It was dark all around, but I could see the outlines of the trees surrounding me. I had hold of my mom's hand. Then, she pointed something out to me. It was a small little light floating a few feet away. I was mesmerized. I had never seen anything like it. What kind of magic was this? I don't think I could understand what my mother said, but she brought out a jar and showed me how to capture the lights. After we had a fair amount, we must have let them go because the next thing I know is I crawled into one of the bunks next to my mom. She turned the lantern off and I fell asleep.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Past, Present, and Future
Where have the days gone? It feels like just yesterday school was beginning and summer was behind me. There was so much to do and to look forward to that I had no time to think about what had passed. But now that the year is almost over, I stop and think, "What was I doing all this time?" I know this year passed just the same as others, but I can't help getting the feeling that the older I get, the faster time flies. I really don't know what to do with myself now that my controlled chaos is coming to a close. It baffles me how we can live through a long period of time and not even pay attention to it. It seems like we are always either looking back or jumping ahead, but we never really take the time to live in the present. The future holds exciting things for me and I love to imagine it, but sometimes I have to remind myself to slow down and to live in the present. I occasionally forget to savor the moments as they happen because in only a wisp of time they will be a memory and I will long for them just the same as I do others. Then again, isn't most of life made up of memories? Where would we be without the things we hold dear, without those things that are so special to us? Oh, Time, how you always seem within our grasp but in truth you are constantly slipping away into the future faster than we can blink.
Friday, May 4, 2012
May the 4th be with you
In honor of Star Wars day, here's a little video that I found on Facebook one day. I feel that because it is May 4th and because cellos just rock that I should share this. I am also very fond of the Star Wars music, so this appeals to my better nature. For those who read my Facebook, my apologies. This will be the third Star Wars related item that I have mentioned today, but since it is a deserving cause, I might as well show my applause. Just wait until Hobbit Day on September 22...
Thursday, May 3, 2012
School
The longer I live in this life
The stranger I see things
In fact, it reminds me a lot
Of fish
We are nothing but fish here,
Confined in this tank
Following a leader,
Stuck in the current
We get swept along by
The actions of the rest
No one wanting to be the first
To break free
Everyone waiting for the leader
But the leader acts on what
The rest of the pack does
So you see, they're caught
In an endless cycle
Just like us,
Who so resemble fish in nature
After all, why do you think
We call them a school?
The stranger I see things
In fact, it reminds me a lot
Of fish
We are nothing but fish here,
Confined in this tank
Following a leader,
Stuck in the current
We get swept along by
The actions of the rest
No one wanting to be the first
To break free
Everyone waiting for the leader
But the leader acts on what
The rest of the pack does
So you see, they're caught
In an endless cycle
Just like us,
Who so resemble fish in nature
After all, why do you think
We call them a school?
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Thoughts on Fish
This is a quote taken from Love, Aubrey, a book I recently read:
"But really, anybody could die any day, whether you were ready or not. It could be your pet fish, or your sister, or you. Nothing is the same forever. Maybe all the people on Earth are God's little pet fish. God lives such a long time that people's lives probably seem really short to him. He watches them swim around for a little while, and then they stop swimming."
It's an interesting metaphor, really, to think that we are only fish swimming around in a bowl. I have also thought this, and I wrote a poem about it once. The quote made me think a little bit about life and death in general. It makes me realize that we will die, and could at any moment. Knowing this, what are we going to do with our lives? No one is too old or too young to make a difference. Many people feel that they don't have anything they want to change, or the right means to do it with. Surely that can't be true? We've all been given gifts: some people are musically inclined, some people have the gift for helping others, some people are the super extroverted types who are natural people-magnets (I am especially impressed by these folks since I am not one of them). All of these things can be used. As for change, is there anyone in the world who is completely happy with the way things are? I highly doubt this to be true. These are just excuses to not do anything. I don't want to sound condescending; I just feel that everyone has a purpose and if we don't use our gifts towards that purpose, then why did God even put us on Earth in the first place?
So, seeing as I could die at any moment, I want to live every day as if it were my last. I don't like holding grudges for this reason, I don't want anyone to be mad at me, I don't want to go to sleep knowing that I hurt someone. I want to make an effort to leave an impact on someone's life. It doesn't have to be something big. I just want to know that I changed someone's life for the better, and even if it's only one person, then I will be happy. I wish everyone had the same goal. Even if it may not seem like they changed the world, it makes a world of difference to that one person they impacted.
"But really, anybody could die any day, whether you were ready or not. It could be your pet fish, or your sister, or you. Nothing is the same forever. Maybe all the people on Earth are God's little pet fish. God lives such a long time that people's lives probably seem really short to him. He watches them swim around for a little while, and then they stop swimming."
It's an interesting metaphor, really, to think that we are only fish swimming around in a bowl. I have also thought this, and I wrote a poem about it once. The quote made me think a little bit about life and death in general. It makes me realize that we will die, and could at any moment. Knowing this, what are we going to do with our lives? No one is too old or too young to make a difference. Many people feel that they don't have anything they want to change, or the right means to do it with. Surely that can't be true? We've all been given gifts: some people are musically inclined, some people have the gift for helping others, some people are the super extroverted types who are natural people-magnets (I am especially impressed by these folks since I am not one of them). All of these things can be used. As for change, is there anyone in the world who is completely happy with the way things are? I highly doubt this to be true. These are just excuses to not do anything. I don't want to sound condescending; I just feel that everyone has a purpose and if we don't use our gifts towards that purpose, then why did God even put us on Earth in the first place?
So, seeing as I could die at any moment, I want to live every day as if it were my last. I don't like holding grudges for this reason, I don't want anyone to be mad at me, I don't want to go to sleep knowing that I hurt someone. I want to make an effort to leave an impact on someone's life. It doesn't have to be something big. I just want to know that I changed someone's life for the better, and even if it's only one person, then I will be happy. I wish everyone had the same goal. Even if it may not seem like they changed the world, it makes a world of difference to that one person they impacted.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Key and Lock
She was a beautiful key: long and slender, the old-fashioned kind that was meant to fit in a keyhole, with three teeth at the end of her brazen shaft. She was only three inches long. Her head was a mass of delicate swirls and patterns that seemed too elaborate for practical use. She hung from a chain next to a window, and swung in the breeze when it was open. There was a blanket of cobwebs encasing her where she hung, for no one had reached up for her in years.
It had been so long since she had actually been used she wondered whether she went to anything at all. Everyone else may have forgotten what she unlocked, including herself, but she knew for certain that she belonged to something. She knew that for every key, there is a lock, and every lock has something behind it. That is why even as the days went by, the seasons turned, and years changed all into just memories, the key still swung from her chain by the window, waiting for the one day when someone would finally remember her and find where she belonged.
It had been so long since she had actually been used she wondered whether she went to anything at all. Everyone else may have forgotten what she unlocked, including herself, but she knew for certain that she belonged to something. She knew that for every key, there is a lock, and every lock has something behind it. That is why even as the days went by, the seasons turned, and years changed all into just memories, the key still swung from her chain by the window, waiting for the one day when someone would finally remember her and find where she belonged.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Babysitting Tip #1: Keep Eyes on Children ALWAYS
So... I had quite an eventful night babysitting this evening. Normally, the kids at this particular house are pretty good and pleasant to be around. Tonight was no different, but with a twist.
As I reached the door of the house and the mom had greeted me, she informed me that her niece had been there all day and that I would have to watch her for a few minutes until she was picked up. That was fine. What was one more kid, anyway? Instead of watching three kids, I was now watching four. Again, this didn't bother me until the next thing the mom said: "She's very stubborn. You may have to be firm with her, because she doesn't listen very well." Oh great, I thought to myself, now I have a difficult child to work with. Oh well, it couldn't be helped.
When the parents left, everyone was happily seated on the couch watching Barbie: A Mermaid Tale 2. (I found it quite disturbing how brightly colored everything was.) After about ten minutes, however, the two youngest children grew tired of the movie, and I can't blame them, so they went to play in one of the bedrooms. I could still hear them, so I assumed everything was fine, until five minutes later when I went to check on them. What did I find? In the time they had been left alone, they had succeeded in flooding the entire bathroom and the water was quickly working its way into the hall. I felt like I was the mermaid then. I could have slapped myself. This was not what I needed 15 minutes before bedtime. So this was what the mom meant by "stubborn".
I set straight to work cleaning: the two kids were totally soaked, so I had to get dry pajamas for the boy and wrap a towel around the girl (since she was the niece and didn't have a change of clothes); I tried to mop the water off the floor with towels until I could really mop; and of course, I drained the whole sink and wiped down the cupboards, which were literally sopping wet. Of course, right as I was in the middle of all this, the niece's mother walked in and took her home in a towel. That must have made a good first impression.
After the initial damage was dealt with, I got the youngest in bed and tried to have the middle child also get in bed. Of course, small children always want a snack at the least convenient times, so I ended up feeding everybody before they would go to bed. So, after the youngest was in bed a second time, I set to work on the middle child. She simply refused to sleep unless I read her a story, so I obliged in this while her sister took the mop and helped clean up the water that still remained. All I can say, is thank goodness for firstborn children.
Finally, after both of the girls were in bed and I was alone, I had to finish cleaning up. Thankfully, the mop did most of the dirty work, but I still had to make sure everything was dry. After everything was done, I finally wrung out all the towels and hung them up to dry, along with the clothing of the culprits, and I sat down on the couch to read until the parents came home.
It's funny because when I left the house before I arrived, I was just hoping the kids would go to bed without complaining tonight. Well, that's exactly what happened, except I had to flood the bathroom to get it. The moral of the story? I'm not sure. Maybe the moral is that you should never let two 3-year-olds out of your sight. Or you should never watch Barbie movies unless under torture. Or even that you should wear waterproof clothing every time you babysit. Regardless of the lesson learned, I know that when I go over next time, I will not be the one who turns mermaid trying to clean up messes gone haywire.
As I reached the door of the house and the mom had greeted me, she informed me that her niece had been there all day and that I would have to watch her for a few minutes until she was picked up. That was fine. What was one more kid, anyway? Instead of watching three kids, I was now watching four. Again, this didn't bother me until the next thing the mom said: "She's very stubborn. You may have to be firm with her, because she doesn't listen very well." Oh great, I thought to myself, now I have a difficult child to work with. Oh well, it couldn't be helped.
When the parents left, everyone was happily seated on the couch watching Barbie: A Mermaid Tale 2. (I found it quite disturbing how brightly colored everything was.) After about ten minutes, however, the two youngest children grew tired of the movie, and I can't blame them, so they went to play in one of the bedrooms. I could still hear them, so I assumed everything was fine, until five minutes later when I went to check on them. What did I find? In the time they had been left alone, they had succeeded in flooding the entire bathroom and the water was quickly working its way into the hall. I felt like I was the mermaid then. I could have slapped myself. This was not what I needed 15 minutes before bedtime. So this was what the mom meant by "stubborn".
I set straight to work cleaning: the two kids were totally soaked, so I had to get dry pajamas for the boy and wrap a towel around the girl (since she was the niece and didn't have a change of clothes); I tried to mop the water off the floor with towels until I could really mop; and of course, I drained the whole sink and wiped down the cupboards, which were literally sopping wet. Of course, right as I was in the middle of all this, the niece's mother walked in and took her home in a towel. That must have made a good first impression.
After the initial damage was dealt with, I got the youngest in bed and tried to have the middle child also get in bed. Of course, small children always want a snack at the least convenient times, so I ended up feeding everybody before they would go to bed. So, after the youngest was in bed a second time, I set to work on the middle child. She simply refused to sleep unless I read her a story, so I obliged in this while her sister took the mop and helped clean up the water that still remained. All I can say, is thank goodness for firstborn children.
Finally, after both of the girls were in bed and I was alone, I had to finish cleaning up. Thankfully, the mop did most of the dirty work, but I still had to make sure everything was dry. After everything was done, I finally wrung out all the towels and hung them up to dry, along with the clothing of the culprits, and I sat down on the couch to read until the parents came home.
It's funny because when I left the house before I arrived, I was just hoping the kids would go to bed without complaining tonight. Well, that's exactly what happened, except I had to flood the bathroom to get it. The moral of the story? I'm not sure. Maybe the moral is that you should never let two 3-year-olds out of your sight. Or you should never watch Barbie movies unless under torture. Or even that you should wear waterproof clothing every time you babysit. Regardless of the lesson learned, I know that when I go over next time, I will not be the one who turns mermaid trying to clean up messes gone haywire.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Red Light
Come on, come on! Why won't they hurry up? Autumn wants me to just walk, but I can't! I am the Caboose after all, so I can't very well leave Tatiana and Melissa behind. Autumn is pulling me away from them. Not fair! What'll happen to me if Mrs. Troph finds out that I didn't work as the Caboose? What on earth are they fighting over, anyway?... What!? They're fighting over who gets to walk in front of me? I don't want either of them to, because Autumn already is.
Oh, no! The line's getting farther away! All I can see is Johanna's hot pink earmuffs disappearing into the building. I better move now. Uh, oh, Mrs. Gross is coming back out. "When we get inside, I have four ladies on red!" She yells, holding up four fingers. What? That's not fair! It's Tatiana and Melissa who are holding us up!
"Come on, Autumn, let's go!" I say to her.
"Finally!"
We walk into the building. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. It's not my fault that we're getting put on red! I was just doing my job. I heard that Principal Plumb spanks the kindergarteners who get put on red. Oh, why does this happen to me? Now I'll have to go to the principal and get spanked, and I'll get a phone call home, and I won't be able to go out to recess again. *groan* I can't believe it. I hate kindergarten...
Oh, no! The line's getting farther away! All I can see is Johanna's hot pink earmuffs disappearing into the building. I better move now. Uh, oh, Mrs. Gross is coming back out. "When we get inside, I have four ladies on red!" She yells, holding up four fingers. What? That's not fair! It's Tatiana and Melissa who are holding us up!
"Come on, Autumn, let's go!" I say to her.
"Finally!"
We walk into the building. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. It's not my fault that we're getting put on red! I was just doing my job. I heard that Principal Plumb spanks the kindergarteners who get put on red. Oh, why does this happen to me? Now I'll have to go to the principal and get spanked, and I'll get a phone call home, and I won't be able to go out to recess again. *groan* I can't believe it. I hate kindergarten...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Missed Opportunity
Tonight I was one of the first people to arrive at a youth group in the park. I took a piece of pizza and began to eat it while I waited for everyone else to arrive. Then, a lady got out of her car with a cat on the harness and started walking it around the park. I thought to myself, "How cute. I've never seen a cat do that before."
A few minutes later, the cat started pulling her towards me and she told me I could pet him. I reached down my hand and stroked his long, slightly matted fur and he rolled over on his belly in delight. After a while, the cat, whose name I found out was Tabby, jumped on the table and tried to push our pizza boxes over. He wanted to eat them. The lady remarked how cute she found it, and I told her how one of our cats used to eat our bagels off the counter. She laughed and eventually they moved on to a different part of the park.
As everyone else arrived, I thought nothing of the incident, until one of my friends asked me why my friend wasn't participating. I asked, "Which friend?" She motioned to the cat lady who was standing by her old green car and I told her that I hadn't ever met the girl before: we had just talked briefly earlier. She shrugged and we continued with our games.
Throughout the night, the girl kept taking Tabby and walking around the park with his harness and some of my friends kept making snide comments about her. I'm afraid to say I joined in on a few of them. It grew dark, and I began to grow a little worried about the lady because it seemed like she wasn't going to leave. It almost seemed like she was spying on us. I also thought she might be up to some mischief and felt she had no business hanging around in a park after dark anyway.
As I was getting into the car when everything was over, I looked over next to me and saw the green car that was piled high with things in the backseat, the girl and her father sleeping in the front seats, and the cat on top of the luggage.
I should have offered her a piece of pizza. I should have asked for her name. I should have at least asked if she wanted something to drink. Why didn't I? At first, she seemed like a normal person, but then she talked to me and I could tell she was different. Then, I poked fun at her behind her back in front of my friends and jumped to conclusions about something I had no right to. And then to find out she was only a homeless girl with her father and cat who lived out of an old green car... This just goes to show that we should look at our surroundings and gather what information we can before judging people. Now there's nothing I can do for her, even though I had an opportunity to help. It may have made the difference of dinner for her and Tabby if only I had thought to offer her some food.
A few minutes later, the cat started pulling her towards me and she told me I could pet him. I reached down my hand and stroked his long, slightly matted fur and he rolled over on his belly in delight. After a while, the cat, whose name I found out was Tabby, jumped on the table and tried to push our pizza boxes over. He wanted to eat them. The lady remarked how cute she found it, and I told her how one of our cats used to eat our bagels off the counter. She laughed and eventually they moved on to a different part of the park.
As everyone else arrived, I thought nothing of the incident, until one of my friends asked me why my friend wasn't participating. I asked, "Which friend?" She motioned to the cat lady who was standing by her old green car and I told her that I hadn't ever met the girl before: we had just talked briefly earlier. She shrugged and we continued with our games.
Throughout the night, the girl kept taking Tabby and walking around the park with his harness and some of my friends kept making snide comments about her. I'm afraid to say I joined in on a few of them. It grew dark, and I began to grow a little worried about the lady because it seemed like she wasn't going to leave. It almost seemed like she was spying on us. I also thought she might be up to some mischief and felt she had no business hanging around in a park after dark anyway.
As I was getting into the car when everything was over, I looked over next to me and saw the green car that was piled high with things in the backseat, the girl and her father sleeping in the front seats, and the cat on top of the luggage.
I should have offered her a piece of pizza. I should have asked for her name. I should have at least asked if she wanted something to drink. Why didn't I? At first, she seemed like a normal person, but then she talked to me and I could tell she was different. Then, I poked fun at her behind her back in front of my friends and jumped to conclusions about something I had no right to. And then to find out she was only a homeless girl with her father and cat who lived out of an old green car... This just goes to show that we should look at our surroundings and gather what information we can before judging people. Now there's nothing I can do for her, even though I had an opportunity to help. It may have made the difference of dinner for her and Tabby if only I had thought to offer her some food.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Avocado
I couldn't believe I was standing there. That was the day I had been dreading ever since I learned of its coming. The house guests were coming. And what was worse, they had a girl my age. I knew what that meant: I would have to be "friendly" with them all, especially her, until they finally left and I would be free.
The dreaded moment came. I heard the knock on the door, and I took my position. I waited in my room until my mother called me. I wanted one last moment of solitude to myself before I lost a spring. I waited for my cue ("Oh, she'll be out in a minute, don't worry!") and stepped out into the kitchen, where I greeted our guests with a smile. I wasn't exactly charming, but what was to be expected from me? I was never really comfortable around people in the first place, but it didn't help that I hadn't showered after swimming earlier, and that I was wearing my bathing suit cover-up. There were lemon bars on the table, special ones because one of our guest's daughters was allergic to milk and eggs. The night passed by fairly tortuously, with games, stories, and many futile attempts to make friends with the teenage girl on my end.
It was later in the night, and the girl and I were in my room trying to make a decent conversation. Neither of us were very good at it. We had nothing in common; she liked completely different music from me, she loved make-up and popular clothes (whereas I preferred not to bother and just wear a skirt instead), and she was allergic to cats. We did both like reading, but not the same kinds at all. On top of all that, she talked so quietly that I could barely hear her on a regular basis.
I tried again to make a conversation. I asked her what it was like to be allergic to milk and eggs, only to find out that it was her sister, not her, with the allergy. Great. I had just made the biggest idiot out of myself as I possibly could have. I couldn't tell, but I'm sure my face turned tomato-red, redder than a strawberry (which, I might add, is very noticeable due to my fair complexion).
I was only starting to think of something to say to make my blunder less obvious when I was distracted by a thump on my mainly-open door. We both turned. Something was lying on my floor next to my penny jar. I picked it up. It was an avocado. The girl asked me if that was what I had been thinking. I replied back that, yes indeed, this was an avocado. I looked to see where it might have come from. There was a green splotch on my doorjamb. One of my brothers had thrown it at us. We both looked at each other, me with avocado in hand, and burst out laughing. It was so funny, so weird, so random. That was exactly the right moment for it to have appeared, too. I looked at the avocado with new-found meaning. This little fruit was my savior, the reason I was able to get through the rest of the night.
This just goes to show that we need to expect everything, prepare for the unexpected, and not take for granted those little avocados in life that pass us by each day.
The dreaded moment came. I heard the knock on the door, and I took my position. I waited in my room until my mother called me. I wanted one last moment of solitude to myself before I lost a spring. I waited for my cue ("Oh, she'll be out in a minute, don't worry!") and stepped out into the kitchen, where I greeted our guests with a smile. I wasn't exactly charming, but what was to be expected from me? I was never really comfortable around people in the first place, but it didn't help that I hadn't showered after swimming earlier, and that I was wearing my bathing suit cover-up. There were lemon bars on the table, special ones because one of our guest's daughters was allergic to milk and eggs. The night passed by fairly tortuously, with games, stories, and many futile attempts to make friends with the teenage girl on my end.
It was later in the night, and the girl and I were in my room trying to make a decent conversation. Neither of us were very good at it. We had nothing in common; she liked completely different music from me, she loved make-up and popular clothes (whereas I preferred not to bother and just wear a skirt instead), and she was allergic to cats. We did both like reading, but not the same kinds at all. On top of all that, she talked so quietly that I could barely hear her on a regular basis.
I tried again to make a conversation. I asked her what it was like to be allergic to milk and eggs, only to find out that it was her sister, not her, with the allergy. Great. I had just made the biggest idiot out of myself as I possibly could have. I couldn't tell, but I'm sure my face turned tomato-red, redder than a strawberry (which, I might add, is very noticeable due to my fair complexion).
I was only starting to think of something to say to make my blunder less obvious when I was distracted by a thump on my mainly-open door. We both turned. Something was lying on my floor next to my penny jar. I picked it up. It was an avocado. The girl asked me if that was what I had been thinking. I replied back that, yes indeed, this was an avocado. I looked to see where it might have come from. There was a green splotch on my doorjamb. One of my brothers had thrown it at us. We both looked at each other, me with avocado in hand, and burst out laughing. It was so funny, so weird, so random. That was exactly the right moment for it to have appeared, too. I looked at the avocado with new-found meaning. This little fruit was my savior, the reason I was able to get through the rest of the night.
This just goes to show that we need to expect everything, prepare for the unexpected, and not take for granted those little avocados in life that pass us by each day.
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