Slice of Life: Hawaii

My heart puns and skin perspires as I continue to run towards the shoreline. I see Eddie just a few steps in front of me, also running. We have been running, not jogging for quite some time now, as we simply couldn't wait to reach our goal. Us two are among only five kids and two adults wanted to venture to the westernmost point of the island, leaving the rest of the class back at camp the have measly 'free time.'

I keep running, and see the shoreline up ahead, I am so close to making history in the school!

Revised Poems

LOCK DOWN DRILL

Hushed children

with hushed voices

sit, kneel, huddle

The room around, dark and

confused

With the school supplies lonely

the desks neglected

All seeing the hiding group

of hushed children

with hushed voices

Hiding from the

terror

that is not really there

Children giggle

squeal

eyes dart

Now character is

revealed

At the young age of

9

10

11

Some worry some tense

Some joke some laugh

As the impending doom

that’s not really there

looms behind the door.

RED, WHITE, BLUE

Limply hanging on

The red, white, and blue fading

Something that once was

POETRY IN GENERAL!

 
first day at school
the other children look into me
for a sign of similar fear



Hushed children
with hushed voices
sit, kneel, huddle

The room around dark and
confused

With the school supplies lonely
the desks neglected

All seeing the hiding group
of hushed children
with hushed voices

Hiding from the
terror
that is not really there

Children giggle
squeal
eyes dart
teeth with braces clamped together

It is now when character is
revealed

At the young age of
9
10
11

Some worry and some tense
Some joke and some laugh

As the impending doom
that is not really there
looms behind the door.

LIMERICKS

     David Simmons:

There once was a man from Illinois
Who was never one for a toy
He became a teacher
And thought he was a preacher
Until he was out-smarted by a boy


      Throwing my Model Off the Roof:
On the building the sat a roof
and on that there stood a goof
He'd throw his model off it
Not for a profit
Just cause he has aloof

FREE VERSE POEM

Grass.


the forgotten blades shift with the wind
wisping and grimacing
though wise and old
It stays shy and cold

it has met the sole of all weary travelers
and the backs of starry-night on-lookers
yet not the caring hands of seasoned gardeners

silent it stays
around the garden it lays
ready to assume it's fresh color green
as it has in countless past Mays

grass stays the same
through all days and days.

Occasional Poetry!

On this day, this fateful day
The condition of households will change into
Frenzy

Though it may be for a time o so short
Frenzy is frenzy, and it will be so

One this day families will look at their televisions
and see pixels
But it is the images that make all the difference

Somewhere in a far-away place,
in a distant stadium, a football (soccer) game is being played

Although not the final
or the semifinal
it is just as important

The US against Brazil
the fateful day has come

The game filled with controvercy
and cheating
and skill
A game where the countries have one goal a piece
and the action simply does not seem to cease.

O so many Odes (or only one)

ODE TO CHRISTMAS EVE:

oh, how you remain in the back of my mind

for spring summer and fall

and how once in a while your songs creep into my head

leaving me yearning for you more than ever

with you loud noises, bright colors

along side quiet sounds and dim lights

leaving me restless until next moring

oh, how the singing and caroling

fills me up 

and how the cookies and cakes

leave me empty

when the family spends all night chatting

and telling jokes

all accompanied with thunderous laughter

and how when the clock hand both stand directly upwards

and people start shuffling out

we drink our last glass of eggnog 

sing our last carol

and tuck ourselves into bed

ready for a sleepless night.

Haikus

The dark lake shimmers

From the blue light off the moon

Silently calling

He pants and tail-wags

His black fur shining off the light

Happy to see us



Up atop the pole,
waves free without oppression,
liberty fires fly.

Slice of life: 4-9-15

        Tintin, my dog, lays casually on the ground. He doesn't know that in a matter of minutes, he will experience a type of mental stimulation that makes use believe that he needs drugs. My dad's friend and his twenty-year-old son are coming visit us, but we consider them a type of family because they are really nice. I hear the car door slam, which causes Tintin's ears to perk up a bit, but not enough to have him get up from his lounge. It amuses me, because I know what he will be like in some time, and I can't believe he can go from this to that.

        I hear their footsteps coming up to the door, my dad with them and greeting his old friend from college and his son. Tintin gets up. He can smell them. He is a really lean and skinny dog with shiny black hair and a little white spot on his chest. He stands in a heroic pose, the frame of a confident and alarmed dog. My dad starts to unlock the house, the first bark come out of Tintin's vocal chords. He sprints to the door and bumps into the wall.

Slice of Life: 3-31-15

 I lean closer to the watercolor paper and paint another line onto it. I am almost done with this map, I’ve been working on it for almost the whole week at school. I have never painted maps, and haven’t tried to make them much at all, but in this past week, I seem to have found a new pass-time. The arrow I am painting rounds the corner between the Italian mainland and Cecily, cutting through the Mediterranean Sea all the way to Jerusalem. Either you already know because you are some kind of expert, or you don’t, but I am making a map of the Crusades. In short, the Crusades were holy wars in the 1000’s-1300 when different popes from Western Europe instructed their people to take back the holy land (Islam) from the Muslims and Jews. Thousands of people fought, and thousands of people died, and many other things happened. You are now caught up.

              Sorry to give you a lecture, but I just do that sometimes.

              Making the final arrow, I stroke the small watercolor brush across the rough paper and step back. I am truly satisfied by my work, as I am with other artistic things. I tried to make it look like a true medieval-look map, from the watercolor to the calligraphy, and I think it looks okay. I reach to the side of the paper to pick up, planning my rout to my art-folder thing, when I realize that there is no key on it. Just as I was about to sigh and smile, all while packing up the watercolor brushes and my small cup of water, I have to put it back and spend another ten minutes of perfectly good time on the key.

              Not only that, but I will need to strain the muscles in my hand, trying to not mess up on the writing. If I do mess it up, it will either look really bad or I will start over, which will absolutely suck. I get my ticket for the imaginary lottery, my chances getting slimmer and slimmer the more I work on this map.

              I sigh, but not like I was about to, more of a tired and irritated sigh to accompany me picking up the smallest brush and dipping it in the cup of water. I lean back closer to the paper and put my brush down onto the paper.           

Slice of Life: 3-30-15

    The Vietnam War Moratorium

       Explosions in the jungle.

Propellers slicing through the air, keeping machine guns

and their operators afloat,

spraying bullets into the canopy.

These same propellers save lives as well, transporting wounded

warriors to a safe place,

away for the bloody hell of the jungle.

      The make-shift signs are thrusted up and down,

moving with the crowd.

Echos of voices amplified throughout the center of America's 

capitol.

Young, dirty men and women chant,

scolding their own government.

The large lawn of the National Mall

which is supposed to display our country,

does exactly that on this day.

The air is humid and hostile, 

almost like the jungle.

Slice of Life: 3-29-15

   I run back to the beach grinning, as my sister plays in the shallower ocean water. Our time in California has been fun, visiting friends and staying at a nice hotel, nothing has gone wrong. Not until now. I continue slowly making my way back to the refuge of the warm beach and sweet parents, trying to find the most efficient way to run in water up to your thighs. The waves are slow and small, an unusual thing for this beach.
    Suddenly, I hear my sister yell, half in excitement and half in being scared. She runs quickly back to our parents and leaves me in the cold water. Confused, I look to her, then spin around, only to see a large blob rising up. That blob was water. Lots of it. I increase my speed as I realize what is happening, think I might be able to get away from the huge, sudden wave. I don't see it, but I feel its presence behind me, my little mind tricking my senses into think that I am about to be swallowed by a monster.
     I hear the wave start to crash down just behind me and realize that it is too late to get to the beach. I take one last look at my petrified parents and get enveloped by the water.
My body spins.
Flailing in the white water.
I swing my arms around in an attempt to get back up.
The crashing noise stops.
The wave rolls on itself on the beach.
And my small nine-year-old body floats up to the top.
     I swing my head up violently and break the barrier of water up to the oxygen above. I try to gasp. I can't. I can't breath. Why can't I breath?!! I start to run back to my parents anyway. They start off to me.
     By the time I get to land, I can breath again, but before i was in so much shock that my body just didn't want to. My mom and dad hug a towel around me, continually asking if I am alright. I realize I am fine, and we slowly make our way back up to the hotel room.

Slice of Life: 3-28-15

   I stand up straight, slightly leaning back as I observe the beautiful view across the valley, with snow being whisked off mountain by the wind. The mountain straight across from us is by far the most spectacular, with the sunlight above illuminating the snow, and I think that this could easily be in a photo-calender of Colorado. I block out the shouting and laughing behind me, and start to really enjoy the moment. Everything is perfect for one split second, and the next my face is flat on the snow.

       It was my fault... I let my guard down, exposing my back to be perfectly and easily tackled. I feel the full body weight of someone on top of me, both of us giggling slightly. My face stings immensely, and I reach my exposed hand up to it to brush most of the powdery snow from it, not relieving it from the cold but preventing later stinging. I roll over to see that it was Max, and I playfully throw snow into his face, hoping that he will feel my pain.

Slice of Life: 3-27-15

Today I threw my model off the roof of the school building. If you are reading this and go to a different school than Logan, I was allowed to do this with the permission of teacher, and this was not an extraordinary teacher, this was a normal teacher by Logan standards. Anyway, a huge project that took me many months to complete, just dropped from the roof of the building, and snapped in half. The unwritten will for the model was that after Expo (the time when we present our projects), I would do something grand to finally dispose of it. I then thought of the idea to chuck it off of the roof in front of anybody that wanted to see it.

              So, at the start of the day, I started to take off all of the small parts that I wanted to keep. This was a model of the National Mall in Washington DC, and because of that I made many scaled tiny buildings like the White House, the Capitol, the Smithsonian Castle, etc. I took of all of these to keep for myself and perhaps give away to others, and prepared to go onto the roof to throw the annoying piece of work off into oblivion.

                 David, was one of my teachers last year, and now he is the head groundskeeper for the school. He is the only one that regularly gets onto the roof, so I arranged that we would meet just before lunchtime, and as I said, anyone that wanted to see could come and watch from the ground. My friend Charlie wanted to come so he and I brought my huge model with a base of foam core to the ‘meeting place’ with David. Waiting for longer than we expected, the anticipation increased and increased.

              Finally, I see David jogging in from working outside, knowing he is a bit late for this event. He then takes us to the door that I have never been in, which leads to a ladder that goes to the roof. Once we got there, David takes his large key ring with many different keys attached to it and unlocks the door. There is a hatch that prevent the sunlight from coming in at the top of the ladder. David climbs the seven rungs and open the hatch with a key as well.

              It swings open, and beautiful rays of light come down, highlighting the place where the Capitol building once stood. Charlie and I collectively heave the model up to David, and Charlie climbs up. David then motions for me to climb the seven rungs, and I do so, clutching the cold metal tightly so that I don’t fall. Getting to the higher rungs, I feel the effect of ascending into heaven as the bright light starts to blind me.

              I reach the top, and set my feet on new ground (being that I haven’t been to the roof yet in my time at Logan). The wind chills me as Charlie continue to carry the model closer to the planned edge where we are going to drop it. Once we reach the edge, the kids in my class are delighted to see us and know that the next minute or so will be very entertaining. Charlie and I walk along the edge until we find a place where the model won’t get caught in a tree, and set up to launch it into the air. Some time passes as we communicate and figure out the countdown until the launch (or drop, shall I say) and we decide the kids on the ground will count down from three.

              I flinch as I hear a chorus of children’s voices right away.

              “Three… Two… One!” When they get to ‘one,’ I swing the model backwards and forwards in unison with Charlie and in one big movement, we let it go.

Slice of Life: 3-26-15

   I press down hard on the top of the can, releasing a brown mist onto the model of the trench, accompanied by the satisfying yet cutting sound: pssshhhhhhhhhh. Only a few seconds later the odd smell of spray paint was in my nose, fogging my head and making me breath through my mouth in an attempt to regain the smell of grass and cold air. I move the can up ad down along the model, finding white spots and soon turning them into a muddy earth color that it is supposed to be.

      I stop spraying it, and stand up from my crouching position, relieving the tension in my thighs as well as my mind. I turn away from the model, and take deep refreshing breaths from the clean air. I shake my head a little and turn back towards the model and push back down on the top of the spray paint can.

Slice of Life: 3-25-15

The tree sways in the wind of the blizzard, I feel like I am too. My legs have a numb sensation, with no more layers that the two everyone always has on, while my torso is actually pretty warm. We are eating lunch at school, my friends and I. Others have taken up the idea of huddling in one collective blog to stay as warm as possible from the onslaught of the wind and the snow. I take a bit of the sandwich I made this morning, hoping the carbohydrates will warm my body up more.

     My friends and I have been talking about different subjects, nothing really worth any of our time. Every minute or so someone exclaims about how cold they are, and others will call those going inside wimps. If you didn't know, my school allows Advanced School students to sit outside the cafeteria on a type of patio. Of course, many of us want to honor the privilege by sitting outside... Every day.

      I take more bites of my sandwich, hoping to somehow increase the amount of time the second hand goes around the clock so we can start to move around and play Frisbee. I then am reminded how much it will sting to catch the Frisbee. Maybe I won’t.

      I run out of sandwich to eat, so I put the plastic bag back into my lunchbox to protect it from the wind. I start to eat my chips. Before I know it we are called to go to recess. I guess I did will the clock to go faster. Walking to the field with my friends, I remember to glance back to the swaying tree.  

                     

Slice of Life: 3-24-15

    Book: Okay For Now
    Author: Gary Schmidt
    Genera: Drama   

In this weeks book reading I read "Okay for Now," which is connected to "The Wednesday Wars" but not totally a sequel. It is told from the view of Doug Swieteck in the late 1960's, a seventh-grader who has an abusive father, and mostly hates being near his family (besides his mom who is sweet and nurturing) because of it. The story continues with school and meeting a friend named Lil' Spice (a girl), who gets him a job at her dad's shop. I have like Gary Schmidt's books, because his writing style is fun and interesting at the same time.
          It is a seemingly easy read, but it is about three-hundred-sixty pages, so for some people it might a two week book. If you have read the Wednesday Wars (I would recommend this book) you would know what genera it is (maybe drama, but it is  mostly just 'life').

      Next Three Books:

• When You Reach Me
• Neverwhere
• Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Slice of Life: 3-23-15

   I stand up straight, slightly leaning back as I observe the beautiful view across the valley, with snow being whisked off mountain by the wind. The mountain straight across from us is by far the most spectacular, with the sunlight above illuminating the snow, and I think that this could easily be in a photo-calender of Colorado. I block out the shouting and laughing behind me, and start to really enjoy the moment. Everything is perfect for one split second, and the next my face is flat on the snow.

       It was my fault... I let my guard down, exposing my back to be perfectly and easily tackled. I feel the full body weight of someone on top of me, both of us giggling slightly. My face stings immensely, and I reach my exposed hand up to it to brush most of the powdery snow from it, not relieving it from the cold but preventing later stinging. I roll over to see that it was Max, and I playfully throw snow into his face, hoping that he will feel my pain.

Slice of Life: 3-22-15

My eyes seem to glaze over as I watch the acting on the television. My family and I are watching the movie “Doubt” and so far, I really like it. This movie brought together so many good actors and actresses, so that they carry the movie all the way through. I realize how amazing film is, how life can be captured with a camera and become 1’s and 0’s on a computer, burned onto a disk, then re-created by thousands of blue, red, and green pixels.

              As I said the movie has really good people playing the roles, and the story is just as good. It is quite dark, however, and the more I watch it the more I wish I was watching a really happy movie like “Despicable Me.”

              That is the thing with a lot of good movies, they all aren’t really for kids, unless it is a rare case like… well, I can’t think of any. Do you get my point? I think movies that are classified as ‘good’ shouldn’t always have to be the heartbreaking ones or the ones that remind of the darkness in the world, but the ones that remind you of the light. I will still use “Despicable Me” as an example, so, it does have really cartoony characters and a plot, but it will make anybody’s day happier and remind how to laugh and help you get through hard times. Even the over-stylized world that Gru lives in seems somehow real, like it is inside everyone somewhere and somehow.

That is why I think people should re-assess what ‘good’ movies are.    

Slice of Life: 3-22-15

              I lean closer to the watercolor paper and paint another line onto it. I am almost done with this map, I’ve been working on it for almost the whole week at school. I have never painted maps, and haven’t tried to make them much at all, but in this past week, I seem to have found a new pass-time. The arrow I am painting rounds the corner between the Italian mainland and Cecily, cutting through the Mediterranean Sea all the way to Jerusalem. Either you already know because you are some kind of expert, or you don’t, but I am making a map of the Crusades. In short, the Crusades were holy wars in the 1000’s-1300 when different popes from Western Europe instructed their people to take back the holy land (Islam) from the Muslims and Jews. Thousands of people fought, and thousands of people died, and many other things happened. You are now caught up.

              Sorry to give you a lecture, but I just do that sometimes.

              Making the final arrow, I stroke the small watercolor brush across the rough paper and step back. I am truly satisfied by my work, as I am with other artistic things. I tried to make it look like a true medieval-look map, from the watercolor to the calligraphy, and I think it looks okay. I reach to the side of the paper to pick up, planning my rout to my art-folder thing, when I realize that there is no key on it. Just as I was about to sigh and smile, all while packing up the watercolor brushes and my small cup of water, I have to put it back and spend another ten minutes of perfectly good time on the key.

              Not only that, but I will need to strain the muscles in my hand, trying to not mess up on the writing. If I do mess it up, it will either look really bad or I will start over, which will absolutely suck. I get my ticket for the imaginary lottery, my chances getting slimmer and slimmer the more I work on this map.

              I sigh, but not like I was about to, more of a tired and irritated sigh to accompany me picking up the smallest brush and dipping it in the cup of water. I lean back closer to the paper and put my brush down onto the paper.           

Slice of Life: 3-20-15

The ball moves in a rhythm around the field, the Colorado Rapids are doing a really nice job on their season opener against the Portland Timbers. The Timbers are the favorites to win this game, but the only visible fans of theirs are packed up in a corner of the stadium, nothing compared to the sea of burgundy and white scarfs, jerseys, and t-shirts, which are the Rapids’ colors. Soccer has always been my favorite sport, I started when I was three and now play for one of the academy teams for the Colorado Rapids, and so, you could say that I am not a neutral fan in the game.

              Portland are the attack, their fast players streaking down the field, taking big touches and slowly moving down the field. Portland’s type of play is really fast in this game, and everything is moving smoothly. The game has been going for a while, and it seems as though the Rapids might not be able to hold out against their opposition. The same player has the ball. Everyone gets a wash of nervousness as we realize that this simple, non-advised play by this player, could lead to a goal for Portland. Further and further, the player is running, but to sooth our fears, Drew Moor, a star defender, comes and envelopes the movement, containing it and eventually pokes the ball out of bounds. I still isn’t our ball, but the crowd leans back as one and relaxes a bit.

              The same Portland player picks the ball up with his hands and throws it back in bounds in the direction of a teammate, only to get picked off by one of our players. The Rapids click back into their attacking play, moving the ball around.

              An opening in the defense of the Timbers is revealed, which is noticed by a player on the Rapids, he is a rookie from Jamaica who can accelerate to amazing speeds. He does just that, leaving the Portland players to scramble after him. The mood in the stadium suddenly changes, we all get excited and are preparing to jump out of our seats. The Jamaican is close to the goal right now, and could shoot if he was selfish. The defenders start to close in on him. What will he do? One of the defenders slides for the ball, and at that instant the Rapids play redirects it to a veteran player, who is wide open with a clear shot at goal.

                    I already know what will happen. He strikes it, putting perfect pace and spin on it. The goal-keeper has no chance. The ball flies into the top corner, and everyone erupts.  

Slice of Life: 3-19-15

Tintin, my dog, lays casually on the ground. He doesn't know that in a matter of minutes, he will experience a type of mental stimulation that makes use believe that he needs drugs. My dad's friend and his twenty-year-old son are coming visit us, but we consider them a type of family because they are really nice. I hear the car door slam, which causes Tintin's ears to perk up a bit, but not enough to have him get up from his lounge. It amuses me, because I know what he will be like in some time, and I can't believe he can go from this to that.

        I hear their footsteps coming up to the door, my dad with them and greeting his old friend from college and his son. Tintin gets up. He can smell them. He is a really lean and skinny dog with shiny black hair and a little white spot on his chest. He stands in a heroic pose, the frame of a confident and alarmed dog. My dad starts to unlock the house, the first bark come out of Tintin's vocal chords. He sprints to the door and bumps into the wall.

Slice of Life: 3-18-15

When you lean back and extend your arm out, time still moves in the right way. The last couple snow-balls you have completely missed, but you keep trying. There has been many snow-balls barely flying past you from opposing players, and you smile as none of them hit their mark.

              As you swing your arm around over your head, carrying the packed piece of the winter wonderland in your fist. You focus your eyes on the target, one of your best friends from school. When you are in the beast-mode you are in right now, you have to aim at your friends so your target doesn’t get too mad at you. Before you know it, momentum carries the snow-ball out of your hands and you move your fingers in the right way so it has back-spin, keeping in the air for just the right amount of time.

              Now time has really stopped. Thoughts go through your head as you realize how good of a shot this one was. Will it hurt them? Will they dodge it? The snow-ball seems to be flying as straight as a laser, with no arc in its flight path.

              Time starts to go faster now, faster and faster, until you hear a thunck sound and there is an explosion of snow around the target’s chest. They fall and lay there comically, while you bend down and pack together another snow-ball.  

Slice of Life: 3-16-15

 I frown as I shut the car door behind me. My dad just dropped me off here at soccer practice with a blue-tooth in his ear, talking way too loud into the small device. I walk towards the set of fields with my cleats scraping across the pavement, and feel the stadium looming behind me. Since I am on the Rapids Academy team or whatever you want to call it, we practice right next to the stadium where the real Rapids play their real games. The stadium seems so big, bigger than anyone could ever become, but stares at you all the way through when you play, daring you to be better, and maybe be good enough to be as big as it (metaphorically). 

    I see some kids out in front of me on my team, heading straight to our designated spot. My cleats stop scraping against the ground as I get to the grass, my footwear are now at home. Wherever there is grass, soccer gear thrives. I look back once again to my dad in the drivers seat of our SUV, who waves me on toward my teammates.

    The pods (as they are called) in the facility, each house six fields, and the field my team practices on is one of the furthest from where we are supposed to park, so we have to walk across all of the fields in the place we are supposed to walk, and start to warm up for practice. If you haven't noticed, this is a planned out system with places you are supposed to be and things you need to do at the right time. If you don't, then the next time you make it better. That is the mentality of the whole Rapids soccer thing. 

    I start to walk (in the correct places) across the fields, watching the different coaches set up their training exorcises. I finally make it to the place we are supposed to put our bags down and relax for a little while.

    Our coach isn't here yet, and I join in on a game of keep-away that the kids who have already arrived started. It is quite fun, especially because the kids that have arrived already are the nice kids on the team, which unfortunately is only about four players. I flick the ball around to different players, avoiding the "monkey in the middle." Soon our coach arrives and we start to get more serious. Practice will begin in few minutes so I start to juggle by myself, always trying to break my record.

    Our coach calls us in, this means practice has begun. I look back at the stadium, as if for guidance, and jog into my coach.       

Slice of Life: 3-15-15

Do you like cake? Some people don’t, and I don’t really understand their reasoning. To me, it seems impossible to be a human and also be able to not like cake. Anyway, my favorite flavor of cake is vanilla, (along with every other dessert) but at this moment in time I am eating a chocolate cake. An okay chocolate cake. I am not complaining or anything it’s just that (sniffle sniffle) it isn’t vanilla. I don’t understand people that simply don’t like vanilla (same with cake) because, it is just a plain and simple flavor that is amazing. But thing with chocolate is, sometimes chocolate is too much. I think chocolate is too rich by itself. My argument about this I a nutshell is, vanilla is better that chocolate is sweet and reliable, but chocolate isn’t. It’s like the government.

              I hope I don’t get arrested for saying that, but then again, I’m in America, not Russia.

              The cake is actually my sister’s birthday cake, and before it was a sixth of what it used to be, it wrote her name in fancy letters, and the age she was turning. (I’m not allowed to put those two things on the internet). Besides the red frosting writing her name, it was nothing but chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

              I pick up the last forkful and move it slowly into my mouth. When I close my lips around it and pull the fork out, in my mouth there is nothing but cake and icing. Plain and simple.

              You know, it’s actually okay. 

Slice of Life: 3-14-15

Today is the day that I threw my model off the roof of the school building. If you are reading this and go to a different school than Logan, I was allowed to do this with the permission of teacher, and this was not an extraordinary teacher, this was a normal teacher by Logan standards. Anyway, a huge project that took me many months to complete, just dropped from the roof of the building, and snapped in half. The unwritten will for the model was that after Expo (the time when we present our projects), I would do something grand to finally dispose of it. I then thought of the idea to chuck it off of the roof in front of anybody that wanted to see it.

              So, at the start of the day, I started to take off all of the small parts that I wanted to keep. This was a model of the National Mall in Washington DC, and because of that I made many scaled tiny buildings like the White House, the Capitol, the Smithsonian Castle, etc. I took of all of these to keep for myself and perhaps give away to others, and prepared to go onto the roof to throw the annoying piece of work off into oblivion.

                 David, was one of my teachers last year, and now he is the head groundskeeper for the school. He is the only one that regularly gets onto the roof, so I arranged that we would meet just before lunchtime, and as I said, anyone that wanted to see could come and watch from the ground. My friend Charlie wanted to come so he and I brought my huge model with a base of foam core to the ‘meeting place’ with David. Waiting for longer than we expected, the anticipation increased and increased.

              Finally, I see David jogging in from working outside, knowing he is a bit late for this event. He then takes us to the door that I have never been in, which leads to a ladder that goes to the roof. Once we got there, David takes his large key ring with many different keys attached to it and unlocks the door. There is a hatch that prevent the sunlight from coming in at the top of the ladder. David climbs the seven rungs and open the hatch with a key as well.

              It swings open, and beautiful rays of light come down, highlighting the place where the Capitol building once stood. Charlie and I collectively heave the model up to David, and Charlie climbs up. David then motions for me to climb the seven rungs, and I do so, clutching the cold metal tightly so that I don’t fall. Getting to the higher rungs, I feel the effect of ascending into heaven as the bright light starts to blind me.

              I reach the top, and set my feet on new ground (being that I haven’t been to the roof yet in my time at Logan). The wind chills me as Charlie continue to carry the model closer to the planned edge where we are going to drop it. Once we reach the edge, the kids in my class are delighted to see us and know that the next minute or so will be very entertaining. Charlie and I walk along the edge until we find a place where the model won’t get caught in a tree, and set up to launch it into the air. Some time passes as we communicate and figure out the countdown until the launch (or drop, shall I say) and we decide the kids on the ground will count down from three.

              I flinch as I hear a chorus of children’s voices right away.

              “Three… Two… One!” When they get to ‘one,’ I swing the model backwards and forwards in unison with Charlie and in one big movement, we let it go.

Slice of Life: 3-13-15

Tropical New Year

     I pull the old hotel sheets over my legs and try to get comfortable, because it is, after all, past my bed-time. My family and I sit watching the television in silence, still trying to get used to the tropical air. We flew into Hawaii a couple of days ago, and checked into the Grand Wilea, constantly accepting the "Aloha"'s and the "Welcome to Hawaii"'s. We are watching the best and worst of 2011 on NBC, waiting and staying up for the ball to drop.
      This is our first New Years in Hawaii, we were trying to create new memories in a new place. I look at the digital clock like I have been every couple of minutes. Its going to be a new year in eight minutes. A new year. The world might end. This might be our last new years. I doubt it. but you never know. We have to savor the moment.   

Slice of Life: 3-12-15

   Sometimes I like to imagine what life was like in different history events. I really enjoy learning about history in general, and one of the things that I liked about it when I was young was that it gave me a platform to make believe. Am I riding on a white horse next to general Lee in the battle of Gettysburg as artillery balls an bullets alike fly past, each one not daring to hit either General Lee or I? Am I walking the streets of Paris during the French Revolution, alongside other young boys wanting to rebel against kings and queens with enough power to crush a city? Am I dumping barrels into the Harbor with John Adams and others in Boston?  

              A new topic has interested me lately, which is best described as the Crusades. Am I slaying innocent people because they don’t believe in the God I do? Am I establishing myself the king of a country because last night in my dream God told me to?

              Am I aiming a Gatling gun at a person in a gas mask I know nothing about because it was the orders given to me? Am I shaping the civilization that will be the most successful in history, while marble statues are being carved of my face?

              Am I shaping a genocide so horrible it will go down in history, while guns are being aimed at my face?

              Am I?

              Are you?

              I don’t know.     

Slice of Life: 3-11-15

Blank pages are overrated. I sit here in my bed next to my lamplight and a clock that says it is too late at night to writing a Slice of Life, and a nice room that is so quiet it seems to be beckoning me to sleep. I hear planes rumble outside and remember when I was younger and I had just seen a ‘scary’ movie and how I thought that one of those planes was going to crash and it would be just like one of those movies. I also remember how they never did. That brings me to think how big the world is and how systematic it is. All of the planes, cars, people, plants, stars, computers, buildings, and whatever else you can think of run on a strict schedule, and somehow at the end of each day everything is on schedule so we can start the next day. I know I am leaving out the countless things that mess up, but if you think about it, the world is actually really big, really complicated, and really cool.

That probably sounds kind of cheesy, but you get my point. I have nothing to type about, just the random thoughts swirling around the room. I forgot to mention my dog, he is sleeping next to me in his torn up bed. He has a problem. He was found as a three-week old puppy alone on the streets of Huston, which directly translates into having attachment issues. Though, like any person I love him like a family member and that’s because he is. Every once in a while he moans in his bed, for not really any reason, I think it is just a way of his to show he is tired.

My eyelids shut from the heaviness they have undertaken so suddenly. I think I might go to sleep. I don’t know. I might type about something else though.  

Just a boy and his thoughts, a keyboard, and a clock that says it is way too late to be writing Slices of Lifes.

Slice of Life: 3-10-15

 This week I read Half Brother. I did not like it as much as other kids that have read it apparently have, but I still think it is a really sweet, cute, and well written book. The story focuses on a boy named Ben who lives in Canada, and just moved with his dad to Victoria for a his fathers job. When the book starts Ben wakes up on the floor of his room with a sleeping bag and he realizes that it is his birthday. However, knowing his dad, he doesn't think it will be celebrated (because his dad forgot). That same morning, the moving truck pulls up to their house and finds that the two living in the house are very excited to get their furniture and things.
    All of that is beside the point besides this one thing. His mother arrives that day too, but she is not alone. She has a different kind of birthday present. She walks up to the house carrying a baby. A baby chimpanzee. This chimpanzee is part of research Ben's dad is doing, and will turn out to become a type of brother to Ben. After thinking of names, they come up with Zan (a nickname for Tarzan), and their friendship (and the story) begins.
    This is a very good book and is a break from the other books being written recently. I enjoyed reading it and I am sure everyone that wants to read this will find it enjoyable as well.
    Next week I will read Legacy.    

Slice of Life: 3-9-15

    Over the years, whenever I come back from my soccer practices at 7:10 pm, I have found a mix of smells waiting on the other side of the door. This is because my mother always gets home just before 6:00 to start making dinner, and I am very happy for it. The smell of any of my mothers delicious meals could cheer my up from anything, whether it was a bad day at school or a small injury I got at soccer practice.
 
    One day it my be a very familiar smell, like a pasta dish with red sauce. It could be the savory spice of the curry on Indian night, or the sharp smell of fajitas wafting throughout the house. Maybe it is the comfortable smell of lasagna, the mystery and intrigue of a new and different dish.

    No matter what the smell is, it tastes ten times better.      

Slice of Life: 3-8-15

 I hear a great hum as I walk into the seating area, and the claustrophobia goes away. Inside the corridor where food is sold and where the bathrooms are it was shoulder-to-shoulder, everyone trying to get to their seats as fast as possible. We finally got to our section in the historic field, and made our way to the seats. Walking down the concrete stairs was an interesting sensation, because I furthered away from my family, but got closer to my heroes.
     I do and will always believe that Arsenal is the best soccer team in England, and are contending to be the best in Europe. Ever since I knew there was an English Premier League I knew there was the Arsenal, and I knew they were my favorite team. This winter my family and I left home in Colorado to fly out to one of the best cities in it world- London, and see our relatives. Before we see them, however, we get to have some fun and somehow my dad got us tickets to watch Arsenal play against an easy team- Cardiff City. Better yet, we managed to get tickets right next to the sideline, which made it harder to see the field, but made it a lot easier to see the players. That is because the Arsenal bench is fifteen feet away from our seats. I feel energized and excited as I get deeper into the stadium, going ahead of my family and skipping to the seats. Our seats are A-5 though A-9. A-5, A-5, I repeat the instructions in my head.
     Finally the seats emerge, and they are closer than I thought they would be to the bench. Before admiring the situation, I settle into the my seat of A-9 and put the game program down. The seats are still wet from the constant shower London suffers, but I don't care. I sit back and look ahead. Just in front of me are the Arsenal team, warming up for the game.
     I recognize each and every one. I am used to seeing professional players at games, but not these. These are celebrities. World wide known people, and I am sitting right next to them. This is going to be a fun night.
     My family eventually joins me, and we wait for the stadium to get louder and louder in the anticipation of world-class soccer.

Slice of Life: 3-7-15

    I run back to the beach grinning, as my sister plays in the shallower ocean water. Our time in California has been fun, visiting friends and staying at a nice hotel, nothing has gone wrong. Not until now. I continue slowly making my way back to the refuge of the warm beach and sweet parents, trying to find the most efficient way to run in water up to your thighs. The waves are slow and small, an unusual thing for this beach.
    Suddenly, I hear my sister yell, half in excitement and half in being scared. She runs quickly back to our parents and leaves me in the cold water. Confused, I look to her, then spin around, only to see a large blob rising up. That blob was water. Lots of it. I increase my speed as I realize what is happening, think I might be able to get away from the huge, sudden wave. I don't see it, but I feel its presence behind me, my little mind tricking my senses into think that I am about to be swallowed by a monster.
     I hear the wave start to crash down just behind me and realize that it is too late to get to the beach. I take one last look at my petrified parents and get enveloped by the water.
My body spins.
Flailing in the white water.
I swing my arms around in an attempt to get back up.
The crashing noise stops.
The wave rolls on itself on the beach.
And my small nine-year-old body floats up to the top.
     I swing my head up violently and break the barrier of water up to the oxygen above. I try to gasp. I can't. I can't breath. Why can't I breath?!! I start to run back to my parents anyway. They start off to me.
     By the time I get to land, I can breath again, but before i was in so much shock that my body just didn't want to. My mom and dad hug a towel around me, continually asking if I am alright. I realize I am fine, and we slowly make our way back up to the hotel room.

Slice of Life: 3-6-15

   I feel a shiver go down my back as I hear Commissioner Gordan's closing monologue to the movie The Dark Knight.

   "Batman is the hero that Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now," he says, turning to his son. That is probably the most memorable quote from a movie filled with good quotes (like "Why so serious?). "So we'll hunt him, because he can take it," he continues, explaining why batman has to run. "Because he is not a hero. He's a silent protector, a watchful guardian...-

    I wait in anticipation for the immortal words to be said.

    "... A Dark Knight."

    The screen fades to black, and I close my eyes trying to take in the perfection. Re-watching this master piece of film making has inspired me to watch more movies. It is so hard to try and take in this movie, because there is not one single flaw in it. I really hope you all get to see it sometime, so that everyone can appreciate it.          

Slice of Life: 3-5-15

    I wince as I examine the photo being shown to my team and I... you can see the leg going backwards. We are currently at an injury prevention clinic provided to us by the Rapids club, and so far, it has triggered a mix of emotions for me. They have spoken to us about a whole lot of injuries that soccer players experience, each one with a seemingly more gruesome photo to accompany it. The slide changes and it has an abundance of words on it, none of which anyone of my teammates are reading. Then the man running the clinic step in front of it and starts to talk about hamstring injuries, how they happen, and how they can be prevented.

    I do listen to him, but I am still thinking about the picture of a players leg going backwards; which is still burned into my retina. I hear the man talking, but it goes in one ear and out the other... I am thinking about bigger topics. I think about if I can make DA (the highest level of soccer) next year, and how that will effect my life. I think about traveling half of the weekends in a year, and needing to do homework whenever I am not at a game. I think about how it will envelope my life, and change the way I think, and then how I will obsess over getting better each day.

    Then, I think about when it will all end. In a crucial moment, when everything counts, and I throw my body into a tackle that I know I couldn't make. Then I hear my ACL pop, and just like that, everything, all my work will end and I will never make DA again. The thought makes me shudder, and I start to tune in the man in front of me again, so that I know how I can prevent injuries.

Slice of Life : 3-4-15

    I feel much more comfortable as I change out of my wet sweat pants and into my warm jeans. I think think that Ultimate practice went quite well, aside from the fact that it was help almost completely in the snow. This made it uncomfortable, but but didn't effect the amount of fun that we were able to have. I have always enjoyed Ultimate, because it is the one sport that I have played that was practically made to be fun, and it actually is really fun.
   
   After I change out of my wet cloths, I walk out to where everyone is waiting to be picked up by their parents. I scan the area to find that non of my friends are left here, and that they have all been picked up. I sigh and sit down in a comfy chair, looking out the window for my nanny's car.

   A few blank minutes pass while nothing happens until Max the teacher says to the remaining kids, "Time to head on over to after-care." I slump out of the chair and lift up my heavy back pack on to my shoulders. The first one out the door, I open it up and keep my head down to stop the snow from blowing into my eyes. Where is my nanny?

       

SOLSC: 3-2-15

     

I feel my once relaxed muscles that were lounging on the couch tighten up in anticipation as Sean Penn walks up to the microphone. At first I didn't think that Sean Penn, an actor that I have barley heard of, was given with such a huge honor. Despite my perspective, my parents seemed quite excited to see him present the Oscar. He starts to speak just as every single one the presenters has so far in the show, by spewing well-written yet cliched comments about the nominees, and making a few half-funny jokes along the way. I try not to focus on what he is saying, but more what I want him to say when he finally announces the winner. I can picture it now: "And the winner is... Birdman!"

      I actually catches me off guard when he says the eternal words: "and the winner is.." Suddenly my entire living room is filled with crushing tension. The entire year for cinema in 2014 will be defined by this moment, when the winner for Best Picture is announced. I can feel myself tighten even more as Sean Penn opens the envelope and opens his mouth.
      "Who the Hell gave this guy his Green Card?! Birdman!"
      I am caught off guard by his first comment but also extremely happy that the movie I was wanting to win actually won! No matter what Sean Penn meant, I am still very excited!

SOLSC: 3-1-15

             

            I stare at my dog intently as stares back at me, waging his tail ever so slightly. Every once ad a while his skittish and insecure mind compels him to get up and jog around the house, looking for any intruders, before running back to me and wag his tail as I pet him around three times. After this he peels himself off of me and sit back down in his bed. I do some more homework, and a few minutes later I notice him doing nearly the exact same thing, only this time he does his patrol in a slightly different part of the house.

            I have never noticed this clockwork-like motion that seems to propel his day, which makes it all the more strange to me. I had no idea that my dog, who as always seemed so sporadic and deranged could follow a pattern so orderly. He comes back and I pet him some more times as he rubs up against me, slightly warming me up.

            He is so crazy, yet I can’t imagine myself feeling sane without him to pet. This is why he is so special.

Slice of Life: 2-6-15

   I press down hard on the top of the can, releasing a brown mist onto the model of the trench, accompanied by the satisfying yet cutting sound: pssshhhhhhhhhh. Only a few seconds later the odd smell of spray paint was in my nose, fogging my head and making me breath through my mouth in an attempt to regain the smell of grass and cold air. I move the can up ad down along the model, finding white spots and soon turning them into a muddy earth color that it is supposed to be.

      I stop spraying it, and stand up from my crouching position, relieving the tension in my thighs as well as my mind. I turn away from the model, and take deep refreshing breaths from the clean air. I shake my head a little and turn back towards the model and push back down on the top of the spray paint can.