Blog Feed

“Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.” That’s from the book Fight Club. We used to keep this book in the bathroom for toilet reading. This quote makes sense to me. Mainly because it applies quite literally to my life. 

“That kid’s a piece of shit.”  

“Well of course he is, his dad is an asshole.” 

My dad is an asshole. You know that. You know my whole story from when I was flushed to when we became friends down here. We live in a cesspool  of grime and disease but I mean, that’s the sewers for you, right? My dad got rid of me while we were on vacation in Paris. Bam, right down the toilet after his feast of steak frites and various french wines. He couldn’t hold me in so he ran straight to the bathroom after he paid his check. 

I can’t talk about this anymore. At this point it makes me more irritated to think about it then it makes me sad. You know how it feels, Sanchez. Your parents flushed you after they thought you were dead. You went straight to the sewers while you were sleeping. They didn’t even care enough to see if you were awake. They just assumed, “oh he’s not moving... He mustn’t be alive.” 

To the outsiders, our friendship might seem unlikely or perhaps even scientifically impossible. I have news for them, the laws of science don’t apply down here. Down here it makes total sense for a goldfish and, well, a person like me to be friends. What am I even talking about, you ask? Okay, fair enough. You know that big crazy dumb sports game that’s happening today? Yeah the one that everyone’s been talking about. Like a soccer game or whatever. Yes I know, sports suck. They’re about to make our lives and every other sewer dweller’s lives a lot worse.

So when this game gets to halftime, all the humans are going to go to the bathroom. This is going to cause a massive flood for us, almost on a biblical scale, if that helps with perspective at all. When this happens, we’re all goners.  I hope this flood goes all the way up to the streets of the human world and they have to walk amongst thousands of goldfish and rats and excrements like me

I figure it’ll happen within the hour. This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time. I got that from Fight Club. 

“Mr. Johnson, could you please tell me and Lieutenant Smith what your night was like on January 7th, 2012?”

“Well you see officers, it went like this...

Its a cold Wednesday night at 11PM. I am freezing; in fact, it’s more than freezing, its 13 degrees. As I walk back to my house on the South side of Chicago, I try not to act like I am freaking out. I want to seem “chillin.” Doing that is a considerably hard task because I do not even know if my wife is home taking care of Maya and Leah. You see, the thing is that lately my girl and I have not been on the same page. It’s crazy that after all this time we can both just lose feelings for each other at the same time. The worst part about it is that she does not even care about our two little girls. 

Finally I get off the El and its just 5 more minutes until I can see the two people that can always put a smile on my face. I never get a chance to see them in the morning because I have to be at my first job at 6 AM. I keep on thinking to myself if my babies are safe or not; will she even be home? Where I live one must know where to go and where not to go this late at night.  The moment I have been waiting for all day is just seconds away but as I approach our porch I realize the door is open.

I step into the house and there is complete darkness. Some how I find a light switch. My house had been robbed and everything that I have worked for for the past 7 years has vanished. But that is not my main concern. Where are my children? I run into the bedroom and find my two little babies handcuffed to the heater. I start to break down into tears. Maya and Leah have bruises and scars everywhere. I try to wake them up but they are unconscious. Since I cannot afford the phone bill, I have to run down the street to a pay phone to report what had happened.

As I wait for the police and ambulance all I can do is sit by them and wash them off. I just cannot understand why someone would do this to me. I have lived a respectful and hard working life; what did I do to deserve any of this? My mother taught me that things are earned not given, and I earned everything that was once in my house. 

The second big question I have is who. Who would do this to me and my family? I have a decent relationships with everyone on the block and I have never had any problems with my coworkers. The only person that has been disrespectful and violent towards me lately is Natasha, my “wife.” The past few months she has been coming home later than me drunk and all drugged up. I cannot think of anybody else that would do such a thing to me, besides just a random thug.”

Two weeks is what the doctor told me today. In a way, it’s comforting. I’ve been waiting... waiting for so long for a date. Half my life, it seems. No, it’d take a lot to be half my life. My nurse told me today that she would arrange everything for me for when I die. She comes to see me everyday, even today even though it’s her day off. She told me she wanted to be with me when I found out. It’s nice to know that someone cares about a haggard old lady. 

I told him today. It was the first time I’d heard his voice. It was the answering machine, but that’s the most I can ask for. Even that is better than nothing. He wouldn’t see me if I told him I was on my deathbed. A part of me wonders if he ever thinks about me. He probably has better things to do than wonder how his old, sick mother is. What was it he said? ‘Driven mad by time’, he told me. A ‘raging lunatic’ he said. Maybe I was, but not for much longer (cough out a laugh hoarsely). I haven’t laughed in a while. Not since Christmas in ’99, I think. Or was it Christmas ’09? Well, not since... since I heard. It took me so long to accept it. I wasn’t sure I ever would. He didn’t. Said I had gone off my rocker. I said he was crazy, because I couldn’t get off my rocker without assistance from a specialist, but he said that joking made it worse. I haven’t seen him since. He won’t let me near my grandkids either. Two little girls. They’ll never really know me I guess. Just how he wanted it. 

How many weeks was it? Two weeks is all I have now. Two weeks, an estranged son, three shabby cats, and this old chair that I can’t seem to get out of. There’s not time, it seems, to fix all that. Well, it won’t matter. Not to me, I guess. I won’t have to worry about standing up from this chair for another minute. Will he come to my funeral, I wonder? There probably won’t even be one. All my friends are dead, who’s left to come to mine? I wonder what he’ll do with this old chair. It’s been here for so long. Ah well, it won’t matter in... what did the doctor tell me? Three weeks? One? It won’t matter when I’m gone, I mean. 

I’ve spent so much time on this planet, you’d think I deserved an award. I’m sure no one from my year in high school is still alive. Good thing they stopped having reunions a while ago, I would be lonely there, dancing by myself. No one else graduated in my year that stayed in Birmingham. In... what year was I? Oh well, no one else stayed around these parts. My old leg’s fallen asleep, but the nurse won’t be here to stretch it till later. She comes at the same time everyday. What time will she come? Soon, I hope. I should probably try to stand up to get rid of those pins and needles. That’s what my mama called them. I wonder when she’ll come see me again. 

My damn old leg. Don’t I have a doctors appointment soon? Yesterday, that’s when. I guess the doctor will call me soon. I should tell my son. I miss him, and the grandkids. I know I saw them yesterday, but days seem so long when you’re sick and old like me. When’s that doctor gonna call?

Mmm. That was the best food I’ve had in a while. Especially that burger. Or the fries. I can’t decide, but I think that the burger was better. But then again, who am I to judge? I can’t even remember the last time that I had a McDonalds. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time that I had my own money to pay for food.

 

Chicago is rough, man. It starts with your heat being shut off. Then your water. Then a notice telling you to pay your bills. And then an eviction notice. And then all of a sudden the city if fed up with you not paying and you’re out on the street. It’s not as bad in the summer because of all the tourists, but the winter is fucking cold and windy.

 

Hm. Maybe there are more fries in here… (digs). Yes! More salty heavenly fries at the bottom of the bag. I think that the McDonald’s worker gave me more fries on purpose. I guess he could tell that I hadn’t eaten a while. (eats fries)

 

I liked him—the worker. He didn’t look at me like most people do.

 

“Don’t make eye contact,” they whisper, “we’re not going to give him any money. Just keep walking.” It’s like people think that homelessness is contagious. If they come to close to me, they might catch it. Do you know how insulting that is? They think that they can regard me as trash because of my state. But news flash for you-- I’m still a human, and I’m trying to change my situation.

 

It was my fault though. And I fucking hate myself more every day for those decisions I made. Ya know, when you hear that trying drugs just once can get you addicted, most of the time you think “Yeah, right”, but now I’m thinking “Yeah. Right.” It happened fast. I’ve never had lots of money to begin with, so once I lost my job I was basically a goner. Hitting the streets was hard, but it made me realize that this is real. I’ve got to get my shit together.

 

 

But no. Not him. Not this worker. He smiled at me as I ordered my food and did not seem to shy away from me as I reached out to hand him the crinkled dollars that I got this morning.  But he wouldn’t take them. Can you believe that? He refused my money, and in turn handed me a bag full of food. I could see the grease spots of the bag.

 

“Enjoy your meal, sir,” he had said.

 

Nothing more happened then. I left with my food and money. He wished me a goodnight, and I told him thank you.

 

Turns out he gave me a happy meal. With a Shrek figurine.

 

This world is kinda twisted, don’t you think? I’m the kind of person who, if I had anything, would want to share it all with people who are in my position. But no, I have nothing to offer, especially considering that people won’t even take a kind word from me. I wish I had it in me to change the world.  

 

Thanks to this man, I have had my first meal in days. And furthermore, since I left McDonalds it’s like an internal fire has been lit in me.  Maybe it’s the warmth of the burger or the fries that have seeped into me. Or maybe it’s the way that he smiled at me and did not judge. Since I left that restaurant, this cold air hasn’t felt so cold any more.

    Roger,Get your ass up from bed! Get Ready for school. Ok Dad (yawn). As I woke up I had decide what to wear. Sweatpants or Jeans. I act like its a hard choice. Either way Bobby will call me names and get every-one to join in. Screw it! I don’t really care. I throw on my sweatpants. I hurry to the bus because if I miss it the West Philly kids will jump me and take my phone again. There is no time to comb my curly black hair or to put Vaseline on my freckled face.
      I'm on the bus, no iPod because its been stolen. My mind begins to wonder and I just start thinking about basketball. Not that young pewee stuff either. I’m thinking about the Big leagues, the NBA. What if I were there one day. In the hall of fame with MJ (Michael Jordon). Yea that will be the day.I arrive to school a little early so I go to the gym to shoot some hoops. I wish my brother was here with me. He used to get here early with me to shoot around. I want to be just like him, a starting shooting guard.I want to carry on his legacy. My jump shot is the best feature in my game. Its 15minutes before class starts and Bobby comes in the gym, giving me funny looks. I don’t have a problem with this kid but apparently he has a problem with me. Do you want to play a game? He looks at me as if I was trash, as if I were no competition at all and walks away.
    School has started and I buss out my classes for the day. After school I go to the coach of the school team. Can I try out. I’m not too good but my brother taught me a lot. He looks at me and says its kind of late to try out but if you really want it you can earn a spot. I’m overwhelmed with joy,I got a chance to be like my brother. What do I have to do. Play the team captain one on one! My heart sunk, Bobby! This kid torments my life and doesn’t acknowledge me as a person, how am I suppose to beat him. A little while later Bobby and I meet in the gym staring each other down.Its now or never. I go out and give it my all, but it wasn’t enough. I lost 16-14 in a close game. As I was packing my bags up to go home,Bobby and the Coach stopped me and shook my hand. Good Game, your better than you look Roger. We would like it if you would like to join the team. Yes, I know my brother would be proud of me, looking down from the heavens.

Click here.

Se llama Mathew. Es trece años. Es de Filadelfia. Es bajo y serio. Le gusta correr y trabajar. No le gusta nada jugar videojuegos. No le gusta Mathew desprecia a la gente estúpida.

A$VP Rocky (DAT PMF)

Se llama es Rakim Mayers. Tiene Viente y quatro años. Es un hombre muy inteligente. Le encanta hacer música rap. Él tiene un único sentido de la moda y vestir de una forma muy agradable. En espectáculos en vivo, él es grande. Él está en una relación con lana del Rey. Él es de Harlem en Nueva York. Su favorita del zapato son Jeremy Scott de Adidas. Él es sobre esa bicicleta vida al contrario Manso Millz.

Sattera Mark           Mali Music   Jamaal Pollard

  

     Se llama Mali Music. Tiene veintidós a´nos. Es de Phoenix, Az. El súper talentoso. Le encanta cantar y tocar la guitarra.  Gusta escribir  música. No le gusta nada dibujar y correr. Es guapo.

Felix d’Hermillon, Ilker Ekrut, Malwina Dymek

Technology

1.Name three major differences between the SLA AUP and the SDP AUP.

a. SLA lets us go on websites to let us shop or do other stuff and the SDP does not.

b. SLA lets us upload any software that we want on our computers when SDP does not.

c. SLA lets us have music and games on our computer when SDP does not.

2. What is the most unfair rule from both AUP’s?

They would not let us have music or personalize the computer at all.

3. With your group come up with three changes for both AUP’s to make the policies better.

SLA

We should be allowed to go on youtube.

We should not be watched while we are on our computers.

There should not be a firewall.

SDP

They should let us have music on the computer.

They should let us personalize the computers.

They should let us have games and software on the computers.

4. Now imagine you have children write an AUP for your home network with your group.

No downloading any software unless I am with them

Has to show what they're doing at any time

No buying without adult

Sugar Skulls come from Dia de Los Mertos, or "Day of the Dead." Day of the dead is a holiday that is celebrated in Central and southern Mexico where it is believed that dead children come back from the dead to spend a 24 hour time period with their families once a year on November 1st. On November 2nd is the day that older people come back form the dead to spend 24 hours with their families.  To prepare for the dead children and adults coming back from the dead on these two days, families prepare a little table filled with candy, food, water, sometimes cigarettes for adults, and more decorations. One of these finishing decorations included sugar skulls that families could purchase anywhere, or even make for themselves. I came up with my design for my mask because I went on google and looked at sugar skulls. Some were really scary so I decided to make mine with dark colors and very dramatic so that It would keep the halloweenish looking type of mask. For halloween my friend painted her face as a sugar skull and that also inspired my sugar skull. The process in which I made my mask was first I found someone who was willing to let me slob their face up! The perfect person was Jenn Wright! She was a really god sport about it. First, I lathered her face with vaseline so that her face wouldn't dry out from all the materials. First, I cut the strips to put on her face. Next, I got a tub of water, I dipped the strips in, put them on her face individually, and smoothed them out so that they would be nice and steady. I did about 3 layers of this so that I'd be sure to have a good tough mask. I had to put a straw in Jenn's mouth so she'd be able to breathe. After it dried, I started to paint the mask completely white as the base. After this, I sketched a rough draft of what I wanted on my mask. I copied it, but then ended up going into more detail once I drew it on the mask. After I was finished, I put the gloss on it so it'd be shiny and look really good.

Se llama Chris Brown. El es de Virginia pero vivo en Los Angeles. El es trabajador . El es canta. Muy gusta bailar. El es adorable. Muy es intelligente. El es muy, increíblemente divertido.

​






https://docs.google.com/a/scienceleadership.org/document/d/1p583CpHC_hV_1qvVX6TZwzBAHgWHUb4PAntrXhP5Nao/edit

https://www.dropbox.com/s/cxhx7msn7qvhu7w/AmerGovMBMark1.pdf

This is Copied and pasted from a contact form from Pat Toomey's website.
Dear Mr.Pat Toomey,