6:15 in the morning, sitting at the corner of my bed with my eyes on the clock hoping that time will hopscotch to 7, O’clock, Holding on to my gold bedpost with the cold crisp air coming from the dark skies as I feel the wind hit my skin coming through the window. I only have one thought in my head “ALL OF THESE PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE AND NO ONE ARE OPENING GIFTS?!? THEY’RE CRAZY!” As I lay back down on my bed trying one more time to fall asleep. I feel something vibrating in my sheets, I through my sheets rapidly to see if I have a message from anyone, I Grab my phone to see to see that it’s my mother.
A few months ago, I had just received an invitation for a scholar program called The National Society of High School Scholar. I scan the envelope from back to front, I was so curious. The envelope texture was so high quality. The golden color, the rough paper which felted so smooth, the envelope looked so thin. I tumble up the staircase into my room to grab a scissor to cut the edge off smoothy. Slowy I remove the letter from the envelope and the first word that came directed to my eye was, “Congratulations!” I was even more curious on what the letter was about, I slowly read through the letter making sure I read every information. I was so excited on what the letter said, I immediately went to my dad, asking can I join, I was so hype. I believe I was talking so fast that my dad didn’t really understand me.
Finally, when I received my membership kit I was so excited that I ripped the box open. I flipped my laptop open, logging into the website to see any scholar available. As soon as the page loaded, I saw a event on August 3 at Washington D.C on their homepage about their 2012 Annual Scholar’s Day Event. I register for it immediately without think. I felt so conflicted with the idea of my parents letting me. So I told myself that I will tell them 2 week before the event start.
People like me have their own dreams and goals and no one want to live of your parent in the future. Yes, there are time when I play around and act stupid but when it comes to education, I am a competitive person who like to stand out and succeed with my own acknowledgment or power with something that I earned, not from the power of my parent.
I flipped my laptop screen open again, logging back into the NSHSS home page and stared at the screen. I was debating on should I unregister or should I disobey her and do what I want to do and what is good for me in the future?” My tear stop running down my face and when I blink, my eye burn for crying and staring at the screen too long.
What surprised me the most, was finding out the reason of why immigrants come to America. And what they wanted to do in while here. Also the process that most of them had to go through surprised me as well. What was obvious to me was the data in the graphs during different time periods. Such has how many immigrants came to the US during the depression. Over the next two years, I think the rate for immigrants to come over is very slim, until we there more jobs provided and the economy gets better. I don't believe we'll become over populated anytime soon. As a group we already knew we wanted a keynote. We also came up with the conclusion that we just wanted to share quick facts instead of long paragraphs. The most challenging part was when some people didn't collect quicks facts. And also the process of agreeing on everyones facts. I would have more pictures and graphs, and try to add some more realistic things to improve my project.
When June of 2012 came around, I had to start working out to buy my dress or thats what I thought was going to happen. What girl would not want her dress to fit and look beautiful? During the summer, I was babysitting my cousins and staying at my uncles house. But at the same time, I ate so much I always told myself that I would exercise later or go to the park in the morning. The reality was that I gained weight during the summer. “Did you finish working out”? my uncle asked me. I said yes because I knew he wouldn’t let me order my dress until I did. “okay then. come over here so you can order the dress of your choice” he said. I ordered my dress online. I orders a long poofy dress. It was a champagne colored dress with a lot of diamons on the upper part of the dress.I was hoping for it to fit because I got it the size I thought would fit. And also it was extremly beautiful! The shipping date was September 4th and I would get the dress September 12th. I finished babysitting and went back home because school was about to start. I got home on August 28. Everyday, I used to check if the mailman was there with my package. One day, i went out with my mother. “Mom we have to go buy my new pair of heels for my party” I told my mom. She replied with an okay we will get to the mall in 15 minutes. We bought beige colored heels that complimented the champagne and silver dress. When we arrived home,I saw a note on my door that said a package came to your house but it was left in my porch.My neighrbor left a note on my door. I was extremely excited to know my dress was just footsteps away. “Mom it’s inside Aalliah’s house”! I said. I will be right back with my dress. I bursted out of my house to go to my neighbors house and get the dress! I saw my neighbor outside of her house with the package and she handed it to me. I took it and said thank you for holding on to it. I was surprised because it was September 6 and I already had my dress! I was very joyful and thankful I got my dress.I was so thankful because I knew I had to adjust the length because it was 5 inches longer than it should be on the website. But when I went to put it on, that wasn’t the only problem. My dress did not close ! It was small! I tried and tried and tried to put the dress on correctly but it did not fit! My mom tried to put it on but still it did not fit! Extremely upset, I took the dress off and got ready to work out. I need that dress to fit! It’s my dream dress! The only one I ever wanted.
On the brightside, by my dress getting to my house three weeks before my party, I was able to work out and get it fixed on time. I got up early in the morning the next day and I heard my mother tell me to hurry up and get ready. We were going to work out! “ Run Chaveliz, You want that dress don’t you”? I replied with a yes! “So get to it and start running” my mom said. This happened for two weeks and a half. I saw the changes. I was so happy I saw physical changes. Now all I was waiting for was my dress!A few days before my party, I tried on my dress fitted perfectly. It had to be tweaked in a few placed to look better but it fitted. I was so grateful it did. Now knowing that my dress fitted fine, I went shopping for my changing dress. After two intense days of shopping, I found the dress that matched perfectly to my first dress and there it was ,it hit me. The idea of knowing that my party will be in two days!
On the day of my party, I woke up early to get beautified. I went to the hair salon and got a lot of curls on my hair, and got my nails done.I was extremely tired! But still tried to remember that all my friends and family will meet me at the hall. I left my house at 10 in the morning and got back home at 3:26 in the afternoon. In three hours, I had to be at the hall for my party. The hall that was full of flowers, full of butterflies and especially full of family and friends. I looked for all my make up and put some on. I was glowing and felt like a princess! Two hours down and I had nothing to do. So I sat and watched tv and took some pictures and then put on my dress. My ride got to my house ten minutes before. SO I had to rush out of my house and proceed to the hall. I saw so many lights on my way to the party. So many signs and I just sat there. Excited trying to calm myself down and there I was. In front of my hall. People entering and everyone screaming“Happy Birthday Chaveliz”! I was extremely delighted to hear and see people entering my birthday party and wishing me a wonderful birthday. Thats all I heard when I arrived at my party. That day will always be held in my heart. I saw my friends and family and enjoyed it dearly. Now I know if I want my dress to fit, without any complications to work out or if not my party will be a disaster!
What surprised you most about this information?
Not much really surprised me about this information. I did not know that they had to go through different processes. If they did not pass the processes they would have been sent back. So they would start all over or just give up which is sad.
What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?
The most obvious was explaining why immigrants decided to come over to America. America offered a lot of opportunity and still does which makes every one want to come here.
Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.
I think that the trend for the next two years will increase by a certain number. I think that America still limits to the number of immigrants per year depending on the population because we do not want to become over populated. I do think that our population of immigrants will increase unless we start a war or go into another depression within the next two years.
Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.
At first we did not know what to do weather a keynote or a timeline. At first we thought a keynote would have too much words on it and alot of slides. But we still decided to a keynote.
What parts of group work were challenging?
The most challenging part of my group was trying to get everyone to stay focused. I hope that everyone was doing their part to their fullst potential.
What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?
I would try to be more organized and communicate more with my group.
This is the link to my project: https://www.dropbox.com/s/t7r8cv4y66roh26/Immigration%20Project.key“Because I said so!”
I shook my head in disbelief. If only I’d been meditating right now, my mom would be the perfect example of someone barking up my tree pose. I never understood the phrase, because I said so. I didn’t understand how someone could limit another person’s desires. Angry that my mother denied me getting four extra ear-piercings, I marched my loud, brick-like feet to my room, snatching white mac laptop out of my book-bag, and huffed into the only bathroom of our 2-bedroom apartment, slamming the door shut behind me.
As a burning sensation sizzled at the basement of my eyelids, I quickly wiped the incoming flood from my eyes with my cocoa butter scented hands. I watched as the clear, single stream of sorrow rolled down my clear, hardened nail and over my ring finger. Miraculously, the tear rolled around the end of my finger. It was official, I’d cried these tears so many times, we might as well had been married. Sorrow was proposing itself to me. But my heart belonged to happiness, apparently the feelings weren’t mutual.
I sat down on the toilet and went through my itunes’ Hot Chelle Rae playlist, looking for a song to listen to. I saw Keep You With Me and let it play, turning up the volume so I could hear it while I showered. After undressing, I threw my white towel over the silver, metallic shower curtain rod and stepped cautiously into the steaming shower tub. I sung along to my favorite Hot Chelle Rae song. When song was over, I wiped my hand dry on my towel before reaching out to switch the song, but then the softest song came on, Last One Standing. Suddenly a warm vibe flowed over my body from head to toe. Usually, that meant that my chakras were coming to alignment, a normal feeling whenever I meditated, but this was slightly different, more powerful. It wasn’t even as if the lyrics were getting to me, because it was simply a romantic song.
After my shower, I went into my bedroom to dress in loose, comfortable clothing, and cleared my bedroom space as I always do when meditating. I turned off my cell phone and unplugged my radio. Electronics can interfere with my energy and set off unbalanced vibes.
Since I usually meditate with music, I left the exception of my laptop, and proceeded to turn on Last One Standing. Since my chakras were in a fair enough alignment for the time being, I decided not to focus on anything special tonight. I simply let the melodic sensations flow through me as they did earlier in the shower. I felt nothing as the song played. I had it on repeat for three times before I gave up. Maybe it’s because I’m expecting it. I thought.
The next day I awoke on my long, soft, grey sofa I’d fallen asleep on the night before. My sister and my mom were sitting across from me, talking. The second they saw me pop my eyes open, they wasted no time badgering me with accusations and pointing fingers. I sat up, confused.
“What?” I said, wiping the morning out of my eyes.
“You can’t touch the laptop anymore. You left it on last night. Again.” Breanna said.
I tried my best to defend myself. This was only my second time in the three years we’ve had the old IMB. Still, my mother and sister banned me from the computer. Frustrated, I stormed upstairs and decided to take a much needed, relaxing bath.
As I sat in the white tub full of hot water, I let my itunes music play on random. And just like magic, Last One Standing came on. There was that warm vibe again, stretching through me from head to toe. It was clear to me now, this was a stress relieving song that only affected me when I was washing up. That was the moment I fell in love with my bathroom. The bathroom’s main purpose is to cleanse, both your outside and your inside. Maybe it was cleansing my chakras, my soul, or even my mentality if not all of them. Whichever it was, it was the equivalent to slumber’s tranquility. On that day, I said “yes” to sorrow’s proposal. Because as long as sorrow remained holding my hand, happiness would come running back to me. I had the best of both worlds. Jealousy never felt so great.
I think what surprised me the most was how steady the rates would be and then suddenly they would plummet. After doing certain research it was most obvious that there were drastic changes at certain points because of laws made and or important historical events. I think that it will continue to go up and down. I know that with the possibility of a new president that makes there a stronger possibility to change in how things are run. The first thing that came to our mind was keynote because it is a nice visual way to see the work that you did. I think the most challenging part of group work is making sure it is all consistent and of course that they do their part and get it done. I might try and do a more creative way of presenting the information.
The thing that I was most surprised by during this project was the amount of laws the United States government passed in attempts to slow immigration, especially to Asian immigrants. Multiple laws were passed that prohibited asian immigration, and other laws were passed to restrict immigrants to certain amounts by race.
What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?
The thing that was most obvious was the severe drop in immigration in 1931-1940, which was during the Great Depression and World War 2.
Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.
I think that over the next two decades, the amount of immigrants will increase, but not by nearly as much as it did in the most recent decade.
Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.
We decided to make an interactive graph to represent our information. For our project, you can look at the graph, and if you want to know what happened in a certain decade, you can click on it and it will bring you to a slide that explains what happened in that decade.
What parts of group work were challenging?
The most difficult part of group work was trying to communicate with another group member while they were absent for the day. We were not able to talk to them directly, but we were able to tell them what we did the day we were absent, and what we needed them to do for our project.
What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?
If I were to do this project differently, I would try to come up with a plan for our final project in the beginning, instead of at the end. That way we would know what we would need to look for when researching our information, and communication issues would be as big of a deal.
On a hot sunny day, it was about 90 degrees outside. I was in the house all day lying down bored on the black, comfy sofa and with soft pillows surrounding me, flicking through channels and relaxing. I stood up tired, exhausted, and didn’t feel like getting bothered at all. I was trying to go to the bathroom, and then I heard the front door open. It was loud and noisy. I knew it was my mother by the smell of her strong perfume. So, I got up slowly and ran to the bathroom because every time she walks in the house, she starts to annoy me. I heard her footsteps from the bathroom. While I stand in the bathroom, as silent as possible, looking at the bluish wall, the smell of soup and the sound of the TV outside of the bathroom door. As I walk around the wet bathroom floor, frustrated to come out because I knew she would act like the same person I knew all my life, and that will be her always yelling. Five minutes later I heard call me. She was extremely angry.
(Khadi).
She sounded like she had a bad day. I excitedly opened the door,
pretending I was happy about everything, and couldn’t wait for the so call
family meting. The cool air touches my skin and the bright colored pink is what
my mother was wearing. This is when everything started.
She angrily give me wet five dollar bill, I didn’t even know why it was wet but okay…she asked me to go to the store, as she walk up stairs I stomp my feet and got really mad, face frowned and eyes red. I hear a footstep coming back down.
My mother with a green shirt saying “oh yea don’t take your bike with you”, and I said but mom. She goes up the stairs and slam the door while she was going back up I heard her voice but in a smaller tone saying I’m not going to repeat myself. I didn’t feel like getting dressed I threw on my pink overgarment; I then put my green sneakers with a black and white kemar. I headed on out. I didn’t listen I walked outside with the bike.
Wait let me try myself, Heart beating faster the sound of family laughter and conversations. I can barely pedal, trying my hardest not to make a fool out of myself, but in my mind that was the only thing I knew was going to happen. Teenagers disparaging me. Sounds of whispers, bubble gum, and the feeling of humiliation. I always knew that I could do whatever I put my mind to so I kept trying. Every Time I fell off I pretend I was doing it all of on purpose.
I was asked by my mother to sit down and relax for 30mins, so I watch running children’s, the sound of ice cream truck, mom yelling and boys who claims to be gang members. I waited the 30 minutes; I even counted down the last one minute. After the count down I rushed to the bike. I get on my bike and pedal slowly of the block. As I pedal passing by the police station I felt shy and somehow embarrassed. I then look down to the blackish gray concrete, was I seen Doritos, candy, and a pop eyes wrappers. I start to feel and wish I had some. As I get closer to the street I smelled chicken from the Chinese store, African food from the African restaurant close by. As the bike get slower I starts to feel my overgarment pull and I was confuse as for what was happening, I looked down and saw my overgarment stuck in the chins I tried to get up and I was stuck. I looked down and saw that the only way I could have solve the problem was to tear my garment and that’s what I did. I grandiloquently walked back home with feeling of regrets, and blaming myself was the best way to make myself feel better. Back on the block to sounds of the winds blowing the trees and kids sitting, and no ice cream truck. Everything was Calm. Until when my aunt Amina came with her precious daughter Aishah. Her Aishah started to cry, and all the other babies started crying, I was annoyed I got back on my bike and rode to the end of the block with a lot of audacity.
Babies crying,
moms frustrated, and kids wearing colors that kept calm and me motivated.
Green, red and grayish. Everything was good. I pit myself on the spot. I felt
the need to stop the whole entire family to tell that I can ride a bike now; I
had everyone’s attentions I knew I had to do something good. I felt sweat
dripping, and my heart once again was my heart was beating faster and I felt
like I was going to pop my tiny blood vessels in my forehead. I felt a lot of
pressure. I rode to the end of the block then made a u turn on my way back
down, I could see nothing but a blurry shirt running around so I knew I had to
make sure, not to run the child over, trying to save the kid made me fall hard
of the bike to the ground. Tears dripping, my knees were bleeding, hands all
red, and my whole day became a disaster.
“What was the reason for me to buy a fresh hoagie when yet nothing was really wrong with the other one? How could I be so foolish?”
So there I was in my room on my bed, doing nothing. Just sitting there, thinking, trying to finish my homework. Right next to me sat the book “No Fear Shakespeare” on my inexpensive desktop table. In front of the book stood three weird characters. Their eyes were dotted and looked like a period while their noses looked like triangles, sharp, pointy, and simple. They all had four knives each stabbed in their backs on the same places. I thought it was pretty funny because there wasn’t any blood or gash and the characters failed to show pain. They all looked as if they were satisfied just to be with each other despite the stabbings.
My brother was yelling my name. When he yells for me, its either because he needs help with something or he believes he did a good deed. “Adam!” He yells. “Come get your hoagie! Hurry up! Get it before I eat it.” I rushed downstairs as if there was a special gift waiting for me and stormed into the kitchen. My brother begins to smile like a gremlin. I started to search for my hoagie but I couldn’t find it.
“Where is it?”
“Adam it’s next to the microwave.”
“Oh hey, you added extra mayo for me. Thanks bro!”
“No problem!” He replied full with joy.
Before I was even able to get a bit out of it, my mom yells, “ Take out that trash out first boy! What you forgot?” I then go and take out the huge bags full of old ingredients, sauces, and leftovers. As I returned back to the kitchen I saw my hoagie, but this time an object stood on top of it. It was small, black, and walking across my hoagie. I was disgusted, I began to imagine all types of images in my head, of maggots squirming around. I grabbed my hoagie and tossed it out, poof! It hit the inside of my trash can. I was still hungry and my insides were forming knots. So off I went, back to the store, and ordered another hoagie.
On my way back to the house I came across an alleyway. In that alleyway stood a homeless man who had fixed himself a very special dinner meal. He had a chicken patty, fries, soda, and a cigarette hanging on the side of his ear. Everything he had seemed to be fresh but it wasn’t, they were leftovers. On the chicken patty was two slices of bread, one was half gone, while the other had spaghetti sauce on it. The fries were wrinkled and there wasn’t much of it in the McDonald’s box. The soda had to be old and most likely was flat and the cigarette, although it was a whole cigarette, was stale. Despite the condition of his meal, he seemed to love it. Why? I was confused. I would never even eat something that may have had critters on it. I walked back into the house and sat on my table and thought, “How could I be so foolish?”
That homeless man was happy and grateful for what he had found to eat and yet I sat here with a fresh hoagie that costs four crumbly dollars. Was it really that deep for me to throw out the other fresh hoagie?
I use to think that I didn’t have anything, but I realized that what I have is what a lot of people out in the world don’t have. Like the time on a rainy wet day home from school. I was running full sprint to my house. My clothes were twice the size it they originally were suppose to be and my sneakers felt like gallons full of water. I rushed up the stairs were underneath the door stood that very special doormat that my mom had owned for so long. Instead of me using it for its purpose I decided to move it from its original position and hang it on the old rusty rail. I walked into my house without the slightest sense to take off my sneakers. As I walked into the kitchen, I left behind me huge blobs of dirt, little did I know that my mother had mopped the entire floor with pine-sol. My mom is a very hard working mom. She basically has two jobs. The first job is at work, the second job is cleaning the house and taking care of my younger siblings, so she is often tired. At the time I entered the house, I failed to notice that the floor was freshly scrubbed and that my mom was in the shower. My little sister comes running down stairs and before she took that last step down from the crackling stairs, her eyes widen and her eyebrows rose so far up her head that it looked as if it had touched her hair line.
“Ooo! You are gonna be in big trouble. Mommy just got done scrubbing and mopping the floors.”I began to feel very guilty about how ignorant and careless I was and how stupid it was of me not to use my common sense.
“Always appreciate what people and things do for you!” She said.Oh come on this can't be happening, this is suppose to be my moment. I'm suppose to be winning. Am I dreaming or is this real? How in the world did I even end up here?
I got my racquet and hopped on to a Squash court. I started to hit the ball, with my racquet, straight down the right wall and got myself ready to play squash. The ball when across the court, as I went to get it I saw my best friend. He didn’t notice that I had smiled at him. I got the ball and began to practice again. I heard the door open, I looked to see who it was, and it was him. My heart started to beat fast as I started blushing, I wondered if he noticed. He asked if he could join me, I said "Yeah". So he stepped in and closed the door.
I gave him the ball and watched as he, with great power, began to hit the ball with his left hand. He hits the ball back to me. I asked if he wants to sever, he didn’t, so I served. He hits the ball back with a great volley and ends up getting the point. Just like always I was amazed but not ready to lose. I started getting more into the game, then him, and did a few hard shots and began to get his shots.
He opened his mouth and said the words “You got way better”.
While running to hit the squash ball, I said “I know I did but I could do better”
We kept score, he was way ahead but I began to catch up. Although it wasn’t an actual game I treated it like one, we kept playing. I mistakenly took my eyes off the ball and he made his comeback, for a second I thought I was dreaming. He did his amazing power serve and I just stood there thinking, why did I do that. The game was almost finished but he was still in the lead. The game ends with me losing, we leave the court and sat down on the bench.
I was out of breath and got some water. I looked as the sweats from his hair slowly moved down his forehead, to his cheeks and then one by one dripped down to the carpet floor. “I want a rematch”.
He took a deep breath and said “Fine let's go”. I thought about how much more experienced he was and that’s probably why he won. That moment reminded me of when I won against someone less experienced than me.
We arrive to the courts, rushed to get out and get our bags.
“You're squash game starts in just a few minutes hurry up and change” my coach told me.
“Are you serious?” I dashed past my friends and others to the bathroom and got changed right away. Then I rushed to the court and found out who my opponent was. I walked into the court, as I did I felt my heart beating so fast. I didn't know if the beating was from me running or me being nervous. I mostly got nervous during match’s because I’m mostly less experienced than other squash players. I started warming up to get set on what I want to do on the match. My heart started to slow down.
My opponent walked in and we both began to warm up. We spun the racquet to see who goes first; I get the serve. All eyes were on me as they waited for my first serve, I could the pressure building up again, I missed. NO! What did i do, how could I miss the first serve? The ball goes to her and then I get the point. Okay, now its all working out, I’m back in the game and we keep playing. As we played she won the first game, I made a comeback and win the second and third.
The fourth game kicked in and we both got more serious. I could feel my heart beating fast as I took a deep breath and made a great serve. Everything was going great but then out of nowhere she won the game. With her winning this causes us to go to the fifth game.
It was about 8:45 PM and I was up since 8 AM getting things together. I was so exhausted and could really use a nap. But I had to forget about that and focus on my game and win. The game starts, she does an amazing serve but I end up getting it and win the point. The game speeds up, ties up, and then I am at the lead with the score 10, 9.
Last point, this is when my every move and shot were at risk, if I made a mistake this whole match could be hers. I got the ball, taking a deep breath I looked at where I wanted the ball to hit then at my friend, letting me know that I can do this. I looked at the ball and it felt like I was speaking to it and saying how important this point was to me. I served, she hits and on the last shot I did a drop shot and she didn’t get it.
I got the point and won the whole match. My heart wanted to scream but I waited for the right moment. In the court I shook her hand.
"Great game," I told her.
Outside the court I was welcomed with a lot of hugs from friends and coaches.
My brother said “Good job but you could have done way better”. I sat down and thought about how I was more experienced than her, which kind of gave me an advantage. Working for what you really want is better than letting it get out of reach.
After a match I always look back at the court and thought of all that happened in there. I try not to let the thought of others being more experienced than me put me down. I believe the more experienced you are in something the much better you do in it. If you really want something put your mind and everything into it and it will be yours.I’ll never forget the times I had in the Hospital during Kindergarden. I layed there not moving at all. I heard tons of monitors and sensors going off, doctors and nurses in and out of the rooms. You can smell the sterile in the air as a needle pumps fluids into my veins. I am getting worried as I wondered what’s going on.
My mother is staring down at me tears in her eyes saying, “Your going to be fine.” The room is all light blue including the walls, curtains, and even the sheets, but there’s a sense of dull that you can see. The door swings open and a large group of doctors and nurses grabbed my bed I’m on and pulled me out of the room. Before I leave I see that my mom is no full of tears as I’m just laying there oblivious to what is going on. There is flash after flash as the doctors drag my bed under the lights. The doctors but a strange mask around my mouth and tolled me to count to ten. I breathe in the air from the mask and everything went black.
I woke up confused. Wondering what was going on. I looked around a lot of things were blurry, but I could tell I was in a different room. It wasn’t the same cliché room I was in before the curtains were green. There was a pull-out bed with brown sheets on it that I assumed was for parents. I kept glancing around until I feel arms around me and realize they are my mother’s. Thats when it finally hits me. I survived, and now I could live my life how ever I see fit. A feeling of warmth spread throughout my body splashing me with a sense of happyness and relief.
I reflect on that day and constantly see it as a completly different thing now. As a kid there was a sense of accomplishment that I would get everyday I would wake, But now instead of a sense of accomplishment I feel nothing anymore. That scenario changed my life forever and now I look at it as if it was a simple childhood problem as if every kid went through it. I compare it like the problem with the clay pot I had when I was younger.
You can smell the burnt clay as all around children are laughing and having fun. While I’m nervous and worried. I sit there motionless staring at a blob of clay not knowing what to do.Time is speeding up as my brain seems to slow down thinking of ideas for the clay before me. Then in the nick of time I decided something simple, yet practical a pot to hold things that I may lose. I quickly grab the clay taking a small piece and putting it to the side, the idea already taking place in my head. I start rolling the clay in total focus as the loud sound of kids were slowly fading away as I build my sculpture. The clay feeling smoother and smoother as my desired shape was formed. I grabbed a cutting tool and carved a hole with little resistance in the now completed round piece of pale clay. I look around and saw that I was the only one with the idea of making a item to hold stuff in. I saw kids being excited as they add the their final touches. I decide thats what I need to do so I grab the little piece thats left and begin to roll it thinner and thinner. I combine both ends of the thin clay and putting them on the opposite of the top of the pot allowing it to now have an area for carrying. As time is running out i use my last minutes just carveing anything I could think of into the pot and then finally put my initials at the bottom claiming the art as mine and mine alone. The feeling or nervousness and worry has completly into happiness as I was finally done. I join the kids now with smiles on all of our faces as we had all finished are sculptures. Time runs out as my pot is taking away with me knowing that in a few days I see how my work payed off.
This was a such a simple problem that I made a big deal that shouldn’t even compare to what I’ve been through. Yet I treat it just the same. My mom is haunted everyday because I what i have to do yet I treat it as all in the past never to bring it up yet I’m typeing about it right now.The creaking steps whined under the weight of my uncertainty. My shallow breath squeezed in between the beating of my pounding heart. The ambient lighting of the stage did nothing to calm me. My stomach was shivering as I burned alive under a hundred eyes.
“Yeah Mani!”
“You better go girl!”
“You got it Poet!”
“I like that skirt child!”, I looked down at my tie-dyed turquoise peasant skirt and I smiled. There was a folded parchment of paper with my poem on it. I looked into the audience and saw Rasheem's teeth, in the back row, big and glorious, smiling at me.
I didn’t think the words were good enough to let everyone hear them. I had the type of fearlessness that stayed inside closed doors. My tenacity was as ruthless as Old Lady Muriel's chihuahua— Yapping at everyone through the glass window, but hiding under the couch when company dared to make its way into the house.
This is it, this is your chance to show something the world something, don’t mess it up.
But I don’t even like this poem.
What if they don’t like it? What if they don’t understand it?
Its too late now,
The mic hiccuped as I lowered the stand to meet my 5 foot stature. I was stiff, but here was nothing, I was letting go.
“I can't say that sometimes....”
These were my words, I let them out into the world.
I remember learning about a girl in matter of seconds based on words that weren't hers. I was waiting for a lecture to start, so I opened my computer and went to my favorite website.
After a couple of clicks, I heard, “You have a Tumblr?”. I looked behind me to where the voice was coming from and was greeted by a smile.
32 brilliant,white teeth,were accompanied by frantic and hungry eyes. “You should follow me.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zip zip hooray.”
With a couple of clicks, I entered her world. Pictures of relationships, people wearing tank tops lined with crazy prints, cartoons, gifs, and quotes. Everything in her blog, including the layout ,spoke for what she liked or was fascinated by.
Then and there, I realized that Tumblr is an I.D. of who you are, or rather who want to be. There is something magical about it. Even when words and thoughts aren’t your own, they say so much about you. So what happens when they're your own?
Every tap-tap around me gnawed at my insides, the pitter-pattering of 32 sets of fingers on keyboards drove me crazy, this topic was too broad. My water bottle broke the monotonous daze with a loud crack as I nervously sipped. My thoughts were as dry as my throat.
The cursor on the screen was the only eye on me. Everyone else was too intent on their work to care what anyone else was doing. They were bent over, eyes focused, backs hunched as if they were unloading the heavy words from their backs onto their fingers.
My mind was blank. Okay, it was swarming with ideas, but none of them were good enough. They whizzed by as if on a conveyor belt. My brain picked through every detail of every topic, always finding something wrong with the thesis; nothing was good enough. They were all either too generic, too obvious, or too personal. My hands remained dormant on my keyboard, waiting for a command.
I stared at the closed window blinds and rested my head on the clammy wooden desk. My heart pounded along with the click clacking of the ideas flowing around me. I looked up and the poster-plastered walls showed no sympathy. The warm air in the room wrapped around my shoulders, urging me to give up and doze off for the remainder of class.
“Five more minutes for writing”, his voice tinged with expectation called out and retrieved me from my stupor.
Why was I trying so hard to reach inside of myself? It was only an English paper that my class would see. Not a poem on the stage, not a song to sing. There was hardly any room for judgement, but I sat there, racking my brain for something I cared about. This was my piece and it wasn’t that I cared what anyone thought of me, I just wanted them to have an accurate reference of which to base their judgements. I was a good good enough writer to churn out what this man was asking for in a day. It would be quality work, but it wouldn’t have been a clear representation of me.
The self-scrutinization of my work is partly because I'm OCD, but we live in a society where it isn't hard to guess what will happen next. I've always felt the pressure to push myself in writing because my words, even when I do not necessarily care where they end up, need to be my best. I want them to stand out and mean something to me because there's no need to
I always want to be ahead of the curb and make everything my own. We live in a population where with the click of a button, we can judge one another's deepest or shallow thoughts. Make what you say count.
