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Hilary Duff Concert Monologue

Posted by Jasmine Nieves in English 2 - Pahomov on

Jasmine Nieves                                                               


    Hilary Duff Concert


“Jasmine, its time to go to the concert”. OMG. It’s finally here. I can’t believe we’re actually going to a Hilary Duff Concert. She is both talented and pretty. As Haley, Michelle and I head out the door I keep looking at my picture of us when me and Hilary Duff first met. I thought showing how I excited I was good to show my expression on how I felt. As we get into the car I get overly excited and I started to put my iPod on and listen to her music on my way their. My stomach at the time, was rolling and rolling because this is her first concert since her Dignity Tour. When I get to school the next day, I would keep talking about it until the end of the day because I just can’t get enough  talking about it. Probably somebody who didn’t like her as much as I do probably didn’t grow up liking her old show Lizzie McGuire or don’t like watching Disney Channel which the show was originally born. If people would have liked her only a little bit or just the same like me, I would probably be the cool kid in school for like almost a year or so. If this happens, it would be so exciting since I haven’t been this popular. I am hoping, while on the road to the concert, this won’t be the only day I see her in concert, on TV, or even get her autograph. If I would have gotten her autograph, I would immediately get a frame and put it somewhere to have a special value to it. Ok, we’re at the concert. We find our seats but then we needed to used the restroom and get souvenirs from her before we got to see her live. As we’re were coming back, some guy was asking us, “Did you want to see Hilary Duff backstage.” My aunt couldn’t resist so she had to say “yes”. So when he asked us the question, he put bracelets on us notifying we were able to go backstage. He told us where the backstage was and I was overly excited again because we had to walk across the stage just to meet her. Going backstage I see a whole lot of people taking pictures with her. When it was my turn I was about to faint again since the last time I came to one of her concerts she sang so well on. When we were done taking the picture, I couldn’t stop staring at her on the souvenirs I got from her and just be looking at her. When she started to sing, at first I started to scream at the top of my lungs because I really like her but then after, I had to stop because my aunt told me too. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening again in my life. Then I started to sing, “Nobody believes me when I tell em’ that you were out of your mind, Nobody believes me when I tell em’ you have so much to hide, treat me like a queen when we go out. But baby when there’s no one around...” My aunt was calm but she wanted me to calm down because I felt all the hype in me come out. I think I was mostly the loudest one at the concert compared to her other fans that were there. I kept just singing louder and louder. My aunt then notice I was I bad singer but saved what she wanted to say by giving me a quick stare. My aunt got a little mad and said Jasmine, I know you like her but you got to calm down. I don't stop, I just kept going at it with my singing. Then my aunt said, “Jasmine do you want me to throw all your stuff of Hilary Duff away” Then, I innocently said no crouching down to my chair. As I was crouched down in my chair she said, “Well, then, stop being so loud”. At the time, I was coming up with a big headache, so I knew I had to stop. I sang again but a little softer.  I love Hilary Duff. If she was part of my family, I would do anything for her since I like her that much. She has been such an inspiration to me since I was little. 


(music still plays in the background and the crowd keeps chanting) 

          The next song come out, I start singing again until she speaks about her album then continues to sing again until the end of the concert and then everybody goes crazy!!! When I get home, I would not be able to sleep because of the concert of my favorite celebrity Live in concert for the second time out of her 5 albums she’s made. This night will be a night to remember for me and I will never ever forget it. I LOVE YOU HILARY !!!!      



“She Whispered In My Ear or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Weekend” By Will Amari

Posted by William Amari in English 2 - Pahomov on

Will Amari

11/19/12

Silver 


“She Whispered In My Ear or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Weekend”


And I never saw her again. She was the light of my life and she truly loved me...


I named a damn album after her. You remember that? It was my biggest hit. I was at the prime of my career. Definitely the golden age, but I feel like I never really truly made it. I never really truly had that chance to bask in the limelight. 


I was huge. I mean there were The Beatles, The Stones, Dylan and then me.


But I was as big as I was forgotten— they all out shined me. It was a tough business. It wore me out and I wanted a simpler life. Sure the movie business was tough, but it just felt more steady. Less sex, more respect, that’s what it was. And writing was a good thing to lean on. I feel like this is what got me out of my...um... heroin addiction. 


I didn’t have much of a childhood but there were weekends where I thought I was going to go insane. Childhood memories— what a life to live. I grew up in a small town right next to a big city. I lived in this tiny house and there really wasn’t a lot going on. There were no kids my age. I didn’t have many friends, and my parents were... well they were parents, but It was a peaceful neighborhood. Though I struggled socially in school, I don’t blame myself. I blame my surroundings. You know who lived next door? No one... I didn’t have neighbors. My parents where jackasses they didn’t care. Instead I had imaginary friends and radio. The Masked Rider and The Adventures of Daniel Queen were all I needed to keep me calm and busy. I remember they came on once a week at 5.00 P.M. I came running home every Thursday after school to finish my homework, just to listen to the radio before dinner. Now-a-days you got the TV, the video games, and iPods and... what have you. It was a good life except weekends were quite lonely. I just sat there in my room thinking too much about the world. I always thought that it was going down the drain. And my parents always wanted me out. But, I had no one to go out with. So I just lay there on my bed until I practically convinced myself that nothing mattered and that we as human beings were nothing more than a bunch of self righteous animals or... better yet savages that were crazy enough to... (shakes head) 


I was pretty depressed but... whatever. Life is depressing. (pause) It wasn’t always that way. There was a time I had friends. Real friends. 


Eighth grade is the final stage of childhood. Your bodies are changing as fast as your life. You start to notice more, ask more questions and take more chances. It was easier to get in trouble and your innocence slowly begins to fade away into the past just like the crisps Autumn leaves that fall from their branches. Theres a metaphor in there somewhere. Anyway what was... I’m sorry I lost my train of...


Oh yes... um, so one weekend I was out walking my dog. There was a park I always went to and I found a kid, a girl my age who had several small dogs. I had one big dog. I walked up to her. She wore an orange coat and a black skirt. She was a short haired blond and her face was dressed in rose pink. I forgot what I was wearing, what I looked liked, or anything else but it didn’t matter. Anyway I decided to engage in pleasant conversation.


I flirted with her.


I asked her out.


Well, not really. I just helped her with her math homework. She seemed like a nice girl so I knew it was safe. Turned out she went to my school all along and I never even noticed her. We were ounce like fleeting shadows passing in the halls and now we were friends. A week later I came to her house to listen to some local radio programs. It was a rainy lazy Sunday. I walked outside with her to go through the park where we spent the whole day playing in the rain, splashing each other, going down the slide, playing on the swings. It was just the two of us, no little kids, and no grown ups to tell us what to do. We played freely with out any fear of consequences lingering in our pure young minds. When the sun went down she asked me to come back to her house where we dried off and listened to the radio once more. I remember her room and how everything was done up in pale lavender. Her bed was silky and soft. She had this huge crush on Frank Sinatra, and it bothered me a bit, but overall I didn’t mind. The room began to feel warm and my cheeks became red. She had moved closer to me until we were practically one person. That evening her lips met with mine and I began to shake. She whispered in my ear and softly said that I could do whatever I wanted to do to her. 


It was dark by the time I came home. Almost dinner time and I knew my mom was going to freak out. As I walked down my block I became inspired. The beauty of the night along with lights which glimmered through the air is something to this day forward I will never forget. I knew that these moments would soon just become memories and nothing more. To this day I think of that weekend and more and more, every time I think of it... it becomes less of a memory and more of a fantasy.


And I never saw her again. She was the light of my life and she truly loved me.


After she moved away from my neighborhood, I soon came to realize that there was never going to be another girl like her. Allowing her to live on in my songs is just my way of thanking her for all the times we had spent together. Young love is the best love because everything happens so naturally. I guess its true what they say... you will never be young again. 


But you can still be happy (pause) and you can still be happy. 



The Bus By Penelope Deoliveira

Posted by Penelope Deoliveira in English 2 - Pahomov on

“Time’s up ol’ friend. It’s about time we get rid of you...”

I open my eyes quickly as a big dark skinned, hearty man, pats my side gently. I hear the clinking of rusted metal, and realize that my time has come. “No! Not yet! It can’t be time already!” I only thought to myself, my horn long since broken. “I’m great with kids, I’m  roomy, and...” I pause. “...I’m fuel efficient!” I lie. It wasn’t any use; none of my pleading would get through to James, the trash dump guy. He couldn’t hear me, he couldn’t know what I knew, and he wouldn’t reconsider, even if I were the greatest school bus to have ever come into existence.

It’s clear to me now that I couldn’t avoid the inevitable. By 4 this afternoon, I’ll be crushed and compacted into a cube or made into some plastic thing the humans will find use for. I’d heard from some buses that the feeling...the sensation of going under the crusher was....horrifying. But if they’d never been ‘crushed’ before, how would they know how it feels? Others told me that it was a quick and painless death, and it was nothing to be feared. One volkswagen van told me that you don’t die at all, but become ‘reborn’ and live on as the new object. A chance to start fresh, I hope.

*I’m loaded up on some type of conveyor belt, cars in far worse condition than me waiting in front. *

Considering all things, my life wasn’t bad, although being a convertible would’ve been pretty cool. I first started out, as a new recruit, on the elite force of the school bus. We had the heavy responsibility to carry dozens of precious lives within us, but were still expected to make it to the destination on time. My first day was a day full of wonders. The world outside, the world on the road, was never ending and just magnificent. Beautiful red, yellow, and brown leaves clung to the trees that dotted along the side of the streets, and it felt as if I were running under a large, shady canopy. Adorable, 6, 7, and 8 year olds ran up inside me, their giggles and screams of delight making my insides tickle and fill with excitement. My engine filled with pride as I showed off my glossy new rims, my built exterior, my firm bumper.

*The first car falls in, and there is a horrible sound. Sounds like something was being shredded, torn apart, then slammed and crushed.*

But the best thing had to be my new driver, Bill. He was like me on his first day- inexperienced, nervous, but excited to begin.  Over the years him and I cultivated a friendship so close that I practically cried the day he retired, the summer of 97. That day was a day of mourning, and as he gave me one last pat on my hood, I had to use my windshield wipers to keep from blurring my windows.  I still have pictures of his family he had hung up almost twenty year ago, right above the steering wheel.

*Second car falls in, only two to go.*

Oh, but then, there was the time I fell in love! A lovely little porsche with headlights that would make your engine pumps beat faster than a speeding train; and that bumper! She was a naughty one, who would more than often at times leave her hood open. She would even reeve her engine if she got fired up enough! Then there was her beautiful, soft and high pitched horn, that when honked, sounded better than the birds in the trees. Whenever she parked herself next to me, I could feel my windows fog up. You could say I was really lost in love!

But! She was never mine....she fell for a sinister and (might I add rude) mustang who apparently was stronger, faster, better than me. Jeez. (Sigh). I don’t regret loving her, but I regret not being able to be brave enough to confess my feelings. Now I’ll take that regret to my grave (a.k.a the grinder). I wish I was a convertible. That would have sold her for sure....

*Next car goes in, and the screeching of metal fills my ears.*

Yes. A convertible. If I get reincarnated, I’ll want to be a convertible. If there really is a parking lot in the sky, or a none at all, at least I led an ok life. Perhaps I’ll even get to meet the famous Ford model T, an inspiration to automobiles, and my personal hero. I’m sure we’ll be best friends, of course.  

It’s my turn now, and I can feel the fuel in my gas tank settle uneasily. Is this what humans call....nervousness? Or maybe I’m just anxious to get this over with?

I can just see the drop pit out of the corner of my rear view mirror, a menacing looking 10 foot drop onto concrete. A giant anvil hammer (which I’m guessing is the grinder), slams onto the bottom every 2 seconds, causing the conveyor belt to tremble. I close my blinds, say a prayer, and take the jump of faith.

As I fell to the ground, I could see the grinder inches above me. My last words- “Here goes...!” I thought, right before everything went dark.

Monologue

Posted by Jordyn Randall in English 2 - Pahomov on

                                  Monologue

Rican Girl

By: Jordyn Randall 

                                               


I want my hair done straight. Washed and blow-dried.


What? I don’t understand what you’re saying.


No really, I don’t speak spanish.


It’s ok. Yeah, a lot of people think I’m spanish because of my light skin and long curly hair. I’m really all black. I’m not mixed with anything.


What, you don’t believe me? Yeah, nobody does. Earlier this week, I was walking downtown with my friends and we heard this group of boys yelling “YERP!! YO RICAN IN THE BLUE!!” I was trying to figure out who he was talking to because none of us were rican and i was the only one wearing blue. Me and my friends laughed it off and kept walking. Then I glanced in a window of one of the buildings and thought “ Wow I really do look puerto rican today”. Even though it wasn’t just that day, it seemed to be everyday.


 


Wow this dryer is really hot.


That’s better.


But...I have the same problem with my friends sometimes. One time, at my first basketball game of the season, one of my teammates was telling me how she wanted to meet my mom and my sister. She was looking through the crowd and pointed out this spanish lady and asked me if that was my mom. I looked at her puzzled and said “NO!”. I pointed out my sister and mom and she said “ Why are they black and you’re spanish?”. I told her that I wasn’t spanish or adopted just all black. Then she saw how I resemble my mom. 


Oh...I want my part on the right side.


Yea right there’s good.



It also happened earlier today when I was walking to the corner of my school's block to catch the 65 to pick my little sister, Jaylen, up from school. When I got to her school I saw her talking to her friend. I over heard her friend ask her who I was. Jaylen said I was her big sister.

She asked " How? She's much lighter than you. Are one of you adopted?" 

Jaylen told her " No she's light like my dad and I'm dark like my mom." I called her over to tell her that it's time to go. I asked her what she and her friend were talking about she said " I hate that nobody never thinks we are sisters even though we actually do look alike, they always look at the difference in our skin colors. I told her that I agreed and that it gets on my nerves too. It seems like people always look at color before anything else.


Oh I’m done. How much?


Here’s 24 and 5 for the tip. 


Thanks for the conversation. See you later Bye.

The Catch

Posted by Alhaji Koita in English 2 - Pahomov on

Hey this Benito, how are you ser. I know this is like my third time calling but I just feel like you have been ignoring me. Like really you said this was one of the best movie ideas you have heard in a long time. Or was that bullshit. I know that you have one of the best credits in Hollywood and I really want to work with you. I got a kid man ! I'm working 3 jobs just to keep this house.$ 900 a mother fucking month! You think I want this shit! My ex wife just passed away(sigh). What the hell am I gonna do with her. She don't got no family I gotta pay for that damn funeral. Maria was her name... Sweet, young, beautiful, a damn cheater. Then she lives my little rosa in front of my door step.

The look on her face reminded of the 1st time my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. It shook me... (States at the ground) she was my wife and now I Don't know how to feel about it. My heart is saying I still love her deeply. But my mind is saying this Witch ! How could you do this to me . And don't get me started with my girl friend, she wants to get married and we have only been seeing each other for 5 months. The hell is her problem? She cute and all and the sex is great don't get me wrong. But goddamn a Mirage?!  Is she insane? Like really I know you want to agree with me . I love her I really do but I’m just not ready for something like that (Pauses) again... But where was I man. Stop bullshitting me, excuse my language but really this could help get your career back as one of the best directors in the world. Just (sighs) think about man. I'm not going to sit here in beg to you like dog who hasn't seen outside in days. I just want the opportunity to take my abilities to the next level.


My Motivation

Posted by Chris Tran in English 2 - Pahomov on

As I was sitting in the library on a gloomy afternoon. I wrote in my journal, “I hate myself”. I was staring at the window looking outside. At the same time I was thinking about the girl that I really like. She is in my class and her name is Samantha. Yeah I got to admit she is pretty cute and beautiful. It doesn’t matter if she is popular or not, I still like her no matter how she is. I smiled at the image of her that I have in my head, but soon the smile became a frown because of the thought of folding to her in front of my friends. I was facing a life of laughter because I keep avoiding her after promising and texting her tell her to meet me after school. I avoided her because I was nervous I had butterflies in my stomach and then that feeling took me over and I have to avoid her. But she agreed to meet me and I ditched her because of my nervousness trait. In my mind I always remember the words face your fears, but I can’t face my own. I shook my head as I have that flashback to the scene. I shook my head as I have remembered what have triggered this nervous shock that cause me to be nervous whenever I talk to girls. It was in 2006 as I was a young boy. I really liked this girl in my class. Then one day I went and talk to her and she rejected me. From that moment on I felt unsure when I was talking to a girl. I always have that thought that she doesn’t like me. After the flashback I looked up at the clock and I found out that I have been sitting here for about an hour now and so far I can’t study at all. I have been slacking off a lot because I keep thinking about Samantha. She is always in my mind. Well since I was slacking off I picked up my phone and check to see if I had any messages.


The words “No messages” pops up on my phone. Well I guess nobody, none of my friends are going to text me a sign of motivation. Just as I put away my phone in my pocket. I felt my phone vibrated like crazy, like its yelling at my to pick it up. I picked up my phone and saw the display of the words “ 1 Message” on my phone. Now the dampen feeling that I had before has now brightening because of the text that I just receive.With anxiety I press the button on my phone that will lead me to the text of motivation that I have been dreading for minutes. When I saw the message the read it quickly, reading word for word. Quickly I discovered what the message said. It said “ Hey Jack I know you were stuck and folded to Samantha. Don’t even bother talking to me anymore if you don’t get this figured out.” I remembered that time when my friend Ralph was telling a girl name Matilda to meet him after school. I stood there waiting for the bus and I saw her standing there waiting in the freezing weather for Ralph. As 15 minutes went by I knew then that he wasn’t coming. I know my friend Ralph ever since we met in 5th grade he was a jerk then and now. I guess people never change over a series of time. Now as I was reading this text I was reading with a smile on my face and now that smile has turn into tears of frustration.


I was crying to the thought that everyone was on my side at first, but why do they have to turn their backs on me? Why does it all change after I folded to Samantha? The thoughts of killing myself and hurting myself start coming in. I had a thought of killing myself. I thought to myself, why do I have to live in a world where everyone betrays you. Then the reason why I can’t hurt myself is because my religion influences me not to hurt myself. My Catholic religion taught me to appreciate life and don’t do anything to hurt yourself. Well now because of that reason anger started filling in the spots of my heart where it was broken because of the constant mocking of laughter. Then I started having difficulty with breathing. “ I can’t breathe. I have to do something about this.” Then I knew what to do. I have to run down to the river down the street. I walked slowly because of the difficulty of breathing, but then I started running. I can’t take it anymore I need fresh air. I ran out of the door and I realized that it was dark outside, but that didn’t stop me. I run down to the river with the goal of breathing was completed. I breathe really hard and now I looked at the water flowing peacefully. The sound of the water sooth me and made me calm down for a moment. I stood looking at the water and I realized that there is nothing to be upset about. I realized that me, myself can find peace and happiness. Then I thought of my family. My family carry me through no matter what happens. I realized that family and my effort is a formula to happiness and I think thats a good motivation for me. I started walking back to the library. “ Its time to study”. “Its time to study”.

Trapped

Posted by Timothy Ingram in English 2 - Pahomov on

   God, What should I do? Where should I go? How can I get out of this? Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong on this earth. I’ve been having second thoughts on my life.  I am stuck in middle of know where with trees, a body of water and leaves falling everywhere all over me. There is no sunlight and all I see is animals run back and fourth through here. I am scared, lonely and cold. I don’t know what season it is. 

     I don’t know what the day it is? I don’t know when my birthday is. The only person I can leave out this world with is you. I believe you can help me if I keep praying on it. I came in this world by myself and I don’t want to leave this world by myself. Everyday I wonder why? Why did I come into this world? Why I am along? Why me? I am a young boy who’ve have not learned the value of life. I don’t know why life is important. I don’t know if life is short or long. What is the meaning to life? I have no one to ask that question to but you.

    Every night I go to bed thinking I would wake up the next morning in the morning with family in my life. I don’t know what family is because I don’t have one. God your my family. I don’t know how I got here and why I am here. I have been sitting here on this log watching the sky imaging. Imaging what your thinking or listening to what I am saying. I think in my head its no point of me being here. For the last couple of months the one thing that came to my mind is, what if? What if I have a family. What if the things I’ve been praying on became true. And What if someone is looking for me. But then People don’t even know if I am alive or dead. 

    I wish I would had the opportunity to go places and learned things in this world and thats why I am asking you if you could change this for me. I lost everything in my life and need help. Since your the only one here I have the opportunity I wanted to ask you. I will keep praying day and night for help.  God, can you, wait I hear something. God is that you? 

I Wish Upon a Star

Posted by Liza Cohen in English 2 - Pahomov on

I’ve been sitting down all day, imagining myself twiddling my thumbs. What to do, what to do. I wonder what life would be like if I was a person. Now that’s living the good life. Okay, stop day dreaming Larry. You have a customer now. Here we go again.

I am nothing but a worthless treadmill in a gym. Yup, that’s me. I sit around here all day, not making a single move. I observe the gym until someone decides to trample all over me and go for a jog. Yeah, I’m living the dream (says with sarcasm). Some dream huh? Its more like a nightmare.

Its just not fair. My friends are useful things, that involve happiness and excitement. Sarah is an iphone. She gets to entertain the manager all day long, as he plays Angry Birds. Bob is a television remote, providing all the best comedy shows on the flat screen for the customers. Charles is a laptop for the assistants. And we’ll all never forget the boy named Larry who was nothing but a treadmill. Yeah, that’s something to brag about (says with sarcasm). I’m not saying all my friends are something special, but I’d take being a cell phone, laptop, or a tv remote any day. I’d rather be anything but a darn treadmill (sighs). We are all stuck in this gym but there’s just one difference about me vs. them. They are perfectly happy being in this place. But I can’t take another minute of it. They would understand if they were a treadmill, too.

Its time to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore. Sitting down, lingering in people to stomp all over me is not my ideal vision of a good life. So what’s left for me? What can I do now? And how do I get out of this nightmare? 



Yes, its closing time. And another day at the gym is over. Time to sleep. TIme to dream the dreams that will never be. Who knew it was possible for tears to well up in a treadmill’s face. There’s a shooting star (closes eyes). I wish I was something better in this world. I don’t want to be a treadmill anymore.

Well, that was the best night of rest I have had in awhile (rolls over and rubs eyes). Wait a minute. How did I just do that? I’m a treadmill, I can’t move. I can’t do anything. What is going on (looks around the room). I’m still in the gym. So what has changed?

I’m human! I’m an actual person (looking the mirror reflection)! That shooting star actually worked (running around the gym, jumping, singing of happiness). I’m amazed.

Oh no, I hear the manager’s voice opening up the gym (runs into the bathroom to hide). Thank goodness he didn’t catch me. He can’t find a random person in his gym because the last thing left in this place was a treadmill...the old Larry. That’s right, I’m the new Larry (smiles). Time to get out of here.

I can live my life now. I can have a real job (looking up at the sky, walking, breathing in the air, smiling). What do I do now? What’s the first thing you do when you are an actual person? Well, first, I have to find a job, then buy a house, and get a car. I might even need more than one job if I plan on paying on these bills. Oh, and I can’t do anything without a cell phone. I’ll get lonely, then I need to stop by the adoption center to buy a dog. Then after I get my house, I have tons of shopping to do. I need appliances, and food, and clothes. Oh no, can I really pull this off? Being human isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. This is to much for me, I need some rest (falls asleep on a bench outside the gym). 



Wait what? (opens eyes) I’m still in this gym... Yes! I’m a treadmill again! I don’t have to pay bills, or go shopping every two days before I starve to death. I don’t need to pick out which sink is better for my house, or which dog I want to keep me company. All I have to do is be a treadmill. I think I can live with that.

Waiting

Posted by Alex Marothy in English 2 - Pahomov on

I hated this place. A nearby fan flooded my pages with dusty air, and the hard shelf I sat upon awoke me to a back ache every morning. I sat amidst a sea of thousands, just another copy. All I wanted was to be ideolized, at least paid attention to, but my cover read to be overlooked. To be met with the same passion with which I was bound was simply all I desired. Instead, trapped between those exceeding me, I slowly perished. I was starved; none knew hunger like I, desperate for hands and eyes. 

The Exchange of Goods and Services in Pre-Sargonic Lagash. I hated the name. It left the tongue with a stale after taste, but I knew I had so much more to offer a reader! If only they would take me off this shelf. I was trapped here, left to die in a row of historical literature the world had long since forgotten. All but one, The Rise and Fall of Rome. I hate to admit to jealousy, but my pompous next-door neighbor was the reason behind all of my disappointment. Those visiting my shelf were so infrequent, that when one teenager looking for a passing book report stepped down the isle, my spine began to quiver. Time and time again, the child’s hand would creep down the row, snowballing my anticipation, only to plummet as Rome was lifted off the shelf. 

I envied that book. I just wanted to be read, held, carried! To travel, and see the world, supposedly so astonishing. I often conveyed these desires to another neighbor, Abraham Lincoln, a Man of Faith and Courage: Stories of Our Most Admired President, but it goes nowhere. I wanted companionship above all, which is something another book just couldn’t fulfill. Created by humans, I felt an intense connection to the species, craving their affection. I was quickly losing hope, and began a transition to despondency, until I noticed a pattern in my library’s attendance.

A man returned to my isle for the fourth time that month! Once a week, to choose a new tale of historical literature. Now I had grown curious. I was quick to assume that he was here for me, and simply didn’t know it yet. As the weeks went by he drew closer, seeming to be going down the isle, one book at a time. I observed, and yearned for his touch. I couldn’t help fantasizing about what it would be like to be read by him. He was a young man, maybe early twenties. He wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses on his nose that accented his black widow’s peak. Imagining him as a young scholar, older than his age, seemed fitting to me. I watched as he turned the pages of my neighbors, with grace and care, almost a religious touch. The months drew on, his approaching hand still all that was holding my pages together. I became more conscious than I’d ever been, alert to every footstep, anticipating his weekly arrival. 

At last that time came, the day I would be read once more. I had counted his progression, one book a week. For once, this was the time a hand would not pass my spine. I heard the squeak of leather on tile, saw the glint of lenses turn the corner. My pages fluttered in anticipation as he proceeded down the isle, his hand lifting to my shelf. His fingers flitted over the pages towards me, sliding over my spine, lifting Rome out of the spot next to me. Once again, I was left waiting. 

Life=Exhaustion+Old People

Posted by Mingxue Zheng in English 2 - Pahomov on

I have never been this tired. I missed the old days when my parents are the ones I depended on. My role is just a princess. But, as I get older, I am the only person I could depend on. Even if my employer is such a bossy old man, my mom will not think twice to give her daughter to him.

Now everyday, that old hag went roaring  like a furious tiger. Waking me up, just for her daughter to be paid. She will pinch my back until my eyes popped wide open. OUNCH! Why are you so worked up...(look at the clock) at 7.”

“COLLY SHELLON YOU NEED TO GET PAID TODAY. IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTT OFF OF THAT BED, YOU KNOW WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” Her hand grips tightly on the rough stick as she glared at me angrily. I admit my defeat when feeling the stinging pain she left on me two months earlier (rubbing her butt)...when...I planned on skipping my job.
(phone ringing and Colley picked it up)

(Answers the phone) Why are you be all in my (acting ghetto) businessssssssss. Talking about some, did you get whipped. Josh Chuck, if you don’t have anything to do, just chill.
(sigh)

Look, its not my fault, that my butt was slapped by a tree branch. My homework are piling up. Benchmarks are flying straight on my desk. Just what are these teachers been thinking now days, bro. Are we some robots in the movies that do one task per second or have an ingenious mind that calculates in the speed of light? I can’t even see my twenty-three inch desktop without moving like...3 feet of papers aside. Maybe one day, this monstrous stack will knock over my brand new Samsung desktop. You know what, it did. Right after my Spanish teacher wants me to make a random iMovie. That computer is $1,499 dollars. (louder;urgent tone) $1,499 boy...oh yeah, plus tax. So now I need to get a job to get a tech dude to my house to fix it. Piles of HWs are already driven me crazy and, mopping  people’s houses just make me want to be done with my life.

Every freaking day, I need to get these rotten fake wooden floors cleaned with my sweat. Dumping water as dark as charcoal into the toilet. If that toilet get stuck, my daily paycheck would be stuffed into the plumber’s pocket. That owner of the house is so picky. He is Mr. Brown, who lived three blocks away from my house in Chester Avenue. That bearded, elf-sized man would detected every speck of dirt in his house like he is a dog.  If there are three grains of dirt, he would said, (speak like the old man) umh..young lady could you clean these dust on the floor like what you’re suppose to do, I deeply appreciated it.

Deeply appreciated it my butt! Just what is this master and slave relationship we’re having, taking about some, “I deeply appreciated” when the real thing that he was trying to say is (speaking like the old man) yo, little girl if you don’t get your legs working and swing this mop, you’re not getting the money of this man. You think that you could just clean my house like that and trick this old man’s money. I know you teenagers, so don’t try to act so slick.

Maybe I will just quit and kiss his hand goodbye like a person with dignity. Wait...Colly, calm down. If I actually have the guts to get rid of this hell of a torture, then my house will turn to hell itself. My mom would say (speak like her mother) YOU’RE NOT JUST GOING TO DUMP THIS POOR MAN. I’LL DRAG YOU TO HIS HOUSE AND APOLOGIZE.  HOPEFULLY HE WILL EMPLOY YOU AGAIN. WHY DO I HAVE TO GIVE BIRTH TO SUCH A USELESS KID!  Nah. I get tired of her savage, unpleasant noises I hear in the morning. Then, I need to apologize to this masked elf. No. Heck no for god sake.!
(long sigh)

Well maybe this is my life. Being controlled by exhaustion and old people.
(Put down the phone and go to work)  

ENG2-009

Term
2012-13

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