Making the Point
Cheering in the stands. Sweat dripping from my hairline. I walk back to the line. I slap the ball down. All I have to do is make one serve. Good toss. Right step forward. Hard swing. I look at my team, at the sideline, and at the fans. They are all depending on me. Everything depends on this. I bounce the ball three times on the hard floor of the gym; the bounce echoing all around me. The whistle blows, signaling I can serve. I make my toss, step forward, and swing my arm with all my might. The ball soars over the tape of the net and the other team scrambles to get the soaring ball. I run from the back line, to my spot in right back, waiting for the ball to come back to me. The other team passes the ball up to their setter who sets an outside ball to her hitter. Taking her four-step approach, #18 swings and hits the ball straight down in my direction. I need to get that ball. I dive forward, throwing my body onto the ground, getting my fist to pop up the volleyball. It is back up spinning in the air, Alex sets the ball to Allie, who hits in straight down. The ball hits the ground with a thud. Point. It is my turn to serve again.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Justin Timberlake Concert
The music pulsed through my ears, the loud thumping never-ending from the bass of the guitar. Sitting in the place where I usually came to see Laker games, the Staples Center was completely transformed into a stage with lights and backdrops. With every seat sold out, millions of girls filled the concert. I could not believe my eyes as I enter the sky box, only yards away were Good Charlotte warming up. Since the fourth grade, I have listen to them through my iPod, never believing that I would be seeing them in front of my eyes. Long shabby hair whirling every which way as Benji Madden strummed his guitar ferociously. As Good Charlotte wrapped up their set, the crowd lulled until the beat of Justin Timberlake’s song rocketed through the air. Any second he would be singing, I kept telling myself. A red beam of light flew into the air and within seconds, Justin emerged from the floor of his stage. Girls screaming, he started his songs, dancing with the music and playing the piano. Shoes flung underneath the seat, I jumped and screamed for hours, singing along to the beat of the music, knowing the words by heart. I felt like I was on top of the world, hoping this moment of ecstasy would never end.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Catcher in the Rye: Is Holden trustworthy?
In The Catcher in the Rye, I found it interesting when Holden said, “I’m pretty healthy” after describing how he was a heavy smoker and almost got tuberculosis last year because he grew six and a half inches. I thought this statement was misleading and makes you question if what he says is trustworthy because I think almost getting a serious disease, having to get many check-ups, and being a heavy smoker are not referred to as healthy. So far, in the book, Holden seems to be reassuring himself with false statements because he does not want to deal with the truth. I think that Holden wants to be healthy because if he wants to believe he is healthy, even though he really is not. I think he lies compulsively to shield himself from the truth and from the people around him. I think that even though Holden tries to be brave, deep down he is insecure about what he wants other people to know about him, which causes him to mislead himself.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Just Like That
I wonder where she was going
She looked young
Probably on her way to the market
Or doing some errands
Sea green dodge
Smashed at the front end
Windows broken
Shattered glass
On the smoky gray gravel
I wonder what her family was like
If they lived near here
Or if she had any brothers
I wonder what they will do now
I hate to think the police must call
To give them the news
I wonder if she had called them today
Just to talk about the weather
Not knowing it would be the last time
Driving below the freeway
There were cones leading us on a detour
Confused by the mayhem
We circled around the spot
Where her body lay
Under that white sheet
Police cars enclosing
Her remains
I looked for just a second
And saw her bloody head
She had pretty hair
Golden blond
I can’t believe she’s dead.
My breath screeched to a halt
Like her tires probably did
Life can end within a second
Without a warning
Without a hint
Even though I didn’t know her
It made my stomach drop
I can’t believe that in a second
I could be gone
Just like that.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Emma
It’s all in her blue eyes
As bright as the Caribbean Sea,
Shyly hiding behind
her Great Lash black mascara
Freckles dance across her face
Wanting to be noticed,
Honey brown
they are scattered
Like lost people in a maze.
Nose always tired
From never ending colds
Having to blow it’s secrets
Into the nearest Kleenex
Her brown hair is thin
Like thread
Whispy pieces always escaping
From her ponytail
Allergic to everything
Mushrooms dairy grains and more
Eats her food slowly
Each bite has a taste of everything for her to enjoy
Her lean muscles pulse from years of training
She excels at center midfield
Eager and fierce she enters a tackle
Never letting up
My best friend
My mirror image
We think just alike
Minds connected like two
Tin can telephones
linked by a string
Secret handshakes hold us together
Our hearts entwined
By things said, done, and told
In the past
We are friends for life
She makes me want to deal
With all life’s difficulty
If it means I get to spend
My Friday in her presence.
Friendships come and go
But not with a friend like Emma
She is someone I want to know
For the rest of my life.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Sophie
Struts across the hardwood floor
Nails tapping to the beat of her internal radio
A princess is what she is of eight years
Afraid to lift a paw
Expects to be scratched to satisfaction
By her trustworthy servants
Who always must fill her water and food bowls
Her brother prince always following in her path
Aspiring to be just like her
Barks for treats she does not deserve
Always wanting more
When she is hot she lays down on the ground
Cooling herself on the hard floor
Much too dainty to climb up steps
To her bedroom chambers
Too old and tired to jump up to bed
She is the royalty in our kingdom
Her murky eyes gaze at me
When we are alone
It is as if she wants to thank me
For all the years of serving her
She is my loyal companion
As I am to her
I do as she pleases
Never forgetting to place her blankets
Just how she likes them on the sofa
Sprawls on my bed like it is her own
Submerged between soft sheets and pillows
Barely opens an eye when I enter the door
Expecting the lights to turn off on her command
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Buster
Squirmy at 6 a.m.
eager to be the first one downstairs,
big ink black eyes waiting for a treat
staring up at me in a trance
hoping I am the one who will give him the last bone.
Clickity-clack of little nails on the hardwood floor,
following me everywhere I go.
Hates being alone.
Hurls his six pound self
against the side of the glass door
that peeks into the garage,
Stubby tail waving frantically at me
when I get home from school.
Sitting patiently under the table
beneath my chair hoping scraps of food
will fall from my paper white plate.
Spazzy after getting a haircut
rolling over and over on the striped carpet,
smoky gray and honey-brown hair tossed across his eyes
frantic to rub off his shampoo scent.
Admirer of his sister Sophie,
padds along in her trail
like a toddler stepping in his father’s big footprints
at the beach
hoping that someday she will want to play.
Fierce when the doorbell rings,
ears like radar dishes rotating
high-pitched bark soaring through the house
determined to bring down anyone
who would disturb his family.
Ferocious when attacking the remnants of the FedEx man
on the newly-shipped FedEx box.
Questioning his reflection in the window,
hoping the dog he sees will play.
Exhausted after a long day of protecting everyone,
he stretches his small body to the fullest
underneath the pillars of his castle,
the legs of the stone table
on our patio.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Fog
The fog rolls in thick like sand being washed back and forth between tides in a restless sea.
The fog rolls in like a curtain shielding the world from what is backstage.
The fog rolls in like a news reporter listening in on the newest gossip, creeping around every corner and waiting to for the perfect story.
The fog rolls in like a burglar creeping into a sleeping house; its presence is ominous and sneaks in within seconds.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Types of Black
charred marshmallow black
waxy crayon black
black like shadows across the groun
freshly paved asphalt black
black like hands of a clock
new leggings black
black like thick mascara
black like the center of eyes
black like war paint at football games
old tire black
black like thick smoke after a fire
black like silhouettes of trees against a dusk sky
Looking out at a mountainside at dusk, the silhouettes of the skinny pine trees sycamores were as freshly paved asphalt black against the rainbow sky. The wind whirled around me and I licked my chapped lips, knowing that the beautiful landscape I was envisioning would be gone in moments when the sun went to sleep and the last strokes of light sunk to the bottom of the ocean until morning.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Caroline
Small curly blonde head bobbing at my knees,
hands entwined tightly side by side.
Entering the room next to me,
she’s my companion all the time.
Peeks around the corner into my room,
glancing at me
as I decide on what to wear.
I am her horse,
the back of her piggy,
and the airplane she needs to fly down the stairs
to catch her 7:30 breakfast connection.
Blue eyes gaze at me
when I allow her to try on my gold heels,
the tall, strappy ones I wore to my last party.
She struts and smiles
with extreme delight,
as I pretend to be her photographer
of her imaginary photo shoot.
She is my aunt, through and through,
same face
same look
same attitude.
Time for drawing
three o’clock on the dot,
she focuses hard on the pink flower
forming on her paper.
Six years old and having fun,
the days of encountering The Little Mermaid
are never done.
After the longest, hardest day
she is asleep,
sprawled on the couch
with her newest Barbie in-clutch.
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