11/5/14
11/4/14
Basketball
Some people think of basketball as a hobby, sport, game, activity, or time filler. To me, basketball is so much more than that. I play because I choose to. I choose to because I want to get better. I want to get better because I want somebody to ask me, "do you have any passions?" And me be able to say, "Basketball."
I go to the gym everyday. I put blood, sweat, and tears into it, literally. I work hard and play harder, because that's what I love to do, and when you love something, you don't just sit around and talk about it. You take actions into your own hands and show people that your not joking around. You do what you love and love what you do.
Finally
After a few weeks of inactivity and overdue work, I'm finally back in the group. I was stuck in science with 3 or 4 missing labs that I had to do over my PAT class. Thankfully, because of the grading day on Halloween, those assignments have been rendered moot. So now, I'm finally here. Sorry I'm late...
Six word memoir
Doing things right becomes a habit
Do things right the first time
Quit once, Quitting becomes a habit
11/3/14
The Déjà Vu Doll: A Short Story
There it was again. That soft, graceful lullaby.
Okay, let me start from the beginning.
I don't know what made me want to go through my old things. Just me being nostalgic, I guess. So anyways, I had just asked my dad where I could find some of my old stuff.
"You could try the attic. I'm not sure how long since I've been up there, though. Be careful. And put on good shoes!” He said. I ran up to my room and grabbed my old black high-top converse and slipped them on over my fuzzy socks I got last Christmas.
I walked down the hall and to the stairs that led up to the attic. I hadn’t remembered anyone going up there for years, so I didn’t know what I was expecting. On the first step, I put all of my weight on it to make sure it was stable. It creaked but it held still, so I went up. I was on the third step or so when I heard a faint singing. It sounded like a girl younger than me, but so on-pitch, it sounded fake. The second I popped my head up into the frigid room made of wood, I could sense the intense amount of dust. I looked around at a bunch of old stuff I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but the fact that nobody had been up here for years sent a chill down my spine. Once I was fully standing in the small room with the low, irregular ceiling, the singing stopped abruptly. I went over to a box that had “Abigail’s toys” written across the top and opened it curiously. The first couple things I saw were old story books and half-naked Barbie dolls. I was shuffling though the box not knowing what I was looking for, when I saw it.
10/29/14
10/27/14
Extraordinary
Sometimes
On a boring day like this
I feel like doing something
Extraordinary.
But I can’t
Because I’m ordinary
And I’m in stupid math class
In a falling apart
72-year-old school
In a stupid little town
Where our only fame
was born from a
Long distance runner
Who died
Drunk driving.
But he had cool hair.
Nowadays
All you have to do
Is get people’s attention
By being the absolute best
The most impressive
Over all the rest
To the people who can throw the football the farthest;
Run the fastest;
You lucked out.
To the people who can scrawl some words on a page
And leave the reader’s mouth hanging open;
Go for it.
Because there’s still those people
Sitting around
Who were always only halfway
To life’s expectations.
When asked what their hobbies were,
All they could ever think of was
Eating;
Because it’s better than being empty.
Sleeping;
Because it’s better than being awake.
And living out those glorious days where you don’t have those urges
To punch everyone in the face.
To all those people;
You’re not alone.
10/23/14
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