A Vast Hell

It's June 2nd, 9a.m., and the humidity is only beginning to roll in.  Thick, ominous walls go up in the sky.  And Sam is stuck in the middle, suffocating in a brick box kids call school.  

Now don't get me wrong, the brick box isn't always so bad.  Sam sees his my friends, likes most of his classes and occasionally someone will open the windows.  It's just that today was exceptionally torturous.  Sam can see the light at the end of the tunnel, only seven more days and no longer could he be considered a high school student.  Only two classes did Sam have to endure each day, but those classes ticked on for hours.  Every passing second Sam was convinced the walls were moving in closer and closer.  

"Beeeeep," time for his second and last class of the day.  If sitting in class was difficult, walking through those dark, narrow halls was unbearable.  "I dare someone to walk through just one hall and not get pushed, shoved, smacked with an oversized backpack, trip over a wheely-backpack, coughed on or drowned in a sea of Axe and other overused cologne," Sam thought to himself.  Hurry, hurry!  Up the stairs and into the safety of a classroom; ehhh or not.  First, it's an economics classroom = not fun!  Second, that annoying pot head is talking nonsense again, the second bell hasn't even rung and already Mrs. Moody has steam coming out of her ears.  

Forty minuets, less than an hour and Sam is home-free.  Free to watch t.v. and sleep, or play soccer, or eat an entire pizza, whatever he wants, schoolwork is out of the equation.  "Wait, did the minute hand just move backwards?  God, PLEASE get me out of here, I'm going insane!"  Sam could not sit still.  "38 minutes and 54 seconds, 38:53, 52, 51. . .," was all Sam could think about to keep his mind from exploding.  

"Okay, take out a sheet of paper, books away, time for your quiz."

We have a quiz?! On what chapter? Why couldn't I have gotten the swine flu like every other kid in this world?        

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one . . . beeeep! Sam ran out of that classroom and was in the student parking lot before the halls could swarm with buzzing students.  But of course, Sam thought, as the bored security guard chased Sam to his car.  

"Do you have I.D.?"

"You see my I.D. everyday.  Remember, you ask for my I.D., I roll my eyes, take it out of my wallet, you stare at if for a good three seconds then go "Oh yes, Sam, okay Sam I will remember you."

"Don't give me that attitude, these are the rules, blah blah blah, now where is your I.D.?"

  Don't get mad, stay calm, you're almost home.  Five more minutes.  Five, four, three, two, one. 

          

Someday My Prince Will Come by Jerramy Fine

From the title of this book you may assume that this is some fluffy story about fairy tales and teenage romance.  Well, haven't you ever heard the expression, "Don't judge a book by its cover?"  What caught my attention of this book was that on the cover it reads, " True Adventures of a Wannabe Princess."  Right away I just had to know what sort of life this author had that sounded so much like a crazy, fictional, romantic story.  From introducing herself at age six, fixated on the fact that she belonged in Buckingham Palace married to a yet-to-be prince, until the end at around age 26, never giving up on her childhood Disney princess dream, Jerramy Fine delights her audience with twists and humor on every page.  I especially loved this memoir because Fine travels around England and takes chances because she is determined to go after the impossible and live happily ever after like a true princess.  Her story is inspiring and humorous; showing that the strength of one's free will can be the greatest influence in one's fate.   

When It Happens by Susane Colasanti

When It Happens is the perfect easy-read, beach book for the love struck teenage girl.  The author, Susane Colasanti is a high school teacher and hears the language and sees the motions of teens daily.  The dialogue is realistic, using slang such as "mad" and "like."  Her characters are multi-layered with multiple issues from college, grades, parents, cliques and school events; the problems her characters experience are extremely real and relatable, unlike the drama shown in Gossip Girl.  

I really enjoyed this book because I needed a break from all the serious and deep-thinking Jodi Picoult books and others similar.  When It Happens is a fun romance and proves that if you truly care for something or someone and have motivation to work for what you want and look to then anything can happen.  Colasanti gives teenage girls (and guys) the courage to believe and hope for what may seem to be the impossible, "When you find something real, everything else falls into place. . ."    

My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult

If you have a sister, a brother, a best friend who is like a sibling then My Sister's Keeper is a must read.  It is intriguing and emotional, fueling talk among friends but most importantly family.  The relationship between two sisters, Anna and Kate Fitzgerald, is unlike any sister relationship I know of because a part of Anna is literally part of Kate.  I also appreciate their bond because the two are best friends and would do anything for each other, just like my sister and I are.  This inspiring novel also demonstrates how many families undergo incredulous struggles and must live on a second to second basis everyday, never knowing what is ahead of them.  I will admit, at times I take my life and opportunities for granted; I know that I will be graduating high school in a few months, going to prom, going to college and I have a ton of friends always by my side.  However, for Kate know one knows if this can be the case, know one knows how much farther she can push.  Picoult has helped me open my eyes a little bit more and show how I must live in the moment and appreciate all that I am fortunate enough to do.  Another reason I was touched by this story is because Kate and Anna are about the same ages my sister and I are now, so I felt incredibly close to these two characters, but can't possibly imagine the fight they must put up every day.  "My Sister's Keeper is the story of one family's struggle for the survival at all human costs and a stunning moral parable for all time."

P.S. this story has the saddest ending I have ever read.  You will be in shock and in tears, but no doubt awed and inspired.        

Vanishing Acts by Jodi Picoult

Lost on Mt. Ventoux

For some strange reason Cedric, Lauren and Nick thought it would be fun to take their 15 campers on a night hike up to the highest peak in Providence, France. Bundling up in layers and packing their knapsacks with food and water the adventurous group headed out at 10p.m. for the anticipated hike.

"Can we use our flashlights," one boy asked?

"No, just follow the stars," replied Cedric.

"But we're in the woods, we can't see our own two feet let alone the stars being blocked by hundreds of trees."

"Well then grab the bag of the person in front of you and everyone follow me. Remember to look for markers on the trees!"  

"But we can't see anything! Can we just turn around, who cares about watching some stupid sunrise?"

"Will you just have some faith please, stop complaining."

And the 18 hikers continued on their way with minimal complaints. Wait no, with a lot of complaints . . . and aches and pains and, "is this is a group of 17 year olds or 70 year olds?" Cedirc asked. "Five more minutes and I promise the top is just around the bend."

Ten minutes later and Cedric was still saying "Five more minutes!" Twenty minutes later and he was still saying "Five more minutes!"

"And you told us to have faith," said one of the girls. "Admit it, you have no idea where we are and where you are going."

"I promise, just five more minutes," replied Cedric.

 "I've heard that one before."

With barely any food or water left, sweating and shivering at the same time, the group finally made it up to 7,000 feet and saw some light up ahead. Literally in the middle of no where there was this huge house lit up bright in the vast opening of the woods. Tired and practically falling over a few of the boys jumped the fence and sprinted off toward the house to make sure it really wasn't some mirage. However, before the boys could make it to the front door a group of loud dogs charged at these crazy intruders. There was noise and energy all around as if the fatigue the group just felt hiked away on its own. Cedirc, Nick and Lauren were yelling at the boys who jumped the fence, others were fighting over whatever food was left, some kids passed out on the ground and those crazy boys were fighting with the dogs. Then, as if magic had taken over, the dogs fell silent and the boys still. Everyone looked up to see a large, burly man with a long, knotted beard shadowing over the group.  Without a word the group slowly backed off the man's property, turned and swiftly walked, or ran rather, into the dark of the woods. Reorganizing themselves on the trail Cedric promised that if they weren't at the top in five minutes he would run ahead to see how much further the trail went and if there were any signs of light.  

Five minutes, 15 bruises and scratches and 500 complaints later guess what?  They were at the top and just in time to witness a fiery and vibrant sunrise overlooking all the mountain tops of Providence, France.

The Color of Water by James McBride

I love memoirs because each story is so unique and astonishing, and however shocking and unrealistic some events seem to be, in truth everything is real and has happened to someone. Because memoirs are true stories, I also feel like many people can connect and relate to the characters more compared to characters in a fiction story. "The Color of Water" is inspiring, moving, and unforgettable.  It is definitely a book I recommend for people of any gender, race, age and faith.  As described on the cover, this story is "A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother."  Because of this tribute people of all colors and faiths need to read this memoir; I have no doubts that no one will not connect with and love this story.  McBride fluently breaks cultural barriers and expresses his and his mother's life stories in a way that can only be demonstrated when you read this book.  Told through two voices, son's and mother's, the paired histories and rich experiences are beautifully  set side by side making a strong statement at a time of racial polarization.      

Wisdom Teeth

I roll over and stare at my clock that reads 6:30 a.m. as I hear my sister's obnoxious alarm from the next room.  I finally get to sleep in but, of course, every other person in my house has no consideration for that.  Whatever.  I roll over, close my eyes, bury myself under my blanket and try not to think of the day ahead.  Finally, I drag myself out of bed an hour later, first period is starting and I am so thankful I don't have to sit through another lecture on the burning of fossil fuels or watch an hour and a half documentary on the "Call of the Loon."  

My stomach growls for solid food, but all I can have is a very little bit of water or apple juice.  I sit back down on my bed and want to crawl back asleep but then I hear my phone vibrate and I have a text from my friend Molly; she says, "Good Luck!!!!"  Ugh! Why did she have to remind me?  Did I mention that I am getting my wisdom teeth pulled today?  Yes, all four.  Hmm... maybe I would rather be in school.

It is now ten o'clock.  I sit impatiently as the cold, stale air of the dental office settles around me.  The nurse straps a blood pressure pump around my arm and it tightens and tightens, I think to myself, I may not need anesthesia after the pain of this makes me pass out.  And then walks in the doctor.  Look at him with his stupid smile, trying to be all friendly.  Well, let me tell you, I am not liking him too much right now.  If the man who is pulling four teeth out of my head thinks he's getting a smile from me well think again buddy.  It's eleven o'clock.  All my friends are at lunch, they're probably at Parkway or Dunkin right now, seeping their teeth into donuts and sipping iced coffee.  Yep, school is looking really nice right about now.

An hour or so later I wake up confused, stiff, tired, and numb.  Where the hell am I and why can't I feel my face?  I look to my left and see my mom sitting next to me holding ice packs.  Oh yea, now I remember, I just had four of my freaking teeth pulled out of my head.  Wow, I never thought I'd think this, but I wish I was in Calc right now.  

After a little while longer I work up the strength to sit up, oh wait, yep, I'm still dizzy.  The nurse quickly hooks me up to an oxygen mask.  My mom is still sitting next to me, she has on that same fake smile my doctor had, but I can see right past her and I know I must look terrible.  "How much longer will I feel like this?" I some how successfully mumble to the nurse. "Probably for the rest of the day, you will most likely sleep through all the numbness and just make sure to ice every 20 minutes."  I ask for water but can't feel my chin or lips so my mom has to feed me, I can't even feel myself swallow.  This is just perfect.  Oh yea, that AP Psych test is looking sweet compared to this.  And my friends were jealous because I got to sleep a little extra this morning.  Well, if any of them want to trade places that is okay by me.  

The moment has finally come.  I am back home and in bed quickly falling back asleep.  Ahh, this is good.  Sucks for all my friends sitting in school right now.

Map Poem

The Trailer Park

The Hopi Native selling Barbie dolls out of her trench coat,

It was her trailer.

Rainbow wind-catchers hang over the doorway

And hundreds of feathers are tied with green string and leather to the branches Of the Paloverde tree.

Red sand and dust . . . it's everywhere.

Inside, inside is an even bigger mess.

I can see, practically touch the rotting old futon on the opposite side of the trailer.

Barbies peeking out from every corner like gophers.

Boxes of junk or tins of beads and feathers lay among glue guns like discarded murder weapons on the floor. 

She opens a draw, it is full of twigs and pencils.

She opens another, it is full of beads and dirt.

Dusty old appliances,

Heaps of vintage magazines,

And smashed toys lie among the masses.

I ask, "Is this someone's home or a junk yard?"

The air is stiff,

There is nowind,noshade,nospace,noescape.

The tiny trailer seems to shrink as the heat expands.

Sweat.

Salt.

Tears.

"Greta, I don't think we're in New Hampshire anymore."

Based on: Vanishing Acts by Jodi Picoult

How to Become a Dancer

First, find a dance studio that offers every type of dance imaginable.  Sign up for every type of dance class you can fit into your schedule.  Then, sign up for more classes.  

Tap.  Jazz.  Hip-hop.  Modern.  Ballet.  Pointe.  Lyrical.  Musical Theater.  Ballroom.  Salsa.  Belly dancing.  African.  Tango.  Break dancing.  Square dancing.  Flamenco.  Folk.  Swing. 

When your best friends and your parents call you crazy and tell you, "There is no way you'll be able to keep up," laugh in their faces and say, "I love to dance! Dancing is my life!"  While secretly, you hate going to every single class.  You'd rather be going any where else than to be with the other more talented dancers and your "wanna-be Rockette" teacher.  However, after a few hours of many, many, many splits, leaps, turns, and bourree pas des you think, "Hey, maybe dance isn't so bad."  No matter how many times that wanna-be Rockette corrected you position and pretty much called you fat.  What does she know anyway?  Criticize your teacher, which totally brings up your mood and then treat yourself to a great dinner.  

After a whole year of breaking in your many new pairs of dance shoes decide to drop out of all but four classes and make your mom so mad for, "Wasting my money on all those classes, shoes, and clothes!"  Wake up and see that you disliked dance because it was taking control of your life, now it is time to take control of dance.  Dedicate your strength into the dance that you love, that you are good at, and that you want to improve on.  Forget what all your friends say or think, deep down inside they're just jealous because they can't dance.

Perform in the end of the year benefit dance show and blow away everyone's mind and preconceptions.  Prove to everyone that you are not a quitter.  You will be so proud of yourself for sticking to those four dance classes that you sign up for more the following year.  Fail in many of them.  Hate dance.  But then fall in love again.  

Vanishing Acts - Jodi Picoult

I love Jodi Picoult, I have read four of her other books and loved every single one; however, I was not ready for my fifth encounter with Picoult.  I expected drama and shock, but with every turn of a page in this novel there is a new mystery and a new discovery.  I am truly enjoying the suspense because it keeps me engaged and interested in continuing reading.  The emotions Picoult plays on helps to bring her characters to life; I want to cry for the main character and play with the little girl and go on a search-and-rescue with the bloodhound.  I honestly can not wait to finish reading this amazing novel and discover another intriguing Jodi Picoult stroy.  

Who Said Reading Isn't Cool?

Being honest with yourself and others is very important because honesty will only help you realize your full potential and true beliefs. Although the truth may hurt sometimes, admitting to the truth as to why or why not we read is very beneficial for you to become an active reader. In the article by Motoko Rich, "A Good Mystery: Why We Read," Rich explains that reading is like internal punishment and that many people have "literary indifference." I find that literary indifference comes from many high school students because they find reading boring or seen more of as work and a chore than enjoyment and leisure. What helps me to really get into a great book is finding the perfect series or author that I can escape with and pretend that I am a new character. Like Rich said, interest is "shaped in part by external forces . . . by a spark within the imagination." When I find an intiguing author or series I want to read every book without stopping, I want to become the character and truly understand where he/she is coming from and what he/she is experiencing. I know I have found the perfect book when I laugh out loud and want to cry or scream or dance.
I disagree with Wesley Jackson when he says in his article, "Why We Read," that "Reading isn't cool." If reading is an activity that you do becuase you enjoy it and you can be transformed into a hundred different characters and travel to a thousand different lands then reading is very cool.