I am about to state the raw and horrible truth; No ones life is perfect. I know we all like to believe everything is La-Di-Da and there is no troubles in our own little bubble of life. But deep down we all know its not true. We all have things that happen that we don't like.
We might get a teacher that we don't like. We might have homework we don't want to do. We all crave things we can't have, and we all fear something at some point in our life. We all have weaknesses, we all have challenges, but that doesn't matter. What matters is what we do to overcome these challenges.
I think the first thing to think about when you are overcoming challenges is rewards. Every good challenge has a reward when we have overcome it, and if your challenge doesn't have a reward than you shouldn't try to overcome it. The second thing to think about is this; everyone does things at their own pace, so don't compare yourself with other people. It will only make your progress in overcoming these challenges go downhill. The third and most important thing is; PERSEVERANCE!
Perseverance is the most important because it is the only thing that will keep you going! If you have a reward and you don't compare yourself to other people, but you have no perseverance, You're lost! If you don't know what perseverance means, here is a definition; Keep on keeping on. It means never giving up. To keep your eye on the prize, the reward.
If you follow this advice I know you will go far. Just remember, number one; Have a reward, number two; Everyone progresses at their own pace, and number three; Keep on keeping on.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Scardey Student
Warning: This story is not true (Or is it?) so you do not have to feel sorry for anyone who is harmed in this story (Or do We?). And there are no teachers who would give this much homework.(Or is there?), so there is no reason to be scared of anything you read in this story ... (Or is there?)
Scaredy student was afraid of everything in the whole entire world so he tried to live the safest possible life anyone could live.(Or did he?) This was his daily schedule;
5:00 a.m.- Wake up and lie in bed listening for intruders who could jump him on the way to the light switch.
6:00 a.m.- Sit up and check extra padded slippers for Superglue, bugs, jam or any other sticky substance that would feel trapped under his toes.
6:30 a.m.- Put on extra padded slipper for protection against anything that might of fallen on the floor during the night.
6:45 a.m.- Put on clothes that completely match the school walls so he can blend in when the teachers come looking for him to do the HOMEWORK a.k.a. the H-word.
7:00 a.m.- Check cereal thoroughly for any surprise raisins.
7:15 a.m.- Eat cereal slowly to ensure that there is no choking involved.
8:00 a.m.- Walk to school avoiding sidewalks that are probably booby-trapped to fall through the earth as soon as you step on them.
8:30 a.m.- Arrive at school avoiding the outside Fields that could be holding mean football players that could Huck footballs at you at any time.
9:00 a.m.- Start school, avoiding homework, teachers, football fields, pencils,and cafeteria food.
3:00 p.m.- End school, throw homework away with rubber gloves and go home to hide under the bed.
Scaredy student was afraid of everything in the whole entire world so he tried to live the safest possible life anyone could live.(Or did he?) This was his daily schedule;
5:00 a.m.- Wake up and lie in bed listening for intruders who could jump him on the way to the light switch.
6:00 a.m.- Sit up and check extra padded slippers for Superglue, bugs, jam or any other sticky substance that would feel trapped under his toes.
6:30 a.m.- Put on extra padded slipper for protection against anything that might of fallen on the floor during the night.
6:45 a.m.- Put on clothes that completely match the school walls so he can blend in when the teachers come looking for him to do the HOMEWORK a.k.a. the H-word.
7:00 a.m.- Check cereal thoroughly for any surprise raisins.
7:15 a.m.- Eat cereal slowly to ensure that there is no choking involved.
8:00 a.m.- Walk to school avoiding sidewalks that are probably booby-trapped to fall through the earth as soon as you step on them.
8:30 a.m.- Arrive at school avoiding the outside Fields that could be holding mean football players that could Huck footballs at you at any time.
9:00 a.m.- Start school, avoiding homework, teachers, football fields, pencils,and cafeteria food.
3:00 p.m.- End school, throw homework away with rubber gloves and go home to hide under the bed.
That Morning started like any morning. Scardey Student was lying in his fluffy, protected bed straining his ears for intruders. When his mind started wandering from his work, and he started thinking. THINKING! The most scary thing of all! Thinking led to responsibility and that led to homework! He tried to direct my self back to my intruder listening, but he couldn't stop my flow of thoughts. The first thing that popped into his mind was Am I living the way I should be?
He tried to block that thought. The whole way to school he was saying to myself, Don't think that, Don't think that. He was so absorbed in not thinking that he accidently walked right into the touchdown zone of the football field! There was a game going on between our school and are arch enemies, CNB!
The MVP was running up the field trying to get the quarterback to throw to him, but then MVP slipped on the wet grass, just as the quarterback threw the ball! The ball sailed threw the air and landed right in scaredy students hands! It was a touchdown and thier team had won the game. That was the day scaredy student actually did his homework and stopped being a Scaredy Student.
He stopped wearing blend-in clotheing. He got right up without waiting to listen for intruders, and was not scared of anything ever again.
Well, except spiders.
Monday, October 19, 2009
My Favorite Memory
Sometimes when I am alone or at peace, like when I am falling asleep, I think back on my life. I pull out my memories from the darkest,dustiest corners of my brain, and I look them over. Its almost like putting on a slide show about me, and having my own private production in my mind. Sometimes I share some memories, but most of the time I just think about them.
I hold them up to the light and look them over. Some times I try to throw away a memory, but there is no trash can that I can put them in. They will always be there to haunt me. With these memories I usually criticize myself on what I could have done better. Or, if it was a memory where someone said something mean to me, I usually think of a good retort. But it is always too late.
Some of my memories I wish I could go back and just live it over and over. Just days of pure bliss when I want things never to change. Like when I ride horses on a warm summer day, Or when I read a book by candlelight with a cup of lemon tea. Especially the times when someone pays me a compliment that was right from the heart.That's when I feel like I could fly.
But out of all these good memories, I like one of them the most. It was a warm, sunny summer day. I was three at the time. Caleb (my 5-year-old brother) and I decided to go on a walk in the woods behind our house. We were going along, following the raspberry bushes, listening to the birds, when we saw an old hunting chair. I recognized it for what it was at once. I was immediately scared. I asked Caleb if the hunters would shoot us, thinking we were deer. Caleb said,
" There is no one up there and we are too small to be deer" I adored Caleb, (as a younger sister usually does) so I automatically believed him. After about 30 minutes of wandering around and eating raspberries in the sun-strewn woods, my dad found us. He was a little perplexed.
" Didn't you here me calling?"he asked. We said we hadn't and then, hand in hand ,we went home. That is my favorite memory because it shows how when we are young we are so innocent. We were not the least bit worried about getting lost or in trouble. We just decided to go for a walk and we went. I also got to spend time with my brother. Sure, we got in trouble afterward, but it was a great few minutes of just having fun and eating rasberries.
I hold them up to the light and look them over. Some times I try to throw away a memory, but there is no trash can that I can put them in. They will always be there to haunt me. With these memories I usually criticize myself on what I could have done better. Or, if it was a memory where someone said something mean to me, I usually think of a good retort. But it is always too late.
Some of my memories I wish I could go back and just live it over and over. Just days of pure bliss when I want things never to change. Like when I ride horses on a warm summer day, Or when I read a book by candlelight with a cup of lemon tea. Especially the times when someone pays me a compliment that was right from the heart.That's when I feel like I could fly.
But out of all these good memories, I like one of them the most. It was a warm, sunny summer day. I was three at the time. Caleb (my 5-year-old brother) and I decided to go on a walk in the woods behind our house. We were going along, following the raspberry bushes, listening to the birds, when we saw an old hunting chair. I recognized it for what it was at once. I was immediately scared. I asked Caleb if the hunters would shoot us, thinking we were deer. Caleb said,
" There is no one up there and we are too small to be deer" I adored Caleb, (as a younger sister usually does) so I automatically believed him. After about 30 minutes of wandering around and eating raspberries in the sun-strewn woods, my dad found us. He was a little perplexed.
" Didn't you here me calling?"he asked. We said we hadn't and then, hand in hand ,we went home. That is my favorite memory because it shows how when we are young we are so innocent. We were not the least bit worried about getting lost or in trouble. We just decided to go for a walk and we went. I also got to spend time with my brother. Sure, we got in trouble afterward, but it was a great few minutes of just having fun and eating rasberries.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Leaves of Autumn
Autumn is the reason
that green leaves go out of season.
Instead, they burst into flame
of any color you can name.
Some turn yellow, orange, and red.
Others curl up brown and dead.
Some turn purple, some stay green,
Autumn is the prettiest season I've seen.
But soon the trees are going bare
We know that winter will soon be there.
And all the animals fall asleep
Inside thier dens they dug so deep.
We'll see them again when springtime comes
Untill then we'll play with our chums
In the snow we'll sled and ski
While we scream and yell and laugh with glee
that green leaves go out of season.
Instead, they burst into flame
of any color you can name.
Some turn yellow, orange, and red.
Others curl up brown and dead.
Some turn purple, some stay green,
Autumn is the prettiest season I've seen.
But soon the trees are going bare
We know that winter will soon be there.
And all the animals fall asleep
Inside thier dens they dug so deep.
We'll see them again when springtime comes
Untill then we'll play with our chums
In the snow we'll sled and ski
While we scream and yell and laugh with glee
Thursday, October 8, 2009
If I were the Ruler of the World
If I were the ruler of the world, I would have a lot of responsibilities. There would be so many problems for me to solve, and so many people coming to me for help. If I even tried to organize this world I would have to go to everywhere and clean things up and answer peoples questions one place at a time. I would have such a long list! First, pollution, then, endangered animals, after that, war, then, slavery, child abuse, criminals, the list goes on. Everyone in the world would have ideas on how to solve the problems and I would have to pick one solution or combine some, but either way, I would have to choose. But, every choice I make there would be another person who didn't like my choice, and that would lead to rebels. Sometimes rebels can start war, and other times they would make attempts on my life. Yes,I mean assassination. It could happen, and then what? Would we declare a new leader or would we go back to our old ways? Then, we would of wasted all that work, time, and money for nothing. All in all, that is why I would not want to be the leader of the world.
I mean, I'm just a kid! I don't have the skill and knowledge to be a leader. I could think one thing and not know what it could lead to. I usually make very quick decisions and they lead to bad consequences. I also would have so much work to do in leading the world that I wouldn't live a real, fun life that kids are supposed to have. I would get tired because of responsibility and lack of sleep,and when I get tired, I get teary. That wouldn't be good to have the leader of the world crying in a meeting!
What I think we should do is choose one leader for every continent and then every Four months or so they will go and meet each other and share ideas and problems and solutions. This way, we would keep the world organized without having one person have all the responsibilities. We would work together to make the world strong, and a good, safe place to live. We would have our complications at first, but we would work it out. Then, we would all live in peace and harmony in an organized world.
I mean, I'm just a kid! I don't have the skill and knowledge to be a leader. I could think one thing and not know what it could lead to. I usually make very quick decisions and they lead to bad consequences. I also would have so much work to do in leading the world that I wouldn't live a real, fun life that kids are supposed to have. I would get tired because of responsibility and lack of sleep,and when I get tired, I get teary. That wouldn't be good to have the leader of the world crying in a meeting!
What I think we should do is choose one leader for every continent and then every Four months or so they will go and meet each other and share ideas and problems and solutions. This way, we would keep the world organized without having one person have all the responsibilities. We would work together to make the world strong, and a good, safe place to live. We would have our complications at first, but we would work it out. Then, we would all live in peace and harmony in an organized world.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Mashed Potatoes
The plate of steaming mashed potatoes was placed in front of me with a gentle plunk as it landed on the table. Its white, mealy inside was mixed with the tough, brown skin, that used to be covering the potato. It was glazed with bright golden butter and little flecks of black and white pepper and salt. the steam wafted up to my nose, carrying the mouth watering scent of my meal up my nostrils. I could hear my stomach growl as I stared at my mountain of goodness. I picked up my cold,hard fork as fast as politeness would allow and dug in.
As the hot potatoes entered my mouth, I was in heaven. The skins ground between my teeth and the insides mushed through my mouth. The creamy butter and salty potato mixed together in perfect harmony. As I swallowed, I could feel the warm mush sliding down my throat and landing in my stomach. I sat there, savoring the taste of my first bite before gobbling down another forkful of perfection.
When I finished, I leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh and patted my almost full stomach. I could not wait to have seconds.
As the hot potatoes entered my mouth, I was in heaven. The skins ground between my teeth and the insides mushed through my mouth. The creamy butter and salty potato mixed together in perfect harmony. As I swallowed, I could feel the warm mush sliding down my throat and landing in my stomach. I sat there, savoring the taste of my first bite before gobbling down another forkful of perfection.
When I finished, I leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh and patted my almost full stomach. I could not wait to have seconds.
Emotion Improving
I heard the bus roll onto our street and screech to a stop. I listened form my front entryway as my son called good-bye to his friends on the bus. He came in the door, a tiny light shining in his eyes, a big smile on his face, as he dropped his bag on the floor. I was dreading this moment. He saw my face and asked what was wrong.
"Daniel, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your cat got run over by a car this morning," I said, my voice quavering. The light, that was there a moment before, quietly faded from his eyes. His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he asked, hopefully,
"But Lucky is still alive right?" I shook my head. He let out a choked cry and ran into my outstretched arms. Tears spilled over and fell from his red, puffy eyes, streaming down his hot face and dripping onto my shoulder. He sobbed and sobbed, his tears of sadness flowed like a river out of his fourth grade body, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I remember when he first got that cat as a kitten, he insisted on letting it sleep with him. I remember when lucky had gotten sick and had to stay in the vets office. Daniel had had to sleep with me every night.
"Shh," I tried to calm him and soon the tears stopped. He went and sat on the couch. I had never seen such a forlorn face in all my life.
I was mad. My little sister had been in my room again and had broken my favorite doll. I stormed into the living room where my victim, my two-year-old sister Annie, smelling of baby powder, was sitting on the rug. She was playing happily with her Pooh-Bear teddy, chewing on his ear. I swooped low to the ground and pulled it away from her plump hands, a feeling of revenge pulsing in my veins.
She looked up at me, surprise written all over her little face. She calmly said,
"Teddy?" When I sneered in her face and didn't consent, her head slowly tilted to the ground. Her arms started to tense up and her body braced.
Then she let out a wail. Her face was red with fury, and her blue eyes pierced me indignantly. Angry tears streamed down her soft cheeks. I immediately felt guilty and gave the pooh bear back. She snatched it out of my reluctant hands and cuddled it close to her chest, staring at me all the while, making sure I didn't try to steal it again. I was sorry for what I had done, but she never ,ever, went into my room again.
"Welcome to the ninth inning of the championship game, folks! The bases are loaded.The California Dodgers and the Boston Red Sox are close in a 8 to 7 game. The Dodgers pitcher is on the mound, and he is pitching to the last batter. Will he strike him out and win the Tye? The weight of the game rests on his shoulders."
The announcer boomed over the loudspeaker, telling the details of the game, while I, the pitcher, Tom Sawyer, nervously paced the dugout full of sweaty players. The coach was drilling me on how to pitch. He was saying something about a screwball when the announcer screamed
" Let the inning begin!" I was up. I had to get this right or I, I mean we, lost the championship. The player on the plate looked mean. He had eyes like a hawk. I was going to have trouble striking this batter out. I scuffed the mound with my cleats. This was it.
I slowly brought my arms up, my right hand trapping the ball that was cradled in my gloved left hand. My left knee came up in sync with my arms, as if attached by a string. I stared the player down, and then I whipped my arms forward, my left hand falling down to my side as the ball flew from my right hand, and I stepped my left foot back to the mound. The ball sang through the air, and I heard the thump of the ball hitting the catchers glove, instead of the crack of the ball hitting the bat.
"Sttirrrrike one!" shouted the ump. I breathed a sigh of relief. One down, two to go. I repeated my sequence and got another strike. It was the last pitch. My brow ran with a map of tiny streams of sweat. We could win this with no struggle, if I did this right. I slowly brought my arms back feeling as if my stomach was having an earthquake. I drew a shaky breath and let her rip.
Zing, thump. "Strrriiike Three! The players exploded out of the dugout like an erupting volcano. Skipping, jumping, whooping, yelling, and waving their arms in the air. The descended on me like a waterfall and they lifted my up on their shoulders. We had won!
I had a headache just thinking about it. Mothers day was in two days, and I had planned to give my wife the night off by making dinner for her. Why, you ask,was I getting a headache? I was worried because I had never cooked anything in my 68-year-old life except for toaster waffles. I knew she wouldn't feel very special with a toaster waffle meal, so I had decided to make something different. But I had no Idea what.
Well mothers day dawned and I woke bright and early on the day that I would look back on as the day I learned to 'cook'. I flipped through the recipe book for something elaborate but easy. I finally decided on spaghetti with meat sauce and side of rolls and broccoli. That would be easy enough.
I got to work on mixing the dough. When that was what I hoped would be ready, I put it on to rise. Then I chopped broccoli and stuck it in some water on the stove, and put some noodles on to boil next to it. This is easier than I thought, I chuckled to myself.
Well, I guess I jinxed it because I was stirring the meat sauce when everything went wrong. All of a sudden the noodles, that I had actually forgot about, boiled over. While I was cleaning that up I noticed the noodles were waterlogged. hmm. As I was turning that off, this horrible smell of rotten eggs and burning onions entered the air.
The spatula I had used to stir the meat sauce was melting on the stove! I quickly picked that up, all the strings of the melting handle trailed after like spider webs, and dumped it into the sink. Then when I checked the bread it hadn't really risen. Oh well, into the oven it goes. Then I remembered, the broccoli! When I checked it, all the water had evaporated and the ends were burning. I guess we'll have to go without broccoli. Then the meat sauce started burning. Can things get any worse?!? I thought. And then the smoke alarm went off. The noodles were waterlogged, the bread was too small, the broccoli was limp, and the sauce was burnt! I fell to the ground in a dead faint.
"Daniel, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your cat got run over by a car this morning," I said, my voice quavering. The light, that was there a moment before, quietly faded from his eyes. His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he asked, hopefully,
"But Lucky is still alive right?" I shook my head. He let out a choked cry and ran into my outstretched arms. Tears spilled over and fell from his red, puffy eyes, streaming down his hot face and dripping onto my shoulder. He sobbed and sobbed, his tears of sadness flowed like a river out of his fourth grade body, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I remember when he first got that cat as a kitten, he insisted on letting it sleep with him. I remember when lucky had gotten sick and had to stay in the vets office. Daniel had had to sleep with me every night.
"Shh," I tried to calm him and soon the tears stopped. He went and sat on the couch. I had never seen such a forlorn face in all my life.
I was mad. My little sister had been in my room again and had broken my favorite doll. I stormed into the living room where my victim, my two-year-old sister Annie, smelling of baby powder, was sitting on the rug. She was playing happily with her Pooh-Bear teddy, chewing on his ear. I swooped low to the ground and pulled it away from her plump hands, a feeling of revenge pulsing in my veins.
She looked up at me, surprise written all over her little face. She calmly said,
"Teddy?" When I sneered in her face and didn't consent, her head slowly tilted to the ground. Her arms started to tense up and her body braced.
Then she let out a wail. Her face was red with fury, and her blue eyes pierced me indignantly. Angry tears streamed down her soft cheeks. I immediately felt guilty and gave the pooh bear back. She snatched it out of my reluctant hands and cuddled it close to her chest, staring at me all the while, making sure I didn't try to steal it again. I was sorry for what I had done, but she never ,ever, went into my room again.
"Welcome to the ninth inning of the championship game, folks! The bases are loaded.The California Dodgers and the Boston Red Sox are close in a 8 to 7 game. The Dodgers pitcher is on the mound, and he is pitching to the last batter. Will he strike him out and win the Tye? The weight of the game rests on his shoulders."
The announcer boomed over the loudspeaker, telling the details of the game, while I, the pitcher, Tom Sawyer, nervously paced the dugout full of sweaty players. The coach was drilling me on how to pitch. He was saying something about a screwball when the announcer screamed
" Let the inning begin!" I was up. I had to get this right or I, I mean we, lost the championship. The player on the plate looked mean. He had eyes like a hawk. I was going to have trouble striking this batter out. I scuffed the mound with my cleats. This was it.
I slowly brought my arms up, my right hand trapping the ball that was cradled in my gloved left hand. My left knee came up in sync with my arms, as if attached by a string. I stared the player down, and then I whipped my arms forward, my left hand falling down to my side as the ball flew from my right hand, and I stepped my left foot back to the mound. The ball sang through the air, and I heard the thump of the ball hitting the catchers glove, instead of the crack of the ball hitting the bat.
"Sttirrrrike one!" shouted the ump. I breathed a sigh of relief. One down, two to go. I repeated my sequence and got another strike. It was the last pitch. My brow ran with a map of tiny streams of sweat. We could win this with no struggle, if I did this right. I slowly brought my arms back feeling as if my stomach was having an earthquake. I drew a shaky breath and let her rip.
Zing, thump. "Strrriiike Three! The players exploded out of the dugout like an erupting volcano. Skipping, jumping, whooping, yelling, and waving their arms in the air. The descended on me like a waterfall and they lifted my up on their shoulders. We had won!
I had a headache just thinking about it. Mothers day was in two days, and I had planned to give my wife the night off by making dinner for her. Why, you ask,was I getting a headache? I was worried because I had never cooked anything in my 68-year-old life except for toaster waffles. I knew she wouldn't feel very special with a toaster waffle meal, so I had decided to make something different. But I had no Idea what.
Well mothers day dawned and I woke bright and early on the day that I would look back on as the day I learned to 'cook'. I flipped through the recipe book for something elaborate but easy. I finally decided on spaghetti with meat sauce and side of rolls and broccoli. That would be easy enough.
I got to work on mixing the dough. When that was what I hoped would be ready, I put it on to rise. Then I chopped broccoli and stuck it in some water on the stove, and put some noodles on to boil next to it. This is easier than I thought, I chuckled to myself.
Well, I guess I jinxed it because I was stirring the meat sauce when everything went wrong. All of a sudden the noodles, that I had actually forgot about, boiled over. While I was cleaning that up I noticed the noodles were waterlogged. hmm. As I was turning that off, this horrible smell of rotten eggs and burning onions entered the air.
The spatula I had used to stir the meat sauce was melting on the stove! I quickly picked that up, all the strings of the melting handle trailed after like spider webs, and dumped it into the sink. Then when I checked the bread it hadn't really risen. Oh well, into the oven it goes. Then I remembered, the broccoli! When I checked it, all the water had evaporated and the ends were burning. I guess we'll have to go without broccoli. Then the meat sauce started burning. Can things get any worse?!? I thought. And then the smoke alarm went off. The noodles were waterlogged, the bread was too small, the broccoli was limp, and the sauce was burnt! I fell to the ground in a dead faint.
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