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Descriptive Essay: A Weight Have Been lifted Of my Shoulder

Posted by Amy Chen in English 2 - Block on

A few months ago, I had just received an invitation for a scholar program called The National  Society of High School Scholar. I scan the envelope from back to front, I was so curious. The envelope texture was so high quality. The golden color, the rough paper which felted so smooth, the envelope looked so thin. I tumble up the staircase into my room to grab a scissor to cut the edge off smoothy. Slowy I remove the letter from the envelope and the first word that came directed to my eye was, “Congratulations!” I was even more curious on what the letter was about, I slowly read through the letter making sure I read every information. I was so excited on what the letter said, I immediately went to my dad, asking can I join, I was so hype. I believe I was talking so fast that my dad didn’t really understand me.

Finally, when I received my membership kit I was so excited that I ripped the box open. I flipped my laptop open, logging into the website to see any scholar available. As soon as the page loaded, I saw a event on August 3 at Washington D.C on their homepage about their 2012 Annual Scholar’s Day Event. I register for it immediately without think. I felt so conflicted with the idea of my parents letting me. So I told myself that I will tell them 2 week before the event start.



Two weeks later:
Me: “Daddy, can I got to an event in Washington D.C for the NSHSS?”
Dad: “No, it’s too far, who is going to take you?”
Me: “I will take the train there and stay in a hotel for 1 night or I can stay over uncle house at Washington D.C.”
Dad: “Ask your mom?”
Me: “Well it can help me in the future and I get to met famous people like Claes Nobel and it will even look good when I apply for colleges.”
Dad: “Fine, okay. You can go.”

That night when my mom came home around 9 o'clock. I told her that “Mommy, Daddy said I can go to Washington D.C for the annual for the NSHSS.”
My mom immediately responded, “No, it’s too far and your dad just called me saying to stop you from going.”
I grip my fist up into a ball inside my pocket and I felt like I had just been stab in the chest. I felt so hurt. I responded saying, “No he didn’t! He said I can go and I’m still going! I don’t care! I plan out everything already! You never let me go nowhere! All you care about is trapping me at home!”
She yelled at me how stupid I am and how I don’t know anything. Without thinking, I walked out the house sitting on my swing, refusing to look at her or to speak to her. I felt like my heart just skipped a beat and my chest felt so tight from all this anger. That night was cold so, I balled myself into a ball while sitting on the swing to keep myself warm. I rubbed my two hand together to create some heat for my body and started rubbing my forearm. I heard the door open and it was my mom. She said, “Get inside the house.” I ducked my head under her arm so I wouldn’t slam my head on her arm. I skipped two steps up the staircase to get away from her.
I shut my room tight and tear started to run down my face. I can taste the salting tear drip down my face. I wonder to myself thinking that Why can’t I go? She never let me go anywhere. She always get to choose what I have to do, this is so unfair. Sometime I wonder, why don’t parent believe in their child on making the right choice. Why can’t they believe them on the path they choose to take. More and more thoughts came to mind. I know I have a path that I want to take, I want to become a doctor. Can they really compare me to other people who they never met, or are they just want me to take their path, a path that they never took and want me to succeed that path.

People like me have their own dreams and goals and no one want to live of your parent in the future. Yes, there are time when I play around and act stupid but when it comes to education, I am a competitive person who like to stand out and succeed with my own acknowledgment or power with something that I earned, not from the power of my parent.

I flipped my laptop screen open again, logging back into the NSHSS home page and stared at the screen. I was debating on should I unregister or should I disobey her and do what I want to do and what is good for me in the future?” My tear stop running down my face and when I blink, my eye burn for crying and staring at the screen too long.
One week later, my dad, my mom and I drove off to Washington D.C to pick up my brother and sisters from my uncle house. I had a whole row open for myself and I layed down, relaxing until we arrived. During dinner, we celebrate and sang a Happy birthday song for my sister, Cindy. Suddenly my mom bought up the situation about me going to washington D.C. My uncle immediately said “why don’t she stay here? I can take her there since I live here.” I felt like a whole weight had been lifted of my shoulder and I was so relieved. I body felted so light like I was floating. I thought to myself, “how come only my uncle could understand me but not my mom?” My mom said, “okay to my uncle,” and I was so happy that I just ran up my cousin room and started jumping on her bed while playing the mini guitar.
That night, I layed in my cousin bed thinking. Why was my mom so worried about me getting lost? I am grown enough. I also soon realize that I was wrong. My mom was only worried and denied that I can’t go because she was concern of my safety. But still I think that we as her child have the right to make our right choice then living under a circumstance of their rules.


Descriptive Essay: The Proposal

Posted by Sieanna Williams in English 2 - Block on


“Because I said so!” 

I shook my head in disbelief. If only I’d been meditating right now, my mom would be the perfect example of someone barking up my tree pose. I never understood the phrase, because I said so. I didn’t understand how someone could limit another person’s desires. Angry that my mother denied me getting four extra ear-piercings, I marched my loud, brick-like feet to my room, snatching white mac laptop out of my book-bag, and huffed into the only bathroom of our 2-bedroom apartment, slamming the door shut behind me. 

As a burning sensation sizzled at the basement of my eyelids, I quickly wiped the incoming flood from my eyes with my cocoa butter scented hands. I watched as the clear, single stream of sorrow rolled down my clear, hardened nail and over my ring finger. Miraculously, the tear rolled around the end of my finger. It was official, I’d cried these tears so many times, we might as well had been married. Sorrow was proposing itself to me. But my heart belonged to happiness, apparently the feelings weren’t mutual. 

I sat down on the toilet and went through my itunes’ Hot Chelle Rae playlist, looking for a song to listen to. I saw Keep You With Me and let it play, turning up the volume so I could hear it while I showered. After undressing, I threw my white towel over the silver, metallic shower curtain rod and stepped cautiously into the steaming shower tub. I sung along to my favorite Hot Chelle Rae song. When song was over, I wiped my hand dry on my towel before reaching out to switch the song, but then the softest song came on, Last One Standing. Suddenly a warm vibe flowed over my body from head to toe. Usually, that meant that my chakras were coming to alignment, a normal feeling whenever I meditated, but this was slightly different, more powerful. It wasn’t even as if the lyrics were getting to me, because it was simply a romantic song. 

After my shower, I went into my bedroom to dress in loose, comfortable clothing, and cleared my bedroom space as I always do when meditating. I turned off my cell phone and unplugged my radio. Electronics can interfere with my energy and set off unbalanced vibes.

Since I usually meditate with music, I left the exception of my laptop, and proceeded to turn on Last One Standing. Since my chakras were in a fair enough alignment for the time being, I decided not to focus on anything special tonight. I simply let the melodic sensations flow through me as they did earlier in the shower. I felt nothing as the song played. I had it on repeat for three times before I gave up. Maybe it’s because I’m expecting it. I thought. 

The next day I awoke on my long, soft, grey sofa I’d fallen asleep on the night before. My sister and my mom were sitting across from me, talking. The second they saw me pop my eyes open, they wasted no time badgering me with accusations and pointing fingers. I sat up, confused.

“What?” I said, wiping the morning out of my eyes.

“You can’t touch the laptop anymore. You left it on last night. Again.” Breanna said.

I tried my best to defend myself. This was only my second time in the three years we’ve had the old IMB. Still, my mother and sister banned me from the computer. Frustrated, I stormed upstairs and decided to take a much needed, relaxing bath.

 As I sat in the white tub full of hot water, I let my itunes music play on random. And just like magic, Last One Standing came on. There was that warm vibe again, stretching through me from head to toe. It was clear to me now, this was a stress relieving song that only affected me when I was washing up. That was the moment I fell in love with my bathroom. The bathroom’s main purpose is to cleanse, both your outside and your inside. Maybe it was cleansing my chakras, my soul, or even my mentality if not all of them. Whichever it was, it was the equivalent to slumber’s tranquility. On that day, I said “yes” to sorrow’s proposal. Because as long as sorrow remained holding my hand, happiness would come running back to me. I had the best of both worlds. Jealousy never felt so great. 

Descriptive Essay: Infidelity

Posted by Crystalle Hutchins in English 2 - Block on

I have no choice but to flashback to that night every time I hear that song. It was about 1 in the morning. I was in a deep slumber on my twin bed, head in the direction of the door instead of my window when I awake to that dreaded bright yellow hallway light and every curse word ever created. It was my mother’s voice. “What is happening?”, I whisper. No church-going woman would curse like that. My eyes throbbed, light seeping in from the cracks of my bedroom door and ears ached from the extreme decibels suddenly replacing the usual silence. Still, I heard the quiet whisper of water running from the bathroom. It soon disappeared. A door slowly opens. I begin to hear my mother screaming at my father. “Is this real?”, I begin to question if I am still dreaming but I quickly accept that this is all too real. I’ve never heard them have an argument like that before, but of course it was always plausible. I was too afraid and confused to open my bedroom’s door. So my mom slammed it open for me. “Get dressed, we’re leaving!” I did as I was told. My limp arms picked up a pair of jeans and slipped them on. I pulled a hoodie over my pajama tee. I dragged my feet across the hallway, my little eight year old body stumbled down the stairs, then out the front door. It was a cold October night.  I felt spotlightted by the streetlights as I walked across the street to the little purple Subaru. My brothers accompanied me in the car. The look on my brother Jared’s face was irritated and confused, just like mine. When I looked at my oldest brother, Christian’s face, he looked very calm, sleepy, but calm. Like he knew something we didn’t know. And here is when the song comes in.


“Ordinary People” by John Legend plays when my mother turns on the radio. That sound blasted all the way to my grandmom’s house. My mom was driving so fast that the wind beat against my face making my already slender eyes close completely and my ears stuffed with the night’s air, but I could still hear every lyric and melody of the song. It was the only song that played in the car that night, the only one that had time to play. I didn’t know at the time that song would resonate and connect to that specific experience. Whenever I hear that song I go back to that night. It was the night that my blindness was snatched away from me as quick as a dark room turns bright with the flip of a switch. This was the first night I began to find out the truth about my parent’s unhealthy relationship.

4 years later and things were only going to get worse. On a night in December of 2009, my dad told my brothers and me to get ready because he was going to pick us up to spend some time with us. This seemed slightly odd because my dad very rarely took us out anywhere. But he didn’t live with us at the time so I understood. We walked to the black Lexus across the street and got in. There was a woman in the passenger’s seat. “This is my friend Terri.”, my dad says to the three of us and like the programmed-polite kids we were, we responded with a “Hello” and the car took off. I listened to the two adults make small talk and my mind wandered to be more consumed by where we were going than contemplating who this lady was. My father had hundreds of friends so I literally had no suspicion. We stopped at Little Caesar's pizza restaurant and got our dinner. Then we rode to my Aunt’s house who was a friend of Terri and we ate pizza, watched some terrible TV, overall it was boring and I just wanted to go home.


When we arrived at our house my mom asked about how our night went. My brothers and I told her that we just went over our Aunt Kesha’s house and had pizza. Then the most important detail was revealed. I don’t remember which one of us told her but I know they said “Dad’s friend Terri was with us.” In that moment, as I looked at the expression on my mother’s face, filled shock and disbelief, I knew that I underestimated my father’s “friend”. “You were with who?” my mother said as her eyes were wide open, anxiously waiting for an answer. “Dad had his friend Terri with him.” My mom preceded to go ballistic, taking all my father’s clothes and placing them on our porch. He was forced to come to pick them up to avoid his clothes being stolen by the members of the shady neighborhood. The removal of his physical items symbolized his emotional separation from his loving family, who had always been there for him.
I later found out that my father disrespected my mother’s wishes to keep his affair a secret from his children until my mother was ready to tell us. I know that is the gist of the argument. I was still in the house in a daze when all this happened. All I knew is that this was the second time my father made my mother angry because of infidelity.

My father once again was only concerned with himself in this situation. All my mother asked of him was to give her the chance to tell us what was going on when she felt the time was right. But my father’s selfish mind allowed him to do what he wanted, when he wanted. I believe he didn’t care if it would upset my mother because he wanted to have his fun, like he had been doing through all of his adulthood, and not caring who he had to disappoint to do so.

People either use their tortured past to better themselves, or they stay bitter and let everyone that comes in their path feel that hurt they feel. You have to learn who you are dealing with. If it is the ladder, you must completely separate yourself from them until they learn to be constructive, not destructive. My dad was “neglected” as a child and as an adult he chose to lavish himself with whatever his heart desired, but didn’t account for how it might affect everyone else affected by his actions. Sometimes with material luxuries, but it was always more hurtful when he emotionally lavished himself only to leave my mother out in the cold. That hurt she felt, I felt because my mother’s happiness has always been a priority in my life. I learned to lose dependence on my father for anything because he just didn’t know how to be selfless.

Descriptive Essay: My Black Is Beautiful

Posted by Ashley Spells in English 2 - Block on

“My black is beautiful” Now that I’m 15 i know that now. You think I got it easy I don't ,if you was there in second grade when they could tease me you would know exactly how I felt. This is my story.
It was 7:00 am , my mom came in my room and woke me up for the first day of school. “ Ashley , its 7 o’ clock get up its time for school!” she said. I woke up about five mins. Later walked slowly like a zombie to the bathroom. I was so sleepy ! 7 o’ clock came fast! I turned on the shower and let the water run. I grabbed my pink rag from the rack and the pink dove soap from the soap dish and hoped in the shower. After i got finshed washing up , I went to my room and started to get dress. It was the first day of second grade i was so hype and excited and of course i wanted to look nice. My mom brought my freshly ironed navy blue pants with the cress in them ,my fresh white 2 button short sleeve uniform shirt my navy blue sweater , my white uniform socks and my playless black mary janes to me. As I was getting dress I smelled this lovely aroma , it smell so good , it was my breakfast, it was about 7:45am  I went down stairs to the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mom made me some waffles. As I finshed at breakfast i grabed my bratz bookbag and walked to school with my mom. It was 8:15 and I was standing in line with the other kids , waiting for our teacher to come out.
When we finally got in the class , we had assigned seats I had to sit with Marvin KC , Aarin and Miah they made my life I living hell. Who knew that 4 little second graders where this much trouble. When I first sat down Aarin whispered and said “Why is she so black” , I guess she thought I didnt hear it. I didnt pay it no mind at first but than more mean stuff keep coming , not just from the girls but from the boys too. KC said “Ashley is black as the street” everyone laughed. At  first I was chillen , didnt pay it no mind but when mean things are keep coming at you what do you do? I thought to my self why am i so dark , why do i have a gap in my teeth , why am I so little , why am I so skinny everything negative  rushed to my head. I didn't understand why God made me this way. I always asked myself why did God create me , did he create me to be the laughing stock of the whole class.I didnt love myself for who I really was. i wanted to be light skin because majority of my class mates was , not saying i’m a follower but I justed wanted the attacks to stop! I told my mom , what they said about me she said “ Baby , dont worry you are beautiful”. I didn't feel like it though. I felt hurt , I was confused. I use to get teased everyday , but now I know who I am. I know why god put me on this earth.  I’m me ! Nobody can take it anyway from me. I live in the centry where being dark is not ugly but its beautiful! I dont have to feel like i dont belong. I feel comfortable in my own skin. Im fine how i am. So what if I’m darkskin , I rather have color than none at all! I learned alot from what Miah , Marvin ,KC and Aarin told me , back than it hurted but know I can just sit back and laugh , because I know my black is beautiful!!


Descriptive Essay; The Matter of Truth

Posted by Aaron Tang in English 2 - Block on

I thought about this for many times about what I can improve on my problems but, it had swollen me instantly. I tried to act like nothing has happened to me so no one can bug me. Day after day, there has to be a misfortune of moments when there’s a lot of tossing and fussing. I never thought I could be so disturbed with so many things going on. I should have known better than this;  it builds up more and more where I became outraged. Being the oldest child can be difficult because I have to work my ways up as being a brother to support my family.  So here it begins.

The long afternoon had finally dragged on, it was a sticky humid summer day blazing above the sky. I was in the van, while my mom was driving, my cousin in the passenger seat with my siblings in the back. I was also in the back of the car next to my youngest sister while spacing out through the windows. I didn’t know where we were going so I looked through the blind shades. Then I turned and looked away trying to listen the soft radio music. My cousin and my mom was talking and my siblings were playing.

I was in the car for eight minutes, still wondering about moving. I remember months ago, when my  father bragged to my mom’s friends, about how he treated his family well. He said “I came here to search for a house for my family.” We’ve been  keeping his words for couple months by now. Time continued to jump forward and still there were no answers.  The disappointment on my face grew darker. I still had hope in him because he is my father and we forgive him eventually. Then the memories cut into the reality.
The air in the car was cold, where the air conditioner blasted on high. I felt squished because boxes and groceries were cramming on my foot. I wasn’t really bothered by it so I put my right arm on the seat rester and supported my head so I can close my eyes. We had a long day after working. Everything became blank when I didn’t care about anything. I just wanted to go home, getting some rest.
In the matter of seconds, my phone vibrated inside my front pocket, on the left. I took my phone, shaking. I told them it was my father and everyone was quiet while the music was turned off. My dad said, “I couldn’t buy the house because we don’t have that much money.” It was an outrage, I yelled at my dad about not keeping his words. My eyes were red and it was watering, where it felt like it was going to explode. I was yelling at him, while tears was dripping down my face. I raised my arms hitting the passenger seats, kicking the chair when my voice was furious. He kept on giving excuses so I hung up on him.
That moment I went out of control. I didn’t know what was happening because it physically just happen and I was in depression mode. Everyone in the car was just in shock because it was a long time since I did something like that. I couldn’t believe I did this horrible things in front of everyone, but at the same time I felt delighted when I yelled at my dad because he deserves it. I didn’t really bother my dad when he always talk so convincing, which he sometimes does and I need to step up on pressuring his guilt.

All this time I kept my hopes up for nothing where he brags about the wonderful things for my siblings and I. Inside of me, I was hurt. It was pain. My chest turned upside down. I thought I could believe him, but I couldn’t trust him again. The car became dull as the night sky. No one talked nor make a creek sound. I just stared through the windows, when my mind was completely emptied, trying to keep my temper low.

The relationship between my family members became worst because no one kept their words. I was acting foolish earlier but, I couldn’t keep the pain inside me.  It changed me after what just happened. Sometimes people convince me with their words and I would easily fall for them. I don’t know who I can trust. There are times when I needed someone to talk to. I would just talk to my cousins and sometimes I feel better.  Why can’t I have a better life? I can’t have a perfect life because there are ups and downs when there are full of lies happening. I just needed to be  wiser so no one can hurt my feelings again.  Since I am becoming more older, I learned to be more wiser. I will continue on the path in listening to their words and think about how I can trust their words . I will never fall into the traps again when I learned my lessons.

Descriptive Essay: The Toe That Was Overlooked

Posted by Raekwon Smith in English 2 - Block on


“Oh man that doesn’t feel good.” That’s what I was thinking after making a great catch where I reached out near my foot to make what’s called a “shoestring catch.” I came off the shady baseball field, overlooked by the many trees on that dark afternoon. “Why does my foot hurt so much? It’s mostly my toe.” I was thinking. I came in limping and wincing in pain as if someone just stabbed the side of my foot multiple times. 

As I went to sit down on the bench, my grandfather asked me what was wrong and I said “My toe hurts a lot. And part of my foot.”

  He said, “Don’t give into the pain.” 

I replied, “I’m not, but my foot hurts like a mug.” 

Afterwards, I just sat there rubbing my foot hoping it would nurse it back to normal but it didn’t work. I then went into the field limping and cursing my foot under my breath. I played the entire game limping and fighting through the pain, so I could try to help my team. After the game we had lost by 5 points and I was upset because it was a very winnable game. My mind was cluttered with thoughts of how we could have won and my thought process snapped with every step I took as the pain really set in. I could barely walk now as I headed to the truck to give my teammate a ride home. I went to sleep that night trying to get ready for a full day of pain and suffering. 

This was the stupidest thing I’ve done so far in my life. That kept going through my mind as I was constantly walking and stopping to rest and massage my throbbing foot. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to make it home if my foot didn’t stop hurting. I felt like there was a 1 ton weight just sitting on my entire foot. I had a playoff baseball game in 4 days and I was in no condition to play, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to miss my 1st high school playoff game. Even if we lost, at least I was there. My parents said, “Soak your foot in epsom salt and you will be just fine.” But I was thinking, “Put yourself in my place, then lets see if all I need is epsom salt.” When I got home that night I slowly limped over to the bathroom to fill the blue tub with water to soak my foot in epsom salt. As I lay down on my bed my head began to throb as I wondered whether or not I would be able to play come Monday afternoon

Over that weekend I tried to stay off my foot as much as I could, but of course I couldn’t since neither my family nor I realized the excruciating pain I was going through. My parents had me doing work over the weekend; I helped clean the house and the front lawn. As I was getting the push broom out of the shed a shovel fell over and landed on my toe. I thought it was over for me. I hopped around the yard yelling and stopping myself from cursing the shovel for what it just did to me. I sat down and felt my foot which was throbbing very fast. The amount of pain I feeling was equal to someone cutting of my toe. Afterwards I hopped as fast as I could up the steps and into the house so I could ice my foot and rest up to finish cleaning the yard. I finished cleaning the yard 2 hours later with ice on my foot. I shivered the whole time and I couldn’t feel my foot after 15 min. of having it on. Later that night, I soaked my foot in epsom salt again, which didn’t help but my parents insisted. I went to bed that night ready to just give up on playing in the playoff game, but in my mind I would have seemed like a punk. So hurt foot and all, I wasn’t going to give up.

Monday finally came and I woke up. I had a slight headache and my eyes were kinda blurry. I got out of bed and stopped myself from yelling and waking everyone up as I put pressure on my foot. I tried my best to walk to the bathroom supporting myself on the walls. I thought to myself hopefully I will be able to make it through the day. I told myself that after the season I would go to the doctor to see what was wrong with me. I never complained about my injury as much as most people would think. I never even asked to stay home from school or miss a baseball game. When I got to school, I was greeted by the warm welcoming of walking up the stairs to the 3rd floor. In a few hours we would be leaving for the bus to take us to the baseball field. When 1:30 finally hit and it was time for us to leave, the moment of truth awaited me.

As we slowly walked off of the bus to see what the field was like, I sighed with relief because I noticed my limp wasn’t as bad as before. We started our routine warm ups, stretching our bodies, doing push ups, jogging and getting our throwing arms loosened by playing catch with each other. We had to do one exercise called “Frogs,” where we act like frogs without the jumping part. I still couldn’t bend my toes and when I did, a quick jolt of pain made me cringe to the point that I didn’t want to play the game at all. I knew that wasn’t an option though, and I fought through the pain. The game was starting in 5 minutes and people were trying to hype themselves up in their own way. Some people listened to music, others kept warming up or talked to teammates. I just sat on the bench by myself and prayed. The umpire then let the coaches and captains know that it was time.

Throughout the course of the game my foot felt fine, but it could have been better. I still felt the occasional shock of pain, but not as much. I had a very big hit that started a rally for us. They only gave me a double. I hit the ball so far they thought they couldn’t find it because it went into the woods. Although, soon as the umpire said go back to 2nd the kid on the other team found the ball so I got robbed of what could have been a home run. You can’t imagine the amount of disappointment I felt when the ump told me to go back to 2nd base. I think my face looked like I just lost my best friend. We hung in the game for few more innings, then the other team started to score run after run and we lost. I was happy that we had made it that far and that the captains got to go to the playoffs. After the game my toe felt like it was very overworked. I just chose to put my slides on, hop in the car and deal with the rest later.

I used to struggle with how I judged a situation and made choices, but I’ve gotten better at making those crucial decisions that could affect me for better or worse. In April, I injured my foot and toe, I found a few months later that it was broken and I had a stress fracture. I made poor choices over the course of my injury that derailed the healing process. I’m fine now but it could have been better way before.

In the end I never went to the doctors and for the next 2 months my toe still bothered me. I re-injured my foot and my foot swelled up again causing me to wear slides for the next 3 to 4 weeks. My decision making process during those few months was poor at it’s best. I have learned from the mistakes I’ve made in the past and I have strived to correct and never make them again. I believe if you realize the mistakes of your past your future can be bright!

Descriptive Essay: Why am I This Way?

Posted by Joy Morrow in English 2 - Block on

​I had never looked at being tall as a problem as Idid at this very moment. I walked down my Grandmothers block, on my way home from school, back straight , head held high and a smile on my face. I couldn't feel more confident. My mom had just bought me a pair of new Algeria shoes that I had begged her for with a nice gold button and brown spots that looked like someone threw every different shade of brown paint on them. I had just received an A on my math test and had found 5 dollars. My day couldn't have been any better. I walked the same way that I walked every time I came here, but something wasn’t right. Oakdale St. was going through construction and the only way that you could cross it was by jumping over a large crack  stretching from the sidewalk, to the middle of the street to the other end of the sidewalk. I stopped, analyzing the crack. I realized the only option I had was to jump across it. I set back wondering if I should do it. When I had first approached the street there didn't seem to be a soul in sight, but as I brought my head up, there had to be more people here then there were people at the 2012 olympics. I took two steps back closed my eyes and jumped. When I opened my eyes everything seem taller,  I realized that I was actually on the ground. I heard echoes of laughter and teasing. One comment stood out to me the most,f “If She wasn't so damn tall she wouldn't have fallen like that.”  
After that, it had occurred to me that I would never be accepted for being the height that I am. It seemed that the more people I met the more people ridiculed me about being tall, comments anywhere from “You big as shit,” or “You're a giant,” or “You're taller than most men,” to “Why the fuck are you so tall?” I’ve heard it all. I always wonder will people ever accept the fact a girl can, also, be tall. That just because you past the average height of 5’6, that you're not a monster or a freak. When i  was just a kid, I never noticed how my height was different from anyone else who was my age. We all always got the same treatment. I never felt like an outcast or like i was any different from anyone else. Yea, it was brought to my attention that  i was taller than the average height but i never felt ashamed about it as i did now.
The media gives this image that the shorter the better. You never see tall females in pageants , TV shows, or movies without the press giving them a hard time. For example, I once was watching a hit series that went by the name “TMZ” when they began talking about the Kardashian family, from a reality show called “Keeping up with Kardashians”, and it stated that Khloe Kardashian didn't have the same father as her 2 other sisters because she was too tall. “She towers over her other sisters.It’s no possibly way that they are whole sisters.” one journalist said.  The media has given people the image that taller women are wrong and out of place and it is OK to throw negative remarks at them if you feel that is the right thing to do. Every time I go on my twitter home feed its always has post like this “SHORT GIRLS: 4’11 5’0 5’1 5’2 5’3 5’4 5’5 #RT (ReTweet) if you see your height,” or  “Fun Size is the best size.”When i see tweets like this a scence of rage builds inside of me. I can’t help myself but question god as to why did he make me the way i am. Why am i so different from everyone else.I true wonder how these post make females who are my  height but also have low self esteem feel. If they make me feel like an abomination no telling how they felt.
Why can’t the American society see that we as a people are going through another evolution. The average height for the first Homosapien was 5’ for women and 5’6 for men. Now, the average height for a Homosapien, that lives in America, is 5’6 for women and 5’9-5’10 for men. The average height of a human being  slowly but surely increasing.

Descriptive Essay: Love vs. Hate

Posted by Jules James in English 2 - Block on

It hurts when you realize that the organ that keeps you alive can either hurt or kill you when you fall in love. Why do I keep the pain inside? Is it because of the lack of trust or because of the lies the other people might tell me? Or maybe it's because I'm scared they might have sex and produce children and name them tears and hate.

People always judge me on how I look other than how I act. In a way, it’s not what they say that makes me mad but it’s why they say it. As I get older I change. I’m only 15 years old and I’m getting judged badly. What about when I’m 25? I’m still going to be changing so does that mean I’m going to still get judged but worse?

People see me as a quiet, shy, mad girl who doesn’t talk about her feelings. But I’m more than that, I just don’t show it. But why should I? I don’t determine how I feel. The way I feel when I wake up and how my mornings turn out to be determine how I feel the rest of the day. To me that’s why I think the morning is important. It gives me time to determine whether it would be a good or bad day. Like when you wash up or take a bath before going somewhere. Do you really just wash up and get out or do you do other things while you’re in there? Most of the time I either sing or think a lot (my thought place). Having a nice, warm bubble bath can easily get you thinking and clear your mind.

The smell of apple cinnamon candles by the tub. Hot water and a naked body in the tub while a waterfall of tears is running down my face.

Love don't exist in the pool of me. But the pain from it is its number one visitor. As  the smiles that I call bodyguards of happiness try to keep the pain out, its too strong for the bodyguards who don't use weapons except the lies of a smile.

I imagine the bubbles in the water to be the people that hurt, lied, and disappointed me. As I think it over I wonder to myself, "Is there something wrong with me?" That question was answered by the silence in the bathroom. As I get out the tub, I wiped away the pain and the people. And finally the smile of lies appears on my face and I walk out the bathroom.

So I think to myself, "No one will ever know my pain until they tell me why they gave it to me."

From when I was born until now, I’ve felt different types of love. Real, fake, hard. Its all happened to me but I never let it get in the way of me loving someone else, no matter how painful it was to me. But as I got older, it was easier to keep my feelings inside me. Less tears, but now I have no emotions. But people can see how I feel by the way I look and dress. For example, if I’m wearing bright clothes and I’m laughing and smiling then that means I’m happy and I feel loved. But if I have all black on fake laughs and smiles on my face then I’m feeling pain and no love.

But for this one moment I’m not going to talk about pain and hurt. I’m going to talk about love. I’m not always sad. I have a heart and I have a few people in my life that actually show l***.

What is love? Is it something you suppose to touch, see, hear, smell, or feel? How do you know? Well no one does. But the times when I think I am l***d is when someone actually care about my feelings and show they care. I think someone is also showing l*** when they are not afraid of telling you the truth. No matter how bad and mean it is. But they also comfort you by embracing you whenever it seems like you need it, they give you good advice, and they make you feel happy whenever you’re around them. And I have people that can do that in my life. It’s very few of them but they are there.

Like I remember one day when when I think I felt l***d. We were at the park. The wind was heavy and the air smelled like fresh rain. Me and my crush, Allen was sitting on the cold, hard benches talking. As I looked at him I couldn't hear what he was saying. I know he was talking but I wasn't listening. Our eyes was stuck together like we had magnets in them. I remember this moment so well. His eyes were big and luminous. And as I my eyes strolled down I glanced at his full, lips that was moving but no sound came out.

As the sky became grey, it started to rain. It came down as fast as glass dropping to the floor and the broken pieces scatter everywhere. He began to hold me with his big, carmel hands that felt soft around my waist. The tightness of the way he held me made me feel like he was trying to protect me from the rain. Like the rain as acid and he didn't want not one drop of it on me but but he'll sacrifice his own body. The butterflies were everywhere.
But it’s hard for me to write love if I don’t know if I feel it. Will I ever feel the power of someone loving me? Or will I always live the life of disappointment, lies, and pain with the preview of the movie, Love?

Descriptive Essay: "Welcoming a New Edition to the Family"

Posted by Bailey Britton in English 2 - Block on

My mother walked into my dark room looking very serious, and said, “Bailey, I’m in labor, and we are going to leave the house in about 30 minutes.” When I found this out, it was 6 o’clock in the morning and I was in a deep slumber. I was warm and cozy in my full size comfortable bed. The night I found out, my friend, Diamond, slept over, and she was lying on the opposite side of my bed, and she was using a different blanket than I was. My blanket was a black and white zebra comforter, and it matched my sheets. Diamond’s blanket was purple and fuzzy. It smelled like my dog in my room because she was lying in bed with my friend and I. I had to wake up after my mom said that she was in labor, because my stepfather and I had to drive my friend to her dad’s house. I woke Diamond up and said, “Diamond! Wake up! My mom’s in labor and she needs to go to the hospital! Chris said he’s going to drive you home in ten to fifteen minutes.” She replied with, “Are you serious? I knew this was going to happen, but let me call my dad and let him know I have to go there because I know my mom isn’t up yet.”

Diamond and I got out of bed, our hair was frizzy, and very messy, so we just threw it up in a messy bun. I put blue Hollister sweatpants, and a blue Hollister hoodie, because I didn’t want to be cold. Diamond kept her pajamas on because she was going to her dad’s house and going back to sleep because it was too early for her to be up. When we got in my mother’s black 2006 Honda, my stepfather had to turn the air on because it was blazing hot in the car, and my nose got stuffy because it was also dry outside. I sat in the front seat with my stepfather, because I didn’t want to sit in the back and then get out of the car to get in the front seat after Diamond got out of the car. The car ride there was silent, because Diamond and I aren’t morning people, and my stepfather knows not to talk to us if it’s really early in the morning. After we dropped my friend off, we headed back to my house. The car was silent the whole ride home.
When we arrived at my house, my mom was sitting on the couch waiting patiently for us to get back so that she could call the doctor and tell her that she was in labor and going to the hospital. My mom sat on the loveseat, my stepfather sat on the couch, and I sat on the rocking chair for about another 45 minutes. My couch is brown, and so is the loveseat. The chair I was sitting on was black, and one of the most comfortable things that I have ever sat on in my entire life, and I was surprised that I didn’t fall back to sleep because I was so tired and exhausted, because Diamond and I didn’t go to sleep until three o’clock in the morning. I was running around like a chicken without a head that morning, and I had no idea what to do because I was never in a situation like that.
I walked outside my house, and it was kind of hot out that day, because my brother was born on July 22, 2012, and that’s the middle of the summer. We got into the car, and my mom took the passenger seat next to my stepfather, who was driving. I sat in the back of the car silent, because I didn’t want to be awake yet. My mom was silent too because she was in pain and didn’t want to talk because she was not only in pain, but she was tired and exhausted. We rushed to Jefferson Hospital, because that’s where my mom’s doctor that was going to deliver the baby was located. My stepfather dropped us off at the emergency room entrance, so that he could go park the car, and my mom wouldn’t have to walk from wherever the car was parked.
When we walked into the hospital, we saw a security guard wearing a blue shirt with black pants, and he asked, “What are you looking for?” My mom replied, “I’m looking for labor and delivery because I’m in labor.” He told us directions to where we needed to go, and he called a nurse to get my mom settled in the room, and to help her get up to labor and delivery.
When my mom got set up in labor and delivery, I just sat there and closed my eyes, so I couldn’t see anything that was going on, and I don’t really remember because it was so early in the morning. All I remember is my mother just lying there in pain, and waiting for my baby brother to be born. I took a nap for about three hours on the green uncomfortable chair, but i was under two blankets so i was warm, while we waited for my brother to be ready to come out and be part of this world, and all of our lives. I woke up just in time for my brother to be born. I stood at the top of the bed, holding my mom’s hand because she was in the worst pain anyone ever felt. The next thing I remember was my brother lying on my mother’s chest just staring around the room, only making a little peep here and there. I said to my mom. “He is the most beautiful thing in the world!”

When I found out my mother was in labor I was probably the happiest person in the world, and when I saw my brother’s beautiful face, I know that I was the happiest person in the universe.


Descriptive Essay: "A New Attachment"

Posted by Audrey Pham in English 2 - Block on

As we walked around downtown, while holding hands, I felt the cold wind outside biting my cheeks. It was late November 2011, winter was just starting. This is just the beginning of our story. Grown ups say we should only focus on school and education, not “love” or what they think that we’re all “infatuated”. But I believe the vibe of teenage love is always so tenderous and I don’t want to grow up not being able to experience something so rebellious as I look back on my old times as a young teenager going into my adulthood.
Our first official date. I was so anxious as I woke up that morning. While I took the train to go see him, my heart felt like it going to jump out of my fragile chest. Just the thought of daydreaming the date together made me feel so excited. When I saw him, he instantly locked fingers with me. I felt the blood rush in my body and my cheeks getting really warm although it was freezing outside. We took a slow walk to Starbucks to grab some hot chocolate. As I walked in, the bells on the door chimed as it opened and closed. I could smell the delicious classic starbucks coffee linger in the air as he was ordering his hot beverage. “A small peppermint hot chocolate please..”. There was always something in his voice that sounded so soothing. After we received his hot chocolate, we walked outside. It was freezing cold again, it felt so warm inside of Starbucks. I looked at his hot chocolate, I could see the steam coming out from where you drink from on the coffee cup. We took sips of it, we shared it. As I took my first sip, it felt like a hot rush of liquid going down my throat. It really warmed me up. We took our time gazing on the street lights, making our way to the River Rink Ice Skating Rink at Penn’s Landing. Under the city lights, the cold air, as people are passing by, I’m strunk being dazed by tonight’s romantic plan.
As we arrived to the ice skating rink, there was line of people to get tickets and rental for ice skating shoes(if you didn’t bring your own). The line was about a block long. But the line moved rapidly. My nose felt frozen waiting in line, but he kept me warm by making me blush. We got to the front and order two tickets. We  made our way quickly inside the ice skating rink’s lobby. We told the staff our shoe sizes and exchange our shoes for the ice skating shoes. This wasn’t my first time ice skating but I forgot how awfully heavy these shoes were. They felt like a pound on each hand as I held them separately. I made my way carefully through the crowd to find a bench with him, I was very careful because the blades are very sharp on our ice skating shoes. We sat next to each other, I kept thinking “Oh, please don’t fall, he’ll probably get annoyed if you fall too many times on the ice, don’t embarrass yourself tonight, Audrey.” I had so many thoughts running through me that moment. Such as “this is going to be such a beautiful memory to look back, I hope he’ll actually learn to value me and we’ll be stable together”. All I wanted was acceptance from him. I yearned his catering for me. And I need someone who can improve and better me as well as motivation in school and learning to appreciate myself and control my insecurities. Anyway, I slipped in my right foot first in my skates, it fit perfectly. I asked him to help me tie the laces because from experience, if you don’t tie the laces very tight, your shoes will be loose and it’ll be harder to skate. We pulled my right leg up on his lap and he knotted and tied my laces very tightly, he pulls he last loop. I repeated the same on my left foot but instead this time I did it myself. I pulled the laces as hard I can and felt a bit of a rope burn on my fingers. Ouch, it stings!, and my fingers were a bit red when I checked. We held hands again and helped each other walk out the lobby, it was so crowded, yet so warm inside the room. my legs were very wobbly when I was walking because you had to balance on the sharp blades beneath the skates.

As closer as we got to the entrance of the ice, the more nervous I got. Again, I felt the cold wind biting the cheeks of my face and my fingers were nearly frozen already. It was darker and colder outside. We both stopped on together, I immediately held his hand even tighter. There were so many children and adults skating around the circle and I saw some ice skating staff patrolling in the middle, making sure everyone is safe. I stepped both of my skates on ice, my other hand clinged onto the railings on the side to keep myself balanced. I was completely nervous, not even excited anymore. I almost slipped as I tried to glide smoothly on the ice. I kept looking at the ice and my feet, not being aware of what’s going on up front. I almost crashed into a little toddler ice skating. I was shocked and apologized to the young kid. As we were improving, I finally let go of the railing. But he slipped and fell almost on his knees and yanked my down with him, I fell on my right side. We both laughed about and he helped me up. Us laughing. Our voices together.

I was a silent after we were skating a bit. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’ll never get tired of hearing his laughing voice. What we had at the moment was so seemingly blind. I kept thinking, will he become my best friend? Someone I truly understand? How about my lover? It didn’t matter. This was happiness. This was a new friendship. A new attachment. Everything about the night was a wonderful memory that I’d love to think about when I am able to look back. What we emotionally have is so beautiful, different yet rebellious.

ENG2-011

Term
2012-13

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