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  Short Story from TJay

Posted by Larissa Pahomov in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 5, 2013 at 9:35 am
It had always been that way for as long as I could remember. Until that day the U Haul truck was outside of our house which it had then set in my head that this was actually happening. I let my backpack hang from one shoulder in disbelief. My dad came to the door carrying moms’ dresser along with four other movers. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” I had started day dreaming until I heard my friend calling me from his next door window. “Hey David”  I said looking down as I sighed. “What’s going on ; I didn’t know you were moving” he said. I thought to myself while he was talking about how different this move to Filthadelphia might be. I had been there once for a Flyers game when we went to the East Coast two years ago. It was over run with drunk people with strange accents and there were tons of Italians more than I had ever seen. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” David said. “Hey man are you alright” he said , no my life is over I thought I just nodded and said I was okay.

Ten days later we took the long flight to our new home. Our stuff was sent to Philly ahead of us so it’d be there when we arrived. The whole flight I just sat there as my parents sat there watching movies under a blanket on their laptops. I took like four naps on that flight, the stewardess came by three times and offered some  us some pretzels and peanuts I just said no until she came back with cranberry juice I drank that. I dozed off again; when I woke up we were making our final descent into Killadelphia. I pulled the blanket over my eyes when we landed I wasn’t ready to be there yet. I left behind all my friends and even this girl I liked she said we could never be together because I wore sweater vests. *fasten seat belt sign goes off* we were officially in our new home.

We caught a cab to West Philly, the most I ever heard about this part of Philly was from Will Smith on re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The cab driver was telling my dad about everything there was to see on our way to our new home. We pulled up and I went into the vacant house our things were in thepod out front they had just been delivered. They were row homes, they looked like George Washington’s house very old. I walked in I heard voices out back so I went on the deck. There were two thuggish looking kids out there one was on the balcony and one was in the driveway below. Their accents were weird.

“Yo Tyrel!, wassup cous?” Yo bro I screamed back from my balcony as I spit on to the concrete down below. “We on the block today?” Rick screamed back while still walking. “ Yeah dawg we out here.”  

The two guys names were Tyrell and Rick they didn’t see me peeking out the sliding door. The one kid spit on to the driveway below and he was blasting some rap music out of his back pocket, his pants were sagging they looked like real scum to me nothing like my friends back home.

 “Yo Tyrell who’s that moving in next door?”  “Probably some old head who’s probably gonna try to take over the block again.” I’m bout to slide over there to my steps to see what’s popping said Tyrell”  Tyrell and Rick sat on Tyrell's front steps watching as Ray and Ray’s parents carried in leftover boxes.

Tyrell and Rick looked over at Ray and laughed at him as they said “sweater vest”

Ray just glanced up and carried the box in the house.

Later that evening he went back out front to watch everything that was going on in his new neighborhood.

I swear I hate it here and all the people imagine when school starts.

The two “new neighbors “ emerge from the next door house and pull their marijuana and lit it. They offered Ray some but he kindly said no.

 

They laughed and whispered to each other.

“Oh you looked like you don’t want no smoke” said Tyrell - in urban Philadelphia this would mean Ray doesn’t want any conflict.

“I have no idea what that means bro but I’m new here so could you just umm how do I say this so you could understand.. just you know , chill?” said Ray.

*laughter from the tandem breaks the silence of the quite street*

“Where are you from dawg?” said Rick to Ray.

“West Side” said Ray

“West Side of what cous?!” said Tyrell in an annoyed tone

“Of Long Beach” said Ray

“Yeah well be more specific next time youngboul” said Rick

“What on earth is a youngboul?” said Ray

“How do I say this so you can understand, umm a scrub” said Tyrell

Tyrell and Rick both laughed simultaneously again and said Squad.

In Philadelphia squad is something said in urban communities normally at the end of sentences by two or more people who are friends most commonly used after a punch line in a joke between them.

Ray removes himself and goes into the house where his mom is sitting on the couch he storms up the steps she asks how he likes his new friends. He replies back saying that they are not his friends.

The next morning through the wall Ray hears more of that loud rap music he bangs on the wall and the music doesn’t stop.

The music even sounds like a foreign language to me. All I hear is obscenities I miss Long Beach where it was nice outside I didn’t hear sirens all night. I went to turn on the news and all I saw was murder it was so different even the news people had accents. In the next few weeks I had my first cheesesteak and water-ice. Pronounced wooder-ice here. I even became cooler as they say with Rick and Tyrell. I even gave their music a shot. They didn’t like my pop music too much but theyheld me down. Which in Philly meant they watched after me to make sure I was okay.

I will say that I prejudged this whole city as a whole and especially their accents which I still despise. Philadelphia has been good to me thus far. I’m chilling.

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The Race

Posted by Michelle Friedman in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 9:35 pm

​
The Race

[panting, running] I can’t do this. When did these hills get here? Who designed this course anyway…? It’s unreal. [heaving].

[pause]

What is this muscle hurt like this [desperately] And why do my shoulders hurt. And my arms. And my thighs. And my calves. And my feet. And my toes. I won’t finish it all, there’s no way. My body just won’t take it. No way.

[running, wiping sweat, looking around]

How are you doing that?!?! And why are you so jolly and carefree. How are you all putting up such a great facade? [angrily] I know you you’re hurting everywhere, just like I am… right? Maybe…. Maybe I’m just not cut out for a full marathon. Maybe I need to cut it short right now. I have more miles left than I can count on my fingers.

Oh my god! It’s been twelve miles already?! How come I suddenly don’t remember running.

On no. There he is. Ellington. God I hate Ellington! Last week he came to work with coffee and donuts for himself and our boss- what a kiss up!! [rambling] He constantly pretends like he does all the work around this office yet he comes in late and leaves before anyone else! God and he is so rude to me! I don’t even know why he hates me so much. What did I ever do. Ugh. I don’t really care though, I just know hes a dick and I hate him.

[heaving]

Well shit, now I have to run better than him!!

Nope, not today mister. You show me up everyday. But today will be different, I just know it. I have earned this. After all, I haven’t been practicing manically for nine months just to be shown up at the last minute by Mr. Perfect.

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this!! SWEET! A downhill. Alright, just focus on the mile now- Ellington is out of the picture. Well, almost.c  He’s just down the street, and  I know can pass him if I just go a little bit faster!!

[passes Ellington, sticks tongue out at him]

Huh, I feel strangely rejuvenated!! Maybe 14 more miles won’t be so deadly after all. And anyway, there is no way Ellington will do the full thing in that condition. Heh, heh. Tomorrow at work I’ll hang up my medal right by my desk so whoever enters my office, will have no choice but to notice that gold, gleaming beauty.

And [gestures back] boy won’t have anything to say because he’ll know I’ve beaten him- FINALLY!
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Peanut Butter and Jelly

Posted by Michaela Prell in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 8:54 pm

Setting: Center City, out on the street.

Mathis (Mat for short): Teenage boy who has lived in the city all his life. His family does not have a car so he walks everywhere or takes public transportation.

Homeless Woman: Simply a woman who lives on the street. Not a major character, she just gets the ball rolling.

Homeless Woman

Do you have any change to spare?

(Mathias ignores Homeless Woman)

Please sir, could you just spare some change? I haven't had anything to eat in two days.

Mathias

I don't have any cash on me... Sorry.

(Turns slowly to face the audience.)

That was a lie. I do have cash. My parents always make sure that I have money with me just in case. But I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be giving it to hobos, sorry "the homeless".

It’s not that I’m being stingy, I just don’t trust her. Maybe thats a little stingy. But I see homeless people as often as I eat PB&J, which is everyday for lunch. I quite frankly I get sick of it, the people and the sandwiches. Sorry, that was really rude, but you don’t know who you can trust. Maybe I should try to have some faith in the human race, but I guess I don’t. I have seen some crazy shit happen and know better than to assume all glasses are half full, because some just ain’t. I wanna think that she would go get herself  something to eat, but it seems more likely that she would spend it getting high. That's probably how she got here in the first place. She's an alcoholic or drug addict and she got booted out of her home because she spent all her money on her addiction. Right? Maybe not. I guess I'm just trying to distance myself from her, I’m trying to make her seem like a bad “thing”, when the truth is she is a real person with real struggles. The truth that I don't want to give her my money. Part of the reason is because I don't know if it will help her or harm her. But I'm also just a selfish punk. If I pretend she is someone who has made awful decisions than I don't have to feel guilty for denying her money. I mean who knows when she has last had a good meal, and I would happily buy her some food, but I don't have time for that. And plus who just goes up to a stranger and offers to buy them dinner? Maybe I should just go volunteer at some homeless shelter, but I feel like that’s just a lame excuse so I don’t feel as guilty ignoring the people who only have the streets as their homes. I know that I would be making some difference, and I would be helping some people. The problem is it wouldn't answer my questions about what to do when I encounter people outside. All they want is whatever money I can afford to spare, so who am I to not give it up? I guess the best thing to do is go on a case by case basis, but that just seems like another lame excuse. But in this case I think I have something that might help her if she really hasn't had any grub in two days. This won't answer my questions in the long term... unless I just always carry a PB&J round with me. Either way it I will be doing the good I can with what I’ve got.

(Walks over to the homeless woman.)

Ma’am, I have a sandwich if you would like it. It’s peanut butter and jelly.

(Opens his backpack, takes out a sandwich and hands it to the homeless woman.)


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Yo-Yo Yossarian

Posted by Nebil Ibrahim in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 8:29 pm

Yo-Yo Yossarian

(A soldier walks into his tent with anger clearly written all over his face.)

I have had it up to here with this squadron. First they make fun of my name then, Colonel Cathcart won’t let me go home. What’s wrong with him (Pauses shortly) ALL OF THEM!!! I did all of my missions! First there were 55 missions and after that 60 then 70. To believe that everyone else is actually able to stand flying all of those missions is insane! Nately and Orr don’t care. In fact Nately likes it. Orr doesn’t care how many times he gets shot down as long as he gets to fly again. I have to live here in this hellhole until Cathcart finally decides to stop raising missions. These people actually want to stay here in Pianosa when they can easily spend some time with me in Rome and get a few whores to ficky-fick with. I can’t wait till I get to go to that whore house in Rome and ficky-fick all of those whores. Oh I hope Luciana is there with her buxom hips she flaunts around. When I ogle that ass at night I never get bored. That should have made Orr want to accompany me. Even after I offered Orr, he shoots down the offer and calls me by that GODFORSAKEN nickname. ALL OF THEM call me by that name! How can they even?! Do they know their names are just as crazy as mine. I mean there’s Havermeyer, Orr, Dobbs, Chief White Halfoat, Daneeka, Appleby, Clevenger, Aardvark. I mean his name is an animal for crying out loud!! (He sits down and brushes his hand through his hair) I mean it’s not even my  first name. My first name is plain and simple. It’s John. So what if my last name is Yossarian... I’m the best bombardier on Pianosa. I’m gonna kill Cathcart one day for forcing me to stay on this damned island in the middle of World War II! I swear if someone calls me Yo-Yo one more time they better hope they aren’t in the plane with me on any of my missions! You know what they say. I am going to live forever or die in the attempt... And I don’t care who I take down with me as long as no one EVER calls me Yo-Yo instead of Yossarian again! Not even just that but Milo won’t stop trying to sell people chocolate covered cotton! He stole all of our parachutes just to get some silk to trade with for the cotton from Alexandria. He didn’t even tell us and I found out while crashing  into the Mediterranean! I mean what does he want me to do use a handkerchief! When he discovered that cotton wasn’t wanted on the black market he tries to give it to us coated in chocolate and call it a delicacy. On top of that Hungry Joe won’t shut up in the middle of the night with his godforsaken nightmares! (Emphasizes “he”) He’s got his own problems with Halfoat. Next time he screams in the middle of the night he’s gonna get his throat slit. Why is everyone so crazy!! Am I the only sane one here cause I know for sure that I am NOT crazy?! (Pauses and questions himself) Am I?


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I Really Like Your Shirt

Posted by Dillon Hershey in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 8:08 pm

(Sitting on a bed in a purple bedroom, stands up as if to greet someone)



Percy, s’that you? Hi. Well uh, thanks for coming. I guess-I mean, I'm not sure whatta say. You don't know who I am? Oops, sorry (laughs) Yeah, my name’s Cora. I’m seventeen an’ I live down the block. You should come an’ visit sometime. I know that my moms would enjoy that...they think that I don't have very many friends. But you’re my friend, right? Yess! I, uh, actually wanted to ask you about that, um, well I really like...your-your shirt. It’s my favorite color...green, like toads. (laughs nervously)

Okay, here's the thing. I really like you as a friend but I'm not sure if that’s enough for me. You make me sooo happy every time you’re around but I don't know if I do that happens to you. No no, don't say anything yet and stop moving around. Just sit and listen. I wish that we could become more than just fr-friends. I want to be able to call you an’ not think about what I’m going to say. I would talk to you like a diary, spilling out all of my feelings, good or bad. I want to be able to tell you everything and I want you to be able to do the same with me. I want to fill you up with happiness every time you see me. I want your eyes to be only for me an’ I want you to see me like your favorite stuffed animal, one that you have had forever but one that you will never let go of. I wish that you could fulfill my idea of a happily ever after. I’m a princess after all, but you wouldn't know th-that because you've never even acknowledged my presence before.

You make me crazy and insane. My mind goes sp-spinning whenever I see you. I can’t think str-straight and everything seems upside down. I see things that aren’t even there. I over analyze every move you make, think-thinking that it will mean something if you cough in my direction. Just tell me if it’s true. You know who I am, right? You know my name and you know about my life and you like me...even just as a fr-friend s’okay...Percy? Oh God, this is great...I've confessed my love to you and you just stand there. Are you even here anymore? What the hell just happened? Percy? (looks around) Percy? Stop hiding from me! Percy? Where are you? I don’t understand, you were right here and then you jus-just disappeared...and a toad? The room, the room...it’s making me huurrt...I can’t breath...Percy? What’s happening? Make it stop! Stop stop! Ugh, I should’ve just listened to Mom (mimicking her mom) drugs are bad, very bad for you...why’d we even think of doing this? Licking toads...ugh...been there done that...and never doing it again.


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A Life Worth Living

Posted by Claudia Bonitatibus in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 7:29 pm

(Enters latrine with two others. He looks around nervously to make sure the room is completely empty and none is in earshot before closing the door securely.)

It’s not trolley cars, dammit, it’s machine guns! The parts we are making in this factory are for the MG-42 burp guns. We have a choice – we can go along with what we are told and make parts for the very machine guns being used to wipe out our men or we can take a stand and maybe save some lives.

(Lowers voice)

Whatever we do, we cannot let them know that we know, but somewhere out there American soldiers, like us, are being slaughtered by the weapons we helped create.  I know that it is easier to do nothing and follow orders, but what does one life mean when thousands are being killed.  Every life we save will justify the risk we take.  Our lives at present seem precarious.  Some days, rations are so thin we can’t help but concoct dreams of the perfect meal. As poor as conditions are, though, if we are caught, I can assure you they will not be merciful.  Except for the possibility of liberation, no one survives the punishment of hard labor. (Pause) While this is not the way any of us envisioned this situation unfolding, for me there is only one option.

When we joined the Army, we promised to defend our country.  We may be prisoners, but that doesn’t change the mission. This is not about our loved ones or our own lives; it is about the future of our country, and I will defend it at all costs.  To give up now is to give up all we have fought for up to this point, and all that we have been through will be for nothing. We were trained for nine long months to fight, but we never even had a chance. Our first battle - ambushed and captured.  Shamed… Now look at us. Killing our own. That’s not what I signed up for.  

There are many who would say that the virtuous thing to do would be to save our own lives, return to America, and take care of our families.  Maybe I’ll feel differently if things go badly, but no one lives forever.  The only moment in life that counts is the present. Any wasted moment is regrettable; so every opportunity to make a meaningful difference in one’s own life and the lives of others must be seized.  I have lived a full life.  What the hell is the reason for being alive if it is only to follow the rules and keep oneself fed in order to go on following the rules, and so on till we die anyway.

(Long pause)

Since there is no past and no future, there is no more postponing.  I will not be satisfied with a promise to myself that I will take action tomorrow.  It must start today.  Every second counts.

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My Mental Prison

Posted by Miles Cruice-Barnett in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 7:18 pm

A man sits in the shadow mumbling to himself


He looks up and laughs softly crescendoing into loud maniacal laughter.


You hopeless, ineffectual fools. You think you are sooo marvelous. The all mighty HUMAN RACE! You think you are so powerful and intelligent! But only I see the truth. Only I see you as you really are; as puny, worthless, ignorant parasites. Running this planet as though you were gods! You are destroying this planet. Have you ever just stopped to think for one second about how much you have changed this Earth? How no other species has over run this planet and destroyed the environment? No, of course you haven’t, because you’re human. Because you don’t care. You humans are all so ignorant. You go about your simple day, living your simple life, thinking your simple thoughts, in your simple brain. You think you are so great. You have accomplished so much. You are so smart. “Oohh, look at all these wonderful things we done, all these brilliant inventions.” Oh, but I am here to put you in your place! My mind is greater than that of any you could image. I can see things, notice things, that the average overlook. I can predict things, know things, before you even think to attempt such feats. I am able to see things visually and then mentally put myself there. I learn how to do things without having to do them. I know things about human behavior, why they act they way they do. I can read people when given enough information and spending a little time with them. My mind is running, racing at a hundred miles an hour every second of every hour of every day in a week in a month IN A YEAR! But my mind is a prison... An inescapable prison of my own thoughts. A mere mortal would go crazy within hours, but I have survived much longer. I have suffered much longer, but I now fear that I too am going crazy. But if I knew I was going crazy, then I would be aware and therefore not crazy. So that leads me to think I am not crazy, but now that I think I am not going crazy that leads me to think I am, but I’m not, which means I am, which means I am not, so as you see it is all just one terrible cycle that leaves me lost and without an answer. I hate not having an answer! It eats at my conscience to know that there is something I am missing!


Stops and calms down


Am I really that different?

Of course you are! What are you talking about! You are the greatest mind the world has ever known!

But am I? Or am I just a depressed lonely man with an overactive brain?

That is exactly what you are. That is why you are so brilliant, you can stay detached from emotion and make decisions and reasonings based on fact. You are a human computer.

But that is not true. I am human. I am one of you. I do have emotion. I do feel. I feel hurt. I feel lost. I feel alone. And this is my problem. I make myself believe that I am something other, something inhuman, but I know I am human. I know I have limits. I know I have emotion. I know all of this, I just choose not to accept it. Sometimes I have moments, much like this one, when I realize what I am doing to myself, but always end up back where I started: depressed, lonely, angry and without much reason to live. So maybe I should just end it. I could do it. All it takes is one cut and I would bleed out in minutes. I could do it... but I can’t.


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No One Wants Me

Posted by Lauren Hummel in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 7:13 pm

(ding! ding!)

Wait. What? People? Where?

(sniff, sniff)

It’s late. Who could be here? Ooh! Did they come to get me?! Are they here, are they here!? (tail wagging, barks)

Hi! I missed you so much! I want to-

Oh, it’s not them.

(whimpering)

It’s been almost two months. They aren’t coming to get me.

I will never go home.

Wait, wait, what is that (sniff, sniff)smell? Is that... Peanut butter!!!

I want it! I want it! I want it!

Why, why does that girl have my peanut butter? I, I don’t know her. Who are those people behind her? Oh, they are here to get one of those little annoying things. Why do people want them? They can’t even, even carry a ball. Or, or a stick. Or play tug-of-war. Oh, tug-of-war is my favorite! (tail wags)

I can do all of those things and I have a tail to chase and, and I am pretty adorable. Why don’t people want me? Those ugly things yip and yap and bark all night and, and they can’t even find their tails!

They are such, such-

(footsteps interrupt his thoughts)

Where are they going? They aren’t going to those little things. Wait. They are coming towards, towards me? No that’s, that’s not possible, no one wants me, but she has peanut butter. Come on girl, just, just give me the spoon and I’ll get it myself just, just, come on!

(girl giggles and gives him some)

Ooooooohhhhhh!!!! Sooo good! Thank you girl! Thank you!

You smell nice. Like sticks and leaves. Like trees. I miss the trees- Wait, what are you doing? No, not there plea- oh, that feels nice. To the left a little, up, oh, you got it!

I like you. Can you take me home? I will be the best doggie you ever had, ever!

I will give you kisses and, and not eat your teddy bears, oh pleeeeeeease!! Take me home!

No, what? Come back, why are you walking away? You forgot me! Come back!

I knew it was too good to be true. I will never get a home. All the other dogs keep saying that I only have one more day anyway. I may as well give up now, no one wants me. She was my last chance and I will never be happy. All I wanted was to have a nice family that wouldn’t pull my tail, or muzzle me, or kick me.

I can’t stay here any more. Free me! Free me! Free me! Free meeeee!

It’s no use. I am going to die in this smelly dump all alone. I just wish that girl would take me home. I guess I will make the corner my friend until tomorrow comes.

(pause)

Wait,(sniff, sniff) I know that smell. Sticks and leaves. Tree girl! She is coming back! Oh-she got the spot again. Don’t stop. Stay right there, perfect. Wait a second, what’s that? I’ve seen one of those stringy things before, I go for walks with those. Thank you doggie gods!!
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Gussy Up Pup

Posted by Tobi Hahn in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 7:02 pm

You say I’m your best friend, but you sure don’t treat me like that. You always want to parade me in front of your other “friends,” but we both know that they aren’t as loyal as I am. I’m always there when you get home from work, wagging my tail in greeting. When you’re stressed, I’m there to sit with you while you pet me. So why do you have to dress me in these ridiculous costumes? Don’t say you don’t know what I mean. You and me both know you do. During the summer, you give me one of those silly umbrellas to wear on my head and all your friends said “oh, what a cute dog he is!” Shut up. I have fur all over my body! I can’t get a sunburn. Last winter, you made me wear a disgusting sweater that your mother knitted for me. She even made a matching one for you, too. It was embarrassing. Why can’t I go anywhere with you?

I looked at the calendar the other day and Halloween is coming up. I’m nervous. Last weekend, you took me to the mall (leaving me outside tied to a pole like the bad owner you are) and went in no less than three costume stores. The costume you have in mind for me must be the most vile, embarrassing costume in canine history. That’s the only reason I can think of that you couldn’t find one. In fact, I saw you shopping on your computer for hours after work yesterday.

I can’t take this anymore - I’m getting out of here. I am running away. It is time to pack my things. I can take a few ounces of dog food in the backpack you bought for me last year (it’s vomit green, ew). I will take my favorite bone that I inherited from my grandmother. My lucky chew toy will fit somewhere too. I’ll walk to the bus stop and ride to the train station, then catch the first train out of here. I just have to find where you keep your money. Not in the kitchen, although I did find some good food there. Not anywhere in the basement. I wish I was big enough to ride your bike so I wouldn’t have to take the train. I’ll check in your room. Nothing under your bed. Here’s your wallet, right on top of your dresser. Ok, I got the money, let’s hightail it out of here!

These guys at the train stations are jerks! They say they can’t sell a dog a train ticket. I even took the time to learn sign language and sign out where I wanted to go to them, but they just laughed at me. “Hahaha,” they say, “a talking dog can’t possibly exist! He’s just doing an interpretive dance! That is far more rational and believable.” Well, I’ll give my old buddy Ralph a call and see if he can help me out.

“Hey, Ralph!”

“So, I’m having a bit of a problem here. I need a place to stay because my owner isn’t treating me great.”

“So I can stay at your place? Great, thanks.”

“What’s that?”

“No, I’m not dressing up for Halloween.”

“You want me to go trick or treating with you in costume? Listen, Ralph, I’m not sure that I can be friends with a dog who dresses up for halloween. You know my feelings about clothes, Ralph.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Right. I’ll just find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Ok, bye.”

Damn, I sure hate Halloween.


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Homework

Posted by Aaron Block in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 5:12 pm

I just get home and I have to do homework now. I hate that. There are so many things I would rather do when I get home. If I try to go upstairs right now, sit down, and do my homework, I won’t get it done. I always leave homework for the last minute. I stress myself out that way. The feeling of having something, an assignment hanging over my head almost makes me nauseous. Sometimes I wish I could just be nauseous and throw up already. I could just get it over with. How to get rid of this feeling, this stressed out, nervous, almost nauseous feeling seems obvious. I could stop talking about how tough it is to do my work, stop complaining and just get it done. That’s what I try to do. I try to come at my work with so much tenacity and motivation that I just get it done. Why doesn’t that work? Maybe it’s because I’m just not that motivated. Sometimes, when I enjoy what I’m doing, I’m really motivated. That’s when I get things done. But I hate my homework. What If I just get motivated? I can pretend I’m not doing my homework. I can treat it like I’m destroying my homework. Not doing it would just be giving up, surrendering. Homework is always gonna be there if I ignore it. If I do my homework, it’s no longer homework. It’s not something I have to interact with anymore. That’s how I’ll do it. So, that’s how I start my homework. How do I keep with it? What I mean is, how do I not get distracted. I realize this is getting kind of ridiculous. I mean, “How do I do this? How do I do that?”. Just answer this last question. How do I stay on track? Turn off the television, stop listening to music, get off Facebook. I trudge through my homework. I get it done. I don’t feel nauseous anymore. I’m not nervous. Now I can do whatever I want. That might seem so basic to you. I get that. Maybe it just comes naturally to you and this whole time you though “Are you kidding me? It’s not that hard. Just do it.” It’s hard for me. It’s not excruciating, it’s not torture, but it’s hard and now that I’m done, I’m really relieved.
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Car Theft

Posted by Desmond O'Donovan in English 2 - Pahomov - A on Tuesday, November 19, 2013 at 11:07 am

Des O’Donovan

Excuse me sir, you forgot to lock your... car.

Damn, he didn’t hear me. He just walked into that store. What an idiot, I mean seriously, what kind of moron just leaves their car unlocked in this neighborhood. Jesus, he left the key in the ignition. This is definitely getting stolen.

I should go inside and get him, and tell him to lock his stupid car. Man, if I had a car like this I wouldn’t let it out of my sight. How can you just leave a mercedes like this unlocked. Someone could get a lot of money for this. I know a guy who would buy a stolen car like this. Come to think of it I do need some money. More than that I need some food and a place to spend the night. It’s too damn cold out here.

I could just go inside the car for a bit, just to warm up. I’ll guard it so it doesn’t get stolen, nothing wrong with that. Ohhh, that’s nice, nice and warm. These seats are so comfortable, I could fall asleep in them, It’d be way more comfortable than my cardboard box.

Hey he’s got some groceries I here. I don’t think he’ll notice if one of these bagels goes missing, he’s got so many and he can always buy more.

Oh that’s good

I’ve got nowhere to sleep tonight. Maybe I could take this car to an abandoned lot or something, spend the night, and then return it to his house the tomorrow. His address should be on the registration form. Ah, here it is 1247 Maple Street, oh he lives in that really rich neighborhood. He probably had five more cars like this, what difference does it make if I take this one. After all I have nothing. There’s no one around, I could drive of, sell the car, and have my money in no time.

Wait this is crazy, I could get caught. I’ve already been arrested for theft before, I’m not going back to that prison. It won’t be like the last time, No ones going to walk into the living room, and catch me throwing jewelry into a bag like last time. I’m not going to get caught, I’m going to sell the car, I’ll get rid of the evidence.

Hey he also left his phone, god this car is a gold mine. I could get money for that to, huh, He’s got a picture of his kids as a screen saver. He’s got a boy, and a girl. Cute kids, look like they’re five or six years old. The boy kinda reminds me of my son at that age. He’s got the same wide smile. Of course I’m sure my son looks a whole lot different by now.

I haven’t seen him in eight years, since my ex wife took him away from me after the arrest. Maybe she was right to do that. What kind of a father am I. I’m a terrible role model, I’m stealing a car from some guy who’s got his own family to support. I don’t want my kid to live this way, and I don’t want to live this way either. But I need a place to sleep, It’s going to get below zero tonight, I’ll freeze to death. If I get arrested, at least I’ll still have a place to sleep. ( try to start the car)

Damn it, it’s out gas!


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