When I first arrived at my school in August, I was prepared for another super easy year. I was used to the laid back attitude of 6th grade, and expected nothing more from 7th. However, I soon realized that my picture of a perfect school year was inaccurate. One word, my friends, one word that sent my social life to the bottom of the pond. Homework. Everyday, I would come home with at least two hours worth of homework. English, science, Spanish, math, Texas History. I even had to practice for band. All of my time was spent on homework, and by the time mid-winter came my life was miserable. While my family was worried about what to get each other for Christmas, I was worried about getting my narrative essay, review packet, Spanish translations, thirty algebra problems and DBQ essay done by the end of the week. Eventually, I woke up on Monday mornings dreading school, wishing that I could just stay home until summer. But by Febuary, I learned that I had to just suck it up and deal with it, and that I had to work hard to get were I want to be. If I had any advice to give to incoming seventh graders, I would tell them to expect the worst, but be prepared for it and push through. It will really pay off in the end.
Back in elementary school, I was pretty shy around people who weren’t my friends. If someone tried to talk to me, I would just sit there awkwardly and stare at my feet, nodding and muttering the occasional “Uh-huh”. Being the leader of anything had terrified me, so I never tried to take charge, or make suggestions. I just did whatever I was told. It was probably one of my biggest flaws, and thinking back, I realize that if I had had the courage to step up, my life would have been a whole lot easier. It never dawned on me how bad my problem was until the end of fifth grade.
It was the last few weeks of school, and we were starting our end-of-the-year project. Our assignment was to make a skit, video, or song about where to use commas. It was a group project, and my heart sank when my teacher called out my name with the names of two people I barely knew.
Right from the first day, I knew that our project wouldn’t turn out as my group hoped it would. Our concept was confusing and hard to follow, and we were biting off way more than we could chew. My partners wanted to have huge props and costumes that were impossible to make in the amount of time we had. But no matter how bad their ideas were, I never stepped in to fix them. I was worried that the ideas were only bad in my eyes and everyone else liked them. I was afraid of being wrong and making a total fool of myself. So I stayed quiet.
By the day of our presentation, I was prepared to receive a low grade, and a low grade was exactly what I got. I felt awful knowing that I could have done so much more to help, and by not saying anything, I had let myself and my group down. I learned to stop holding back, and to share my thoughts and ideas. Ever since I started getting more involved, I’ve been feeling better about being the leader. I hope I never go back to being the person I used to be.
The first time I looked at this poem, I’ll admit, I shed a few tears. It really touches my heart every time I read it, and it can make me feel grief and happiness at the same time. This has always been one of my favorite poems, and I hope you enjoy it!
When tomorrow starts without me,
And I’m not there to see,
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me,
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry
The way you did today,
While thinking of the many things,
We didn’t get to say.
I know how much you love me,
As much as I love you,
and each time that you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
Please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name,
And took me by the hand,
and said my place was ready,
In heaven far above,
And that I’d have to leave behind
All those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
A tear fell from my eye
For all my life, I’d always thought,
I didn’t want to die.
I had so much to live for,
So much left yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible,
That I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays
The good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared,
and all the fun we had
If I could re-live yesterday
Just even for a while,
I’d say good-bye and kiss you
And maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized,
That this could never be,
For emptiness and memories,
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
My heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven’s gates,
I felt so much at home
When God looked down and smiled at me,
From His great golden throne.
He said, “This is eternity,
And all I’ve promised you.”
Today your life on earth is past,
But here life starts anew
I promise no tomorrow,
But today will always last,
And since each day’s the same way
There’s no longing for the past.
You have been so faithful,
So trusting and so true.
Though there were times
You did some things
You knew you shouldn’t do.
But you have been forgiven
And now at last you’re free.
So won’t you come and take my hand
And share my life with me?
So when tomorrow starts without me,
Don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me,
I’m right here, in your heart.
Growing up, The Lion King was my absolute favorite movie. Every single day when I got home from school, I would hop onto the couch and had my sister plug in the disc. I never really paid attention to the actual movie, or what the characters were saying, I just enjoyed looking at the images. Back then, I loved animals, especially lions, so I didn’t really care about the plot. All that mattered were the pictures and the music. Even today, I still find myself humming “The Circle of Life” to myself when I’m alone. After watching The Lion King so many times, I was surprised that I barely remember the plot now. When I watched it for the first time in a few years, I had no idea what was going on, but I still felt a spark of childhood memories.
As you might of read on my About Me page, I live in Austin, Texas. Before I start telling you what living in here is like, you should know that Texas is NOT what you read about in books and see in movies. We don’t ride horses, we don’t wear cowboy hats and most of us don’t talk with a western accent.
About 842,600 people live in Austin. It’s not the largest city, especially compared to cities like Dallas and San Antonio, but we are one of the more artistic cities. If you go downtown, you’ll find detailed paintings on the outside walls of every shop. It’s really entertaining to just walk around and look at all of the artwork. There are many small shops in Austin, and they give the city a cozy feeling.
Austin is a small town, but we host big events, like ACL and South by Southwest. I’ve never been to either of them before, but many of my friends have, and apparently, they are always super crowded! People from all over the country come here to see their favorite singers.
Overall, Austin is a great city, and I’m extremely happy I live here. ACL, South by Southwest, and one of the best outlet malls are only a short drive away. If you are going on vacation anytime soon, I strongly suggest going on a trip to Austin
English, science, Spanish, math, Texas History, all in one night? You’ve got to be kidding me! We all know how frustrating too much homework can be.
When you get home from a long day of school, you want to relax, sit down, take a nap. But no, you have to whip out the textbook and copy down 10 pages of reading notes. Some people never find time to rest, and wind up awake at 11:00 working on their algebra. I don’t think being up in the wee hours of the morning on a school day is very good for you.
Also, some people are busy, and have trouble finding time for homework. I’m in track, and have practices on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, and meets on Thursdays. We only stay about an hour after school, but every minute counts when you have a backpack full of homework waiting to be done.
I understand that homework is important, and I’m not saying that teachers should stop giving it out altogether (Well…), I’m just saying that we should be given less. Well, bye! I’ve gotta go do my homework.
This is the story of how I got a permanent scar on my left knee- and why I will NEVER forgive the Domino’s Pizza delivery guy.
It was a normal Tuesday night- my mom and dad both had to stay at work late, so my sister and I were staying at my grandfather’s house. It was getting to be dinner time, so my grandfather ordered a pizza from Domino’s. When the doorbell rang, my sister had to hold my grandfather’s dog, Tigger, away from the door. Tigger is like a little dog Houdini, escaping the house all the time. Luckily, by now, he always comes back, but this happened 5 years ago, and Tigger was always in search of an adventure.
My grandfather cracked the door open so that he could pay for the pizza, but also prevent Tigger from getting out. I glanced over to my sister who seemed to be having trouble holding on to him, and jumped up to help. When I was two steps away, Tigger shot out of my sister’s hands and bolted for the door. Hearing the unmistakeable sound of claws scrabbling on wood, my grandfather asked the pizza delivery guy to close the door a bit more. He instead, opened it wider, and out went the dog. My sister and I leapt up and sprinted after him. My feet were pounding on the concrete as I tried to keep Tigger in my sights, not paying attention to my surroundings (big mistake). My foot caught on one of the many sharp rocks jutting out of the concrete, and I grimaced in pain as I skidded two feet on my left knee.
“Ow…” I looked down, surprised to see only a cut, and climbed back up to my feet. I continued to run, eventually catching up to my sister who was scooping up Tigger before he escaped into someone’s yard.
“I got him!” She said cheerfully, turning around to face me.
“Great!” I grinned, happy the chase was over.
Her joyful expression quickly melted into horror as my “cut” caught her eye. Confused, I looked down to see blood pouring down from my knee into my sock. I stared, gaping at the wound, not believing it was on my body. My grandfathers car pulled up next to us.
“You got him? Great! That sneaky little dog is always trying to get out.” He obviously didn’t notice the blood flowing down my leg.
“I… I umm… fell…” I stuttered, not sure of how he would react.
Nothing much was done about my knee that night. I wiped up the blood, cleaned the wound, and put on some Neosporin and a large bandage. When my parents picked me up, they were curious about what happened to my leg. I told them I fell, and because I was eager to go home, told them I would show them once we got to the house when they asked to see it.
I slowly peeled back the bandage when I was back in my own bathroom, and my parents were not happy to see the cut. I was surprised when my mother started talking about going to the ER to get it stitched up, but my dad said it would heal on it’s own. I thought it was just a cut that happened to bleed a lot, not something to get stitches for! Now I wish I had gotten those stitches. Maybe I wouldn’t have an ugly scar on my knee.
Because we never went to the doctor, we never knew how deep it was, but we knew it was pretty deep. Instill wonder what would of happened if that pizza delivery guy had followed SIMPLE DIRECTIONS and closed the door. He will not EVER be forgiven.
“Beep! Beep! Beep!”
I groaned and grabbed blindly for my phone. I somehow managed to wrap my fingers around it even in my half-asleep state, and stared at the blindingly bright screen.
“I hate you so much.” I murmured to my phone (for some reason I talk to inanimate objects when I’m tired). I was stretching and thinking about what an awful morning it would be, when the phone rang downstairs.
I checked my phone. It was 6:05! Who would be calling so early? Curious, I crept downstairs and was greeted by the happy clicking of claws against tile. My dogs came dashing around the corner and scampered across the kitchen. I knelt down and laughed when the put their front paws on my knees and stretched to lick my face. After being licked half to death, I stood up and tiptoed to my parents bedroom in case one of them was still sleeping. My mom was hanging up the phone, and my dad was sitting in bed, playing with the puppies, who had followed me in.
“Who called?” I asked hopefully.
“The school,” my mom answered. “You can go back to bed, school is cancelled.”
My initial thought was that she was joking. The last time we had a snow day was, what, three years ago? But when I said ok, and turned around to tell my sister, she didn’t stop me. I smiled to myself as I climbed the stairs walked down the hall to my sisters room. I knocked on the door, and didn’t even open it before telling her school was cancelled and jumping into my warm, soft bed.
The rest of the day was a typical weekend day, with the addition of going outside and admiring the white, icy, untouched snow. Or frost. It was close enough. After taking a few pictures, I went back inside and immersed myself in Psych, The Walking Dead, and The Lord of The Rings movies. So yeah, I had a pretty awesome day off.
I got my dogs, Truffles and Remy, 2 years ago in Febuary. My mom literally just mentioned it out of the blue. We were out and about, for no reason in particular, and when we drove past Pet Co, she just randomly said “Hey, we should stop by Pet Co to get some stuff for the dogs!” My sister and I, thinking it was joke because my sister had been asking for a dog for nearly 8 years, never with with a yes, but only with a maybe, just laughed it off, but my dad agreed, and after a few minutes of convincing, we finally believed we were getting 2, 8 week old, 4 pound schnoodles. My sister and I were thrilled, and couldn’t wait for the day they were brought home. Finally, a week later, my dad hobbled into the kitchen carrying a large, gray crate. Bouncing with excitement, we all knelt on the floor, and my dad had just barely lifted the latch, when a tiny, furry, mass of black streaked across the room, and circled around to face us. Remy stared at us with big coal eyes, his pink tongue lolling out over his white “goatee”. He yipped at us for a while (we later called it “talking”), and finally started padding toward us. First, he sniffed around the kitchen, then, recognizing my dad from when he picked them up, placed his small paws on his knees and yipped at him some more. We were so caught up in Remy, we completely almost forgot about his sister. When I peeked into the crate, I saw a pair of fearful, deep brown eyes staring back at me. My mom delicately lifted the back of the crate, and I started coaxing Truffles out. She timidly stepped out, but froze the second she saw us. We let the dogs be for the rest of the evening, thinking we had gotten a bouncy, hyper schnoodle and a shy schnoodle. We had no idea what little Truffles would grow up to be. Today, she prances around the house, waking my parents up in the middle of the night, and jumping on my bed at 3am. Her brother does the same, but he has his own things, too. We’ve made silly names for every single one of them. When he balances his back against the back of the couch on his head, we say he is “crackering”. When he barks at us for no reason, he is “talking”. We are so happy we got our dogs, and they have made our lives a lot more enjoyable.