Food for Thought

If I were to write a letter about all those I am thankful for, even if it might consist of a few fictional characters, the list would be as long as the decimal PI written out. Although I suppose I can try.

I am thankful for my father. He taught me how to use a fork and knife. The knife always goings in your dominant hand while the fork is held in your non dominant. Once you are done cutting, you can seamlessly switch to move the fork from your plate to mouth with minor damage along the way.  Even though Cheerios weren't my favorite, I would still eat them for you. When I got older and one morning you explained that you ate the Special K breakfast cereal for me, it meant the world and so I ate the sugared cardboard. Luckily this time I didn't throw up like I did when I was made to eat a tuna sandwich. Fortunately you never made me eat anything I didn't want to again, minus the extra spaghetti sauce I drowned my pasta in and the leftover milk from a hearty bowl of cereal, carefully airlifted from the pool of white to my child lips by a thin sliver of metal I grasped in my hand fearful of spilling. I remember the night I asked you to read a story I wrote and my sixth grade grammatical skills were not up to par, and are still not hence my horribly atrocious run on sentences and lack of hyphens when needed, but you smiled and told me you liked it. A year after that I had just gotten into your car and something was different. I know you saw the scars and fresh wounds on my leg, peeking out under the hem of my shorts, where the all my secrets were stored. You didn't say anything, but you let me know I could come to you. Even though I never took you up on your offer, it was very much appreciated.

Child's Play - A Memoir by Drake

All of my memories kinda reach the same level, none really stick out with more details than another.
Although I can recall numerous afternoons spent at my babysitter's house in Rogersville.
My mom would drop me off in the morning before work, usually still sleepy and presented in pajamas. The morning would consist of our group's favorite cartoons, such as spongebob or Scooby Doo.
As the others would arrive and the weather would gather warmth, our energy increased.
Some days we would pretend to be characters for The Incredibles movie - I would always be Violet, because who doesn't want to be invisible? I could say that by playing the character that is invisible, it was a symbol of how I would feel all through growing up, and while that is true, I really just thought she was pretty.
On the afternoons we ventured outside, we would ride tricycles and climb on the profane  tank that resided next to the path connecting the babysitter's house and her daughter hair salon.
There was a jungle gym at the edge of her property, looking over the cow pasture of her son's, hidden behind a forest of small tangled leaves and trees. It creaked and groaned, threatening to break down any time someone would dare to try and swing.
Off to the side, next to the gate of the pasture, there was a fruit tree. Not too far from that, a blackberry bush was the pot of golden at the end of the rainbow.
For lunch, we were served a gourmet meal of ravioli and some kind of vegetable. After we had a clean plate, there was a choice of red jello or a popsicle. During the summer everyone would choose a popsicle. At the end of our devouring, we would have a contest of who had the most juice left after their popsicle.
Naps were the most dreaded part of the day.  Sometimes I would have to sleep on the couch in the husband's office - that was the worst. It was dark and intimidating. Other times I would sleep on the couch in the living room. The one that was almost a love seat but just big enough for me to curl and stretch as I pleased. I've never been good at sleeping, hence why I popularly sport the raccoon look nowadays, and most afternoons I would lay on the couch for an hour, tossing and turning, observing my surroundings.

I would ask to see my dad. We would sit at the kitchen table and eat our cheerios. Soon we'd go to Gillenwaters like we use to when I was younger. He'd bring a tennis ball or something similar and push me in the swing. He'd throw the ball and I'd catch it. Afterwards we would go home and eat a bowl of strawberries, bananas, and milk, maybe watermelon. Afterwards I'd comply and utilize the math flash cards I always detested. I'd sit in the recliner with him and read him my favorite page with the chipmunk and Bonnie in the Highlights magazine. Before a nutritious dinner of french toast and lemonade, I'd build him a cake of legos. After dinner, my mom would pick me up, and I would take a bath with all of my barbies and little pet shops. My mom would tuck me in and sing our goodnight songs.

I wish I didn't know how my father regards me. I wish I didn't know all the things he and my mother went through. Why they divorced. How their marriage was. I wish I didn't know how he thinks or could act.

About the Author

 Growing up, Kelli Volonte has realized sometimes you have to be the princess and knight in shinning armor. It has always been important to her that young girls find peace with themselves and learn to love who you are; all the while knowing that being happy fulfills them as people. Instead of thinking falling in love with another person will make them whole.

This is her first published book. She lives in Springfield, Missouri with her mother, brother, dog, and four cats.

Movie Preferences

  Oceans Eleven is an underrated classic. It's kinda like Leo’s Inception, where it takes a few times and a crap ton of attention to understand it, but once you do, the brilliance of it hits like an ocean wave, slowly dragging you into the amazement of it.
   80’s movies are my downfall. 90’s are a close second. But my undying love for The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Take up approximately 80.1232% of my heart, while the rest is reserved for food. You’ve Got Mail, Pretty Woman, and When Harry Met Sally are what I grew up watching, and are now what I base my love life off of; which is probably why I'm still writing the manuscript for my wedding.
   I've never understood why people like horror movies. They're full of negativity and horrible things; why would you want that in your life? The world is hard enough to stay positive in without being reminded of the scary vastness of how much we don't know or can't control.
   Movies and tv shows are my life. They're the best way for me to escape from reality, take a break from things. They also inspire me. I use them as a motivational tool. I'm usually in bed or on my couch in my front room. Before I got a job my mom and I would go see a movie in theatres every other week. It was great bonding time and a nice way to get out of the house. We've only been to the movies once since Campbell 16 closed. I really miss those nights, especially the popcorn. Movie theatre popcorn tastes so much better than regular popcorn.
   Building a fort and filling it like the inside of a pie with soft pillows and fuzzy blankets to settle in for a movie marathon of all of my favorite old time romance classics on a rainy day with candles burning next to a cracked window in an empty, quiet house is still on my to do list, but I like to think I'm close to checking it off.
   If I were to answer that last question honestly it would be sad and depressing and far too emotional than I would like to share, so instead I'm going to write about a day I hope to experience.
   Rain welcomes the hello from a long lost love of a window as the city outside begins to stretch and wake up. The slight breeze waltz in with smell of rain on its jacket as the perfume entices the scent of fresh laundry wandering around the apartment. They greet Frank Sinatra as he speaks a language of love threaded together by music notes of a saxophone.







 

Dan in Real Life

   My brother turns thirteen in December. He's in seventh grade. In my opinion, seventh grade is the hardest year of an already hard age. You're in the middle of everything, lost in a sea of expectations and newfound pressures that come with getting older, especially when it comes to socializing in school. Grades are different and teachers have less empathy. This quick sand is hard for a marathon athlete of life’s hardships at thirteen. Therefore I try to be for him what I needed someone to be for me at his age. These are my guidelines:


you have to let them make their own choices; the best you can do is educate them as much as possible and hope they make the right decision
you can't protect them from everything; letting them make their own mistakes is how they learn
support them no matter what


They're a lot easier to preach than to practice but we’re all doing the best we can do.


   After looking at the most iconic photos of this millennium, I realized what fuels my fire is taking those in a moment fleeting photos that capture something so beautifully astounding and breathless which tells a story far beyond what words could ever do. I want to go to Iraq and India and Ethiopia and so many other places that will strip me of all but the bare necessities to gain perspective and lose the materialistic edge that I'm in a battle with everyday. I want to help those that have suffered far more than I ever will, and those who bear stories most people in this country will never understand. All the while, I want to share that with the world; to inspire those who sit in the back of an economics class listening to over privileged teenagers try to talk about something they know nothing about and feel like the world is against them because only they know the truth; it will be a reminder that the world holds so much more than a life of trying to make millions and losing everything you thought you stood for along the way. Love and selflessness is what holds the world together.


   I like to think that if tubing and hide and seek were Olympic sports, I'd be a gold medalist. While I won't spill any of my secrets for either, hide and seek was a special favorite pastime of mine to play as a kid and still is. My favorite spot in my house to hide was the very back of my mom’s closet, behind all of her long black clothing reserved for certain occasions, upon the plastic tubs in which the contents are still unknown to this day. Sometimes when I was feeling the need to be alone in a quiet, safe space I would climb to the back of the closet in the hallway across from the bathroom. Behind all of my mom’s fancy dresses and past the spare toilet paper, to lay on the comforters and blankets. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that.










 

Movie Quotes

I'm such a sucker for quotes, especially quotes from my favorite movies.

They were too good not to post.

"It only took three months. Twelve years and three months."

Captions Aren't My Thing

I noticed today that a few planets were missing. I wonder how long they've been gone and where they disappeared to.

"Do not look at yourself with disgust, you are a gift to this earth. You are beautiful, you are a light, an energy, an essence. You are nature herself."

- Heidi Pickett

This is Iman. I named him after the world's first black supermodel because she represents courage and bravery and a type of diversity that not everyone can understand; she was stunningly beautiful in an unconventional way, and I believe that he (my cat) is just as breathtaking, but many people thought he was ugly.

"I don't know what it was, you see. Her eyes had a certain sparkle. Her personality was fiery and precious."

I've always wanted to do a piece that breaks out of society's mold, therefore I made a deal with my brother and his friends. If they would come take photos with me, I would drive them around to skate spots. This piece would be titled, "Boys Can Wear Highlighter Too".

I found him in a house off Commercial street on the edge of town. The house was filled with fleas, bedbugs, cockroaches. He was locked in the bathroom with three other kittens. There was no litter box, cat food bowl, water bowl. The guy who "owned" him decided to spend his very little money on drugs, alcohol, and shitty pizza. He would feed these kittens, who were barely old enough to walk, scraps of food once a day. The day I was there, he fed them torn up pieces pizza crust. They fought over the scraps in such a desperate, heart shattering way that it made you see things from a different perspective. 

They called him "The Asshole" because he smaller and was more aggressive. He would sprint from one side of the couch to the next trying to get a bite of food. I would watch him and his siblings play with dead cockroaches in the kitchen after they're bellies were too bloated from high processed carbs to eat anything else. I was the only one who tried to show him any love.

After I took him and two of the other kittens, we found them good homes where they would be safe and loved. He's now my best friend. He purrs the loudest of any of my cats; he'll follow me from room to room. The compassion he exerts is astounding. If my cat can understand empathy and compassion, how can humans beings not?

There's a special kind of grace and purity in capturing moments of unexpected bliss. 

It took me a long time to understand why people cared if they could walk around shirtless in public or not. Eventually I realized that was not the point they were trying to make. 

It still hasn't sunk in that half of my high school career is already over.

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place. Like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again."

- Azar Nafisi

The lighting and trees looked too good not to capture.

Rainy days are a blessing.

It was surreal to be able to hold all of our hardwork in my hands. Weeks and hours and deadlines all for this. Seeing my name printed with words I wrote and photos I took, to be distributed throughout the school and shown off as a representation of Kickapoo, was a feeling like no other. 

"I know these will all be stories someday, and our pictures will become old photographs. We'll all become someone's mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening."

- Perks of Being a Wallflower

Edward Hopper Inspired Writing

The light cold breeze
wraps you in a bear hug
through your coat and scarf.
The man tinkers with the gas
pump and you wonder
how he could not be freezing.
The crickets sing love songs
of lonely heart in the night.


Your suitcase sits at your feet
as you raise a cigarette to your lightly chapped lips,
whispering the cries for love that is lost.
Contempt in your solitude,
you blow a cloud of smoke
into the chilly night air
and the time passes
like there is no tomorrow.


White wine embraces the lover's
lips like a New Year's kiss.
Cigarette smoke preforms
intimacies with the fresh air
that fills their lungs,
yet leaves them just as
breathless as a passionate
tongue dance.

Window Poem

Through My Kitchen Window


Snow coats the
once green grace.
Foot prints decorate the lawn,
like a handcrafted cake.
Bird feed has fallen onto the
ground underneath and
the bird bath is now
an ice skating rink
for all those walking feathers
inclined to do so.
Steam rises up
and lightly kisses the glass.
Soap and warm water
are always the best combination
to relax on a winter day.

Six Word Memoirs

Moi:

   Those I thought would stay, didn't

   Feminism is not a bad word

Pour Tyler:

   You were my unexpected best friend

Pour Alayna:

   It isn't easy but push through

Pour Corey:

   You are the sun and Galaxy

Writers as Readers

   I love to curl up with feather blankets,  next to candles on rainy days and plunge into heart capturing book.

   I found that my writing style is very much like Nathaniel Hawthorne's, although I do like to try and incorporate some of John Green': style as well. For poetry, I try to imitate certain aspects of Rupi Kaur's style sometimes, depending on the subject of my poem.

   No matter if it was the very first book I read,  the Dr. Seuss biography is one of the first books I read, and definitely my favorite.

   My favorite series are:

Harry Potter (of course) - everything about this series engulfed my heart in a pit of bliss and love; it allowed me escape into a fantasy that was much better than my reality, providing me with relief from all the emotional burdens.
Percy Jackson, all series - I found a bit of myself in each character, plus it is about mythology and my fascination with that made all of Rick R's book a heaven for me.

   My favorite books are:

If I Stay - it is so beautifully heartbreaking with human emotion and connections, something I can't always relate to, therefore it gives me an ideal life I wish I had sometimes.
Looking for Alaska
Milk and Honey

   My goal ever since I was little has been to write a book before I finish school. Recently I've been curious about publishing a book of poetry. I'm considering the possibility of doing so.

Color Walk Poem

My freshman year,

I learned how to drive,

On rainy mornings 

Or snowy afternoons.

My driving instructor once lead me on a winding path,

Filled with colorful leaves and bare trees.

An apple orchard called my name

And I promised I would come back.

He told me, "No one knows how to get here but me."

I've spent years searching for his apple orchard,

I have yet to find it.

Color Collage Poem

Fall leaves rain down outside the window as ravioli bakes in the oven.
Gnocchi and homemade cookies are presented in pretty platters
with subtle fall love marks hidden underneath the delicious Italian heritage.
The marvel counter tops display hand crafted pies
along side burning candles.
Rain drops come together in sing and dance upon the window,
looking out on one side of the barely tainted green hidden beneath
color swatches of orange and red shaped like leaves.
On the other side of the glass
lies a feast of love and culture,
prestine and perfect.
Low tunes reeking of October and November vibes
plays softly as the soup on the stove begins to fill the house with
savory, mouth watering smell.
Light indications of children playing upstairs completes the rainy afternoon.

Dream Threads

After searching long and hard, I've decided my purpose in life is to help the people nobody wants to help or be around.

My mother always exclaims how I used to watch Toy Story everyday with a smile on her lips and the light of love in her eyes. Perhaps that's why Buzz Lightyear's "Reach for the stars!" phrase echos in the head every time I receive my grades or think about college. 

I've found passion for many different subjects, and that combination has led me to formulate widely exuberant dreams. I know it'll be a rough road, and it may not work out, but if I give up how will I ever know if I could've made it.

Newspaper Posts

Nation Left Dazed and Desperate 

Please tell me 

Explain to me why 

You think I am less than you 

For having different body parts

This nation is in an epidemic,

Filled with shots fired 

And dehumanizations tactics lucking 

Across textbook pages and 

Hidden in hallways

I'll never understand 

How people can believe that 

The gender that produces life 

Could ever be less than a sex organ 

In which is only good for 

Somewhat decent sex and providing the "Y" gene.

Excuse me if I don't discover the fascination with 

Something like that. 

          

Memorable Posts

“Just like that. From a hundred miles an hour to asleep in a nanosecond. I wanted so badly to lie down next to her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.”

– John Green, Looking for Alaska 

The first time I ever read this quote was on tumblr in middle school. It was probably during seventh grade, the hardest year. Although the knowledge of where it originated from I did not possess, it became sown into the vessels of my heart.

Once I actually read John Green’s book, I fell madly in love with it. It made me want to ditch my life in the middle of no-where and move into a boarding school. In reality, life in such place is unlike its portrayal in the book, but this was one of the beginnings that lead to me imagining another world. A world where the grass was brilliant green with cute suburban houses in a lovely neighborhood that had lawn mower races and barbecues.

I like to think that there will be a time where I’ll actually immense myself in that conception. While I don’t believe in any particular religion, or entire concept of religion in general, I do believe that after we leave the dimension that contains us now, we might actually be able to fulfill the immaculate scenarios that we’ve dreamed of. That is what gives me comfort at night, but also sends my mind spiraling into unimaginable depths of wonder.

Maybe this entire life is just one part of it.

About these ads

Occasionally, some of your visitors may see an advertisement here
You can hide these ads completely by upgrading to one of our paid plans.

UPGRADE NOW DISMISS MESSAGE

SHARE THIS:

• Press This
• Twitter
• Facebook
• Google

Let's Waste Time Chasing Cars

"how you love yourself is
  how you teach others
  to love you"

- Rupi Kaur

"Somewhere between right and wrong, there is a garden of hope."

"A 2.0 student can know more than a 4.0 student.
  Grades don't deteremind intelligence,
   they text obedience."

"Bliss does not come from materials or possessions. It comes from fulfilling ones purpose in this existence."

- Adam Braum

"Live not in dreams, but in contemplation of reality that is perhaps the future."

- Adam Braum

"Leadership isn't just about telling people what to do. It's about doing the right thing even when it's not written in the rule book."

- Adam Braum

"Where you start in life doesn't dictate where you end."

"Stop acting so small, you are the universe in ecstatic motion."

- Rumi

"The planet does not need more successful people. The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of all kinds."

- Dalai Lama

"I'm surrounded by people who just wanna get blackout drunk for fun. Like nah man. Let's go camping or take a road trip or do some stuff we haven't done before. I wanna live."

"No wonder you are all sad. They've stolen your childhood and replaced it with homework and grades. They don't let you dream any more, they crush it with the pressures to be medicore yet pretend they want greatness from you."

"I will not beg for your time or try to convince you to choose me, the world is too big and I have too much to offer."

"Seventeen seems like the perfect age. Not naive like sixteen. Not feeling the pressures of daunting adulthood like eighteen. Just plain and simple, seventeen."

"This vicious world might sharpen us like a blade, but whether we use that power to protect people or cause them pain, it always our choice."

- Beau Taplin

"Character is how you treat those who can do nothing for you."

"When something bad happens you have three choices: You can let it define you, you can let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you."

How It Begins

I know why the child cries over his homework,
why teenagers these days take comfort in drugs.
The child is beginning the long process of growing up,
the drugs save them from cracking under the pressure
of being perfect and getting good grades and trying to maintain a job as well as a healthy social life.
The drugs are their only escape.

The child will far too soon become those teenagers.
The weed allows him to breathe for the first time
since middle school,
but by the end of freshman year
it is no longer strong enough to overpower the anxiety.
Through the haze he faintly recalls screaming parents,
lacking comprehension of why their perfect child's grades are rapidly falling.

As sophomore years wraps up
the LSD is the only thing keeping him going.
He's constantly struggling to go stead fast at the same pace with a growing work load,
hanging on by the worn out threads
of people who used to care about him.
Just trying the breathe under water.

Half way through junior year
he discovers candy is not for him,
ditching the cocaine he moves on to a new adventure.

Chasing the Dragon becomes his favorite past time,
like little boy playing with a brand new toy.
By the beginning of senior year he's doing it on a daily basis.

Those friends that tried to keep his head above the Black Sea,
no longer speak to him.
They bask in their golden light with the rest of the living.

The spiraling has almost come to an end.
He's too far gone,
or at least that's what he thinks.

Graduation night approaches.
His anxiety sky rockets.
Blacken veins don't look good in graduation gowns.

One drug,
Two drug,
Three drug,
Four drugs past counting.

An overdose dampers the night his life was supposed to begin.
Instead, it ends.

- mental and emotional health is just as important as physical health

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Writers Dreaming   

   I'm currently writing an opinion article for the KHQ magazine over the upcoming election. While trying to write it, I knew that no matter what side I take my opinion will still be shut down and people will still be upset either way, so I decided to steer it in a different direction than left or right entirely. Going through all the articles written about Hilary's emails and Trump's discrimination, it was difficult to discover what I was looking for. There was more written about Hilary's health the past weeks than anything about the libertarian nominee throughout the entire election. Therefore, in this case giving the "bad" news more attention allowed it more power over what should have been covered. In other situations, like the Stanford rape case, talking about the "bad" news gave others the chance to have a voice in justice, as well as the opportunity to learn and become aware of what happens to 1 in every 4 women throughout their lifetime. I suppose it just depends what what the "bad" news is in relation to power. Sometimes giving the "bad" news power can actually be a good thing.

   In my four years of learning the French language, and as I begin to study new languages, I've acquired a decent amount of knowledge of the inner workings of languages. Learning how to read or write in a language is completely different than learning how to verbally speak in the language's dialect. Especially because there can be many different dialects within one language. Besides, you don't speak the same way you write. It's an intricate process of fluency, yet it is so much more than gaining another vocabulary. You fall in love with the culture that the language is braided with. Each languages comes from a rich history, and with that knowledge is a deeper understanding. You develop a different personality for the language. It changes you in many vast ways besides just being able to say you speak another language. Everyone should learn another language other than the one they born into.

   "There’s still a gap between who I am in this moment and who I want to be, and in the future version of myself, I hope to gain that freedom back that I took from myself." 
   While I find it hilariously tedious that I have to quote myself for the fear of plagiarism, the meaning behind it holds merit. I'm quoting my first blog post in which I explain how from middle school to high school I robbed myself of the opportunity and ability to be adverse and openly accepting out of fear of what others would think. After that realization I have been able to reverse the mindset, yet now I'm constantly aware of how true the only constant thing in life is change. I feel as though the older people get the more they fall into a rut of the mindset they grew up in. I mean it's hard to remember to be all these different things on top of worrying about the house payment and trying to be home in time for the Sunday football game. It's easy to get caught up in life and forget about the change going on around you. It happens even with teenagers. You just have to remember the realization every once in awhile and conduct a thorough self evaluation. 

(also my personal blog is kellivolonte.wordpress.com :)

Dream Marks on My Pillow by Ana Lancu

"There was a sacrificial ritual inside my room last night,

it was held there in secret

hard to see anything in the candle light.

Now there is melted wax all over my floor

and the scent of incense is rising up from underneath the door. 

Now maybe it was not as serious as I am making it sound,

just you and me 

getting high and hanging out,

getting high and messing around.

Getting high trying to figure it out."

- "Historic Cemetery" by The Front Bottoms 

Summer Nights

   The floors are made of the kind of dark polished wood that is a refreshing cold to the touch of bare feet. Windows enclose the kitchen, allowing the afternoon light to fill the house with sunny positivity. Ligh neutral colors coat the walls and kitchen cabinets. Grey marble counter tops follow the same pattern. Dark wood stools flank one side of the island as the bowl of fruit reflects off the surface. A coffee maker sits on the counter off to the side of the sink, next to a jar of homemade chocolate chip cookies. The stainless steel fridge is covered in photos of smiling children and bright, colorful drawings. All the cereals are organized in clear plastic containers in the pantry. Fruit snacks hide behind the granola so bars on the third shelf. The French doors look out to a yard of green. A treehouse stands proudly as an accomplishment for Dad. Attached to a far off branch, a homemade swing sways slightly in the breeze. The pool's water glistens as the sun chairs daydream of pool parties and barbecues. The grill reminisces of veggie burgers and stir fry on warm summer nights.

If I Were in Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world 

I'd cancel Fox News,
purple eyeshadow,
The meat industry,
and required summer reading.

If I were in charge of the world
there'd be cleaner air and visible stars,
love around every corner,
and ball pits in the DMV.

If I were in charge of the world
you wouldn't have gender and race wage gap.
You wouldn't have police brutality.
You wouldn't have school courses so incredibly unreasonable it made you want to drop out,
Or an impaired educational system.
You wouldn't even have a broken system in general.

If I were in charge of the world
vegetables wouldn't be a bad thing,
and a person who sometimes forgets that how they acts effects others,
and sometimes forgets to be selfless
would still be allowed to be
in charge of the world.

Lost Title

   In middle school I read this book about a girl from a wealthier family in India. She lived in a beautiful home with two parents. Her mother took her to the country club everyday to play bridge, but the solidarity of this life had she seeking adventure.
   One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
   Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
   The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him. They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
   Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
   When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
   In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
   This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
   The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
   While the details of this book may be a little shaky (it's been a few years since I've read it), this book was definitely one of the most influential ones I've read growing up.

Pieces of a Red Pie

Tangled in an orange and golden fist fight
Dawning red breaks over the horizon
And spills in through the windows
As the house comes alive with victorious red hope and ambition.

Small feet in ruby red slippers
Run across the hardwood floor
As a hand painted in coral reef nail polish
Sips a colorful home decorated coffee mug.

Colors and Culture

   I middle school I read this book about a girl from a wealthier family in India. She lived in a beautiful home with two parents. Her mother took her to the country club everyday to play bridge, but the solidarity of this life had she seeking adventure.
   One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
   Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
   The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him.
They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
   Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
   When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
   In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
   This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
   The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
 

While the details of this book may be a little shaky (it's been a few years since I've read it), this book was definitely one of the most influential ones I've read growing up.

Keaton

“I love how you incorporated an "in the future" part. It added an intriguing twist to the poem.”

" I feel the life of the blanket somewhat represents growing up and starting to see the holes in the world until it becomes one big knot of tangled strings and pieces that we learn to live with and enjoy."

Hey, I loved this analogy. That's such a unique way of looking at it, and it's quite true.

Samantha

“Hey! Your poem does a really great job of painting a crystal clear picture of everything you're describing, and I think that's fascinating since that doesn't most of the time in poetry without losing it's poetic-ness, yet you managed to do both. It's very lovely.  “

“I admire how open you can be about your grief and memories. That's not an easy thing to, especially in front of the entire class. Your writing depicts the memories vividly and that makes the essay come to life. “

Alec

“The poem describes you perfectly while at the same time throwing in some things that people might not know about you. I think it's adorable that you're overprotective. Hope to see some photos of your dogs on here!”

“This piece kind of reminds me of the children's book "The Giving Tree." It's such a different perspective, and I love your descriptions; they really paint a vivid picture. i agree with Samantha about your last sentence. It's my favorite part of the essay. “

Katelynn S.

“I love how your poem starts with something short and sweet. I think it adds this declarative vibe, like you know exactly who you are and is not afraid to show it. Plus the photos are awesome (:”

“At first I couldn't decide it the story was true or not, but I'm dying to read more. That ending was perfect; it makes me want to keep turning pages until I've reached the end of the book!’

I am from the space between the library shelves in middle school.

I am from the pages of a Dr. Seuss biography,

hidden between biology books and mysteries in my elementary library.

I am from the wedding toast I wrote my brother at fourteen.

I was made from strawberries and bananas at my father’s breakfast table

and late nights of French toast.

I was born from milk and honey,

from beautiful poems and yellow rainboots.

I am learning how to be selfless without erasing

myself in the process,

and balancing my kindness with my backbone.

I am finding my voice written across glossy pages of the school magazine.

I am in love the prospects of tomorrow,

and the kind of hope that makes me still believe in magic.

I am infatuated with memories,

always appreciating those I've made

and constantly striving to to create more.

I am over the rainbow and in clouds,

and I promise to never come down.

“To be soft is to be powerful”   8:37 am

Kelli Volonte

August 22, 2016