Sunday, May 23, 2010

Some Photographs

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Imagination and Rocks

"A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral."

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Being a child :)

Sometimes I wish I was 5 again. Just because it's so simple to be 5.
Nobody tells you what chores you have to do.
You can pretty much have fun and sleep in Kindergarten.
Boys aren't a huge issue and you think of them more as friends than boyfriends.
Barbie is your best friend and she does whatever you want her to do.
I know I'm getting off topic if I bring this up, but in English we're reading The Little Prince. The book is about a man who thinks grown-ups are insane and he claims he will never act like them. The man is a pilot and one time while he's soaring in the sky, his plane crashes and he lands in the Sahara desert. He meets a little prince who lives on an asteroid and the little prince travels to different planets and meets six different grown-ups, all who are too busy with their occupations to take the time to enjoy the little things in life. (That was a very short summary of the story, and there are more elements to it. I strongly suggest the book for all ages.) These next quotes are from the book, I thought you might enjoy them.

"Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, 'What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?' Instead, they demand: 'How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?' Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him."

"If you were to say to the grown-ups: 'I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get an idea of that house at all. You have to say to them: 'I saw a house that cost $20,000.' Then they would exclaim: 'Oh what a pretty house that is!'

I think every grown-up has a 5-year-old inside them but they're too afraid to let it out.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Ingrid Michaelson - Breakable

My favorite thing to do on a bus ride

In the afternoons when school is over and we're all merrily riding along in our big yellow school buses, I always pick the window seat when I sit with people. Why? Because I love to wave to people out the window at red lights. Yes, I know it's weird, but I feel like it brightens the person's day. So far I have gotten a truck driver to wave, a man with a snake tattoo on his arm to wave and smile, and an old man to give me a strange look, and then smile. It's very tricky to get the person's attention because most of them are on their phones, some talking and some texting (like the man who was texting on his iPhone and the second he saw me giving him a look, he hid it beside his leg. Bad example, dude.) Because we're in a school bus, we're high up enough to see into people's cars also. Once there was a car with a teenage guy sitting in the way back of the car, where there is no seatbelt or seat, for that matter. In the mornings, people are dressed in their work clothes and alone, and in the afternoons, they usually have their kids in the car. The other day there was a little boy in the front seat next to his mom, (yes, that's illegal. and also the mother was on her phone) and the little boy was staring out the window with his mouth open wide. He was so in awe of all these kids on this big bus! I waved at him because he was so cute and he looked at me and smiled. I find this ritual of mine very amusing and yes, I'm completely normal. :)

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Me & Her -A Poem

There's Me and then there's Her,

Her hides even though she's there.

I want to be Her,

But Me cuts off her air.

Her can be Me,

But that's not right.

Because Me is herself,

And herself would be contrite.

Me could change,

Because Her is a dream.

Then Me would be happy,

And have a better self-esteem.

But Me shouldn't change,

Me is herself.

Even though Her,

Is another in itself.