Bullying

Hey guys, guess what?  I won another short story contest!  It was a totally random contest, too, since it's annually hosted by a dentist named Dr. Copeland.  I was in the 10th-12th grade category and won a $20 gift card to Barnes & Noble.  I thank God for that provision.  I'll probably post a review of whatever book I use the gift card to buy.  I cut and pasted the story for your reading pleasure.

Before you read it, however, I would like to add in a little commentary.  I wrote this story about a contemporary issue at schools everywhere: bullying.  I have personally been mistreated by other kids, so I know the feeling of rejection.  If anyone who is reading this has been or is being bullied, know that you are not alone.  When I was in elementary school, a girl among my circle of friends began to treat me so poorly that I moved on from that group.  I made new friends who appreciated me as I was and eventually let go of my anger.  I never did find out why that girl turned against me, but it doesn't matter.  Don't be afraid to tell someone you trust about your pains.  Bullying is a serious thing, and you need to speak out if you are a victim of it.  There are other ways of dealing with a bully, as my story will show you.  Know that even if you feel that the world has turned against you, God NEVER will.  His arms are open to embrace you and let you know that you are never alone.

Look for Me

I know it hasn't even been a week since my last post, but I've just been inspired.  So, I had to write this down and, of course, I had to post it.  Edits and critiques are welcome, especially since this is hot off the press.

Look for Me

Look for Me in the shadows,

in the depths.

Look for Me in your heart,

in your very soul.

Look for Me, darling,

look for Me.

I say it again.

Look for Me in the mass

of people before you.

Look for Me in the eyes

of a total stranger

and of a close friend.

Look for Me everywhere.

Look for Me in the hallowed halls

and in the grimy gutters.

I am everywhere.

I am right behind you.

I am nose-to-nose with you.

I am just above you;

the soles of My feet just graze

the crest of your head.

I am below you, calling your name.

Ah, look for me, for I am waiting

to be found by you.

I purposely leave behind my tracks.

I discard the clues along my path.

I write you a note everyday.

I send you the treasure map to find Me,

and yet you have not found Me.

Where are you?

Everywhere that I am not.

Oh how I long for you,

sweet child of mine.

You know where I am.

Come look for Me.

I promise you will find Me.

He is not lost, but wants to be found.

Wreck It Ralph

Well, I haven't reviewed a movie in a while, so I'm giving this a shot.  I saw the animated movie Wreck It Ralph with my dad and sister this past Saturday, and I had a great time.  I rate it as a ten out of ten, but Dad rates it as a seven out of ten.  Why?  I have no idea.  I liked the movie for its adorkability and cheesiness.  Okay, so we have all seen the theme of wanting to be accepted by society, and instead being cruelly rejected.  The experience isn't fun, to say the least.  Wreck It Ralph, a story about a bad guy in an arcade game who's tired of being bad, puts an interesting twist to the usual motif of alienation.

From seeing the previews alone, I pretty much had all the characters pegged down.  Ralph is an average guy who's tired of his job and the lack of appreciation.  Vanellope (gosh, what a name!) is a gal with lots of attitude (which is perhaps why I love her so much) and a really soft heart once you get past the crusty surface.  Fix-it Felix is a nice guy, although I found the romantic intrigue between him and the kick-butt Sergeant Calhoun a little strange at first.  Love really crosses all boundaries, doesn't it? Now that I think about it, Felix and Calhoun remind me of a romance between an elf and a giant (yes, I literally mean an elf and a giant) in the movie Ella Enchanted.  Now there's a height difference for you!

Anyway, unconventional romances aside, I thought the movie was first-rate for passing the time with your friends.  I laughed, I nearly cried, and I enjoyed myself.  I definitely recommend this movie to anyone who hasn't seen it yet, at least to anyone who doesn't mind cheesiness.

The Bulldog

Hi all!  So I haven't posted in a month, and I feel I should explain myself.  I haven't updated, but not because my reading has suddenly halted or my creative juices have stopped flowing.  The fact is that any free time I have is gobbled up by friends, college prep, or FanFiction.  However, I decided to post today because something significant happened to me this week.

You see, there was this Bulldog Pride Contest at my school.  Through any form of artistic expression (e.g. drawing, poem, short story), a student was supposed to show what bulldog pride means to him or her.  I chose to participate through my short story "The Bulldog."  I definitely didn't expect to win, especially since I didn't win the poetry contest last year.  However, to my amazement and utter joy I did win!  And no, the prize wasn't just a pat on the back and a sense of gratefulness.  I also won a Target gift card for $25!  I plan to spend it on something long-lasting and memorable, so that I'll always remember this historic achievement.  What it will be exactly I haven't figured out.  I thank God for providing for this awesome blessing and hope that this portends my future success in my writing career.  I copied and pasted the winning story below.  Enjoy!

The Bulldog

“I swear Anna, you are the least-spirited senior on the planet!” my sister Sally exclaimed at the bottom of the stairs as she waited for me to trudge down after her.

I grunted moodily and snapped back, “And you are the most annoying freshman in the history of freshmen.”

Sally groaned and smacked her forehead with an aggravated air.  “At least I have school spirit.  I’m wearing my class color and everything.  And what have you got?”

“A cheery disposition,” I replied sarcastically.

Sally rolled her eyes and opened the door.  I followed her out with a smug look as we began the trek to our high school, which was only a block away.  Looking back, I wonder why that bulldog had to wait until my last day of senior year to help me discover the spirit of my school.

Sally and I parted ways once we reached the school; she went off to hang out with her fellow munchkins and I decided to take a short nap while leaning against an exterior wall of the E-building.  The dreamy daze of my tired eyes was interrupted when I heard heavy, animal-like panting and felt sticky goo drop onto my forehead.

My eyes shot open and before me I saw a giant, heaving, happy bulldog staring at me in anticipation.  I wiped the dog’s saliva off my face in disgust, wondering where on earth this behemoth came from.  I glanced behind the bulldog and saw that the bulldog statue that usually stood proudly on its pedestal at the quad was missing.  I must be hallucinating, I thought, because this giant canine has come to life.

The bulldog gestured for me to climb aboard its back, and I did so because I figured it was all a dream anyway and I couldn’t possibly get hurt.  Instantly the canine began bounding toward the L-buildings, and I gripped tightly onto his collar to prevent myself from falling.  I heard the bell ring, and lurched forward when the bulldog abruptly stopped in front of my old freshman classroom.  I peeked inside and saw a classroom of people whom I knew very well, but looked like their old freshmen selves.

The desks were arranged in a makeshift courtroom, and an old classmate of mine – he was shorter than I remember – began pointing at the accused and shouting that he had violated his daughter Mayella Ewell.  I thought of what poor taste it was to kill that mockingbird Tom Robinson, and then the bulldog was off again.

We raced across the soccer field, baseball field, and football field.  Briefly I saw the enormous football players lining up like a band of soldiers facing enemy lines.  The bleachers were stuffed with cheering onlookers who screamed in excitement and adulation of their favorite sport.  CIF championship here we come.

We reentered the quad, and the dancers were already in formation, as if they had been waiting for us.  Their uniform motions were smooth, fluid, and teeming with bubbling energy and passion.  Their bodies moved up, down, all around the quad in a firework of locomotion, until they dramatically paused to pose at the bulldog.  The hip-hop music that had been playing in the background still ricocheted in my eardrums even when the bulldog ran onward.           

            All the doors to the classrooms were open, letting us see the clubs in the midst of their business.  One group talked about beach cleanup, another the local animal shelter, another the plight of bullying, another the upcoming blood drive, and another so much more.  I heard the Step Squad stomping its feet in a clamor of loud smacks and thumps.  I saw the navy blue of the uniforms of AFJROTC as they marched forward with our patriotic flag.

            All of the people, buildings, and activity became a blur as the bulldog ran faster, faster, faster.  The things I had seen became a mixture of colors, sounds, smells, and the paths of everyone’s lives intertwining inextricably together.  Finally it all spiraled down to one scene, leaving me dizzy and amazed.

            We were back on the football field, and the bleachers were just as filled as when the football game was taking place.  Except this time the people were not cheering; they were silently watching the ocean of maroon sitting in front of a large stage.  The senior graduates stood triumphantly wearing their caps and gowns in a unified body of bulldog pride.  If the bulldog that had been my guide could cry I’m sure he would have burst into tears at the beauty of it all.  The small, the tall, the gentle, the gruff, the brown-eyed, the blue-eyed, the athlete, the genius, the artist, the actor, the writer are all standing side-by-side.  Those four years had all built up to that one fantastic event of this fully culminated school spirit.  I saw myself in the midst of that flood of maroon & gold school spirit.

            The bulldog carried me back to where we started, in front of the science department building.  He strode majestically back to his pedestal, and before I could think to thank him, he was already frozen in place, baring his teeth at the incoming students of another new year.

            I run to the cluster of trees that I know my sister always lounges at, and recklessly push aside her friends.  She glances at me weirdly, but I don’t care.  I grip her by the shoulders and practically shout at her in my enthusiasm.

            “Sally, you were right!” I exclaim.  “About the school pride, about everything.  It’s not just about those colorful rallies, or high test scores, or extracurricular activities.  It’s about all of us as a student body sharing the high school experience together.  Bulldog pride is about taking pride in yourself and all the people who have walked this journey of life with you.”

            Sally smiles softly and withdraws from my grasp to look at me meaningfully.

            “I don’t know what has gotten into you since the ten minutes we’ve been apart, but I’m glad that you finally get me, get this school,” she says.

            I nod in agreement.  “Now that I have, I think the rest of my life can finally begin with spirit.”

My Bucket List

This is my BUCKET LIST of things to do before I die - even the crazy stuff that'll likely NEVER happen.  I wrote this just for fun.

1. Be a published author

2. Go to the East Coast

3. Go to a foreign country

4. Fall in love  (with a superhero… preferably Captain America)

5. Sing in a concert performance/talent show

6. Learn how to ballroom dance

7. Be one of the most popular FanFiction authors IN THE WORLD

8. Star in a movie/play/BROADWAY?!

9. Learn how to dive (I think this one's the scariest on the list)

10. Start a Facebook profile (not particularly exciting, but I hope one day I'll find the motivation to do it)

11.  Play guitar

12. Go kayaking (if my dad can do it, then so can I)

13. Go to the Grand Canyon and SCREAM MY HEAD OFF (I know, it's random)

14. Get a makeover (that's NOT done by my mom)

15. Get highlights

16. Meet a celebrity (I came closest with Jackie Chan at a Rose Parade)

17.  Direct my own film (the Book Club videos don't count)

18.  Meet Wayne Thomas Batson in person

19.  Meet Chris Hopper in person

20. Release my own music album

21. Make a comic book

22. Learn archery (I've wanted to learn this for years)

What's YOUR bucket list?

How to Read

So let's get down to it: I'm going to give a review on a book you probably haven't read, and you're going to read this post anyway because you love me :p  Anyway, today I'm talking about How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster.  I had to read this for AP  Literature, but I found it extremely helpful in explaining why certain elements in literature are significant and what patterns one can find in a book.  The book changed my perspective about how books relate to each other and to literature I'd never thought to compare, like Greek mythology, fairy tales, or Shakespeare.  The examples Foster uses are sometimes obscure to a person who is not a literature professor, but he explains them relatively well.  The lessons Foster teaches changed my way of thinking when it comes to books.

One example is the duel between Peter and King Miraz in Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis. You know, the young, former king of Narnia meets the current king and seasoned fighter in a fight to the death.  Does that remind you of an event, specifically Biblical?  For me, that scene reminds me of David the shepherd boy stepping out from the front lines to meet the giant Goliath.  Why?  Well, my reasoning may or may not be a stretch, but I'll put it into context for you.  A youth who is fighting for the kingdom in the name of Aslan (who is basically the Christ figure of the Narnian Chronicles) comes to fight a warrior in a one-on-one duel to to determine the winner of the war without entering full-fledged battle.  Meanwhile, in the Old Testament, the boy David goes in the Name of the God of Israel to a duel that will determine the fate of the battle between the Israelites and Philistines.  Now are you seeing the similarity?  Okay, so Peter doesn't shoot a rock from his slingshot and kills a giant (in fact he's not even the one to kill Miraz at all), but the similarity is still there, at least to me.  Even if you don't agree, that's okay.  It's what interpreting literature is all about: differences in opinion.  Someone might point out something in a book that you never realized before, and you can do the same for that person.

Doors have opened in my way of thinking about literature, and even when I don't recognize the patterns that Foster taught me, it's okay. Foster assures his readers that "if the story is good and the characters work but you don't catch allusions and references and parallels, then you've done nothing worse than read a good story with memorable characters.  If you begin to pick up on some of these other elements, these parallels, and analogies, however, you'll find your understanding of the novel deepens and becomes more meaningful, more complex."  So true, Foster, so true.

Like Footprints

Hey, so this summer has been SUPER busy, even though I don't have summer school or anything like that.  Either way, I haven't had time to update until now.  Below this I have put a poem that I recently composed.  I was inspired by a day at the beach earlier this week, when I saw everyone's footprints being instantly washed away by the ocean's waves, with no traces left behind.  I'd been itching to write about it since.

Like Footprints

Like footprints in the sand

Being washed away by the ocean's waves,

So you were washed out of my life.

Like peanut butter and jelly

Sticking together between slices of bread,

So we went together oh so perfectly.

Like raindrops and sunbeams,

Who are opposite yet form lovely rainbows,

So we were juxtaposed in the sky.

So now you're gone

And my heart grieves

Because I have lost more than just a friend

Like footprints in the sand

Being washed away by the ocean's waves,

So you were washed out of my life.

Only your print has not left my heart.