Spit Stories
By: Emily
1
Spit stories, we called them. Stories that my clarinet teacher told in between songs. Stories about embarrassing moments like when she was in a performance and spit drizzled on her knees. Gross.
She had taught me for eight years--that's since I was two. Clarinet has been my life; how do my parents expect me to give it up? Stupid parents. My clarinet teacher had to keep teaching me, or I would be nothing. I was so sure that she would teach me. After all we had there still had to be something. And maybe, maybe if my stupid parents would let me, I could do chores around the house to raise money. I wouldn't be able to pay as much money to her as I used to, but she would still accept it. After all, we were friends, right?
2
"Mom, I'm going to uh…stay after school today to do some stuff. Okay? Bye!" I would have to take the bus after school, but it was my only hope to still be able to play the clarinet.
"Hi, Ms. Lisette? I know I quit clarinet, but I need some help."
"Oh, it's good to see you! What do you need help about?"
"Um…long story."
"Blurt it out."
"My parents won't let me play clarinet because it's too much money and I still really want to play because I don't think I'm really that good at anything else and it's my only hope of succeeding and people seem to like me when I play and anyway it's just plain fun…(breath)…and so will you please teach me clarinet? I will try to raise money and stuff but I don't know if I can because-"
"Oh my goodness! I am so glad--when your mom told me that you were too busy I actually thought that you weren't willing to play anymore, but I am so glad you are! Uh…lessons…yes. But what will you tell your parents?"
The world had just come off of me. I was free to go!! Just like that! See how amazing she is?
"Um…there's a little thing called Sports Club-"
"Perfect excuse. Eventually you will have to tell your parents, you know, but I guess we won't worry about that for now. I'm just so glad to be helping you!"
"No, thank you! I guess I'll be going. My parents are expecting me."
3
Life was back to normal. When my parents said that they were in debt and they wanted me to do another activity like sports, I thought I would never say that again. But now I could! My parents still didn't know about the secret lessons, but that was okay. Okay, that is, until January 9, 2004.
"Honey, I know you might find this tough, and everything. I mean, you had to quit clarinet just a few months ago, so it might be a little tough. But we are going to move to Alabama in three weeks. I know this is soon, but-"
"Why do you make all your decisions without consulting me?" I stomped up the stairs and cried myself to sleep.
4
"Greetings, Meg! Why are you early? You are supposed to come on Tuesdays."
"Right. But we are moving this Tuesday so I couldn't come anyway. What am I going to do? I'll never be able to play the clarinet again in my life!"
"Is there a friend's house that you could practice at?"
"People don't like me here, I don't think they'll like me in Alabama. You are the only friend I have. Besides, everyone at my new school will probably hate me because I'm so bad at sports. I hate my parents!" Right then I was furious out of my mine, but two minutes later I walked out with a plan.
5
The trucks came to pick up all of our stuff. What a sad sight! Not that I had anything I liked there besides clarinet, but now it actually hit me that I was moving and I might not be able to play clarinet again. One bad move and the plan was out. I felt like crying, but Ms. Lisette said to follow the plan closely. So I waited there pretending to be happy. Which is not so hard come to think about it.
Ring, ring, ring! Here it comes! I heard my mom say, "Yes, today we are moving." Pause. "She has? Why didn't she tell me? You…! Why did you do that? She needed to try some sports!" She was yelling now. "Why did you give her free lessons?" Pause. "Yes, but she would be happier if she had friends." Pause. "Well, I don't want her to change…I mean, it's just…" Pause. "Okay, so I did want her to change. But now, now I see what you're saying! I guess I will be easier on her."
Click.
6
The apartment was pretty nice in Alabama. But the kids orchestra was the best thing. I actually had a best friend and five other girls who were my friends! I never thought that that many people would care to be my friend. But then again, it was in the orchestra.
Ten Years Later
Currently I am in college getting my degree in music. I don't think my parents are stupid anymore, but I still hate sports. I call Ms. Lisette every night--she fully deserves it. If it hadn't been for her, I would be somewhere else. Who knows? La La land?
Spit stories.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Poem: My Summer Vision
I dream summer days
Girls and mothers gliding over a stream of indigo under a whisper of wind
Children laughing as they let fuzzy peaches fall from trees
Lively insects buzzing and fluttering in circles
Friends sprinting barefooted across the sandy bank
Days spinning by all at once in a split second
I dream of skies forming shady clouds
Pouring shiny bitterness
Bringing me back to reality
A harsh winter with nothing but memories
Ending the moment of my summer vision
Please send comments especially for this one! Is there anything that could make you care that my summer vision was ending? Thanks!
Girls and mothers gliding over a stream of indigo under a whisper of wind
Children laughing as they let fuzzy peaches fall from trees
Lively insects buzzing and fluttering in circles
Friends sprinting barefooted across the sandy bank
Days spinning by all at once in a split second
I dream of skies forming shady clouds
Pouring shiny bitterness
Bringing me back to reality
A harsh winter with nothing but memories
Ending the moment of my summer vision
Please send comments especially for this one! Is there anything that could make you care that my summer vision was ending? Thanks!
Monday, December 12, 2005
Story: Becky's Visit
Becky's Visit
By: Emily
"Today in class we'll be running a mile to improve your standard time," droned Mr. Pickles. The gym teacher's name wasn't really Mr. Pickles. I just called him that because he made me sick. He might as well have said, "Today we will run and get Tova sick so we can make me look like a good gym teacher even though I absolutely stink." See, I hated running because it made me sick, and we had to run almost every day. On top of it all, I never got to see my friends except in summer, which was 216 days and 17 hours away.
I had no friends at my school. At my small school all anyone cared about was sports, and I was the only one who liked writing. At writing camp, everyone loved writing. I had a countless amount of friends from there that lived all over the United Stated of America, but none lived near me. I was truly hopeless.
On my third lap, the pain kicked in. In case you never thought about it, being on the verge of throwing up at the same time as being breathless is painful. And on my seventh lap, I was so dizzy that I felt like I could collapse at any moment. Mr. Pickles would probably make a huge deal out of it. And I wouldn't even have a friend to cover me up and let me die!
Just I was about to finish my seventh lap, something caught my eye that was standing in the middle of the track. I stood very still, and as my full vision came to me I realized I had just seen my dream. I ran all the way to her and hugged her so tightly that she couldn't breathe.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was visiting the space museum. I was going to make it a surprise, but when I found out that you were running a mile today-"
"Well, couldn’t you at least come on lap two? I'm on lap seven!"
Laughter.
"I'm just so happy to see you!"
Laughter.
At my best friend Becky's hotel room we talked about everything from running to writing. That's when Becky mentioned that I should make some friends who lived near me.
"How?" I asked. She knew that everyone in my state loved running. What was she talking about?
"Well, you could join a book club. I saw one at a book store once."
The next day we rode to the book store in search of a book club. It turned out there was one in the middle of a discussion about Number the Stars made of five awesome girls my age. Of course I joined, and the weekend was perfect. I was living in heaven--that just shows you how good things can be when you have a best friend around.
Unfortunately, Becky had to leave. I wanted to die, or at least never return to school. Becky and I hugged each other for two hours and told each other kind things:
"I will miss you so much!"
"You are the best friend ever!"
"You have been awesome!"
"See you in…well, I forgot how many days!"
Finally Becky's plane came and took her away. I thought everything would go back to normal: I would return to school tomorrow and run again, be hopeless again. But nothing was normal: After school my new friend from the book club came over. We had a blast!
Becky's visit changed the rest of my life--now I had friends wherever I went. Maybe temporarily I was a little sick because of Mr. Pickles, but I wasn't completely hopeless. I would never be after the important weekend of Becky's visit.
By: Emily
"Today in class we'll be running a mile to improve your standard time," droned Mr. Pickles. The gym teacher's name wasn't really Mr. Pickles. I just called him that because he made me sick. He might as well have said, "Today we will run and get Tova sick so we can make me look like a good gym teacher even though I absolutely stink." See, I hated running because it made me sick, and we had to run almost every day. On top of it all, I never got to see my friends except in summer, which was 216 days and 17 hours away.
I had no friends at my school. At my small school all anyone cared about was sports, and I was the only one who liked writing. At writing camp, everyone loved writing. I had a countless amount of friends from there that lived all over the United Stated of America, but none lived near me. I was truly hopeless.
On my third lap, the pain kicked in. In case you never thought about it, being on the verge of throwing up at the same time as being breathless is painful. And on my seventh lap, I was so dizzy that I felt like I could collapse at any moment. Mr. Pickles would probably make a huge deal out of it. And I wouldn't even have a friend to cover me up and let me die!
Just I was about to finish my seventh lap, something caught my eye that was standing in the middle of the track. I stood very still, and as my full vision came to me I realized I had just seen my dream. I ran all the way to her and hugged her so tightly that she couldn't breathe.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was visiting the space museum. I was going to make it a surprise, but when I found out that you were running a mile today-"
"Well, couldn’t you at least come on lap two? I'm on lap seven!"
Laughter.
"I'm just so happy to see you!"
Laughter.
At my best friend Becky's hotel room we talked about everything from running to writing. That's when Becky mentioned that I should make some friends who lived near me.
"How?" I asked. She knew that everyone in my state loved running. What was she talking about?
"Well, you could join a book club. I saw one at a book store once."
The next day we rode to the book store in search of a book club. It turned out there was one in the middle of a discussion about Number the Stars made of five awesome girls my age. Of course I joined, and the weekend was perfect. I was living in heaven--that just shows you how good things can be when you have a best friend around.
Unfortunately, Becky had to leave. I wanted to die, or at least never return to school. Becky and I hugged each other for two hours and told each other kind things:
"I will miss you so much!"
"You are the best friend ever!"
"You have been awesome!"
"See you in…well, I forgot how many days!"
Finally Becky's plane came and took her away. I thought everything would go back to normal: I would return to school tomorrow and run again, be hopeless again. But nothing was normal: After school my new friend from the book club came over. We had a blast!
Becky's visit changed the rest of my life--now I had friends wherever I went. Maybe temporarily I was a little sick because of Mr. Pickles, but I wasn't completely hopeless. I would never be after the important weekend of Becky's visit.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Poem: My Dogs are Special
Jake is a very special dog
Always laying there,
Waiting for someone to pet him.
Always walking with his big paws
To the dinner table
Waiting for food.
Always struggling in the middle of night
To come rest his head on my bed.
Jake is a very special dog
Loving everyone
And always getting love back
Sasha is a very special dog,
Hyper, yet loving
Always eager to play
Or sit at the end of the bed and cross her paws.
Always wagging her beautiful tail
And running to fetch her ball.
Such a friendly dog
Jumping on everyone she sees
And loving them
Like that special dog she is.
Sasha
Is a special dog
Charlotte is a special dog
In her own very special way.
She always sits on my lap
And plays when I'm happy,
Lick's my tears when I'm down.
I always get warm greetings from Charlotte
My special dog
My dogs
Are the best at making me feel good
At helping me have fun
And at letting me know they love me
And for that
I truly love them back
Always laying there,
Waiting for someone to pet him.
Always walking with his big paws
To the dinner table
Waiting for food.
Always struggling in the middle of night
To come rest his head on my bed.
Jake is a very special dog
Loving everyone
And always getting love back
Sasha is a very special dog,
Hyper, yet loving
Always eager to play
Or sit at the end of the bed and cross her paws.
Always wagging her beautiful tail
And running to fetch her ball.
Such a friendly dog
Jumping on everyone she sees
And loving them
Like that special dog she is.
Sasha
Is a special dog
Charlotte is a special dog
In her own very special way.
She always sits on my lap
And plays when I'm happy,
Lick's my tears when I'm down.
I always get warm greetings from Charlotte
My special dog
My dogs
Are the best at making me feel good
At helping me have fun
And at letting me know they love me
And for that
I truly love them back
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Poem: Sliding Down a Rainbow
Sliding down a rainbow
One million different colors
Rushing past in a blur of orange light
Sliding down a rainbow
Giggling, smiling, singing all the way
Like a dreamy haze
Sliding down a rainbow
Like a slippery ride
Slipping, sliding, laughing, screaming
Sliding down a rainbow
Ending as the rainbow melts
Into nothing
But a memory,
Just a vision, a thought,
Just a picture, a fantasy
Of the simplest joy
Sliding down a rainbow
One million different colors
Rushing past in a blur of orange light
Sliding down a rainbow
Giggling, smiling, singing all the way
Like a dreamy haze
Sliding down a rainbow
Like a slippery ride
Slipping, sliding, laughing, screaming
Sliding down a rainbow
Ending as the rainbow melts
Into nothing
But a memory,
Just a vision, a thought,
Just a picture, a fantasy
Of the simplest joy
Sliding down a rainbow
Poem: Invisible
Invisible
Speaking
With no one to listen
No one to care
Acting
With no one to watch
No one to take the actions in
Crying, screaming
With no one to hear
No comforting one
Being invisible
With all eyes on something else
Invisible
Is making no difference
Invisible
Speaking
With no one to listen
No one to care
Acting
With no one to watch
No one to take the actions in
Crying, screaming
With no one to hear
No comforting one
Being invisible
With all eyes on something else
Invisible
Is making no difference
Invisible
Poem: Creating Music
I see my clarinet,
Shiny and black.
I blow my wind with power,
And hear a single
Airy sound
Turning into a deep, mellow note
Moving into the air
So everyone can hear.
I play many other keys,
Their sounds dancing out of my insturment
So everyone can enjoy
And listen to my music, not just hear
The music of my heart
That I created.
Shiny and black.
I blow my wind with power,
And hear a single
Airy sound
Turning into a deep, mellow note
Moving into the air
So everyone can hear.
I play many other keys,
Their sounds dancing out of my insturment
So everyone can enjoy
And listen to my music, not just hear
The music of my heart
That I created.
Poem: My Escape
Summer
Lazy days
Laughing with friends in the rain
Feeling wet drops of showers
Sprinkle on my hair
And giggling.
Jumping in the pool
Of frigid water
Just after running in the boiling hot sun
And then laying indoors to play games.
Walking in the sand
Feeling roughness between my toes
Building sand castles.
Slipping down water slides,
Bouncing off the blob high into the air,
Swimming more in the lake and laughing with friends.
Summer
Is my breakaway
From cold, winter
Busy days
With hardly any freedom.
Summer
Is my escape.
Lazy days
Laughing with friends in the rain
Feeling wet drops of showers
Sprinkle on my hair
And giggling.
Jumping in the pool
Of frigid water
Just after running in the boiling hot sun
And then laying indoors to play games.
Walking in the sand
Feeling roughness between my toes
Building sand castles.
Slipping down water slides,
Bouncing off the blob high into the air,
Swimming more in the lake and laughing with friends.
Summer
Is my breakaway
From cold, winter
Busy days
With hardly any freedom.
Summer
Is my escape.
Poem: Summer is Freedom
Summer
Is freedom.
I can see whatever friends I want,
Tell them whatever I want,
Do whatever I want.
Summer is unlike winter
With it's structured ways
Busy days
No freedom.
I have a desperate need for summer
And it's freedom.
Where I am happy.
Summer
Is freedom.
I can see whatever friends I want,
Tell them whatever I want,
Do whatever I want.
Summer is unlike winter
With it's structured ways
Busy days
No freedom.
I have a desperate need for summer
And it's freedom.
Where I am happy.
Summer
Poem: Mirror Image
In the mirror
I see what I see
A plain girl
Staring straight at me
But in my mind
I see what I know
Who I am.
I see a girl
With strong friendships
And a will to make a difference.
A beautiful girl
Who is well-respected
And respects others.
Who I am
Is not how I look
Can't you see
I'm not my mirror image?
I see what I see
A plain girl
Staring straight at me
But in my mind
I see what I know
Who I am.
I see a girl
With strong friendships
And a will to make a difference.
A beautiful girl
Who is well-respected
And respects others.
Who I am
Is not how I look
Can't you see
I'm not my mirror image?
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