Saturday, November 24, 2007

The Holiday Spoiler

You may wonder who the “holiday spoiler” is. Most people would call him Ebenezer Scrooge, but I call him dad. It’s not that my dad is mean around the holidays, but he really knows how to reck a perfectly good holiday, especially for himself.

For the past two years he has made my Thanksgivings very stressful, and when you are stressed on Thanksgiving it is extremely hard to be grateful for all that we’ve been given.

It wasn’t completely my dad’s fault that I had a bad Thanksgiving; it’s all because of a violent sport called “football.”! If you read my past blogs you would know that my dad is a soldier in the National Guard, that makes him really competitive at brutal sports like football. He loves playing dangerous sports! The only problem is that he is not in the best shape in his life, that causes a few complications when he plays sports.

It is a tradition in my family that all of our family including my two grandparents, my cousins, and my aunts and uncles come to our house on Thanksgiving Day. It is also a tradition that while the women cook all the crescent rolls and mouth watering turkeys, that the boys play a game of football in the field next to my house. I am not your typical girl, I don’t like shopping, and I enjoy playing football over cooking meals. You may have noticed that my blog name is “Sporty Girl.” So I am the exception to the “boys play football” tradition, I always play too. Last Thanksgiving I watched in horror as my dad ran down the choppy grass to score a touch down. Why was I watching in horror? Because my dad tore two hamstrings in both of his legs as he was running! He couldn’t ski the whole winter, and he limped for months.

“He learned his lesson that time didn’t he?” No, no, no, no, no! This year was so much worse. My dad almost had a heart attack! He only ran one play, and he couldn’t breathe. He started having chest convulsions and came home quickly. He whipped open the door and shouted my mom’s name. He stumbled onto the couch as my sister ran to his aid. He was cold and sweaty. His red face was contorted with pain.
“Take me to the hospital now!” he gasped when my mom entered the room.
“Okay, okay!” she cried. She ran to her room and grabbed a jacket and started looking for her shoes. I was livid with anger.
“Mom!” I yelled furiously.
“What are you doing?!? You don’t need shoes, take him now! He could die!”
“Chill out!” she snapped. I pestered her to hurry all the way out to the car. Mom made me and Josie stay home. Josie started bawling her head off. You think that my twenty year old sister would be the one to comfort me but she didn’t. Luckily I have read lots of books, I knew that I was supposed to keep my head straight and start comforting my sister. I hugged her and repeated a phrase over and over again.
“It’s going to be fine Josie, you’re okay!” that didn’t help at all. So I tried a new tactic.
“Here lets do something else, to keep your mind off of things.” I pointed to some adds on the counter.
“How about some Christmas shopping?” Shakily she started searching for gifts to give all of her nieces and nephews. But to no avail, she couldn’t see one gift through her sea of tears. I won’t be mentioning religion in any other of my blogs but it feels appropriate to mention now. Josie said
“Let’s pray Jojo.” I couldn’t agree more. Immediately I volunteered to say it, I knew that she couldn’t do it in her current state. I prayed that my dad would be okay and that he could get to the hospital safetly. That was hardly necessary. Within the minute the garage door opened and both my parents entered.
“What?” I gasped in surprise. My parents were arguing.
“Greg, if you think you are going to have a heart attack, you don’t just ignore it!” said my mom.
“I feel better now, the pain has gone away! Don’t worry about me!” Well, I wasn’t relieved to see my parents argue, but I sure was relieved to see them home. My dad asked politely if I would get him a drink of water. When I gave him the glass I sat down next to him. I laughed uneasily,
“Dad, no more football for you, okay?” We all started laughing, then he promised that he wouldn’t play so hard.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

My Favorite Poem

The Man in the Glass
Author: Unknown

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
and the world thinks you king for a day;
just go to the mirror and look at yourself,
and see what that man has to say.

For it isn't your father, your mother, your wife,
whose judgement upon you must pass,
but the fellow whose verdict counts most in your life,
is the one staring back in the glass.

You may be lack Jack Horner and chisel a plum,
and think you're a wonderful guy,
but the man in the glass thinks you're only a bum
if you can't look him straight in the eye.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,
for he's with you clear to the end,
and you've passsed your most dangerous, difficult test
if the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
and get pats on the back as you pass,
but the final reward will be heart ache and tears
if you've cheated the man in the glass.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

First Term Poem

I know that this poem isn't nearly as good as Panda Girl's, but I did pretty well for someone who doesn't usually write poetry. This was the poem that I entered for one of my Honors English assignments last term, enjoy!


Books are the cheapest way to go on vacation;
You meet a new friend every chapter.
On some pages you feel elation,
And at the same time you’re filled with laughter.

Some tales are filled with mystery,
Some are full of adventure,
Lots dive deep into history,
Some only the brave can venture.

Mystery books involve crime
In which the hero must find some clues,
He must solve the riddle in time,
So that the criminal gets accused.

Adventure books start with a quest.
They can take you to a land far away.
I seem to like those books best
Where the hero saves the day.

History is pretty varied.
It could be about Medieval Times,
Or people who have been buried,
Maybe even kings in their primes.

Some books try to scare you,
They make you afraid to sleep,
They have sorcerers in robes of blue,
Who send out monsters to creep.

When you are sad and depressed,
You can quickly distract your mind.
Just find the book you like the best,
And your journey’s not far behind.

The Worst Trip Ever

Generally fellow students who get to know me say that I’m a very attentive, and respectful student. The day I got sent to the principal's office wasn’t just a shock to me, it was a shock to them too.

In seventh grade at my old junior high, everyone was required to take an art class. The only problem with that was that I wasn’t good at art, not good at all. And one day in class my art teacher Mr. Edenor finally got fed up with my work.
“You don’t spend any time on this at all, do you? This looks like a kindergartener’s scribble!” he ranted angrily.
“Mr. Edenor, I always try my best! I put my best effort into this!” I cried in protest.
“Well your best doesn’t cut it this time! Go to the principal’s office, and take your drawing with you! I’m calling your dad!” I was so numb with horror that I didn’t even protest. Quickly I walked to the office trying my hardest to prevent the tears that I knew were coming. When I opened the huge double doors to the office I walked straight to the secretary. Feebly I whimpered
“I was sent to the principal’s office…” Her smile turned into a frown, and she scrutinized me like I was a dangerous criminal.
“It’s right in there.” She said, sounding disgusted. It was the hardest struggle of my life to keep that frog welling up in my throat from leaping out. The nice secretary whom I had always liked thought that I was a bad person! I must be a bad person! Slowly and ever so reluctantly, I opened his door. He looked up as I approached. Doctor Koldah looked surprised to see me, and then his eyes scanned my face, searching for an answer as to why I was there.
“Sit down, sit down.” He beckoned for me to sit in a big maroon chair. Nervously I obliged. I tried to speak but nothing would come out.
“So why were you sent here?” he said apparently unable to guess.
“Mr. Edeneor sent me.” I squeaked. He just stared waiting for more information. Anxiously I took a few breaths and then continued.
"He didn’t like my artwork, so he sent me to your office.” Now my voice was shaking.
"That’s all?” he casually demanded.
"I promise that that is the only reason. I had an H in his class last term! I have never disrupted his class!” Doctor Koldah twiddled his thumbs and thought for a moment.
"That is extremely odd. I am sorry he sent you to the office, because apparently you shouldn’t be here. Most schools don’t make you take art. Obviously Mr. Edenor is taking his job a little too seriously. I hope that you haven’t been too offended.”
"I’m sorry Doctor Koldah, but it is impossible not to be... I have always tried my best at this school, and this is what I get for it.” Sadly I buried my face in my hands. Just then my dad entered the room, he was pale with anger. Quickly I wiped my eyes and sat up straight.
"Good evening Doctor Koldah, and what brings me here today?”
"A very bad mistake made by an art teacher, Mr. Edenor.”
"What did she do?” He questioned sounding more calm then he looked.
"She drew this picture.” Doctor Koldah showed my dad the picture of a house that had taken me hours to draw. My dad’s eyes became as round as quarters,
"That’s wonderful! When did you draw that Jojo?”
"Yesterday!” I sobbed miserably
"And he gave me an F on it!” I added my voice raising an octave.
"Doctor Koldah, I was called from work to look at this drawing that Mr. Edenor graded horribly? What's wrong with it? Is it just not Picasso enough? Jojo is just a seventh grader, what does he expect?” said my dad angrily
"I agree with you completely Mr. Snicktaw, I feel very embarrassed about this incident. Jojo, do you mind if I teach you how to draw this better?” Shakily I nodded.

Then Doctor Koldah spent an hour of his time teaching me how to draw a complicated but good picture of a house. Later I was allowed to redo the assignment which somehow earned an A. It was barely different from the one I got an F on! Getting sent to the principal's office is not fun!