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Scramble minded, becoming angry, sad, confused, and calm,- thoughts buzz, prom, after parties?, graduation, spring, summer and its warm sands,-my brain sparks the ideas, going on road-trips, swimming in every ocean,-covered in salt,-seething anger, my brain stings with thoughts of prom dresses, new housing, work, and the basic worry,-although its reminded again by thoughts of the warm sand, freedom, happiness, and new adventures in life,- possibly going hiking in the white mountains again, or planning a drive to California,-thoughts fizzing, thinking of all emotions, missed the exit,-damn-, another spark work, thoughts of a huffing and puffing boss, could she blow me down?, the dogs barking, lots of poop,-she never leaves them out long enough-, back to graduation, purple and white banners, although maybe there won't be a party,-confusion-, my mother may not know, although i might have told her, never mind,-thoughts fizzled, still driving,-what about that squirrel-, does he or she think of their life, or are they programmed, no, they can't be, they do what they please, maybe that's how i should live,-oh shit, red light,- my thoughts hit the pavement as i slam on the breaks.
JordanOnce a week, when I wake on this dreadful morning, my body tired and too lazy to rise, I have to get ready and out of the house by 7, Mondays drive me crazy it is the slowest day of the week probably because it’s the start on the week, I rather wake up and go do something event full with my day but no I’m stuck sitting in a chair all day, wishing I was somewhere else like at the beach or anywhere but school, but that is where I get stuck every Monday morning, tired and frustrated trying to think of something to right because I have to write two-hundred it is really hard to write a two hundred work sentence it can only be about one topic and that’s hard so I write about Mondays and how much they suck, Mondays suck I am tired and I don’t know what to write about so I am just going to write anything at this point almost done only forty-five more words to write I can not think of what else to write so I will just repeat my self I hate Mondays and I really hate Mondays.
It’s a long rainy, snowy month that feels like it’s never going to end because of all the lazy rainy day’s that just want to make you fall asleep, all the snow that causes flooding, pot holes, cracks in the road from the plows who are venturing out all night trying to make the roads as clear as possible, waiting for baseball is always rough especially seeing the field covered in snow waiting for it to slowly melt and practicing in the gym is dreadful when you see other fields are clear and the grass is green and ours is still covered, waiting for that first pitch of the season to be thrown and that sound of the ball hitting the bat is a great feeling and a tremendous sound when you throw the ball and hear the pop of the glove from the ball knowing it’s finally back after a long off season that’s cold and long, is great and gets me pumped knowing the grass will be green the sun will be warmer and the most historic game of all time will be back in action April 5th on a cold evening in St. Louis
Keenan CoffeyMany games, when I have played my absolute heart out, realizing it could be my last game or my first championship, my emotions wrapped up in the complex rules, tendencies, and foundation of the game, like the way a little American boy loves his chocolate bars or candy, unfortunately only affecting my body and shoulders, illuminated by the immense amount of self-reward, described as hitting the game winning home run, making the game ending double play, or even just having an efficient day at the office, like a man with cubical duties at an insurance office or a law firm, giving responsibility to the player and his attributes, noticing the severity of the next at-bat with the uttermost importance of each and every play on the beautiful diamond, -many times I find myself going for long runs to decrease the buildup of lactic acid in my arm and in my joints, to ensure my best performance in each and every individual game, baseball gave me the chance to express many emotions I bottle up deep in my subconscious like that of rage, strength, and promise.
Now how would this be relevant to everyday life, a monstrous task that must use every single ounce of shear strength to ever start to understand stand the magnitude of the task, I for one can barely find any real word application, how can someone who lives off of rules and order make something that looks dreadful on paper and the boldness the audacity to communicate an idea a simple and a childlike idea that will most likely put on a list that waste precious time, as if I am just wasting time because I know that this will not relate to my profession later in life, waiting hoping for the day that I can be done with all this the hogwash of faking the respect for useless unimportant orders that have no meaning in military life, waiting for the times to take the classes that I am willing to take to advance my career Honors Engineering Physics, Engineering lab’s all of these classes will advance my career of being the strongest, the fastest and the most well rounded individual by become a Combat Engineer in the United states Army, the best and the brightest our Motto that have always been a part of me even thought I didn’t know about it until about eight months ago is Essayons, French for ( Let us try).
Doug McKeen Living in a space between reality and fantasy, a world of difference between this one and my own realm of consciousness, doing things I cannot fathom while my eyes are open, I am jarred awake by a tickle –no- sharp pain in my throat and reach for a glass of water as I separate the illusion from what is happening in the moment and spit into a second glass to clear out the mucous in my throat which has stopped burning as much as it was when I felt it had broken shards of glass stuck in the membrane of its inner namesake and as I close my eyes to try drifting off between reality and fantasy but it does not come easily as I can feel every point of congestion in my sinuses and respiratory system so I blow my nose a few times, full of sickness, slowly leaving my body as I cough and wheeze and use up entire boxes of tissues when I need to wake up for school in just two hours and get a good night’s rest so that I can get good grades at school, but I cannot drift off back to that state.
The idea of what’s next is either exciting to some people, or to some it is a scary thought to move on from something and start something new, but if you have faith in what you love, at the end of the day the love and faith will not waver; some have questioned what exactly it is the New England Patriots have been doing so far In the offseason and what may be next for the defending Super Bowl champions, but those who questioned just simply don’t understand how these things work, season after season they question, and season after season, Bill continues to do what he does best, that is constructing the team that he feels will give him the best opportunity at winning, Bill doesn’t “need” anyone, he’s Bill Belichick, he can outsmart you without even thinking twice about it, he’ll beat you at something that you were unaware was even a competition, the only thing that Bill “needs” is to win, it’s in his nature, it’s in his blood, it’s who he is, the league has to make special rules to stop him from winning, and with that being said, all that I or any other Patriots fan can say at this point is, in Bill we trust.
Benjamin Giarrusso Many times, when I have sat in this room, expecting to do countless hours of work, my mind scrambled from page after page of classroom papers, piling on top of each other one after the other, like grains of sand forming into a small mountain, many times my brain fries and the sheer amount of work piled in front of my eyes, my eyes and ears exhausted by the constant parade of words I can barely comprehend, through one ear and out the other they flow like a river with no damn to stop them from seeping into the inner parts of my head, as time goes my eyes begin to get heavier and heavier as time goes on and my entirety begins to shut down from complete boredom, when listening to a constant babble of something that seems so unimportant, the experience milks your body of complete and utter control, forcing you into a trance, much like a hypnosis of the mind, causing you to pay attention but not having the brain capacity to do so, a constant flow of mindless learning, one wishes not to participate in, but instead is forced upon them, so that they may gain a piece of paper, a piece of paper that states you made it through countless hours of the never ending lectures of Romeo and Juliet and Ethan Frome, to get to the day where you can finally say “I did it.”, and walk that long path, just to reach the other side and obtain a document, a document that will now run most of your life and determine what you can and can’t do for the rest of your existence.
-kenzie stewartSchooling has always been seen as a good thing, as the great gift of the youth and you can use it however you want and bring yourself to the ends of the earth with the education you gain from it; but what about the people who schooling isn’t right for the people who can’t write a sentence in a room of people because their mind attaches to anything other than that sentence that their focus should be given to, or the kids who already have responsibilities other than school that are already adopted into the adult world before they have even became an adult, and for these kids they are to be held to the same expectations as all the other kids with half the attention problems and priorities as other kids, but does this make them less suited for the world to come or less intelligent, less capable of those responsibilities, less capable of these things than thought of, actually, they are not thought of at all we are just all expected to make life changing decisions before our brains are even fully developed our entire lives are based on the things we do as immature, irresponsible, children and if you mess up this there is no chance of redemption.
Most days, when it’s time to get up, forcing myself to be a part of society, my thoughts rattled by the questions and inquisitions around me, forcing themselves into semi-coherent thoughts, like a maze, there’s an ending and right answer somewhere, it’s just a matter of finding that right answer, so many unknowns and “what ifs?”, these thoughts never end, they form a sea of grey, the true answer may never be found, the most frightening part imagining that you could be in that darkness forever, looking for your entire life and not being able to find it, part of finding the answer, accepting the fact that you may never know and that’s okay, welcoming the unknown with open arms, living in fear, pushing you further and further from where you want to be; dreams are what helps us push forward through the fear, helps move us towards the known, thrusts us into the less grey sea, changes the little beliefs persuaded by unease, into substantial convictions persuaded by acceptance, forces us to acknowledge the light that they portray, giving us some type of hope that we need, to keep moving forward, propelling us into more thoughts and questions of unknowns.
Only once, running through the darkness, frightful and alarmed, realizing the truth that is my own, a thief: a master of disguise and treachery, mocking the structural foundation of state and country, disregarding all that is truth and just, only in order to amend and adjust the corruption that government has committed onto the population, with each step pounding onto the ground splashing up water from each puddle, landing back on the ground behind me leaving a trace, my mark of operation, like a plane flying through the sky leaving its smoke tail track reminding those who watch where it came from and is always heading forward, just as my eyes proclaim the exit, my victory, the escape of a lifetime, the cop stared at me from straight on, like a standoff of two cowboys waiting for the other to make the first move, anticipating when and what would be the match that lights the detonating cord that leads to the explosion of movement, as each drop hits the ground in a monotonous tone, of almost tranquility in a pleasant scenario, but here with heart-beating painful sound waves hitting my ears exasperating my every breath, waiting, thinking, and hesitating about if I was going to be the first to move.
Feeling the grainy rough texture as a finger traces and flows with its edges, such a bright reddish-orange color, looking as though the sunsets’ light was captured under the coarse surface appearing to be as hot as the suns’ surface; memories begin to flow just as fingers follow and trace the path; the heat, being surrounded by nothing for miles and miles as the rocks around are scorched by the sun, almost on fire themselves trying to look around becomes hard as the glare penetrates even the sunglasses and the shade that the hat had once provided -climbing over the rocks getting higher and higher trying to reach the shelf that only seems to get farther away as we climb up; As we breach the the top and stand up beside one another we slowly take in the surroundings- all around the shrubs, desert trees, and rocks are set almost on fire by the sun- those flames seem to lick at us as we feel the heat of the air as it drys the sweat off our skin before we can even whip it off our own brows- As I look out around me...I feel free and at peace as I am no longer surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the world and as the sun descends I can see millions of trillions of stars that my own eyes have never beheld until this very day out among the red rocks in Nevada’s national park.
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