MY ADVICE
Your best friends will be the biggest jackasses you’ll meet in all of high school, but they’ll also be the ones that get you through every bit of conflict that comes your way. In ninth grade my friends put signs all over the school saying I loved Megan Doyle. In tenth grade we spent a weekend together in Massachusetts and never thought we’d last all three days. In eleventh grade we discovered the bridge and spent every summer day there. In twelfth grade we’ll need to say goodbye to each other, which is a day that none of us are yet prepared for. The most important thing I’ve learned in high school is that without your friends, you’re nowhere. Remember to always keep them close, no one else matters. They’ll be the ones to get you through all your problems, and they’ll also be the one to give you the most problems. But just keep in mind, they’re there for you just like you’re there for them, and never take it for granted.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Intro to Independent Piece #6
This entire story is true; no exaggerations, just strait facts. It happened close to a year ago, however, and for that some of the dialogue may be a bit off. Nonetheless, the day described in the next few paragraphs still remains one of the greatest memories I hold. It’s something I’ve always wanted to express my thoughts and feelings about, and have never gotten a chance. It remains in conversations between my friends still to this day, and finally the memory can be found in something other than talk between us.
Independent Piece #6
i love mallory.
Bridge
It was easily the hottest day the summer had seen yet. The sun glared down on our shirtless backs as the three of us panted through another game of basketball. Our bodies ached, sweat covered our faces, but still we played on through the afternoon.
This was how we spent most of our summer afternoons – playing at the basketball courts next to the pool until we nearly dropped, then jumping into the pool to cool down, then finally returning home to see what the night held for us. We’d spent the whole summer following this routine, and like anything else, we became bored of it quickly. As we sat at the table staring into the pool and drying off, we started to brainstorm some other, more productive activities to pass the time.
“We could go bowling?” Ryan suggested.
“Yeah right. I suck at bowling. And I have no money,” Jared answered.
“We could go to the movies?” I asked.
“Eh. We did that last night.”
“We could…” My voice trailed off as a brilliant idea came to mind.
“Oh yeah. That sounds like a lot of fun,” Jared answered.
“There’s this old abandoned bridge across the road from Erin’s street. It crosses the reservoir in Katonah. We could go there, chill on the bridge, go swim in the reservoir. At least it’s not a pool.”
“It’s the best idea we’ve had in days. Let’s go,” Jared answered.
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
And with that the three of us piled into Ryan’s blue Dodge Caravan, turned right onto Greenbriar Drive, and headed towards the bridge. We passed the large white sign that read ‘Bridge Closed’ in black letters, and ignored it. We turned left onto Plum Brook Drive, rolled down the street, and stopped at the fence blocking the entrance to the bridge. Simultaneously we opened our car doors, stepped out of the minivan, and climbed over the fence to the bridge.
On either side of the bridge lay scattered dirt, rocks, ferns and bushes. Curious to see how deep the water underneath the bridge was, I worked my way through the brush and found myself standing where the water met the ground. There were fish everywhere in the water, but that didn’t stop me from putting first my feet, then legs, then entire body into the warm water. I pushed myself off the shore and swam to the middle of the reservoir, treading underneath the bridge while Jared and Ryan looked down on me.
“Hold your breath. See how deep it goes!” Jared called to me from atop the bridge.
I didn’t need any more convincing. I took a deep breath and submerged myself in the water. I sunk for several seconds, at least ten, and still met no bottom. I stopped my downward momentum and pushed myself back to the surface of the water.
“Well?” Ryan asked.
“No bottom. At least twenty feet deep.” I answered with a smile.
“Sweet,” Ryan answered. With that he climbed over the railing of the bridge, looked at Jared, then me, and leapt off the rusty railing. In the air he gave out a high pitched battle cry that rang in my ears as my eyes followed him from the bridge to the water. He hit with a splash and returned to the surface seconds later with a grin that filled his entire face.
“How was it?” I asked him, still treading water next to him.
“Amazing. Let’s do it again.”
“I’m in.”
We swam back to shore, climbed the steep hill leading to the bridge, and once again stood looking out onto the water.
“I’m not doing it. My ACL is killing me,” Jared explained to us.
“Yeah, okay. Then at least record us doing it. My camera’s in the car.”
Jared walked to the car and returned to the bridge dangling the camera from his wrist.
“Let’s go together,” I told Ryan.
“Okay. I’m in.”
We climbed up the railing and paused at the top.
“Okay. On my count,” Jared told us. “Three, two, one. Go, go, go!” And with that we leapt from the railing side by side.
It was the greatest feeling in the world. At the height of the jump it felt that for a single second, time had stopped. As I floated through the air at the peak of my jump, it seemed that all in the same instant I was able to look at Jared, back at Ryan, then out over the water. Then it was over. Before I could realize it, the water had met my feet. I closed my eyes and plunged into the warm water and sunk down. We surfaced simultaneously, looked at each other, then looked up towards Jared.
“Perfect.”
We spent the rest of the summer day on the bridge, sitting on the railing, legs dangling, talking. We’d jump off every ten minutes or so, the feeling never getting old or losing its excitement. It became a regular thing, the bridge. We’d go every weekend to hang out, get some sun, and go swimming. Before we knew it the whole crew was there, Jared, Ryan, Liam, Nick, both Alex’s, and me. It became our new rendezvous; we’d meet there almost every day to decide what the rest of the day had in store for us.
And just like that it was gone. As it began to get cooler, and the days shorter, we saw less and less of the bridge, until one day, it was out of our lives completely. We still reminisce, though, of the days spent there, and now that it’s summer once again, it will come alive again soon.
Bridge
It was easily the hottest day the summer had seen yet. The sun glared down on our shirtless backs as the three of us panted through another game of basketball. Our bodies ached, sweat covered our faces, but still we played on through the afternoon.
This was how we spent most of our summer afternoons – playing at the basketball courts next to the pool until we nearly dropped, then jumping into the pool to cool down, then finally returning home to see what the night held for us. We’d spent the whole summer following this routine, and like anything else, we became bored of it quickly. As we sat at the table staring into the pool and drying off, we started to brainstorm some other, more productive activities to pass the time.
“We could go bowling?” Ryan suggested.
“Yeah right. I suck at bowling. And I have no money,” Jared answered.
“We could go to the movies?” I asked.
“Eh. We did that last night.”
“We could…” My voice trailed off as a brilliant idea came to mind.
“Oh yeah. That sounds like a lot of fun,” Jared answered.
“There’s this old abandoned bridge across the road from Erin’s street. It crosses the reservoir in Katonah. We could go there, chill on the bridge, go swim in the reservoir. At least it’s not a pool.”
“It’s the best idea we’ve had in days. Let’s go,” Jared answered.
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
And with that the three of us piled into Ryan’s blue Dodge Caravan, turned right onto Greenbriar Drive, and headed towards the bridge. We passed the large white sign that read ‘Bridge Closed’ in black letters, and ignored it. We turned left onto Plum Brook Drive, rolled down the street, and stopped at the fence blocking the entrance to the bridge. Simultaneously we opened our car doors, stepped out of the minivan, and climbed over the fence to the bridge.
On either side of the bridge lay scattered dirt, rocks, ferns and bushes. Curious to see how deep the water underneath the bridge was, I worked my way through the brush and found myself standing where the water met the ground. There were fish everywhere in the water, but that didn’t stop me from putting first my feet, then legs, then entire body into the warm water. I pushed myself off the shore and swam to the middle of the reservoir, treading underneath the bridge while Jared and Ryan looked down on me.
“Hold your breath. See how deep it goes!” Jared called to me from atop the bridge.
I didn’t need any more convincing. I took a deep breath and submerged myself in the water. I sunk for several seconds, at least ten, and still met no bottom. I stopped my downward momentum and pushed myself back to the surface of the water.
“Well?” Ryan asked.
“No bottom. At least twenty feet deep.” I answered with a smile.
“Sweet,” Ryan answered. With that he climbed over the railing of the bridge, looked at Jared, then me, and leapt off the rusty railing. In the air he gave out a high pitched battle cry that rang in my ears as my eyes followed him from the bridge to the water. He hit with a splash and returned to the surface seconds later with a grin that filled his entire face.
“How was it?” I asked him, still treading water next to him.
“Amazing. Let’s do it again.”
“I’m in.”
We swam back to shore, climbed the steep hill leading to the bridge, and once again stood looking out onto the water.
“I’m not doing it. My ACL is killing me,” Jared explained to us.
“Yeah, okay. Then at least record us doing it. My camera’s in the car.”
Jared walked to the car and returned to the bridge dangling the camera from his wrist.
“Let’s go together,” I told Ryan.
“Okay. I’m in.”
We climbed up the railing and paused at the top.
“Okay. On my count,” Jared told us. “Three, two, one. Go, go, go!” And with that we leapt from the railing side by side.
It was the greatest feeling in the world. At the height of the jump it felt that for a single second, time had stopped. As I floated through the air at the peak of my jump, it seemed that all in the same instant I was able to look at Jared, back at Ryan, then out over the water. Then it was over. Before I could realize it, the water had met my feet. I closed my eyes and plunged into the warm water and sunk down. We surfaced simultaneously, looked at each other, then looked up towards Jared.
“Perfect.”
We spent the rest of the summer day on the bridge, sitting on the railing, legs dangling, talking. We’d jump off every ten minutes or so, the feeling never getting old or losing its excitement. It became a regular thing, the bridge. We’d go every weekend to hang out, get some sun, and go swimming. Before we knew it the whole crew was there, Jared, Ryan, Liam, Nick, both Alex’s, and me. It became our new rendezvous; we’d meet there almost every day to decide what the rest of the day had in store for us.
And just like that it was gone. As it began to get cooler, and the days shorter, we saw less and less of the bridge, until one day, it was out of our lives completely. We still reminisce, though, of the days spent there, and now that it’s summer once again, it will come alive again soon.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Microfiction
Natural Swimmer
“Do they make you a better swimmer?” she asked, pointing out my biggest insecurity in the dim lighting under the cash register of the Hollister at which we both work. I smiled, as if I knew the question was coming, and turned away without responding. It drives me crazy when people ask me that question; it’s the only thing people ask me on the topic. Some variation of how my swimming is affected by the ‘abnormality’, as my AP Biology teacher referred to it as. With or without an answer, the person can surely see how agitated I become by the question and cease talking about it almost immediately.
It is a requirement at Hollister to wear flip flops during the Spring and Summer seasons. Because of my webbed toes, this is an obvious problem. I do it anyway, however, and attract as little attention to my feet as possible. There’s always one keen and observant coworker, though, that notices and questions me. Every time.
My mother never noticed that her toes were slightly webbed until she saw mine shortly after my birth. I know not how someone can spend their entire life oblivious to it, but my mother succeeded. When my younger sister was born, we noticed that her toes were slightly webbed too. But I had it the worst. Between the second and third toes on each foot was skin that shouldn’t be there, connecting both toes together all the way up to the toenail, where they separate into two. I have two bones, two toenails, two virtually normal toes, but the skin in between makes all the difference.
The Hollister manager walked to the cash register to help a customer. When she finished, my coworker politely pointed out to her the abnormality of my feet, and she was eager to see.
The first thing out of her mouth: “Oh my god. Do they make you swim faster?”
“Do they make you a better swimmer?” she asked, pointing out my biggest insecurity in the dim lighting under the cash register of the Hollister at which we both work. I smiled, as if I knew the question was coming, and turned away without responding. It drives me crazy when people ask me that question; it’s the only thing people ask me on the topic. Some variation of how my swimming is affected by the ‘abnormality’, as my AP Biology teacher referred to it as. With or without an answer, the person can surely see how agitated I become by the question and cease talking about it almost immediately.
It is a requirement at Hollister to wear flip flops during the Spring and Summer seasons. Because of my webbed toes, this is an obvious problem. I do it anyway, however, and attract as little attention to my feet as possible. There’s always one keen and observant coworker, though, that notices and questions me. Every time.
My mother never noticed that her toes were slightly webbed until she saw mine shortly after my birth. I know not how someone can spend their entire life oblivious to it, but my mother succeeded. When my younger sister was born, we noticed that her toes were slightly webbed too. But I had it the worst. Between the second and third toes on each foot was skin that shouldn’t be there, connecting both toes together all the way up to the toenail, where they separate into two. I have two bones, two toenails, two virtually normal toes, but the skin in between makes all the difference.
The Hollister manager walked to the cash register to help a customer. When she finished, my coworker politely pointed out to her the abnormality of my feet, and she was eager to see.
The first thing out of her mouth: “Oh my god. Do they make you swim faster?”
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Screenplay
Casting Call
Erik: Johnny Depp (as seen in Platoon)
Jared: Emilio Estevez (as seen in The Breakfast Club)
Alex: Devon Sawa (as seen in Final Destination)
Nick: River Phoenix (as seen in Stand by Me)
SCENE ONE
INT. AUTOMOBILE – NIGHTTIME
EXTREME CLOSE-UP on a young boys face. He is no older than 18. Passing CAR HEADLIGHTS illuminate his face. His expressions show clear anger, fear, and annoyance, all together
NARRATOR [Voiceover]
That’s Jared. We met in the fourth grade and have been best friends ever since. We met Nick and Alex in fifth grade and the four of us have been inseparable since. His parents died three years ago. That’s when his aunt moved in with him. He has no one but Andrea, his girlfriend, and the three of us. We’d do anything for him. He’s too shy, too laid back; that’s his biggest problem. Most of the time it’s either Nick, Alex, or myself that has to take actions for him. Whatever it is.
During voiceover, camera PULLS BACK slowly, revealing PASSENGER SEAT and BACK SEAT. A boy is in the PASSENGER SEAT and two are sitting in the BACK SEAT. All three are smoking CIGARETTES.
JARED
I TOLD YOU GUYS NOT TO DO IT BUT LIKE USUAL YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. YOU NEVER DO. NOW WE’RE ALL DONE.
ERIK (NARRTOR’S VOICE)
OKAY, FIRST OF ALL IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. AND SECOND, WHAT DID YOU WANT US TO DO? WE COULDN’T JUST LET SOMETHING LIKE THAT HAPPEN. YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH TOO MUCH SHIT TO GET TREATED LIKE THAT.
NICK
DID YOU WANT HIM TO JUST GET AWAY WITH IT?
JARED
NO. THAT’S NOT THE POINT. YOU GUYS KI –
FROM THE BACK, the last boy, ALEX, interrupts Jared quickly.
ALEX
JARED!
This is all Alex can say. Jared swerves the steering wheel hard to the left. TIRES SCREECH.
Camera switch to OUTSIDE OF CAR. CAR is seen swerving to avoid several deer crossing the road. THE CAR flips and tumbles several times before crashing into a tree and coming to a stop. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
SCENE TWO
Continued BEEPING is heard while the screen is black. Then, OVERWHELMING BRIGHT LIGHT. EXTREME CLOSE-UP on Jared’s face. He is lying in a hospital bed with a pillow under his head. Bruised and bloodied with stitches on one cheek. An OXYGEN MASK is on his face. BEEPING continues. After a few seconds, CAMERA CHANGES to EXTREME CLOSE-UP on Erik’s face. Similar conditions. Then Alex. Then Nick. The BEEPING continues throughout the entire scene. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
SCENE THREE
Black screen.
“SOME HOURS EARLIER” READS ON SCREEN
Bright, sunny day. Birds are chirping as the camera zooms in on an OLD ABANDONED BRIDGE. The bridge is littered with OLD BEER CANS, BOTTLES, and CIGARETTES. The camera stops behind Erik, Nick, and Alex, sitting on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling over the side. It then sweeps around to face the three boys. They hold beers and cigarettes.
NICK
I’M THINKING ABOUT TAKING A RUN AT THAT NEW GIRL, CLAIRE.
ERIK
NO, NO, DON’T. BIG MISTAKE. I’VE HAD SOME EXPERIENCES WITH NEW GIRLS BEFORE, IT’S THE WORST.
ALEX
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.
ERIK
SURE I DO. REMEMBER I DATED THAT GIRL BEFORE SHE GOT INTO HER LITTLE CLIQUE? IT WAS THE WORST FEW WEEKS OF MY LIFE. TRUST ME MAN, GIVE HER A MONTH OR SO. LET HER SETTLE DOWN. THEN GO FOR HER.
NICK
YEAH BUT SHE’S BANGIN’. I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN WAIT.
ERIK
SUIT YOURSELF. LET ME GET ANOTHER CIGARETTE?
Erik flicks his cigarette over the ledge of the bridge and into the water.
NICK
YOU GOT IT, PARTNER.
Nick takes out another cigarette, and hands it to Erik. He then looks at Alex and smiles. They both take off their shirts, climb over the railing of the bridge, and leap off. The camera follows them as they soar through the air and splash into the water. It then moves back to Erik, smoking his cigarette. Suddenly he looks to his side. The camera follows his gaze, and Jared is seen walking slowly onto the bridge. As he gets closer, he looks upset. He silently sits next to Erik and looks out into the water.
ERIK
YO.
JARED
HEY.
ERIK
NICK SAYS HE WANTS TO TAKE A RUN AT THAT NEW GIRL, CLAIRE. I TOLD HIM NOT TO BUT HE WOULDN’T LISTEN. HE’S AN IDIOT.
Jared does not respond, but just continues to look out through the railing into the water.
ERIK
WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?
JARED
NOTHING.
ERIK
BULLSHIT. WHAT’S GOING ON?
JARED
ANDREA CHEATED ON ME WITH THAT KID FROM HER SCHOOL. THE ONE I TOLD YOU SHE’S ALWAYS TALKING TO?
ERIK
ARE YOU KIDIDNG ME?
JARED
NO. THEY WERE AT SOME PARTY LAST NIGHT AND SHE WENT BACK TO HIS HOUSE. I JUST FOUND OUT. EVERYONE SAW THEM LEAVING TOGETHER SO I JUST ASKED HER ABOUT IT AND SHE ADMITTED IT. SHE SAID HOW SORRY SHE WAS AND ALL THAT SHIT.
Nick and Alex walk back onto the bridge, sopping wet, smiling. They see Erik and Jared’s faces and their smiles disappear immediately.
JARED
[WHISPERING]
DON’T SAY ANYTHING TO THEM. IT’S EMBARASSING ENOUGH.
ERIK
SURE.
[IN A LOUNDER VOICE, LOOKING AT ALEX AND NICK]
ANDREA CHEATED ON JARED LAST NIGHT. WITH THAT DOUCHEBAG, MATT.
NICK
WHAT?! THAT KID IS SUCH A TOOL. AL, DOESN’T HE WORK WITH YOU AT THE A&P?
ALEX
OH YEAH. HE’S THE WORST. WORKING TONIGHT, ACTUALLY. TILL LIKE MIDNIGHT I THINK.
Erik, Nick, and Alex exchange glances, then all look at Jared with smirks on their faces.
JARED
NO NO NO. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE THINKING… BUT WHATEVER IT IS JUST DON’T. THIS IS MY PROBLEM – I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT HOW I WANT TO. WHATEVER YOU GUYS DO WILL JUST MESS THIS WHOLE THING UP MORE.
ALEX
OH, I DON’T KNOW, JARED. MAYBE WE’LL JUST WAIT FOR HIM AFTER WORK AND HAVE A LITTLE TALK WIT HIM. NOTHING SERIOUS.
NICK
YEAH. YOU KNOW, JUST SCARE HIM A LITTLE BIT.
JARED
YOU’RE ALL IDIOTS – AND IF YOU DO I WON’T FORGIVE YOU GUYS. I’LL HANDLE IT.
ERIK
JUST LIKE YOU HANDLE EVERTHING ELSE SO PERFECTLY. YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING TO STAND UP FOR YOURSELF SO WE’LL DO IT FOR YOU. IT’LL BE FINE, I PROMISE.
Erik then flicks his cigarette, takes off his shirt, and climbs onto the rail of the bridge. He looks at Jared, winks, and then leaps off. The camera follows him until he splashes into the water. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
INT. AUTOMOBILE – NIGHTTIME
EXTREME CLOSE-UP on a young boys face. He is no older than 18. Passing CAR HEADLIGHTS illuminate his face. His expressions show clear anger, fear, and annoyance, all together
NARRATOR [Voiceover]
That’s Jared. We met in the fourth grade and have been best friends ever since. We met Nick and Alex in fifth grade and the four of us have been inseparable since. His parents died three years ago. That’s when his aunt moved in with him. He has no one but Andrea, his girlfriend, and the three of us. We’d do anything for him. He’s too shy, too laid back; that’s his biggest problem. Most of the time it’s either Nick, Alex, or myself that has to take actions for him. Whatever it is.
During voiceover, camera PULLS BACK slowly, revealing PASSENGER SEAT and BACK SEAT. A boy is in the PASSENGER SEAT and two are sitting in the BACK SEAT. All three are smoking CIGARETTES.
JARED
I TOLD YOU GUYS NOT TO DO IT BUT LIKE USUAL YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. YOU NEVER DO. NOW WE’RE ALL DONE.
ERIK (NARRTOR’S VOICE)
OKAY, FIRST OF ALL IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. AND SECOND, WHAT DID YOU WANT US TO DO? WE COULDN’T JUST LET SOMETHING LIKE THAT HAPPEN. YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH TOO MUCH SHIT TO GET TREATED LIKE THAT.
NICK
DID YOU WANT HIM TO JUST GET AWAY WITH IT?
JARED
NO. THAT’S NOT THE POINT. YOU GUYS KI –
FROM THE BACK, the last boy, ALEX, interrupts Jared quickly.
ALEX
JARED!
This is all Alex can say. Jared swerves the steering wheel hard to the left. TIRES SCREECH.
Camera switch to OUTSIDE OF CAR. CAR is seen swerving to avoid several deer crossing the road. THE CAR flips and tumbles several times before crashing into a tree and coming to a stop. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
SCENE TWO
Continued BEEPING is heard while the screen is black. Then, OVERWHELMING BRIGHT LIGHT. EXTREME CLOSE-UP on Jared’s face. He is lying in a hospital bed with a pillow under his head. Bruised and bloodied with stitches on one cheek. An OXYGEN MASK is on his face. BEEPING continues. After a few seconds, CAMERA CHANGES to EXTREME CLOSE-UP on Erik’s face. Similar conditions. Then Alex. Then Nick. The BEEPING continues throughout the entire scene. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
SCENE THREE
Black screen.
“SOME HOURS EARLIER” READS ON SCREEN
Bright, sunny day. Birds are chirping as the camera zooms in on an OLD ABANDONED BRIDGE. The bridge is littered with OLD BEER CANS, BOTTLES, and CIGARETTES. The camera stops behind Erik, Nick, and Alex, sitting on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling over the side. It then sweeps around to face the three boys. They hold beers and cigarettes.
NICK
I’M THINKING ABOUT TAKING A RUN AT THAT NEW GIRL, CLAIRE.
ERIK
NO, NO, DON’T. BIG MISTAKE. I’VE HAD SOME EXPERIENCES WITH NEW GIRLS BEFORE, IT’S THE WORST.
ALEX
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.
ERIK
SURE I DO. REMEMBER I DATED THAT GIRL BEFORE SHE GOT INTO HER LITTLE CLIQUE? IT WAS THE WORST FEW WEEKS OF MY LIFE. TRUST ME MAN, GIVE HER A MONTH OR SO. LET HER SETTLE DOWN. THEN GO FOR HER.
NICK
YEAH BUT SHE’S BANGIN’. I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN WAIT.
ERIK
SUIT YOURSELF. LET ME GET ANOTHER CIGARETTE?
Erik flicks his cigarette over the ledge of the bridge and into the water.
NICK
YOU GOT IT, PARTNER.
Nick takes out another cigarette, and hands it to Erik. He then looks at Alex and smiles. They both take off their shirts, climb over the railing of the bridge, and leap off. The camera follows them as they soar through the air and splash into the water. It then moves back to Erik, smoking his cigarette. Suddenly he looks to his side. The camera follows his gaze, and Jared is seen walking slowly onto the bridge. As he gets closer, he looks upset. He silently sits next to Erik and looks out into the water.
ERIK
YO.
JARED
HEY.
ERIK
NICK SAYS HE WANTS TO TAKE A RUN AT THAT NEW GIRL, CLAIRE. I TOLD HIM NOT TO BUT HE WOULDN’T LISTEN. HE’S AN IDIOT.
Jared does not respond, but just continues to look out through the railing into the water.
ERIK
WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?
JARED
NOTHING.
ERIK
BULLSHIT. WHAT’S GOING ON?
JARED
ANDREA CHEATED ON ME WITH THAT KID FROM HER SCHOOL. THE ONE I TOLD YOU SHE’S ALWAYS TALKING TO?
ERIK
ARE YOU KIDIDNG ME?
JARED
NO. THEY WERE AT SOME PARTY LAST NIGHT AND SHE WENT BACK TO HIS HOUSE. I JUST FOUND OUT. EVERYONE SAW THEM LEAVING TOGETHER SO I JUST ASKED HER ABOUT IT AND SHE ADMITTED IT. SHE SAID HOW SORRY SHE WAS AND ALL THAT SHIT.
Nick and Alex walk back onto the bridge, sopping wet, smiling. They see Erik and Jared’s faces and their smiles disappear immediately.
JARED
[WHISPERING]
DON’T SAY ANYTHING TO THEM. IT’S EMBARASSING ENOUGH.
ERIK
SURE.
[IN A LOUNDER VOICE, LOOKING AT ALEX AND NICK]
ANDREA CHEATED ON JARED LAST NIGHT. WITH THAT DOUCHEBAG, MATT.
NICK
WHAT?! THAT KID IS SUCH A TOOL. AL, DOESN’T HE WORK WITH YOU AT THE A&P?
ALEX
OH YEAH. HE’S THE WORST. WORKING TONIGHT, ACTUALLY. TILL LIKE MIDNIGHT I THINK.
Erik, Nick, and Alex exchange glances, then all look at Jared with smirks on their faces.
JARED
NO NO NO. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE THINKING… BUT WHATEVER IT IS JUST DON’T. THIS IS MY PROBLEM – I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT HOW I WANT TO. WHATEVER YOU GUYS DO WILL JUST MESS THIS WHOLE THING UP MORE.
ALEX
OH, I DON’T KNOW, JARED. MAYBE WE’LL JUST WAIT FOR HIM AFTER WORK AND HAVE A LITTLE TALK WIT HIM. NOTHING SERIOUS.
NICK
YEAH. YOU KNOW, JUST SCARE HIM A LITTLE BIT.
JARED
YOU’RE ALL IDIOTS – AND IF YOU DO I WON’T FORGIVE YOU GUYS. I’LL HANDLE IT.
ERIK
JUST LIKE YOU HANDLE EVERTHING ELSE SO PERFECTLY. YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING TO STAND UP FOR YOURSELF SO WE’LL DO IT FOR YOU. IT’LL BE FINE, I PROMISE.
Erik then flicks his cigarette, takes off his shirt, and climbs onto the rail of the bridge. He looks at Jared, winks, and then leaps off. The camera follows him until he splashes into the water. CAMERA GOES BLACK.
...
To be continued in an upcoming independent piece.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Independent Piece #3
One Last Time
One last time to be together
To feel the breeze, enjoy the weather
One last time to share our thoughts
On what will be, and what has not
One last time to visit the bridge
Where days of our summers were spent and lived
One last time to sneak out of my home
To meet down the street and through the neighborhood roam
One last time to sneak back in
Oh what a wonderful friendship it’s been
One last time to say goodbye
And then we depart with tears in our eyes
Thinking one last time to be together
To feel the breeze, enjoy the weather
One last time to be together
To feel the breeze, enjoy the weather
One last time to share our thoughts
On what will be, and what has not
One last time to visit the bridge
Where days of our summers were spent and lived
One last time to sneak out of my home
To meet down the street and through the neighborhood roam
One last time to sneak back in
Oh what a wonderful friendship it’s been
One last time to say goodbye
And then we depart with tears in our eyes
Thinking one last time to be together
To feel the breeze, enjoy the weather
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Into the Unknown (Pop Culture Piece)
It’s incredible that the next four years of our lives, possibly the most important for that matter, are determined by only a handful of things: an application, either paper or electronic, including two essays, two letters of recommendation, one SAP (student activity profile), a possible interview, and some amount of money, depending on the application fee. The old and the wise tell us that it’s not where we go that’s important, but what we make out of it – all this hustle bustle and stressing out in unnecessary. They were once in our shoes, however, and know that these warnings fall on deaf ears. To us, these past few months as well as the ones to follow are crucial: good grades, the best we’ve ever gotten, in fact, are crucial, while the right recommendations and perfect essays are also significant. All this, so the next four years of our lives are past at the right college.
My college search began simple: somewhere far from home with nice weather, preferably
I applied to twelve schools all together: SUNY Binghamton, Geneseo, and New Paltz, Virginia Tech, Northeastern, UNC at
The waiting killed me. Every day after my first application was sent out I would anxiously check the mailbox, knowing a decision would not have been made yet, but nonetheless checking. Weeks passed, months passed, and still no decision from a school. I soon began to get nervous, wondering if my destiny was to stay home, work at the local McDonald’s and one day become the manager. Such a future was unacceptable.
The first school I heard back from was
Within the weeks that followed I heard from
I heard from UNC next, wait listing me. Being wait listed is even worse than being rejected. You’re not good enough, but you’re not bad enough either. You’re undecided, in no man’s land, the purgatory of college. It’s a tease. Thousands of students are put on the wait list for a spot in about one hundred. Being out of state doesn’t help when a school has a state law that allows them to accept only 14% from states other than
I was rejected from
From before I can remember I have been intrigued by Pepperdine. Perhaps it’s location, or perhaps it’s academic excellence, it has been my dream school since the college search began. Located on the cliffs of
The decision from Pepperdine would come in early April, according to the website and admissions counselors. Every day after April 1st that I didn’t get the letter, the more paranoid I became. On that fateful day, however, during Spring break when I opened the mailbox and found the letter from Pepperdine, I was devastated.
You can know almost automatically whether or not you’ve been accepted into a school by the type of envelope the letter is addressed in. If it’s a large envelope, thick and the size of a regular piece of paper, it’s very safe to assume you’ve been accepted. If your envelope is that standard letter envelope and contains only a single piece of paper, chances are you’ve been denied. Sure, this takes some of the suspense out of the decision, but after several decisions letters you start to pick up on the signs.
My Pepperdine envelope was a small one. Before even opening the envelope I was heartbroken. After opening the envelope I was even more heartbroken by the reality of my rejection. The college I had been in love with since middle school had rejected me. It was a tough break up, no doubt about it. Several days went by with Pepperdine still on my mind, but soon enough I had gotten over the school and moved on.
With all my decisions made, I began filtering the schools and deciding which fit my needs best. Quickly the SUNY schools were out of the picture, as well as Virginia Tech and
Intro to Independent Piece #2
To this day this event has been one of the funniest, most interesting nights shared between my close friends and I. I have always wanted to write about it since the morning after it happened, and regret waiting so long to do so. Much of the humor and details which were fresh in my mind last year have since disappeared, leaving a story which may lack in certain areas. However I think my story shares at least some of the humor and frustration Alex, Nick and I felt on that night. I can't say I'd wish to have more nights like that, but it's one I will always remember forever.
Independent Assignment #2
Highway Men
The headlights of the passing car illuminated the three of us – Alex and Nick sitting with their feet dangling out the side of the car while I sat on the roof. Two people had already stopped to ask if we needed help; this car would make the third. As the black Expedition crept to a stop and the driver rolled down his window, we quickly reassured him that we were okay and he could continue on. He was not convinced, however. It’s not every day that you see three teenagers stranded on the side of the highway at 2:30 in the morning. He drove slowly away, however, and left us once again with only the blackness of the night.
It began as a normal Thursday; Alex, Nick and I sitting in the high school cafeteria during our free second period. We were playing cards when I mentioned the new X-Men movie was coming out the next day.
“We should definitely go see it tomorrow, first thing.”
“You know, it’s probably playing at like, 12:01 tonight,” Nick responded.
We looked at each other and soon enough a plan was devised for the three of us to sneak out of our houses and catch the first showing of X-Men 3. At the time it was an excellent idea, and for the rest of the day we bragged about our planned excursion and tried to recruit some more friends. No one wanted in, however, and by the end of the school day it was still only the three of us.
I snuck out of my house at 11:30 that night, when I was certain that my parents had fallen asleep. I quietly crept down the street to the old trailer in the center of GreenBriar, our intended meeting place. Alex was already waiting for me, and only moments later Nick pulled around the corner in his old, rackety Geo. We got into his car, as excited as a group of third graders on Christmas morning, and began our journey to the movie theatre.
The movie was sold out.
“Well, this blows.”
“‘Blows,’ I think, is an understatement,” I responded.
“Whatever. We’re out, we might as well eat.”
So it was settled. We left the movie theatre and went to Wendy’s, where we had our midnight snack. Literally. We left the Wendy’s parking lot with disappointment in our hearts and exhaust in our eyes, and headed home.
It was merging from highway 84 to 6-84 that Nick noticed the low rumble underneath his car. He warned us of the discouraging noise, but we disregarded it and told him to continue on. Within a few seconds, the engine was making the type of noise you’d imagine if you played the drums on your kitchen’s pots and pans. The car then came to a halting stop in the middle of the exit ramp, but Nick managed to drive it a bit further, and pulled over on the side of the highway.
“Shit,” we all said simultaneously as we opened our doors and stepped out of the car. It was already close to 1 AM and we began to panic. I offered to call my dad, confess, and have him pick the three of us up, but Nick and Alex refused. We had thirty dollars among us and couldn’t call a car service to come pick us up, so virtually, we were screwed.
It was after sitting around and debating for over 45 minutes that Alex found the AAA card in his wallet. I dialed the number with a newfound hope in my heart, and was relieved when the operator answered in her friendly voice.
“Yes, we’re stranded here on the exit ramp connecting highways 84 and 6-84,” I told her in as calm a voice I could muster. “Our car has broken down; we don’t know what happened. The car won’t start again and we don’t have another ride home.”
She assured me that a tow truck would be on its way shortly and all our problems would be solved.
“Shortly,” however, took another hour and a half, and it wasn’t until almost 3:30 AM that the tow truck showed up. It pulled up slowly next to us and a large, scruffy man with raggedy jeans, dirty white tee, and lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth stepped out of the truck and walked towards us.
“Isn’t this how all horror movies start?” I whispered to Nick and Alex as the man approached us.
“Shut up. We just woke this guy up at three in the morning to come pick us up on the side of the road. He probably is ready to kill us.”
With all the charm we could muster, we explained to him our situation: we snuck out of our houses to see a movie which was sold out, and on the way home the car broke down. Our parents don’t know we’re gone, we have school tomorrow, and have virtually no money between us.
Pete, as it was, turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He told us he’d “take care of us good” and he’d get us home safely. Within no time he had Nick’s Geo on the flatbed of the truck and we were ready to leave for home.
“There’s only room for two of you in the cab of the truck. One of you’s gotta’ ride in the Geo,” he informed us right before leaving.
A quick game of twenty first finger determined that Alex would be the unlucky one to sit on the flat bed of the truck. He sluggishly climbed aboard while Nick and I took our seats in the cab of the truck, next to Pete. He started the truck and merged onto the highway, accelerating quickly; before we realized it we were going 85 miles per hour on a virtually empty highway. We directed him to Nick’s house and asked him to, as quietly as possible, unload the car off the flatbed into the cul de sac. Pete was an expert at his skill, silently taking the car off the truck, without any of the chains, bolts, or hooks clanking once. He even helped us put the car into neutral and push it into Nick’s driveway to where it was before he snuck out. We thanked him profusely and assured him that Alex and I could walk home, only about two miles from Nick’s house. Pete, however, would not hear it. He forced us into the cab and demanded that he drive us to at least our streets.
We pulled into GreenBriar at close to 4:30.
“We can take it from here, Pete.”
He took Alex’s AAA card, swiped it through his little machine, did some paper work, and gave us the check. Twenty three dollars. We gave him all of our thirty dollars and promised that if we had more, it would be his. He was truly a lifesaver. We stepped out of the truck, thanked Pete once again, and turned towards our homes.
“Well, that was quite a night,” I said.
“It’s going to be an even more interesting morning.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, we turned away from each other and separated. The only thing still illuminating the night were the headlights of Pete’s tow truck, growing smaller and smaller as he drove slowly away.
It began as a normal Thursday; Alex, Nick and I sitting in the high school cafeteria during our free second period. We were playing cards when I mentioned the new X-Men movie was coming out the next day.
“We should definitely go see it tomorrow, first thing.”
“You know, it’s probably playing at like, 12:01 tonight,” Nick responded.
We looked at each other and soon enough a plan was devised for the three of us to sneak out of our houses and catch the first showing of X-Men 3. At the time it was an excellent idea, and for the rest of the day we bragged about our planned excursion and tried to recruit some more friends. No one wanted in, however, and by the end of the school day it was still only the three of us.
I snuck out of my house at 11:30 that night, when I was certain that my parents had fallen asleep. I quietly crept down the street to the old trailer in the center of GreenBriar, our intended meeting place. Alex was already waiting for me, and only moments later Nick pulled around the corner in his old, rackety Geo. We got into his car, as excited as a group of third graders on Christmas morning, and began our journey to the movie theatre.
The movie was sold out.
“Well, this blows.”
“‘Blows,’ I think, is an understatement,” I responded.
“Whatever. We’re out, we might as well eat.”
So it was settled. We left the movie theatre and went to Wendy’s, where we had our midnight snack. Literally. We left the Wendy’s parking lot with disappointment in our hearts and exhaust in our eyes, and headed home.
It was merging from highway 84 to 6-84 that Nick noticed the low rumble underneath his car. He warned us of the discouraging noise, but we disregarded it and told him to continue on. Within a few seconds, the engine was making the type of noise you’d imagine if you played the drums on your kitchen’s pots and pans. The car then came to a halting stop in the middle of the exit ramp, but Nick managed to drive it a bit further, and pulled over on the side of the highway.
“Shit,” we all said simultaneously as we opened our doors and stepped out of the car. It was already close to 1 AM and we began to panic. I offered to call my dad, confess, and have him pick the three of us up, but Nick and Alex refused. We had thirty dollars among us and couldn’t call a car service to come pick us up, so virtually, we were screwed.
It was after sitting around and debating for over 45 minutes that Alex found the AAA card in his wallet. I dialed the number with a newfound hope in my heart, and was relieved when the operator answered in her friendly voice.
“Yes, we’re stranded here on the exit ramp connecting highways 84 and 6-84,” I told her in as calm a voice I could muster. “Our car has broken down; we don’t know what happened. The car won’t start again and we don’t have another ride home.”
She assured me that a tow truck would be on its way shortly and all our problems would be solved.
“Shortly,” however, took another hour and a half, and it wasn’t until almost 3:30 AM that the tow truck showed up. It pulled up slowly next to us and a large, scruffy man with raggedy jeans, dirty white tee, and lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth stepped out of the truck and walked towards us.
“Isn’t this how all horror movies start?” I whispered to Nick and Alex as the man approached us.
“Shut up. We just woke this guy up at three in the morning to come pick us up on the side of the road. He probably is ready to kill us.”
With all the charm we could muster, we explained to him our situation: we snuck out of our houses to see a movie which was sold out, and on the way home the car broke down. Our parents don’t know we’re gone, we have school tomorrow, and have virtually no money between us.
Pete, as it was, turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He told us he’d “take care of us good” and he’d get us home safely. Within no time he had Nick’s Geo on the flatbed of the truck and we were ready to leave for home.
“There’s only room for two of you in the cab of the truck. One of you’s gotta’ ride in the Geo,” he informed us right before leaving.
A quick game of twenty first finger determined that Alex would be the unlucky one to sit on the flat bed of the truck. He sluggishly climbed aboard while Nick and I took our seats in the cab of the truck, next to Pete. He started the truck and merged onto the highway, accelerating quickly; before we realized it we were going 85 miles per hour on a virtually empty highway. We directed him to Nick’s house and asked him to, as quietly as possible, unload the car off the flatbed into the cul de sac. Pete was an expert at his skill, silently taking the car off the truck, without any of the chains, bolts, or hooks clanking once. He even helped us put the car into neutral and push it into Nick’s driveway to where it was before he snuck out. We thanked him profusely and assured him that Alex and I could walk home, only about two miles from Nick’s house. Pete, however, would not hear it. He forced us into the cab and demanded that he drive us to at least our streets.
We pulled into GreenBriar at close to 4:30.
“We can take it from here, Pete.”
He took Alex’s AAA card, swiped it through his little machine, did some paper work, and gave us the check. Twenty three dollars. We gave him all of our thirty dollars and promised that if we had more, it would be his. He was truly a lifesaver. We stepped out of the truck, thanked Pete once again, and turned towards our homes.
“Well, that was quite a night,” I said.
“It’s going to be an even more interesting morning.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, we turned away from each other and separated. The only thing still illuminating the night were the headlights of Pete’s tow truck, growing smaller and smaller as he drove slowly away.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Liz (Lives Post)
Liz worked in Hygrade, the local deli just down the street from my house. Frequently I would visit the deli, sometimes for lunch or sometimes just to strike a conversation with Liz and keep her company on the slow days. We talked about everything from school, to family, to our high school relationships. At the time, she was moving on from a relationship with a character whom she called Carlos, to a new relationship with a boy from our school. She was even bringing this new boy to the senior prom.
On the morning of June 5th, 2005, my father and I stopped at the deli to get breakfast before an early baseball game. Knowing that Liz worked Sunday mornings, I was surprised to find that I didn’t see her anywhere.
Later that morning the police found Elizabeth Butler’s dead body - raped, stabbed, and bound - in the backseat of her father’s car in the deli parking lot. “Carlos”, whose name and age were changed to deceive Liz, had murdered her in an angry, jealous rage.
My father explained to me what had happened after the baseball game, and immediately I denied it. It was impossible to grasp the idea that such a close friend since the 6th grade, the big sister role in my life, was gone. As the hours passed however, and I began to hear more and more about what had happened, including seeing the story on the nightly news, I was forced to accept the reality of the situation: Liz was dead; there was nothing anyone could do about it. What was almost impossible to fathom, though, was the thought that my father and I had passed the car in which Liz lay only moments before she was found. Constantly I ask myself if things would be different if I looked out the car window at the right time or if only five minutes earlier we had left the house and passed her car.
The police contacted me several days later to ask me about Liz and perhaps learn more about her character. Standard stuff. I explained that Liz and I were close and she had shared with me many things including the discouraging characteristics which ‘Carlos’ possessed. Not much I could tell them would be of incredible help.
On the morning of June 5th, 2005, my father and I stopped at the deli to get breakfast before an early baseball game. Knowing that Liz worked Sunday mornings, I was surprised to find that I didn’t see her anywhere.
Later that morning the police found Elizabeth Butler’s dead body - raped, stabbed, and bound - in the backseat of her father’s car in the deli parking lot. “Carlos”, whose name and age were changed to deceive Liz, had murdered her in an angry, jealous rage.
My father explained to me what had happened after the baseball game, and immediately I denied it. It was impossible to grasp the idea that such a close friend since the 6th grade, the big sister role in my life, was gone. As the hours passed however, and I began to hear more and more about what had happened, including seeing the story on the nightly news, I was forced to accept the reality of the situation: Liz was dead; there was nothing anyone could do about it. What was almost impossible to fathom, though, was the thought that my father and I had passed the car in which Liz lay only moments before she was found. Constantly I ask myself if things would be different if I looked out the car window at the right time or if only five minutes earlier we had left the house and passed her car.
The police contacted me several days later to ask me about Liz and perhaps learn more about her character. Standard stuff. I explained that Liz and I were close and she had shared with me many things including the discouraging characteristics which ‘Carlos’ possessed. Not much I could tell them would be of incredible help.
Such an incident is one that no seventeen year old high school student should ever need experience. Still, during the weeks, months, and years that pass by, I am able to notice the affect that Liz’s life and death have had on me. I wish one could say that Liz died for a valiant, honorable cause, but this is not the case. Liz was killed because of the inherent cruelty that exists among all of mankind. Every morning, however, whether it be through the bracelet I put on celebrating Liz’s life, or the picture of Liz and I on my computer, or seeing Liz’s younger sister playing with mine, I am reminded that people exist in the world that do in fact mean harm. I feel it is my responsibility to keep my close friends safe, something I was unable to do with Liz.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Intro to Independent Piece #1
I wrote this piece while considering all the college admissions decisions letters I’ve been receiving, or waiting to receive. My number one choice is Pepperdine, a private university located in the cliffs of Malibu, California. As I wait for my admissions decision, I’ve realized that I still need to think long and hard about whether or not I’m willing to travel all the way across the country for college. This drastic change would include me leaving my family, friends, and the home I’ve grown up in since I can remember. My poem discusses many of these issues. I then considered all the positive things about leaving for college, including the new people I’d meet, the new memories I’d make, and the great weather and location of Pepperdine. Contrasting the phrase “I leave” with “I go to” shows that while I’m leaving all the things I know and love, I’m going to something mysterious, unexpected, and amazing. I still need to have a long conversation with myself before I decide if I’m willing to live in California for the next four years, but first, I need to be accepted.
Independent Assignment #1
Untitled
I leave my parents
With tears in their eyes
Standing on the cliffs
Watching the tide
I leave my friends
All staying home
The place where we lived
And the place where we’ve grown
I leave my love
With one final kiss
Words can’t describe
How much she’ll be missed
I leave the life
I’ve grown to know
With one last goodbye
Away I go
I go,
I go to a place
New and exciting
The sun shining down
The people inviting
I go to a place
New friends will be made
But none like the ones
I’ve had since first grade
I go to a place
New loves will be met
But none like my first
Of that I can bet
I go to a place
Where life waits ahead
And home but a thought
A memory in my head
I leave my parents
With tears in their eyes
Standing on the cliffs
Watching the tide
I leave my friends
All staying home
The place where we lived
And the place where we’ve grown
I leave my love
With one final kiss
Words can’t describe
How much she’ll be missed
I leave the life
I’ve grown to know
With one last goodbye
Away I go
I go,
I go to a place
New and exciting
The sun shining down
The people inviting
I go to a place
New friends will be made
But none like the ones
I’ve had since first grade
I go to a place
New loves will be met
But none like my first
Of that I can bet
I go to a place
Where life waits ahead
And home but a thought
A memory in my head
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
True (Reilly Post)
True honesty is one of the hardest things to come by now-a-days; someone who is not afraid to speak their mind, no matter the consequences, and is loyal to themselves and those important to them. That’s why Erin Bosse is one of the most admirable people I know.
For most people it’s difficult to directly face conflict, trying to avoid it at all costs. Majority of high school students are indifferent to the events that happen between them and other peers throughout the school. Not Erin, however. Majority of high school students, when informed that people are talking behind their backs, will disregard it and feign ignorance in front of that person. Not Erin, however.
Erin Bosse goes to Somers high school, a school much bigger than North Salem and therefore prone to more cliques, rumors, and gossip. The girls who attend Somers are often aggressive, while the boys are even more hostile and violent. In a school where everyone talks about anyone, gossip rules the hallways, and trash talking is most prevalent, Erin remains respected and well liked.
I remember one situation in particular when I was taken aback by this noteworthy quality. A “friend” of Erin’s had made a nasty comment to me regarding Erin’s fidelity, and I shared the comment with her, expecting her to complain and vent to me, but no one else. What I did not expect was Erin to confront the girl in school the next day when the two passed in the hallway. She criticized the girl for talking behind a friend’s back; in many high schoolers minds, the worst possible thing. She also commented on the irony of the situation, a “friend” insulting another friend’s loyalty. The two girls, still to this day, have not spoken. Many times has the girl tried to apologize, but to dear ears. With Erin, one strike and you’re out. No second chances.
This trait is one of the most admirable that exists among few people. Not to be cliché, but Ms. Bosse stays true to herself at all costs, keeping her close friends close and ignoring those who don’t matter. If she has a problem with somebody, that person is the first to hear about it. And from Erin as well, not through the grapevine. This is one of the most admirable qualities, I believe. To know who is true to you, and to act upon those who are not.
For most people it’s difficult to directly face conflict, trying to avoid it at all costs. Majority of high school students are indifferent to the events that happen between them and other peers throughout the school. Not Erin, however. Majority of high school students, when informed that people are talking behind their backs, will disregard it and feign ignorance in front of that person. Not Erin, however.
Erin Bosse goes to Somers high school, a school much bigger than North Salem and therefore prone to more cliques, rumors, and gossip. The girls who attend Somers are often aggressive, while the boys are even more hostile and violent. In a school where everyone talks about anyone, gossip rules the hallways, and trash talking is most prevalent, Erin remains respected and well liked.
I remember one situation in particular when I was taken aback by this noteworthy quality. A “friend” of Erin’s had made a nasty comment to me regarding Erin’s fidelity, and I shared the comment with her, expecting her to complain and vent to me, but no one else. What I did not expect was Erin to confront the girl in school the next day when the two passed in the hallway. She criticized the girl for talking behind a friend’s back; in many high schoolers minds, the worst possible thing. She also commented on the irony of the situation, a “friend” insulting another friend’s loyalty. The two girls, still to this day, have not spoken. Many times has the girl tried to apologize, but to dear ears. With Erin, one strike and you’re out. No second chances.
This trait is one of the most admirable that exists among few people. Not to be cliché, but Ms. Bosse stays true to herself at all costs, keeping her close friends close and ignoring those who don’t matter. If she has a problem with somebody, that person is the first to hear about it. And from Erin as well, not through the grapevine. This is one of the most admirable qualities, I believe. To know who is true to you, and to act upon those who are not.
Friday, March 02, 2007
I Am With Her (E.E. Cummings)
I am with her
as if
with no one else
(because I know of no one else)
I am with her
as if
I have nothing to do
(because I don’t have anything to do)
I am with her
as if
I enjoy all the action
(because I’m a man, and I do enjoy action)
I am with her
as if
I am in love with her
(because, indeed, I am in love with her)
as if
with no one else
(because I know of no one else)
I am with her
as if
I have nothing to do
(because I don’t have anything to do)
I am with her
as if
I enjoy all the action
(because I’m a man, and I do enjoy action)
I am with her
as if
I am in love with her
(because, indeed, I am in love with her)
Monday, February 12, 2007
The Light Bulb (Young Lee Post)
While the snow fell down
And the darkness turned to white
My father and I stood outside
Contemplating the task at hand.
I was younger then, and so was he
Neither of us knowing what
To expect from each other
While the cold bit down on our hands
Carrying the ladder to the spot
Underneath the burnt out light bulb
My father explained to me what to do
And placed the new bulb in my hand
As I climbed the ladder leaning against the house
The ice cold metal bit into my palms
And the bulb slipped from my clenched fist
Shattering on the driveway below
As my father stared up
And my gaze moved to his
Our eyes met for a brief moment
And disappointment lingered in his
I climbed down the ladder
Knowing I let him down
And brushed slowly passed him
Returning to the safety and warmth of my room
Monday, February 05, 2007
The System (Vonnegut Post)
We all know what it’s like to sit in class and have no idea what’s going on. That sense of confusion is overwhelming and embarrassing – believe me, I know. What’s worse, though, is missing assignments or doing poorly on tests because of your complete lack of competence in the subject, which is why many students have created a system in which to work.
To us it’s common knowledge which students are strong in which subjects; we’ve been going to school together our entire lives and have grown close. I’m the Spanish guy. Morgan is the Math and Science guy, Mike AG is the history guy. Anyone can get through English. During tests, we know who it’s smart to sit next to and perhaps take a quick glance at their paper – several times. If you’re missing an assignment, there is already a list in mind of who to go to first in order to get the assignment done in a timely fashion.
To some this method may be considered cheating, while to the benefited of the system it is considered only smart high school practice. The system works on a simple level and filters throughout the entire high school, beginning with the freshmen, who pick up on it quickly. To succeed in high school I advise you to quickly determine who it is that is intellectually strong in certain areas, and befriend them immediately.
To us it’s common knowledge which students are strong in which subjects; we’ve been going to school together our entire lives and have grown close. I’m the Spanish guy. Morgan is the Math and Science guy, Mike AG is the history guy. Anyone can get through English. During tests, we know who it’s smart to sit next to and perhaps take a quick glance at their paper – several times. If you’re missing an assignment, there is already a list in mind of who to go to first in order to get the assignment done in a timely fashion.
To some this method may be considered cheating, while to the benefited of the system it is considered only smart high school practice. The system works on a simple level and filters throughout the entire high school, beginning with the freshmen, who pick up on it quickly. To succeed in high school I advise you to quickly determine who it is that is intellectually strong in certain areas, and befriend them immediately.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Women (Hemingway Post)
The two young men lay in the basement, one on the couch and one on the floor, staring blankly at the television. It was dark down there; the only thing keeping the room illuminated was the light shining from the television, making their faces barely visible. The clock next to the window read half past one and each second that ticked by was audible even through the sound from the TV. On any other night they’d have been asleep already, but on this night, with the scent of perfume still lingering in the air of the room they now lay, sleep eluded them without difficulty.
“You can’t do that. It’s against the rules,” he said from the couch, breaking the silence that hung between them for so long.
“It’s not my fault,” the boy from the floor shortly responded.
They were both sitting up now, looking at each others faces, trying to read the expressions but failing. The sounds and images projected from the TV were now disregarded, their minds focused only on the ensuing conversation.
“You wouldn’t have been here tonight if it wasn’t for me. You realize that?”
“Yeah, but I can’t help it.”
“You don’t talk to her, were never interested, and shouldn’t be,” said the boy now sitting up on the couch, his voice rising.
“I can’t help who I start to like,” responded the second teen, defensively.
“Yeah, but you can acknowledge the fact that I was interested in her first. And you wouldn’t have met her without me. And her friend was for you anyway.”
At this the boy on the floor turned away, wrapping himself in his blanket and staring at the ceiling while once again the dull voices of the TV and the methodic ticking of the clock took over the room.
Monday, January 29, 2007
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