Wednesday, April 29, 2015
how to ride the subway
Make sure you have everything with you as you lock your front door, run down the steps, and swing open the front gate of your house. Go through everything in your head; your phone, your lunch, last night's homework that you'll have to find a way to do between now and fourth period. Reassure yourself that you have everything and take a deep breath; start to relax. Check your phone and see that it's already 8:15–your train comes at 8:18 and it's at least a 10 minute walk to the subway.
Start to pick up your pace. Turn this corner, walk up. Check your phone again. 8:16. Walk faster. 8:17. Run.
Turn the final corner until you see the stairs leading into your station. Find your way through the massive crowd of people trying to get out of the station as you try to get in. Turn this way, turn that.
Then you realize that if these people are coming out, the train is here.
Run down those stairs, the wind slapping your face as you enter the smelly, dirty underground. Rummage through your back pack to find your metro card. Swipe. "We could not read your card. Please swipe again." Try not to lose it and just swipe again.
Check the direction–Brooklyn, or Manhattan. Manhattan. You can see the train still there. Sprint down those stairs as fast as you can, a rush of relief running through you because you know you've got the train and you're not going to be late.
Let out a long, deep breath as the train doors shut the second you reach the platform.
Ignore the people inside the car, so close yet separated by the door and the window, as they smile slyly at you, happy they made the train and they're not you, the sad little fool that's so close yet so far, the person that almost catches the train but then doesn't.
Ignore them.
Find a seat on the bench. Not like that'll be at all difficult because everyone got on the train so there's nobody there. Sit at the end, away from the trashcan.
If your feeling motivated, take out some homework; probably reading notes. If your feeling angsty and pissed, take out your headphones and turn up your favorite song to max volume. If your feeling both, do both.
Right as you settle in the next train will come, and you'll be in a rush to pack all your stuff up that you don't even realize it's a Q train. Which you can't take.
Sit back down. Check your phone. It'll already be 8:22 and you know that at this rate you'll probably miss the bus. Which means you'll have to walk the mile and a half to school. Which means you'll be late to math. For the third time this week.
But that's all okay!
The B train will finally pull in. A crowd of people will stand by door, hungrily waiting for it to open. Bing, ding–the doors open. People will try to selfishly cram themselves in, but they'll end up getting back out to let the people get off. Fight your way to the front. Make sure you get on–you don't want to wait for the NEXT train.
The doors will close. You'll finally be calm; smile to yourself, happy you're on your way.
Until you move your head the slightest bit and realize the guy behind you is breathing into your neck. So you shift the other way, but you realize that your head is rammed into some fat lady's shoulder. Bend down a bit, until your head hits someones butt and you realize that there's nowhere to move and nowhere to go and nowhere to breath and suddenly you'll realize that your claustrophobic and you feel like your about to die.
But that's all okay! Because the train will pull into Barclays Center and you know that people will get off.
Except today, of all days, nobody will get off. More people will only get on. And you'll realize that the fat lady's shoulder was luxury compared to this giant's sweaty armpit.
Stay calm. Just a few more stops.
The train will go over the bridge, at which point everybody–almost in unison–will pull out their phones. SERVICE! You reach for your pocket to pull out your phone until you realize that there's no room for your phone. So your intimacy with the armpit will just have to grow for the next 10 minutes. That's just the way it goes.
At Grand Street, all the Chinese people pop up and scurry out of the train. Ah. Finally some breathing room.
Tell yourself to not worry–there's just one more stop.
The train will pull in to Broadway Lafayette. You've made it. You leave the train car and run up those stairs, heading to the closest exit until you realize that they've moved the bus stop a block further. So you turn around and run to the other exit, all the way on the other side of the station. You sprint up more stairs, jet across the street, only to see the M21 pull away from your stop.
Don't run. You won't make it.
Yup.
That's how it'll go.
Just wait for the next bus. You would've been late to math anyway.
Start to pick up your pace. Turn this corner, walk up. Check your phone again. 8:16. Walk faster. 8:17. Run.
Turn the final corner until you see the stairs leading into your station. Find your way through the massive crowd of people trying to get out of the station as you try to get in. Turn this way, turn that.
Then you realize that if these people are coming out, the train is here.
Run down those stairs, the wind slapping your face as you enter the smelly, dirty underground. Rummage through your back pack to find your metro card. Swipe. "We could not read your card. Please swipe again." Try not to lose it and just swipe again.
Check the direction–Brooklyn, or Manhattan. Manhattan. You can see the train still there. Sprint down those stairs as fast as you can, a rush of relief running through you because you know you've got the train and you're not going to be late.
Let out a long, deep breath as the train doors shut the second you reach the platform.
Ignore the people inside the car, so close yet separated by the door and the window, as they smile slyly at you, happy they made the train and they're not you, the sad little fool that's so close yet so far, the person that almost catches the train but then doesn't.
Ignore them.
Find a seat on the bench. Not like that'll be at all difficult because everyone got on the train so there's nobody there. Sit at the end, away from the trashcan.
If your feeling motivated, take out some homework; probably reading notes. If your feeling angsty and pissed, take out your headphones and turn up your favorite song to max volume. If your feeling both, do both.
Right as you settle in the next train will come, and you'll be in a rush to pack all your stuff up that you don't even realize it's a Q train. Which you can't take.
Sit back down. Check your phone. It'll already be 8:22 and you know that at this rate you'll probably miss the bus. Which means you'll have to walk the mile and a half to school. Which means you'll be late to math. For the third time this week.
But that's all okay!
The B train will finally pull in. A crowd of people will stand by door, hungrily waiting for it to open. Bing, ding–the doors open. People will try to selfishly cram themselves in, but they'll end up getting back out to let the people get off. Fight your way to the front. Make sure you get on–you don't want to wait for the NEXT train.
The doors will close. You'll finally be calm; smile to yourself, happy you're on your way.
Until you move your head the slightest bit and realize the guy behind you is breathing into your neck. So you shift the other way, but you realize that your head is rammed into some fat lady's shoulder. Bend down a bit, until your head hits someones butt and you realize that there's nowhere to move and nowhere to go and nowhere to breath and suddenly you'll realize that your claustrophobic and you feel like your about to die.
But that's all okay! Because the train will pull into Barclays Center and you know that people will get off.
Except today, of all days, nobody will get off. More people will only get on. And you'll realize that the fat lady's shoulder was luxury compared to this giant's sweaty armpit.
Stay calm. Just a few more stops.
The train will go over the bridge, at which point everybody–almost in unison–will pull out their phones. SERVICE! You reach for your pocket to pull out your phone until you realize that there's no room for your phone. So your intimacy with the armpit will just have to grow for the next 10 minutes. That's just the way it goes.
At Grand Street, all the Chinese people pop up and scurry out of the train. Ah. Finally some breathing room.
Tell yourself to not worry–there's just one more stop.
The train will pull in to Broadway Lafayette. You've made it. You leave the train car and run up those stairs, heading to the closest exit until you realize that they've moved the bus stop a block further. So you turn around and run to the other exit, all the way on the other side of the station. You sprint up more stairs, jet across the street, only to see the M21 pull away from your stop.
Don't run. You won't make it.
Yup.
That's how it'll go.
Just wait for the next bus. You would've been late to math anyway.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Objective Correlative
I look down.
Down.
10 feet, 20 feet, 30 feet,, 40 feet, 50 feet.
Down.
I tell myself to do it, but my feet won't budge.
Down.
I tell myself it's time. Everyone's waiting.
Down.
I'm waiting.
Down.
Okay.
Down.
I clench my fists. Breathe in.
I jump.
Down.
Down I go. I hug my knees, curl myself into a ball as I fall. The air engulfs me, eats me. The wind blows my hair back as I drop. My eyes water. The world moves in fast forward; the mountains, the trees, the people all blend together as my eyes close, the wind and the air and sights and the feelings and the noise just too much.
I want to scream, but I'm going to quickly and it feels like I've been falling for ever and I just keep going down
down down
the wind slaps me, back and forth, up and down, spanking me, hitting me, hurting me, playing with me
down down it feels like an eternity but I keep falling and event though my eyes are closed I know I'm falling and I know I'm alone and I can hear there voices and their filling my ears and my mind and my
SPLASH
my body hits the water.
I sink down.
down.
water fills my nostrils.
I go down.
deeper.
try to open my eyes but I cant't.
it hurts.
I swim. the water swallows me. drinks me. slurps me.
down.
you'd think there's no more down to go.
down.
(I totally most definitely want to write more... this is so fascinating!)
Monday, April 27, 2015
Friday, April 24, 2015
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Pictures of Aurora
I was doing the homework for Tuesday and while researching what "Aurora" means, I came across these pictures of this pretty stunning, surreal, natural phenomenon that's called Aurora.
I thought I'd put them on my blog as they're pretty incredible!
I thought I'd put them on my blog as they're pretty incredible!
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Rewriting our Moments Using Hong Kingston's Style
**Note: To be perfectly honest, I can't really think of any moment in my life so big and so worthy of such close examination. I guess when we're asked to think of moments for a school assignment or so, I immediately associate that with a big, momentous, dramatic, crazy big life-changing moment. But then when I reflect on my own life, I can't really find any of those. I guess, in a sense, that's a good thing, as these "moments" are often tragic or life-threatening or really sad. And I haven't really experienced anything that big, that personal and raw. And I think many of my peers are probably in that boat as well. So I think it's OK if our moments aren't so dramatically huge. The small moments are important, too.
Rewritten Moment:
(needs a lot of work and thought!!)
Rewritten Moment:
(needs a lot of work and thought!!)
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