The Triangle of Thought

Two years ago we were freshman.

The first day I stepped into my new class rm 235

It was public speaking.

The ceiling flourished of color,

With the wonders of outer space, it gave us a new eye,

Who knew that the 60 days 
Would go soaring by?

DAY ONE:

We were told to walk to the front of the room one by one,

To just simply look at the people around us,

Not to say a word, but to conquer any existing,

Unwarranted fears within us.

We were all mute, yet a tingling sensation of discomfort lingered throughout.

But yet we did it.

One by one we silently ventured to the front,

When the adversity was over, we could not wait to discuss.

DAY TWO:

We drew two triangles today,

Maslow and Aristotle were their names–

I am not making this up, the papers now held in my hands,

Just in case you needed a claim.

I sectioned the shapes into many pieces,

Just like the poem I now construct,

From human needs, to speaker, to audience or to purpose 

In the articles we read,

The rhetorical strategies were taught early enough.

“Where did you learn this Mr.F?”

We would question his claims,

For it was made of the simplest materials but all glued in the perfect way.

It was like pure genius,

Like telling me every word I have ever read was

Composed of the same 26 figures arranged in a different way.

You may have already known that, but I assure you know it even better today-

And his response was:

“I know another gifted English teacher, whom with every conversation I go ‘wow’”.

Okay, we said.

That’s all we had to say.

We did not know this teacher, 

Or why he made our own so engaged–

We didn't know, until now.

DAY A FEW DAYS LATER:

Today we switched classrooms, to visit the great teacher’s that my own adored

I was kind of confused, but I went with the flow,

So we walked into this new classroom

With styrofoam rainbow pieces on the floor.

Those pieces are turned over now, so the gray is all you can see anymore.

Oh, another thing, 

Then the walls were once white like the rest.

Lacking the gorgeous mural of Aristotle, now on the side-

Mr.S helped make that wall the best of the best.

A lot has changed since two years ago,

That day my class sat in the same chairs as we do now,

Reading random posts on a random teacher’s blog,

Wondering why it was of significance at all.

Then Mr.F told us how valuable blogs are.

That it was one of the geniuses this teacher had suggested.

That if we were to ever have him

It would be a fantastic experience 

He full-heartedly recommended.  

TWO YEARS LATER:

It’s funny how the world circles around.

Spinning day by day, our experiences always tend to meet.

Now I have my own blog 

That maybe other freshman pay a visit to see.

I guess Mr. F was right, 

Mr.S is one of the greatest teachers to be.

And his blogs are a wonderful idea,

A gift that many students have now.

So there it is– from DAY ONE of being mute,

To DAY 60 I learned how to speak.

And now DAY WHO KNOWS WHAT, 

I have moved on to the class where we learn to blog and think.

We learned to be humans,

Not test subjects assessed on.

We have learned to go beyond boundaries

Boundaries that teachers constantly stumble upon.

He has made us better human beings

Remember all those reflections we did!

It wasn't that kind of forced knowledge; 

We always have laughs and grins.

So far I have revealed two corners of the triangle,

The purpose of this length piece you may ask?

And that is THANK YOU, for everything no other teacher has taught

Mr.F was right all along when he said “Mr.S is a teacher you must have.”

Mr.S is the reason why I wrote this lengthy piece

And trust me when I say the speed at which I wrote was very decrease–

Point is, too many people are questioning,

When it is what we have learned we should cherish.

We should applaud the concepts we learned

And although we may miss, THANKFULNESS is what should flourish.

On the last day of public speaking “Best of luck” my teacher wished,

And those are words I pass on to a teacher we hope to be amidst.

Thank You for being a fantastic teacher. 

I hope you got to read this.

To be legalized.

Art is unlike no other hobby. It gives freedom to express whatever the mind desires. It pushes creativity beyond its borders. It creates everlasting masterpieces. It is a unique form of expression that conveys feelings and emotions that simply cannot be conveyed in words. When an artist waves his paintbrush across a board, it is for a number of the reasons stated that art is his passion.

Most times people look for the right or wrong way to do something, but for art there is no right or wrong answer. A final product can never be told that it is bad, since art is purely a matter of opinion. As long as the artist loves his artwork, it surely is a great piece of art.

Why then is graffiti looked so down upon? If graffiti is art, why do people call it bad? Graffiti is a form of expression just like every other piece of artwork. Although there is a negative connotation with the phrase since it is often associated with vandalism, most of the times it is not even disrupting.

Think for a moment– where do you usually see graffiti?  Inside tunnels? On the side of a train? On a road in middle of the highway?  Now does some scribbles on a rock really affect you? Compared to the significant impact graffiti can have on an artist’s life, petty, selfish botherings should not interfere with a person’s freedom of expression.

Freedom of expression is one of America’s inalienable rights. In other words it is un-American to forbid graffiti from becoming legalized. Hence, it is not acceptable that the government can punish others for their expression(up to 3 year imprisonment). In contrast, the government should be extending their efforts to make expression more popular– because flourishing art will bring a flourishing future. 

Fliffer Huzza

Whenever I hear the word lugubrious, I feel like jumping into a gigantic pit of pillows yelling “LUGUBRIOUSSS!” It just sounds like such a fun word. It makes me think of little Boobahs spinning in circles and dancing around on a rainbow in pink clouds floating in the air. Well, that was until I found out what the word meant. Apparently it kind of meant the opposite, all gloomy and upset and stuff. Similarly, my brother thought it sounded kind of swiss cheese made out of peanuts. You know, goobers meaning peanuts and stuff. Unfortunately he was wrong too– unless it was some sad cheese… Wow words are so confusing. Ever since I found out what lugubrious actually meant I threw the word in my fliffer huzza pile– the pile of things that make no sense.  In the little box you can see a bunch of random questions floating around. Like why are chicken pox called “chicken” when the specks look more like burgers? Or why the guy that made silly bands is now a millionaire?  Or why do letter grades go from D to F, won’t E feel left out? Or why is a “w” called a “double u” when it looks like a “double v?”

I feel like I’ve been adding a lot to the fliffer huzza pile lately. Do you know what the most annoying thing is, when a person asks you if fliffer huzza is the name of an expensive drink or something. Next time that happens to you, just stare them down in the eyes and yell “Well that made me lugubrious–no, it is not a drink!!!”

… I guess here goes another confusion to add to the fliffer huzza. 

Normal Selfish Complaint

A-     Stop running around and screaming like a banshee. There are two types of people: people that are normal and people like you!!! When will you start acting a little more normal?!?!? You can start from getting away from me!!
B-    So I took the journey into normality. Like the average Joe. Even the hair is boring.
B-    Hello, My name is Normal. Wonderful weather we are having.
A-   You know, I’ve come to appreciate your demeanor lately.
B-   Why thank you. Let’s do something normal, like window shopping. 

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And then the pineapple turned into a house… Yes it was a SpongeBob reference. Squidward’s petty selfish complaint of how Spongebob should be more normal could have potentially ruined the whole show. No longer would children be able to laugh at Spongebob’s silly attitude or playful ways; thus children would lose a major childhood memory of this adored show.  Luckily for everyone, Spongebob realized that he had taken the normal thing too far and with the help of Patrick becomes abnormal again :D.  Thank you SpongeBob for this realization. Squidward’s selfishness could’ve affected in a disheartening loss.  

Why vocabulary should not be tested in the SAT

        So the SAT is kind of a big deal right? According to some adults, it is a test that can determine the fate of your future– A test whose score decides what college you get into; a college that affects what career you will choose; a career which will destine what pay you get; a pay that categorizes you into your economic class… and forever influences your life. Now that’s what I call a lot of pressure.

        So “2400” is the magical score that every student yearns to get. Of course it’s highly unlikely that a person will get an absolutely perfect score. For some people it is the grammar, math or reading comprehension that throws them off– for me it is the complex vocabulary. It simply makes no sense to me why a college admission test would contain a farcical amount of vocab to which most people are unintelligent. For one thing, using big language is not a measure of intelligence. Instead all it successfully does is confuse others. Reason being: People don’t use big words when talking because there is no need to. As awesome as it would be to know every word in the world, there would be no end to memorization, and ultimately no purpose since most of those words are now obsolete.

        Now I can probably guess what you are thinking. Why is she using big vocab when trying to argue that big vocab is unnecessary? Well, that would simply be since I was forced to memorize a list of words in order to do well on the test.  

        Memorization–what an awful way to try to pass a test.  Unlike fundamental math concepts (which have been drilled in to student’s minds starting from kindergarten) vocab is a subject that is commonly ignored in most schools, and therefore is rarely learned. While the SAT claims to be a test that can be taken without any prior knowledge, how can you answer vocab questions if you have no clue what anything means? It’s not like there are formulas at the top of the page that you can plug prefixes or roots into, like in the math section.  And if English isn't your major language, you are simply out of luck. Because guess what? You need to randomly guess an answer anyway– unless you want to fail a test that can supposedly determine the fate of your life.

        So call this an exaggeration if you will, but there is absolutely no reason why guessing what lexis means will help determine how intelligent a person is. 

Halloween

There is a whole range of Halloween addicts. When I ask my four year old cousin if he is excited for Halloween his immediate response is “Yeah! Im going to get so much candy! I can’t wait.” And then my 11 year old brother on the other hand is like: “All my friends are coming over tomorrow! There is gonna be Steve from Minecraft, the Scream, a ninja, a cotton candy monster and angry bird and so many more!”And then there is another category on the opposite side of the spectrum, who could care less for the occasion, simply feeling forced to hand out candy.

At first my reaction to this was: where has all the spirit gone? But then I realized, maybe it’s a good thing our “spirit” isn’t the same as it always was.

Our friendly, 21th century definition of Halloween includes pumpkins, dressing up and eating candy; but Halloween never actually started out that way. In AD 601 the Roman Catholic Church saw Halloween as a day when the Lord of Death releases evil spirits– like ghosts, witches, and demons– into the night to haunt and trick the civilians. There were such beliefs as human sacrifice and death. As a result, ugly faces would be carved on a pumpkin to scare away evil– the candle inside being the sacrifice for the spirits.

It’s kind of creepy to think how these same jack-o-lanterns are the decorative crafts that we nowadays are so excited to make. And how the demons that people were once afraid of, are the demons we now dress up as. It puts things into more perspective about how maybe a lack of enthusiasm is such a negligible change in the grand scheme of things.

Anyway, here is my share of Halloween spirit. Hope you like it :) 

Writing a Difficult Conversation

Writing a difficult conversation should have been easy. I practically spend my whole life pinpointing how difficult and complicated humans try to make things.  For say, smart phones. “We simplify your life” they say, “You can have the wondrous world-wide- web at the tip of your fingers” they say.   Instead, all they really do is pack all the stress of your life–both professional and personal– and throw it at the tip of your fingers.  Every minute you get a Facebook message to respond to or an email notification with a new assignment to do. And because, you have a smart phone, there is no getting around or distancing yourself from society.  Instead you are on duty 24/7–Always working.

And then of course there is this assignment.  “Don’t worry, don’t feel restricted to limiting yourself” the teacher says. “Just write something difficult, anything, dialogues, experiences,, fantasies, whatever you want!”

 Uhh great, now I need to find out what I want. And it is not like I can just google “a difficult conversation” on a smart phone for some inspiration. So instead I’m faced with the troublesome issue of planning and organizing something to write. So I went to ask my brother, what he thought. “Ohh that’s easy he said. You know what’s difficult? You!” he sniggered.  And to that I scrunched my eyebrows and left.  Well he surely was difficult.

And then I realized a difficult conversation that everyone faces persistently:  The constant battle of thoughts within your conscience. What to write this essay about, what choices to make… who to talk to, when to talk, what to say, whether to follow intuition or judgment, whether what you say makes sense. All these questions, thoughts, ideas, critiques, judgments, opinions, all flutter through your head and then just splatter on to the page. Just rambling on and on and on, the mind just never stops pondering and digressing from one subject to the next– and every day we are faced with that difficult conversation. Never do we get a chance to freeze time or to freeze that inner voice in your head that just never stops talking.

Our mind itself is an intricate topic of its own. There are plenty of people who can dismantle a phone and examine its functionality– but unfortunately that solution won’t work on the brain.

Maybe you have the key to explaining why our minds are so difficult and crammed, because I surely don’t.  Maybe my brother was right, the most difficult conversations are held right within ourselves. (Well I’m sure that’s not what he meant; he’ll be humored to know that his tease helped nonetheless.) Anyway, so what do you think? Is your conscience a difficult conversation? Does your mind agree? 

A Soaring Epiphany

Seven years ago, when I recently got an email account, I urged everyone to message me with cool stuff. Of course that instantaneously begot in thousands of ludicrous chain mails: send this to 20 people or you’ll be cursed for seven years, send this to all your contacts of mikey mouse will hunt you down when you are asleep... Of course that was all spurious, actually most of the “cool stuff” I had insisted on turned out to be. But there was this one email I found to be very fascinating. It was just a few pictures of this green fluffy bird just sitting there. The point was, to me the picture became an epiphany that there is so much life in the world that I’ve never even heard about. That the world consists of a vast variety of knowledge and that I had never even thought to think of. That even in the simply stated word “bird” has a countless amount of organisms that humans could only dream to be acquainted of.  And even though I got that email so long ago, ever following glance at these pictures always continue to bring a smile. So of the numerous, here are some pictures of a bird that will surely make your day: 

Ebina Deserves to Win it All

This year, America­­, home to millions of talents, had the opportunity to exhibit its most exceptional acts on the ground-breaking floors of Radio City Music Hall, “the Showplace of the Nation,” only on NBC’s series, “America’s got Talent”. After countless days of exploring the towns of the USA, judges Howard Stren, Heidi Klum, Mel B, and Howie Mandel have found the “best of the best” to showcase on their phenomenal program. Starting with thousands of contestants, America along with the judges have narrowed the talent to the top six best acts in the show. Tonight the nerves of these gifted contestants must be quavering considering that they are only 5 places away from receiving a headlining act in Las Vegas and a grand prize of one million dollars! Of these contenders, Kenichi Ebina is very deserving of the title because of his unique and clever performances. If you have never seen his performances, you are DEFINITELY missing out, and MUST click on the links below. Remember, the winners crowned tomorrow so vote Kenichi Ebina today– it is all in the hands of America!

(feel free to skip the intros in the beginning, the actual act is no more than 90seconds long)

 He is amazing right? Click this link to vote for Kenichi. Voting starts tonight: http://www.nbc.com/americas-got-talent/vote/?__source=agt|vote|shownav 

Here is a quick painting I made in honor of this fantastic season: 

                                                                                                                               :)

The Perspective of a Paintbrush

I am a medium for others to experiment with,

Swiftly scraping against the surface of a paper,

With so many colors to choose from.

A dab of some blue for the face,

Some red for the dangling leaves

And a tint of black for the grass.

Together, creating an image with limitless possibilities.

After all, picture is worth a thousand words.

Like the waving of a wand during a magic trick,

Others will wonder in awe.

How did the hare appear out of the hat?

How did some hair create a picture like that?

Some soft and hard presses

Creating every possible shade in the rainbow

Of course white and black included too.

You can dib me into whatever dye

Your mind envisions that you do.

Because the motion of a brush creates illusions

Illusions only possible in ones dreams.

Dreams, realities, nightmares all articulated in

A language familiar uniquely to yourself

Painting can be a promising hobby,

That is­– with me in your hands.

Here is a picture of a recent painting:

Mr. Sheehan,

A Road of Courage

Everyone possesses a nature of innocence that ingenuously causes them to believe that s/he has the potential to be almighty, or that s/he can tackle any situation without fear. However, this sense of courage which is elaborately embroidered into our lives is plainly– bogus.

Since I was child I adored and idolized the adults around me. Their knowledge, their generosity, their ease–with situations I had trouble with– always proved to resolve my troubles. I once questioned my father: “Dad how did you become so smart? You always have the right answers”. And he responded: “Don’t worry Neha, you are still a little girl. One day you will become super smart, even smarter than me!” Then a giggled a bit. “I guess even daddy is wrong sometimes”, I thought to myself, “I don’t think I will ever become smarter than him”.

Although at that moment I thought that I would be “Daddy’s little girl” forever, soon enough I started to acknowledge that he was always right– I was becoming super smart, so I could do anything he could do.

I started having this new aura of courage for everything. “Oh my daddy can do it, so I can” I thought to myself. Fear to achieve what my dad can was no longer a concern of mine. That was until last month.

August 23^rd 2013 was a jovial day. I ran out of the rmv with a big grin on my face. “Yup I got it”, I gleefully exclaimed. Now that I had my permit I thought I was going to be thriving on the roads. For years I had watched adults and now it was my turn to drive, the feat I’d always been dreaming of, a feat that even my dad had once courageously achieved.

 I got into the driver’s seat thinking I would be intrepid. 

But that was when heart started to beat faster and my lungs felt like they were closing in. My hands were no longer relaxed, instead trembling like an elders’ with Parkinson’s disease. “I don’t think I can do this” I thought to myself “Maybe I’m not ready yet?”
               But then I recalled, "Dad can do it, so I can", I could not let fear get the best of me. And with that I took a deep breath and made my first step onto the accelerator.