I Wish the Day Were Longer

All today I've been trying to figure out how to make this an epic ending. Unfortunately, I've been in the same predicament as yesterday and epic would not be anything close to relevant.

The month is all done
It has been sliced through and through
The sun coming down
The silence of the evening
I wish the day were longer

Passage of Time

Today was a waste.

All of my good friends aren't out of school, so I had nothing to do. Until I had to get my braces tightened.

On the way to the dentist's, my mom and I dropped my  sister off at her dance lessons. Eying the traffic coming our way, we gulped. At least we had left the house nearly an hour before the appointment. Eventually we broke through.

We still had time, so we headed off to the grocery store so that my mom could run some errands. The traffic was so bad that it took us around twenty minutes for us to reach the store. My baby brother and I sat in the car while my mom went in, I watching videos on my i-pod, he watching his shoes. As soon as Mom came back, we rushed to the dentist's.

Some five minutes after we came into the sterile waiting lounge, they finally called my name. I went trough the thin wooden door. On the other side I saw pictures of people withe impossibly straight-white teeth. I went into the second room on the right and sat down.

Eventually someone came into the room to take off my old wire and bands. Unfortunately, one of my brackets came off in the process. She had me gargle some Listerine and the she left the room. I sat down.

Ten minutes passed. I was still alone, so I took my i-pod out of my pocket and watched some more videos.

Ten more minutes passed. Solitude was beginning to take over.

After another ten minute's time, the orthodontist came into the room. She put on a new bracket, applied new wires and bands to my teeth, and told me to take better care of my teeth.

I brush them twice a day, but apparently that's not good enough.

Do I H ave to do Them All?

" Everyone come here," my mom said, "I'm going to assign chores.

I groaned. I'd known that it would happen, but I still hated it.

"You clean the library," she said to my sister, "You organize the storage room," she said to my brother.

"Uh-oh," I said, knowing that I was next.

"You rip the music from our CDs onto iTunes." We had hundreds of CDs that no one listened to, so we were putting all the music into our computer digitally so that we could sell the useless hard copies.

I walked down to the computer. I briefly glimpsed a giant cardboard box , and I did a double take. It was filled to the brim with CDs.

"Mom," I whined, "do I have to do them all?"

"Just do it for an hour."

Each CD took ten minutes or so until it was done. I had plenty of time to do nothing, but I had to stay on the computer. I spent most of the time researching some products that I was interested in buying. Most noticeably the Kindle 2. It seems Amazon can delete the e-books without permission, so I was a little turned off, but carrying so many books in such little space would be great. Eventually my hour was up, and I got off the computer.

Burstin' Eardrums

Annoying loud sounds
The stupid truck won't shut up
My headache comes back


Today I went to see my mom finish the three-day race. We sat down among the smoking and drinking mass of bodies while we were waiting for her boat to finish. The smell of cigarettes mingled with the stench of beer and I almost gagged. Next to us was parked a pickup with the bed replaced by an inordinate amount of speakers. It was blaring out annoying sounds --I guess they could vaguely fit under the definition of music--at top volume. My eardrums felt as if they would burst, and Friday's headache returned. Eventually I put my i-pod headphones into my ears and turned up the volume so that it masked the sound of the truck. It didn't do much to stop the destruction of my eardrums, but at least it sounded good.

Blare it Away

I hopped out of the car, stuffing my i-pod into my pocket as I did so. We had come to watch my mom finish the race, but I figured that we would have to wait quite a while. I grabbed a free soda and bag of chips as I searched the crowd for friends and acquaintances. I found some of my friends, those whose mothers were paddling with mine in their boat. They were all busy, and I didn't feel like butting in, so I walked away. Besides, there was no shade where they were sitting.

I walked back up the street. I found myself looking at them, three of them, two boys, one girl. I knew them all from school, and I knew one of the boys from church. We talked and joked about random things, and eventually decided that we needed to move somewhere else to get a better, less-crowded, view. We took off up the railroad tracks.

Some guard started yelling at us, so we switched to the road. Eventually we came to a break in the trees. Two rocks were on the other side of the tangle of rocks and vines. on the other side of the rocks lay the lake. We crawled through the brush, they more quickly than I. I had left my sneakers home. It was just easier to wear flip-flops.

We sat on the rocks, watching the first few boats go by. Our eyes were drawn to the smaller docks. "Isn't that your mom?" one asked the other.

"Yup," he pulled out his cell phone and called her, "Mom, we're coming to you."

Five minutes later we were heading to the smaller docks.

We watched maybe five boats go past us when they spotted a friend in an escort boat. They waved him over and we hopped in. We followed the boats as they finished the race, blaring Rocky music in the process. We followed one, two, three boats to the finish line, and we didn't stop for a while. Waves rocked the boat, filling it with water. with a shock, I remembered my i-pod. After a quick check, I assured myself that it was dry and safe.

Eventually We pulled up to the main dock and the four of us got off. Almost instantly after I got back to my dad, I saw my mom's boat.

Only Made it Worse

I felt as if my head were on fire
as if someone had hit the back of my head
with a heavy torch

I felt as if my head were exploding
as if someone had inserted dinamite
into my cranium

I felt as if my head was being constantly knocked on
as if a woodpecker were hanging
from my ear

I tried to contain a scream
a scream that went unheard by everyone
but myself

Every bright light
every loud noise, every sudden movement
only made it worse

I didn't know where it came form
I didn't know how bad
it would get

I go now to lay down and get some rest

Winning Streak

This week I've been extremely lucky. Maybe a four-leaf clover got stuck in my shoe. Maybe I was hit by a radioactive meteorite. Maybe I was hit by a lightning bolt, but for the past few days, I've been on a winning streak.

On Tuesday I won a twenty dollar gift certificate because no one else even tried to compete in the contest. I won by default.

On Wednesday I--or rather my group--won, among other things, a Where's Waldo game at the mall. We had thirty minutes to find four people. We won because the other group (they finished before us) ran to the other end of the mall because none of them were listening when we told them where to meet up.

Today, Thursday, I won a jeopardy game in the morning and a soccer game in the afternoon, both against great odds. I guess I'm just lucky.

They Didn't Tell Us Why

They gave us student IDs today. They told us we needed them. They said they gave us benefits. They said those benefits weren't available here. They gave us student IDs today. They didn't tell us why.

Apparently we could get in cheap to a movie theater, but not here. My mom's student ID got her into the schools basketball games, we don't have those here. They don't sell alcoholic beverages in the cafeteria. Why do we need student ID's?

If you know, please tell me, I can't see the point of wasting ink and paper for a useless card.

The Breath of Life

I picked up a few sticks, about the thickness of my thumb. I gently stacked them on top of each other, pyramid-like, I carefully reached for some more sticks, the thickness of a pencil, and leaned them up against the pyramid. I grabbed some twigs, the thickness of a piece of pencil lead, and added those to the structure. Taking some lint and leaves, I placed them under the lean-to.

I reached for the lighter, placing its small tear-drop of flame next to the lint, watching it spread and hearing the small pops as it consumed the leaves.

I blew gently on the fire, giving it the breath of life, letting it spread to the twigs, the sticks. Tongues of flame licked the larger sticks. The fire crackled like a witch. I felt its warmth overtake me. Closing my eyes, I sat there basking in the comfort. The little flame sat there, a beacon in the night.

If Life Only Gives You Lemons, Your Lemonade Won't Taste so Good

I wrote down a few answers to my English homework. A few questions into it I heard my mom's voice from behind me, "Come taste this lemonade for me, will you?"

"Sure Mom," I walked over to the kitchen and drank a small glass, "too watery." It really was, I could hardly taste any lemons at all.

She added more lemons then offered it to me again, "Too sour," I said, my face puckering. Making lemonade from scratch isn't an easy thing to do, and it takes a lot of guesswork

More sugar was added, I tried again, "Just right." I smiled and drank another glass.

Dinner at Grandma's

I opened the microwave, my mom was on the phone, "What are you having for dinner, Grandma?" My grandma lives extremely far away, several thousand miles, my mom was only interested in comparing our dinner to Grandma's.

I sat down after I had heated my lunch. I had just started eating when my mom handed me the phone, "Hi Grandma."

"Hello."

"Can I come over for dinner?" I asked jokingly.

She laughed.

Haircuts

My parents hate it when my hair gets long, so, while it is annoying, I wasn't surprised when they told me I needed a haircut (they've been telling me that since January).

I really hate haircuts. I have good reason to do so. In sixth grade my nickname was Naked Chicken because of my constant crappy haircuts (My parents told me I looked handsome. I think they should probably get their eyes checked.).

Once I heard my parents telling me I needed a haircut, I was determined to stop them. They always tell me, "The girls will think you are so handsome." Like I said, they need to get their eyes checked. I went to school, asking all the girls whether or not I should get a haircut. Most often, I got this response: "No way! Your hair looks gorgeous when it's long." Take that Mom and Dad.

Today my parents are planning to cut my gorgeous hair. I told them that girls liked my hair long, but my mom replied, "You shouldn't worry about what girls think."

"You always justify cutting my hair because the girls will think its handsome."

She was at a loss for words.

"Besides," I continued, "Dad had a mullet when he was young." If that is not long hair, then I don't know what is.

Once again they were speechless, finally my Dad recovered himself, "Well, you should still get a haircut."

Though his logic has holes in it the size of Jupiter, They're still determined to cut my hair. Oh well.

Update: It isn't a naked chicken, but it sure isn't gorgeously beautiful

Pitter Patter

I heard the footfalls of my little brother behind me, pitter patter pitter patter, I turned around and saw him walking with a metal thing in his mouth. At first I thought it was a spoon. Then I looked closer. It was a pair of scissors.

I jumped up out of my chair, running towards him.When he saw me come after him he sped up. Now he was running with scissors in his mouth. I grabbed the scissors, gently removed them from his mouth, and tore them out of his hand. He started crying, he wasn't hurt, I guess he just liked eating scissors.

Is it Really Worth it?

Today they let us go home early. something about protests (they used the word demonstrations which implies a peaceful protest, but these are anything but peaceful). Of course, they only let us home two hours early, so I could do other homework and still be able to write this at three instead of at five, but is it really worth going to all the trouble of sending us home early?

It might have made sense if they let us home three or four hours early, but instead they sent us home at nearly the end of the day. Chances are, all I would have done was played a game of soccer and finished the last few minutes of The Lord of the Flies. Oh well, it may not be worth it, but I'm home now and I might as well take advantage of it.

Lightsabers and Wooden Spears

Today I watched The Lord of the Flies. The one from the 90's.

It sucked.

The dialogue and acting was terrible, the characters were flat, and the story... not at all enticing. Not at all like the book.

I know that movies never do quite as well as the books, but this one ranks up there in my list of terrible movies. With Harry Potter Six. Scratch that: This movie is worse than Harry Potter Six. At least the acting was believable in Harry Potter.

Maybe its that it was made in the 90's, but the movie was terrible.

One of the worst scenes yet was Simon's death. He comes running along the beach holding a four-foot glow-stick. He looks like a Jedi. The other boys see him, think he's the "monster", they can't say beast like the book, and run at him with their wooden spears. I half expected Simon to jump up into the air, to a few flips, then land on the ground in a sort of crouch, and proceed to cut off all of their heads with his glow-stick/light saber. But no he just stands there. Maybe it was the fact that I expected him to go all Obi-Wan Kenobi, but I think it was because Simon was not characterized well and his death didn't make me feel any sense of sorrow for him.

I'll be content as long as I can re-read the book, and not re-watch the movie.

Let's Sprint This

"Let's sprint this!" my brother took off at a run up the hill.

I followed mumbling the reply to our inside joke, "No one falls behind." We passed the third house on the hill and took a left, cutting through the yard between the third and fourth houses. We ran up the steep hill, leaping over branches and bushes, dashing across the street, and sprinting across the field. A fence loomed over us, and without a doubt, I leaped up, gripping the chain-links in my hands, and putting my toes in the gaps. I was on the other side in seconds. The rest of the field flew by like a day at an amusement park. We were at the playground.

It was 4 o'clock, before any little kids got there. I don't think many mom's would like their five-year-old's to see what we were doing.

I ran up the slide, jumping off the jungle gym when I reached the top. I hit the ground rolling, absorbing the shock. I climbed up the stairs and jumped to the jungle gym opposite me. I hit the wall hard, but I hung on, my hands over the top and my feet in the cracks. I jumped over it, laughing. I spun around a pole, landing on the platform beneath me. spinning, I jumped onto the slide.

I stood up again. climbing onto another slide. I used it as a stepping stool, pulling myself up to the top floor. I jumped across the bridge and pulled myself down the slide.

Eventually we went home. Little kids were starting to show up.

Mad at March Madness

No spring goes by without a March Madness ( The US college basketball tournament). I just completed my bracket. I have no idea about who's good and who's not. I hate basketball, but apparently my extended family loves the sport. So every year we fill out a bracket. Mine is mostly based on the numbers I see on the screen, how many wins, how many losses, etc., but I don't know what most of it means. Last year I did pretty good among my family, but who knows how I'll do this year.

My brother's bracket is just as bad/worse. He chose his winner off of how he thought their mascots would do in a death match (I recommended the idea to him because I read that that is exactly what you are not supposed to do)

We'll see how we do.

Edit: Karma is an evil fiend. My brother did better than I did.

Definitely a Re-read

I personally enjoyed The Lord of the Flies I thought that the characters and plot were deep, interesting, and most importantly, it was captivating and easy to read. None of the events seemed to be "filler" and none of the characters seemed "flat". It was hard to put down. The protagonist, Ralph, the antagonist, Jack, and the other main characters such as Simon, Piggy, Roger, and Samneric are all interesting and they feel like real people. From the amazing beginning to the terrifying end, there was nonstop action and suspense. This book is definitely a re-read.

The boys arrive on the island as the result of a plane crash, or more accurately their plane was attacked. They were leaving England during World War Two, escaping the bombing raids. Their landing on the island is followed by their appointment of Ralph as chief. This appointment is what changes the whole plot. After this moment, the boys take part in a power struggle. this struggle is what makes the book so great: it shows that not everything is fun and games. If the boys survived without any conflict, the novel would be boring. It would be unrealistic. It would not be worth reading. But it does have conflict, and a lot of it.

The book is great. I will read it over and over again

Its Not My Fault

I sat down. My left arm felt as if it were going to explode. The feeling was mirrored in my left foot, and right calf, my back, and my neck. I looked down at my mosquito bites, they were as numerous as the stars. I had about twenty five on just my left arm, over five on my left foot, about the same on the right, three on just the index finger and thumb of my right hand, and probably about twenty or thirty everywhere else. Its not my fault I had them.

It all started Friday night, we were camping at my friend's beach house. Somehow, when we set up the tents, or rather how we organized the people in the tents, two of us didn't fit. So this kid and I slept on a porch. If you asked anyone else, there were hardly any mosquitoes, ask me,however, and I can prove to you that there were. My body is proof.

I look like I'm covered in warts, but look closely and you'll see the red bites that I got when I slept on the porch.

You Guys Were Talking a Lot of Smack

We hopped out of the car. I sprinted ahead to catch up with Hat Boy, Stinky, and Pepperoni Prince. I laughed at their jokes. "I'm gonna just jump off!" exclaimed Stinky, "These cliffs can't compare to those other ones we jumped off--You remember those?--but it would be so much funner if they were!" He doesn't read, so he doesn't get the difference between more fun and funner. I didn't feel like correcting him.

"You sure about that?" asked another voice. I turned around and saw Guitar God walking behind us, "You haven't seen these cliffs." Only he had, the rest of us had spent the night at his beach house, and thought it would be fun to jump off some cliffs and play in a small lake.

We walked in relative silence for a few minutes. "I'm gonna jump off the very highest," said Hat Boy.

"You were scared of jumping at the other cliffs," replied Stinky. We had gone to a small river that had a rock on one side that fell away like a small cliff. We expected this to be something similar. We were wrong.

We turned a corner, now that there was no longer a layer of trees, we could see the cliffs. The ground extended for some twenty meters, then it just disappeared. on the far side of the lake, we could see a fifty-foot tower of stone climbing up to the ground. This was way taller than the puny rock we had called a cliff.

"You guys were talking a lot of smack weren't you?" asked Guitar God. We slowly, carefully, made our way to the bottom of the cliffs and spent a good couple of hours in the lake.

Beggars Can't Be Choosers, But They Sure Can Be Annoying

I sat down at the lunch table, surveying my meal: spaghetti, chocolate milk, crackers, three Hershey's kisses, and a banana. I picked up my fork and began devouring it all. I had been hungry for the past two hours. The He came over. The kid who never brings a lunch--not because he can't afford it, but because he just doesn't--he walked up to me, I knew what he was going to say: "Please can I have this? Or this? Or this?" so before he even opened his mouth, I was already talking.

"No."

"I wasn't going to ask about that," I knew he was lying, "There's this really nice boy who wants to give me his..." He was pointing at my crackers.

"No." I interrupted, we went through this every day, "Bring your own lunch."

"But, there's this..."

"No. I'm not going to give you anything."

He didn't take the hint, "You know you want to give me..." He was pointing at the chocolates.

"NO." I replied, extremely annoyed.

"Can't you just..."

"NO!"

He walked over to another kid, begging. Eventually someone got so annoyed, they gave him their crackers. The problem is, he's like a stray dog: you give him food once, and he won't stop coming back. I made that mistake once, but never again.

I'm Done With This

I stare blankly at the computer screen. An empty text box is all that returns the favor. I blink sleepily, bored at the never-ending whiteness. I hear a squeal. My brothers are play wrestling on the floor.

"AAAh!" screamed my youngest brother, "Bababababaaa!"

"Oh no, you got me!" responded the other.

I still stared at the blank screen.

"MamamamAAAA!"

"Tap out! Tap out!"

The cursor blinked, the only thing appearing on the screen. "I'm done with this," I thought. I stood up and joined them.

Lances of Pain

I limped away from the car, following my mom, blind with pain. I'd spent the whole day on my feet, and my ankles felt as if they were going to explode. I was supposed to be getting materials for a school project, but all I could think about was my steady footfalls and the unendurable pain that came with them.

We walked out of the first store--empty handed--and headed off to the next. As it turns out, our next store was at the other side of the mall. As we walked, lances of pain jumped up my legs, every step worse than the last. I stumbled, whimpering as my feet hit the floor.

We spent ten minutes in the next store. Ten minutes on my feet. Fire burned at my ankles, flames licked my knees. We headed off to the next store.

I finally got to sit down, but the attempt was futile: I was leaving as soon as I got relaxed.

My mom broke into a jog on the way back to the car. My feet pounded against the floor. I withheld a scream. Agony burst through my veins. I couldn't see through eyes that were blinded by pain. I came to a stop. We were at the car. I sat down, put my feet up, and relaxed.

The Little Moments

I picked up my baby brother and went outside, we crossed the street--looking both ways of course--and opened the small gate to the neighborhood park. I led him over to the swing, set him on my lap, and began going as high as possible.

"Aaaaaaaah!" he squealed as we neared the apex of our flight pattern. We pushed the swing into reverse, evading invisible adversaries, We darted forward. He let out another squeal.

I put him down and joined my other brother and a bunch of neighborhood kids in a game of soccer. My brother is about 5 years older than any of the other boys, so even though it was all them against him, the teams were unfair.

I left the game, picking up my baby brother and we went down the slide. Leading him by the hand, I climbed up the stairs, taking small steps so he could keep up. We went down again.

We turned our attention to the soccer game, pretending to be profesional commentators. "He's going, going, going, going, GOOOOOOOOOOAL!" I screamed.

"BaAAAbababaababa," he squealed, "Maaaamamam."

Finally the time came for us to return home. My little brother and I, holding hands, crossed the street.

The Perfect Sideshow

I dragged my half-dead body to the pantry. My eyes drooped and I stumbled forward, I grabbed the cold cereal (chocolate of course, no other kind of cold cereal is edible) and walked over to the table. My bowl, my spoon, and the jug of milk lay in front of me I sleepily poured the cereal and the milk. I put two pieces of toast into the toaster. I lazily dumped food into my mouth staring at my little brother.

He grabbed pieces of pancakes and shoved them down his throat. With a sputter they all came out. A sour smell filled the room. He gagged. His shirt became covered in the goop. My mom came over and hit him on the back, knocking out the pancake that was lodged in his throat.

We cleaned him off and sat him down again. He picked up more pancakes and the process repeated.The air stunk. He erupted, the chunks of pancake were drowned in bile and saliva. I stood up and put my bowl in the sink. I had lost my appetite.

Why Bananas?

I don't know what happened. My birthday is still over the horizon, and Christmas is over the other one. I've just suddenly began craving a banana chair.

Officially, a banana chair is a curved, legless rocking chair. If you were to take one and paint it yellow it might look vaguely like an ugly, squished banana. It would also probably make you sick.

I have no idea why I want one, maybe its because my grandma has one, maybe its because they're comfortable, but I know its nor because they look good (they're the ugliest things in the world).

What's up with me? Why bananas?

White-hot Flames

My dad walked in the door. I turned off the tube and grabbed myself a light snack. It was past 11'oclock, and I was ready to hit the sack. I sat down, he turned to me , "Guess what I'm doing tomorrow!"

"Waa?" My mouth was full.

"I'm going parachuting!"

I spewed toast all over the kitchen table: I never thought that my dad was the type of guy who would jump out of a perfectly good plane.

Today we all hurried over to the park. He had informed us that he was dropping at around three. About 2:45 we showed up. Two hours later, two parachutes dropped from the heavens. We rushed over to them as soon as they landed.

Neither of them was my dad. He had gotten onto the next drop (whether by his choice or theirs I'll never know). We waited two more hours.

Finally dual specks shot down from the heavens like white-hot flames. The first one was the camera man (his landing was graceful), The second was my dad (His landing was anything but).

1,706 packets sent, 0 packets recieved

As soon as I got home, I rushed to the computer: I wanted to finish what little homework I had. I quickly opened up my web browser, and was astonished to find the following message:

Mozzilla Firefox cannot open this web page:
Please try the following: ...

Thinking that it was a problem on their end, I typed in the url for my blog (www.cyborgg.blogspot.com), I was astonished to find the same message. I closed the browser, and opened a new one. The same thing happened. Then I noticed the Limited or No Connectivity picture on the task bar.

I crawled behind the computer to try to find the problem, not seeing anything obvious, and not knowing what each cable from the jungle of cables beneath the desk did, I regretfully decided to wait it out, hoping my dad would know what to do.

Here I am, come some two-and-a-half hours later, after finally getting the internet up and running, trying to finish all the work I could have done hours ago were it not for the curse that is technology.

I Should Probably Go Do Something Useful

I sat at the computer, racking my brains, trying to figure out what to write. My brother comes up to me and asks, "Can you look up why the king of England gave William Penn a charter in Pennsylvania?"

"What?"

He repeated the question. I pulled up a new tab and went to Wikipedia (which is, as as everyone knows, the most trustworthy site on the web), and looked up William Penn. As it turns out, Penn's Wikipedia page has some 6,500 words, not to mention pictures, so I, needless to say, didn't feel like searching very hard. After staring blankly at the uninteresting page for several minutes, I closed the tab, and did my own homework.

So, here I am, typing a slice of life, pretending to be doing my brother's homework for him. I should probably go do something useful.

My brother can do his own homework.

Shut Up and Let Me Drive

As I stood up from tying my shoe I took a deep breath in. I let it out. I enjoyed the moment of peace, the calm before the storm. I was ready.

"Go!" yelled the coach, we all rushed forward. I felt myself being pushed forward by the surge of bodies. I saw the people in front of me, I heard the foot falls of those behind me. I kept on running.

We thinned out, the sprinters in front, the walkers behind. I found myself towards the front, I kept a steady, maintainable jog. I passed the hares, those who found their sprint to be too difficult to keep up. I finished my first lap.

As I began my second, I vaguely heard Coach yell out my time, I was blocking everything from my mind. I counted slowly, to keep my breathing even and to distract myself from everything else, "And.. one, and.. two, and... three, and... four." I overlapped the tortoises, those who thought they could finish by walking, "twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four." I finished my second lap.

I was beginning to feel the effects of my jog, my side burned, my breath was short, and every muscle in my body burned. I ignored it, "seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four."

"You've got to take a break," said one part of my mind.

"Shut up and let me drive," said the other. I continued running. My third lap passed just like the other two.

"Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four," I overlapped the slowpokes, "ninety-five ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety eight." I could see the finish line, I broke into a sprint, as fast as my worn-out body would allow me. The world turned to a blur.

I crossed the finish line and stopped, but I didn't sit down, I stood tall and proud of my feat of endurance. I had never once broken stride, I never once stopped, and I had cone in fifth place.

All the Small Things

I crossed the street, wiping away a drop of sweat as it dripped slowly down my face. I walked down the side walk that I had walked down countless times before, shifting my ten-pound-too-heavy backpack into a more comfortable position as I did so. I looked up at my car, Through the windshield I saw my mom at the wheel, and then, just behind her, my baby brother in his car seat. As soon as he noticed me, his face lit up. A smile the size of Asia beamed at me, and he began shaking his arms in excitement.

He made my day.

Waking UP

This morning began like any other morning: I woke up. That is, like everyone knows, the worst part of the morning. Maybe it was that I couldn't fall asleep until past 11 o'clock. Maybe it was that I was exhausted from the weekend. Maybe it was just that I was comfortable and didn't want to get out of bed, but I couldn't wake up.

My eyes fluttered open, I sat up, I flung my bed sheets off of me, and... and I lay back down and fell back to sleep. You can't cold start an engine (Mom, if you're reading, take note). I could not wake up. I eventually got out of bed, and pretended to get ready, falling back asleep at every opportune moment.

I spent the rest of my morning fighting to keep my eyes open.