Showing posts from June, 2007

ABC On Adults

A Brief Comment (A.B.C):
"On Adults"

I find that it is too often I find myself the target of an unwanted lecture, dismally listening to adults drone on about water conversation. Or conservation, the latter of which is significantly more important to me. Many subjects like this pass through one ear and out the other, or through one mouth and out the--never mind about that.

Finding that other children may be afflicted with the same dismal plight, I suggest execution of Plan A. Plan A is an excellent way to prove parents' hypocrisy that I would wholeheartedly prescript. When entering the bathroom to find that your mother has, alas, left the water faucet running full-blast, AGAIN, merely say,

"Well, you always talk to me about water conservation, but you're probably wasting a gallon."

And Plan B? To deal with the following explosion, the readying of the watercannon, the introduction of water warfare, and the sickening thud of a fallen comrade drenched in tap water u…

A Random Daydream

My boots were of finest russet color, and my wedding dress icy blue. The satin dress had a bell skirt that billowed about me, the organza hem tickling against my legs; it was a cold and desolate day, and the wedding pavilion deserted. I was the only one there, the chairs, ancient, yet fresh, left as though the audience had been there only moments ago.

An Informal Profile

Name: Adora Svitak, a.k.a Pumpkinglasses, Dory, and Chubby Puffy (alas!)

About Me: I am short and squat and I resemble a teapot, although I'm not washed nearly so often. I enjoy throwing stuff at my sister, lying on one of our numerous wrinkled couches in a fit of lethargy, digging (anywhere), and teasing my sister.

Interests: Teasing my sister, digging, sleeping, drawing, reading, cursing my laptop, writing, cooking.

Things I Don't Like: Water breaks, lugging my computer up the stairs, romantic novels (not that I've ever actually read one--I just don't like the idea), and a certain two people.

Places I've Lived: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Narnia, and Renton.

Occupation(s): Scholar, Senior Teaser of Older Sisters, and Writer.

School: A Word I Derived From Greek Mythology

Areal: warlike."Areal" is derived from "Ares", the Greek god of war, bloodshed, and carnage. Unlike Athene, protectress of citadels, creator of olive trees, goddess of battle, and wise, Ares tends to be more reckless and bloodthirsty.

Relates to School Lecture on Post-Civil War Industrialism

I was only another girl in the room at the dress factory. I was the only girl who had kept my hair long; ever since Nellie had gotten her hair caught in the machine, it was not a wise idea. Still, I enjoyed tossing my hair over my shoulder and rolling my eyes when the superintendent and the superintendent's toadies bellowed out my name with disapproval. The room we worked in was stifling. The dust coated the floors and the machines, and the window-sills, and the boxes. I straightened my goggles, thick, bulky things, dark and covered in several films of dust. We stitched and hemmed with our eyes glazed over. It was boring work, the whir-whir of the machines boring into our skulls. Every so often the superintendent's toady, a thin-faced, aquiline-nosed woman named Miss Prim, would swoop down upon the unfortunate Irish or Scandinavian or Finnish girl and upbraid her for chatting. The only chat was in the latrine, and the latrine was no pleasure. Each stall was divided only by spl…

A Description of My Opposite

He was very lazy. He lay upon the red plush reading cushions, dressed in a tight Little Lord Fauntleroy tunic of black velvet, and stared out the bay-window with an air of boredom. He could see very far--twenty twenty vision, the optometrist said. He did not think to imagine a story as he stared out onto the rolling estate, pine trees clustered together in circles, surrounding the chartreuse manor. He did not imagine anything of the sort, but instead cautiously lifted himself off the reading couch. He did not touch the dresser. It would be disobeying; nor did he jump upon the serenely smoothed canopy bed or grope for the TV's remote control. He did not come near the newspaper. It was his parents' rugged terrain, and after all, what bad could really be happening in the world? Instead, the boy made his way towards the dining room and sat, very calmly, cross-legged upon an obscure, shadowed chair to the left, and patiently waited for his parents to arrive.

Class Writing Assignment--No Figurative Language Allowed

The cake stood moored upon a platter of the house's best silver, a film of sugar liquid cascading down its round sides; the cake was soft, and a delight to eat, light in one's mouth, and light in one's stomach, for it left one for the desire for more; even the sourest fruits lay presented with precision. The cake was not difficult to slice; it was the sweetness of its appearance that brought the cruel cutter guilt, for ruining its beauty. Yet still, the taste would betray all beauty, that mouthful of subtle sweetness; so here I applaud the scrumptiousness of Cake.
Indeed, we frequent the hilly terrain about these uncivilized woods. Truly, after my catastrophic fall from my rebellious bike, our mother has forbid such escapades. Mostly the paths we follow now are plain asphalt along the Sammammish River, winding along into the wails of babies in a gigantic playground, although my dad would like otherwise. Perhaps a good Father's Day present for him would be to allow him to go on a hike or at least bike on the gravelly and bear-ridden (kidding--I should hope-- about the latter) paths he prefers. Not to mention we've bought him some books at the library. They have a little nook tucked into the corner showcasing a number of somewhat tattered, quite interesting, used books. We're hiding the books we got for him in the right side of my dim, grim, dusty, and musty closet. And how have we had the time to conceal our purchases at the library, one might wonder? We walk down to the library with our teacher to do math at the library's Study …

School Assignment-essay on Robinson Jeffers

For a link to Robinson Jeffers' poem "Shine, Perishing Republic", go to

In Robinson Jeffers’ poem “Shine, Perishing Republic”, readers view Jeffers’ grim verdict upon America and its humanity—a molten mass of corruption, with its way of society, directions and tendencies twisted from the original “flower” to become the hideously monstrous “insufferable master”.

The theme of Robinson Jeffers’ poem remains true today. Though the “monster” threatening today’s American humanity may be less grimly expressed and not nearly so much heralds of doom, there is still a monster, and one that has not yet been defeated. Today this monster is America’s wastefulness and arrogance.

In the beginning we were the explorers rather than the destroyers. Now we are consuming enormous amounts of processed food mass-made for frequently overweight American citizens. The image of the farmer’s homemade, wholes…

School Assignment

Today we were learning about words with origins from other countries. Each one of these paragraphs uses words originating from France, India, and Spain/Mexico.
FRENCH: She was, they said, too gaudy for her own good, the prodigal daughter, who flaunted her faux fur with a smile upon lipstick-ravaged lips, and strode about the Eiffel Tower as if it were her own. The caf├ęs welcomed her with encores aplenty, eyeing her false leather purse so well-stocked with hopes for coins. Paris fitted her, they said, with sparkling lights and romantic nights and the cries of "Bon Appetit" heralding banquets of snails. And still her dreams and hopes were lost in the depths of ennui, gone like a puff of smoke from the notoriously ever-present French cigarette.
HINDI: Ganesh's pajamas were finely made. They were made of gold silk from China embroidered in red with pictures of Shiva the Destroyer. He preferred the more benign apperance of his old sleepwear, plain cotton embroidered with an i…