Awesome new phone and 60 page paper

Yesterday I got this new phone that is pretty boss. My mom said that I could get any phone that I wanted add long as the price was under twenty bucks. We went to Costco and I found one that was thirty dollars. I thought that it looked pretty good.  It was a Samsung galaxy S4 mini. I asked my mom about it. And she said sure. Later she realized that the phone was a smart phone. The cashier told us about this giant deal.

1 hour later we walked out of Costco with 2 smart phones and a portable WiFi hot spot, and on the whole ride home I sat and tried to figure it out. When I got home, I sat in my chair and texted instead of doing my 60 page paper.

One hour I stare at the screen and read 10 pages. YES! I think in my head I did four, 20 more pages to write. Then, I look at the clock, 6:00 , oh my god. I still have to do my blog, challenge, and art assignment, and write twenty pages. I guess I don't get any cake. (see my last blog if this makes more sense)

The 60 page paper

I walked towards Kam, I was mad at her because she did way too many edits on my one page papers of my six cars. 

"Hey Kam, what would you do if I came back on Monday with 10 pages on each one of the cars," I was joking but Kam didn't know that.

"You do realize that that is 60 pages right?"

"Yeah I said," I was still joking.

"Well," she said, "I would buy you something at Starbucks."

"And get a cake for the class." 

"OK," she said. "But they have to be good."

"Sure," I said, I wasn't joking anymore.

Two days later on Saturday, I sat and stared at the nine and a half pages in front of me. I looked up at the ceiling and sighed. 51 more to go. 

Flappy bird

I watch as the little bird flaps it's tiny wings and goes through the green Mario tubes. I have nothing to do so I am playing flappy bird. Maybe one of the reasons that it is so addicting is that it relates so much to life. Like your a little bird, you start and most people get past 1 but some are better than others, some are more successful so they go further. But some are left behind. As the bird goes through life it can fail at any moment, one extra tap and the whole thing dies and you have to start over.

It's very wierd how video games can give you such a deep message.

The 90s catch

I sat and stared at the giant oversized bird go through two green Mario tube. This is the stupidest game in the entire world I thought to myself, but I still hit the start button. I looked up and saw Mo. In his pink shorts and flat brimmed hat. He was being marked by a guy in a white shirt and neon green shoes. Mo moved his hand back, flipped it forward and the disc went flying. I heard everyone yell 

"UUUUPPPPP," (thats what you say when the frisbee goes really far). The frisbee felt like that it was in the air more more than five minutes. Everyone just stood there. I followed the path of the frisbee and where I thought it was going to go. It lead right to the end zone. A second later I see my brother run up and another guy who was on the other team. The guy on the other team was twice as tall as my brother. My brother jumped and it seemed like he kept going up, and up, and up. His hand closed around the brim of the frisbee and he brought it back down.

The game was over and the person on the other team gave my brother a high five and a fist bump.

That was so 90s, I thought to myself and smiled.

Drawing

I sit there and stare at the blank peice of paper it seems like it needs something on it. It needs to show a picture of my feelings, my memories, my imagination, it needs to show my personality. This is why I love drawing the peice of paper, or the canvass, or even your arm. Any of these surfaces can show your own personal creativity, your imagination, your feelings anything at all. I place the pencil onto the white sheet.  go lowly, I go diagonal to the left. i get more and more focused, more and more tuned out of the world As it goes along I don't even know what I am doing anymore. The pencil seems to work on its own. It moves around. I am almost ready to let go of it. Once I am done I look down at what I have done

My old school

Before I came to the school that i'm at right now, I was at a school called Polaris at Ebert. People call it Ebert or Polaris. Let me just start with the bus drivers. Some were nice, some were mean, some went to Elitches and then was one hour. Some skipped your bus stop on purpous and you could see your parent out the window as you pass, cursing and shaking a fist. Some said that you you had to be quiet when she put on the lights. But no one could see the lighs EVER.  Some were just plain funny and said: R U goin to Ebut? And some just never came to your stop. 

Also, the lunches. They weren't that bad, me for one, I had cold lunch but all my friends got hot lunch. It looked pretty good , however, there were some weird things, like root beer milk. 

Most of the teachers were pretty good. Some of them mere really awesome, like Mr. Semler, and some were just weird like Mrs. Quimby. She was sommetimes mean and other times just plain...........(sorry) stupid. She said: "I hate kids, I'm never going to have kids" (by the way this was in front of 25 fourth graders, she's a teacher, and she has grand kinds :) wow)

Anyway even though that it wasn't as good as Logan, it was ok, and it made me what I am today, I will never be able to owe what teachers and schools deserve. 

Homework

Thoughts are running through my head like when a swarm of bees attack you and you have no idea which one to swat at first so you just flail your hands and hope they go away, but they don't because you never will hit one of you don't look at where your aiming. Sweat is running down my face and glaze over my eyes so I can't see my computer screen anymore. It is like a waterfall and it just keeps coming, I didn't realize that I could even hold this much water in my body. I start uncontrollably shivering even thought its almost 70 degrees outside. My fingers shake and I know that I wont be able to hit any key or even type a word. I check the clock and see that it is time to go in four minutes. My fingers start trying to type and I finally get a sentence down. After what seems like sixteen minutes I finally finish. I sit back in my chair and look up at the ceiling, and think, why would any teacher in the right mind put this kind of stress on their own kid.