All posts by Kanmani Hari

The Best

Beauty is found from the glow of your heart and you’re fiery passion. Not the fake shine of your skin.

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When I was four or five years old, I asked my mother, “Why are all the big girls wearing so much makeup on their faces? Isn’t it willy willy bad?”( I pronounced the word “really” ” willy” when I was little so please don’t get confused that it’s a typo.) My mom sighed in sadness as she looked at the old magazines sprawled across the floor as we looked at them. “Well, some girls just like to wear makeup, even if it is bad. They just like to cover up their imperfections so they can look prettier.” I looked at the women on the cover of one of the magazines in disbelief. She had so much makeup on her face, that it looked like a whole new layer of unnatural skin growing, dominating the real skin beneath. She was wearing fake eyelashes and extremely heavy layers of lipstick, and incredulous amounts of pink blush on her cheeks. The eye shadow on her eyelids made her look like her makeup was done by a rainbow unicorn that had glitter as it’s blood. I didn’t like it at all. Not one bit.

The next day, my preschool teacher read the story “Beauty and the Beast” to us in circle time. I absolutely loved it. I liked the fact that they represented the prince in the form of a beast that had a kind heart who used to have an ugly one. In the folk versions, most of them represented Belle in a way that gave her a “damsel in distress” vibe. But in most of the stories that I read myself throughout the years, I read variations that gave her a rebellious outlook. Though her name meant beauty itself, she pushed herself to be more than just a pretty face. I liked that a lot.

I recently saw the live action Beauty and the Beast movie. But first I better explain the adventure that happened before. You see, my friend Jacqueline had invite me and 2 other friends to watch the movie with her in the movie theater. The problem was that my friend Subi was having the same plans, same movie, same place, same time. Since Jacqueline never had a birthday celebration with friends before, I decided to go to hers, and then hang out with Subi to get ice cream. Anyway, we all loved the movie. The way the director ( Bill Candon) depicted each character was incredible. Each personality, each costume, and each line of dialogue was well thought out and was put together into a masterpiece of art. One of my favorite parts of the movie was the way they reincarnated the story to fit the struggles of the way beauty is now defined. Belle (played by Emma Watson) was shown to be a very brave, rebellious, and smart young women, trying to find adventure in the great wide some where.

Every time I hear the word ugly, and the words he or she in the same sentence I want to curl up into a tiny ball and think about what just happened. I am literally an explosion of anger. When I speak I would have an edge in my tone. My fists would be clenched, my eyebrows furrowing. My eyes shoot a piercing look at the person who said the unfortunate sentence when they aren’t looking. It’s like a fire was lit underneath me. My friends always try to calm me down. But the flame lit under me was never tamed it continued to spread to the forest of my soul, no matter hard I try. Just because you have a pretty complexion doesn’t mean your heart is if you do such deplorable things like that. If you call someone ugly or not beautiful, don’t you even dare think you are. Because your heart definitely is not. A pretty face is nothing if you have an ugly heart. But an ugly face is nothing if you have a kind soul. My hair could look neater, my teeth could be whiter, my stomach could be flatter, my body could be more flexible. But those are a bunch of sentences with the word could. My life is dominated by “I can’s” not “I could look.” I want it to stay that way.  Honestly, I just think we are all people, we are all just souls living our lives. We keep correcting the small flaws that make us special. We can’t waste our lives that way. You only live once right? So wipe out that makeup, put down your mirror, open the front door and walk, run, jump, ride, whatever you want and let your heart soar.

 

The Best

I’m so close to giving up, but I intend to see how much more I can take.

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Space.  It can only be explained by logic and pools of data. But it can only be described in adjectives. My dream is to be able to just sit for hours and hours staring up at the sky and it’s incredible stars. But not just a few stars, but clusters of them, and wonder what really is up there. At night I lay in my bed and think about what it would be like to be isolated there. With no one but myself and the billions of stars and nebula’s. I realized that complete isolation can be a way of death in your head.

You can get to weak from staying in the same ship, doing the same things, consuming the same foods. You can suffer from depression or lack of human interaction. Sometimes even delusion. Then I started to think further into this thought each night, and spoke about it with my friends as well. If there were two human beings. Things could be different. If they each have different skills or tasks, they will be able to achieve more then they intend to. But most of all, they have to make the most of there new environment. They have to make most of their time with each other.

Time can either help you, or hurt you. Look at the nearest clock, or anything that tells the time. Does it look like something that could possibly hurt or heal a life? Does it feel like a helpful tool for an almost impossible situation? I think it is all of these things. But to each and every person, it means something completely different as well as the same. In a matter of seconds a plant could possibly dehydrate from the lack of rainfall. Days, weeks, or even months later could bring heavy showers of precipitation cloaking a now deceased plant with rain droplets, and new life. Time is such a precious thing. It’s like glass. Such a sudden move could shatter it. It’s shards of sharp blades could easily hit you, bringing pain to your skin or damage a membrane. Just like how time could hit you like a storm of glass.

One of my favorite quotes in one of my favorite series’s is “as long as we’re together,” because it represents how much people sacrifice just to be with the people they love. Those are the kind of acts that can define a persons dignity. The thoughts that can live through them like rays of the sun.

I recently saw the amazing science fiction drama Passengers with my family.  Now let me explain a little about the movie, because then you will understand why I spoke this way.

On a journey to a new planet aboard the spacecraft Avalon there are 5,000 passengers and more than 500 crew members. In order to live through the entire 120 year travel time to the new planet, everyone aboard is put into hibernation. But after 30 years of travel 2 passengers awake 90 years too early due to ship malfunctions from contact with an abnormally large asteroid. Aurora Lane( played by Jennifer Lawrence) and Jim Preston( played by Chris Pratt) are destined to live the rest of there lives aboard the spacecraft. Facing incredibly difficult challenges including the ships hibernation pod’s malfunctions. Soon enough, they find that the ship is in horrible danger of deceasing. With the pressure of saving more then 5,000 lives, the two passengers are set out to figure out the ships systems and extreme flaws. While holding on to each moment with each other.

Director Morten Tyldem was not only able to build an incredible story, but was able to bring it to life, leaving a stunning masterpiece of film. What shocked me the most out of the whole movie was the architectural design and structure of the sets, and the way the story was told and deposited. Showing no signs of fluctuation. Later on it received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Music Score, and Best Production Design as well. The moral was most likely the best part of the whole movie. It definitely brought out the ” we will always be together” bit of it. So please remember to hold on to every moment you have with the people you love, And be grateful that time is giving back to you.

 

Stories, Writing

When the Storm Breaks

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Breathe. I used to think that this word merely meant to bring in and release. To just inhale and exhale. I thought it was only meant to be an act that was essential to life. But I was wrong. I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life. That single word could change someone’s fate in under a second. It doesn’t mean to just let in and out. This action could either destroy you’re life or save it. I know it sounds odd. How could breathing make a person perish? Simple. Breathe can betray you whenever it wants. I know it seems odd to mention a personification in this form. But breathing can bring new life as well. Someone so close to knocking at the doors of death could instantly escape just by breathing. I know these groups of contradictions sound unreal, and insane. Why am I even speaking of these things in the first place? Well, everyone has a story to tell each soul has there story radiating like the sun around them, but most people can’t achieve that. I use to think the meaning of the word revival meant to revive, or bring life to. To make new life or power up a dead soul. But now that I think about it, it means more than that. Like the word hope, it also means to restore faith. For example, if a person is so close to death but suddenly they revive by either a change of physical and mental power, or a change in there life. Another example is when a person is so depressed that they refuse to go on. But then they are brought back to life by either finding new interests or find something worth continuing to live there life. This word is similar to breathing because if you don’t make a decision, you surely will perish. I know this isn’t much of a story, but everyone has a story so other people can feel it. I just hope you can feel mine.

It all began with one girl, one bike, and one storm.

I was running down the steps of my house, my sketchbook and pencils in hand. I wanted to go down to the beach to sketch out a panoramic of the sunset and the sea. My mom was at the library shelving books, and my dad was at the hospital as usual helping patients because he was a nurse. They usual didn’t mind when I went off on my own when they weren’t there. They trusted me enough to go and come back safely, with no trouble. I texted my mom “Going to the beach to draw, I’ll be back.” As soon as I sent it, I got a text back from my mother saying “Alright Wren. Be safe.” I put my sketchbook, pencils, and my phone into my satchel. I went outside an grabbed my back. I hopped down and sped along the cliff side road. The sky looked extremely stormy. Usually it always looked like this where I lived. But not like this. It looked just to dense. As if it was going to scoop up every single grain of sand. Sucking up anything in it’s way. I started to worry. Everything was starting to be knocked over into the sea. I felt like an extremely strong storm was going to come. Before I could finish my thoughts, the wind pushed my bike against a nearby boulder. I finally realized what was happening. Hurricane. I was starting to feel my shoulders drooping. My leg felt like it got penetrated by a thousand needles. My head hurt so much that even if I moved just a little bit felt like I was going to break my whole skull in half. Everything started to go black. My mind was raising as I strained myself to get back up again. But I was to late. I had plunged into the pit  of darkness in my head.

“Wren… Oh my goodness, doctor is there anything serious?” I recognized that voice as my fathers. I heard the words sever concussion and broken ankle. My breathing was starting to become labored and unsteady. “Breathe Wren. Breathe.” Just hearing those words made me feel relief in my chest. Weeks later I was on crutches and my head was still throbbing hear and there. But I survived a hurricane. I thought. Just because of one word. When I was knocked down, I was able to stay alert and awake for about an hour or two. I had called my parents, telling them what happened before I blacked out. I was breathing heavily the whole entire time.I found out my mom died in the storm trying to save a women stuck in a ditch.

“Wren you must come out, we will be late to your mother’s fu-ceremony.” My best friends whispered into the doors aged wood cracks. Just the sound of the word mother made me want to hide in a cloak of darkness. I knew he was about to say the word funeral, but she replaced it with a more suitable word for my situation. “Wren please, your mother would want to see you one last time.” I sat on my bed for a few seconds deep in thought. I got up to open the door, my black dress wrinkled and stained with tears. My dark chocolate colored hair tumbling down my drooping shoulders. I looked at the mirror on the wall. My piercing dark mahogany eyes looked almost black. My olive skin looked as pale as a sheet of paper. I opened the door my best friend Peter stood there. His messy dark hair some what tamed. He was wearing a suit instead of his usual uniform of jeans and a graphic t-shirt. He looked almost like a stranger, but his striking eyes were the same.We walked out the door heading toward the meadow nearby. My mother lived in the same house ever since she was born. The meadow was like her sanctuary, before she died.

While I was walking, I realized that things like this happened. My mom had gone to a place where she didn’t have to experience suffering anymore. She will still be able to withstand a storm, when the wind rises, and the sky falls. For years I lived waiting. Waiting for when the storm will break.

 

 

Writing

Rich people are born with money. Poor people are born with the whole world in there bearing.

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The poor and the rich. Two completely different types. And yet they are defined in a way that makes people think the poor are embedded to a agonizing life forever. While the rich are gifted with a life of paradise, without a care in the world. Have you ever pondered about what the poor do have? We tend to just think about what they don’t have. We don’t think of what they actually do have. You can’t just define a person that way. And what about the rich? Do you really think that just because they have loads of money, you think their happy? They have all of the things they could ever want. They could never ever get bored. And that’s exactly the problem. Boredom can lead to thought, and thought can lead to ideas , ideas lead to innovation, innovation leads to a phenomenon. Now lets think about what the these two categories have.

The rich have food. The poor grow theirs.

The rich have clothes. The poor sew theirs.

The rich have houses. The poor build theirs.

The rich have screens to stare at all day. The poor have landscapes and endless Earth to wander and roam in.

The rich communicate and interact with access to endless devices. The poor have people to speak to with knowledge and expressionism.

The rich are born with money. The poor are born with the gifts of the Earth.

The poor are rich. The rich are poor.

My dad showed a video about this to me. It really has changed my perspective of what I see. I hope this post does for you.

 

The Best

“Everything is unprecedented until it happens for the first time. ” – Sully (The Movie)

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155 humans. One airplane. One river. Multiple heroes.

Every year millions of people around the world die, from either depression, heart failure, disease, car crash, or contamination from chemical substances.These are the reasons for most people’s death.  But what would you say if I told you that 155 people on a plane had to “land” in water. And every single soul survived. Urgent water landings never go the way expected. And yet this one did. An absolute miracle. That’s what it is.

In 2009 a US Airways Flight 1549 had to make an emergency water landing in the Hudson River due to the two engines shutting down after striking a flock of Canada birds three minutes after take off from LaGaurdia Airport in New York city on January 15, 2009. Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberg and Jeffrey Skiles had to glide the plane into the Hudson River in midtown Manhattan. There were 155 people on board( 5 people were the crew). And very few people were injured. But every single person survived. Every single one. Captain Sullenberg, escorted everyone out before getting off himself. Everyone was taken back to land from nearby boats safely. Only 5 were seriously injured, including one of the flight attendants. This was considered “the most successful ditching in aviation history.” Later the pilots and flight attendants received the Masters Medal of Guild of Air Pilots and Air Navigators.

Recently I saw the movie “Sully,” a drama/biography. Based on what the Captain’s aftermath experiences were. And filmed just how they were able to achieve that incredible feat. Captain Chesley Sullenberg is portrayed by Tom Hanks in this incredible and thrilling movie showing the experiences of Captain Sullenberg himself who considers himself as ” just a regular man.” Well captain, for the first time you are very wrong. You are extraordinary. The movie was filmed in a way where they presented what happened in a series of flashbacks, mixed along with what happens afterwards. Clint Eastwood films perfectly each scene, capturing exactly what happened. This event is still considered a miracle.

 

 

Personel Things

Never have I dealt with anything more stubborn than my soul.

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Ever since I could remember, I wanted to do something amazing. I wanted to do something for someones else’s life that would change it. I was able to fulfill that goal. But never in the way that I expected. Now, you’re probably wondering why I chose to put this sentence as my title. Well when I first came up with it, I was a little confused of my own thought. I realized that it’s more than true. I tend to do things before I think. But not in the way you think. Of course when I am writing or emailing my friend, or even talk to someone about something, I always think deeply before I speak. But when it is a matter in which it includes physical actions. Well… I’m not the same person. I will literally do anything in my power to do what I think is right. Everyone I know and including myself knows that I have an extremely stubborn soul. Just not in the way you would tend to think it is. And honestly, it is the toughest thing I encountered.

Over the summer I did something so insane, so illogical, so utterly stupid. And yet I don’t regret it one bit.

My best friend Esther Vega was coming over to my house to hang out, then we would go to the pool to swim. After about two hours we both were in the pool having a contest in which we had to swim like dolphins the entire perimeter of the pool. After a while a two women and a small little girl went in as well. One of the women went to the deepest end of the pool. I guess she assumed that since younger kids were doing it, she would be able to do it even though she couldn’t swim. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more wrong in my life. She started to sink slowly, but then more rapidly. She started panicking. Flailing her arms desperately trying to stay up and float to the shallow end. But she failed miserably. “Kanmani help!” Yelled the other women, apparently they were sisters, and they both couldn’t swim. I was there only option because Esther was at the other end, and Mrs.Vega couldn’t run fast enough to reach the life preserver. I swam quickly, reaching her. She was wearing incredibly heaving clothes that were weighing her down, making it harder for me to pull her up. My mind raced as I dragged her to the shallow end, leading her to the steps. Esther, Mrs. Vega, and I all went back to where my mom was waiting at home. “I saved someone’s life.” Still recovering from the shock. Esther nodded her head. “Oh!” my mom gasped as Mrs. Vega and I explained what happened. Mrs. Vega warned me that I had to train to be a lifeguard and that it is dangerous risking my life like that. After we waved our goodbyes and they both left, I went upstairs to take a shower, leaving my mother to think about how her daughter ended up the way she was right now.

After I showered I went back downstairs and sat down at the dining table. My mom was washing dishes in the kitchen. She asked me to explain what had happened. As I spoke, my mom’s face changed from worried to horrified. She scolded me for being this way, saying it wasn’t safe and that I should have used one of the nearby safety equipment. After she was done scolding me and my uncontrollably stubborn mind, I went to the computer, and searched how old you had to be to be a lifeguard. 15. I was eleven. I am a criminal. In a way. For days my parents tormented me about what happened at the pool. Calling relatives and friends, telling everyone they know. My level of stubbornness hasn’t decreased one bit.

Stories, Writing

5:15

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I used to be able to run, to hide, to be free. I realized that it’s not possible anymore. I will never be able to look out at the sunset without suspicious eyes watching. I won’t be able to go to my friend’s house without being followed and be asked the same exact question every time. “What are you exactly doing here?” The worst part about the wall dividing everyone is the fact that for the rest of my life, I can’t see them ever again. It is 1964, Berlin, Germany. 3 year since the wall was built. I was sleeping over at my friend’s house the night they built the wall. One day there’s nothing, the next day we’re divided. My family and I lived the other side of Berlin. For three years we have been divided. And I’m sick of it. I need to escape.

“Forest! Breakfast!” Yelled my friend Charlotte’s mother. For the past three years, her family was kind enough to let me live with them. They were family friends, so it felt right. For the past few months, I had been starting to dig an underground tunnel that went under the wall.I started it because I wanted to reunite with my family. I knew it was a huge risk. Putting my life on the line like that, but I needed to do it. It felt correct to me. I was walking one day from school, when I saw an old broken down house in an alleyway. The old structure curiously was close to the wall. I inspected it, finding old rusted shovels, wheelbarrows, and gloves. Instantly, an idea struck me like a lighting bolt. I started digging. I started with a small hole, it grew from the size of a bucket, to the width of a barrel. I told Charlotte when I was halfway done. She cried that night but didn’t tell her parent. She agreed that it was the right decision, and supported it. Thought it was tough for her.

As I ate my breakfast I thought about how I might be able to escape today. I only needed to dig up soil a little bit more. After I ate I headed toward the alley. But instead I saw one more thing. Something that didn’t belong there. A guard. His facial features looked incredibly familiar. As if we’ve known each other before. When we made eye contact he let out a little gasp. “Forest.” I stood there in shock, how did this guard know my name. Specifically my name? But then I recognized the voice. It sounded like a nineteen year old’s voice. A certain nineteen year old. “George?” I said hopefully. He took off his mask. His emerald green eyes shining brightly as he opened his arms and wrapped me in a a bear like hug. My older brother was actually here. But what about mama and papa? I started asking him a lot of questions as he did to.

It turns out that he had dug a tunnel as well, but instead it was closer to the other side of the wall where I was. He said that his friends worked as a guard and let him borrow his uniform for this reason. He said that he was here to bring me home. He had positioned the tunnel near Charlotte’s house, we escaped at exactly 5:15.

Travel

It is believed that every grain of sand is the story of the Earth.

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“Dad we have to go. NOW.”

“I have to drink my tea!” He whined.

“Well, HURRY UP.”

My mom laughed as I scolded my dad for being so intolerable.

Then he started to drink it very slowly, making a loud slurping noise just to annoy me. It was 7:22, and I wanted to go to school early so I can meet up with my best friends Jayden and Ava in the band room. The reason it was so important, was because all members of the band were supposed to leave the instruments there in the morning so we wouldn’t have to carry it each and every period. Though I play the flute and it has a narrow case, I wanted to drop it off because I tend to bang it into things likes poles, trees, desks, and people. But my father wasn’t helping my situation. I stood there next to the door in my P.E. clothes and jacket, tapping my foot rapidly. My brother laughed as I attempted to drag my dad to the door. I shot him a scary glare. And just as he started mocking me, he ran away in fear.

“Okay, your done lets go.” I said in relief.

“Wait, I need my keys…” He said with a foolish smile.

“AUUUUUUUGH.” I moaned as he took out the keys that were originally in his back pocket the entire time. “Oh, I totally didn’t know that was there.” He said sarcastically. I gave him a dirty look as my mom chuckled at the sight. “Bye mom, see you later!” I said as I rushed down the cement steps. I got in the car and buckled up, urging my dad to start the car. We finally arrived at the school. I waved goodbye to my dad and got out of the car. I checked my fitness tracker on my wrist. 7:27. Not bad. I walked on, lugging my P.E. bag, on my shoulders and my lunch box, sheet music,and flute in my arms. On these days my schedule is usually really fun and not as nerve wrecking as my other four classes the next day. I have P.E. homeroom, band, and then homeroom.

Since the band room is all the way at the back of the school, it took me a while to get there. I met up with Jayden on the way, lugging his alto saxophone in his hands. “Hey Wise Girl.” He said. Since we both read the Heroes of Olympus series’s he started calling me the nickname given to the one of main characters in the books. “Hey Feline Face.” I said as he grinned “Hey, don’t you have to go to that beach cleanup thing for Earth Club tomorrow?” I nodded my head in reply. “You know how we have to write those poems for Homeroom? You could probably get inspiration from the beach for your poem.” I actually didn’t think of that. “Well, I’ll probably have to take some notes in my notebook then.” I said deep in thought. “I don’t think you need it Wise Girl, you have so much knowledge that what you explain to me endlessly is scary, and adorable. Plus your a walking dictionary so I probably wouldn’t even be able to read the words you write.” He laughed as I punched him playfully on his shoulder.

We arrived at the door to the band room. We saw the 5th period band getting ready for class. I put my flute in my little wooden shelf, as Jayden put in his. As we headed outside, Ava attempted to scare us by jumping and yelling “AHAHAHAHA!” “Nice try Avacado.” I said with a laugh. Jayden was still recovering from the shock. We reached the roll call area for P.E. “See you guys at Core!” Jayden said as he ran off to his next class. (Core is what the school calls homeroom.) Ava and I met with our other friends Ally, Ashley, Andrea, June, Lilija, and Renee.  We all started talking, and then went into the girls locker room to change. The day went by at a good pace, as usual. In P.E. we we had free play. Ava and I had a contest to see who could dance the best. Though I am not a dancer myself( I am quite horrible at it) I was able to pull of some Lindsey Stirling style moves. Whereas Ava started to attempt the same moves, leading to her tumbling into me.

In Core class we had to write down ideas for our poems. Jayden, Ava, and our friend Zach were in the same table I sat at, so we all gave each other ideas, because our poems had to be related to nature. After that period it was lunch, I was thinking about the beach clean up. Then I realized I had to meet my friends at the band room. I picked up my things and headed off. If my dad is going to be like he was this morning, I will be a literal hurricane. I thought.

The next day…

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed and flailed my arms as I called my dad. Here comes the hurricane, I thought. We were supposed to be at the school parking lot by eight o’clock for a head count. My friend Subi was standing beside me, her parents dropped her off here so we can go to the school together, and then take her to her carpool and meet her at the beach. I stood there in my jeans and black and white sweater, in frustration. While Subi stood next to me wearing a Disney tank top with bright pink shoes and jeans. If you see us side by side, you could already tell we are TOTAL opposites. She’s a super girly girl, and always wears bright girly clothes. While I am here, blabbing about science and how things work in a vocabulary no one would understand . Standing in jeans and t-shirts, and probably have paintbrushes in my hair, and paint on my face, hands and fingers. Anyway, we both stood there, my mom beside me as I tapped my foot rapidly, my arms crossed. Finally my dad came in, he honestly looked like a man that literally just walked out of a Dapper Day poster, and upgraded his outfit to fit the 21st century. “About time, but I don’t think the CEO of Apple is coming along though dad.” (Though I definitely would have loved that.)

My dad and mom’s laughs were synchronized while I opened the door. “After you ladies.” He said in a fake British accent. “Why thank you kind sir.” I said. We drove to the the school. We arrived in the parking lot. I stepped out meeting with my science teacher and the  Earth Club instructor Mrs. Moore. My dad stood beside my friend Claire’s mom talking to her. My science teacher and I were having a conversation about how the climate change was affecting the tectonic plates, just like when there was Pangaea. Subi got bored of our conversation. so she walked over to our other friends Maya, Emma, Izzy, Josie, and Samantha, and started talking excitedly.

Now, I should explain the point of the beach clean-up: We were basically going to clean up the beach(obviously) have lunch, and take out some evasive plants for dune restoration. It may sound simple, but really it was a lot harder than it looked. Anyway, once the entire club and CJSF( California Junior State Federation) came we all crowded around the two instructors. They started talking about the shortest directions with less traffic, because we were going to one of the beaches in Half Moon Bay. I had been there before and I remember it took about 1 to 2 hours to drive there. We all got in our cars. My friends Rafael was carpooling with me and my dad. We buckled are seat belts and started driving. My dad and Rafael were chatting away as I looked out at the landscape before me, my head leaned against the window. The buildings turned into little houses. The houses transformed slowly into hills. The hills turning into dunes of sand. Words were swirling like a hurricane in my mind as I watched. We had been driving for almost an hour. Rafael and I pointed out the boats in the dock, and the tide constantly crashing against the boulders. My favorite part when we were driving, was watching the forest. The trees were tall and thin, I felt at peace in the quiet environment. But one of my other most memorable moments was watching the ocean. Hearing the waves crashing and falling is my favorite sound in the whole world( second to the song of the birds.)  But then I knew that we finally had arrived.

I jumped out of the car as I ran to one of the dunes overlooking the ocean. I breathed in the salty air. My favorite smell. I stood there until my friends arrived. My dad took pictures of the group standing in front of the landscape. I took a few pictures with Subi and my other friends. We all decided to go down to the beach and wait for Mrs. Moore and my science teacher Mrs. Coventry. We started throwing sea foam at each other from the waves crashing and falling in front of us. This lasted for about fifteen minutes, until we were called back to the parking lot to get trash bags. I paired up with My friend Samantha( I call her Sammie, or Sam)  and her dad helped. My dad went of with his camera drifting away. But he joined in later on. We picked up all sorts of things. I even found a pair of paintbrushes, they were old and sand was sticking in clumps on the bristles. Someone must have been painting, a fellow artist, I thought. Sammie found a bottle with a note in it. We were too curious to just ignore it. It was a small drawing of the scene in front of us. The detail was incredible from the sun radiating down, to the fresh almost white sand. I then realized that someone had just painted it, like just then. I was able to tell because the scent of the acrylic paint whacked into my face, almost like a punch. My face was painted with fear as I put the picture back in the bottle. Sammie and I quickly put it back. No wonder there was an easel on the sand. I thought.

And hour or two had passed. We picked up so much trash that it went up to the rim of the bag we held in our sticky hands caked with sand. We went back to the parking lot to grab our lunches. My friends and I all sat around a old wooden picnic table as my dad sat with my friend Emma’s mom. We all shared our food and snacks laughing and talking. Some of the parents even brought a box of pastries and a bag of jellybeans. We all played a game where each person had to close there eyes and pick a miscellaneous jellybean. Then we had to guess the flavor. Whoever lost had to eat five of there least favorite jelly bean. Subi lost. We all laughed as we watched her face change from normal to totally disgusted. After lunch we had to do dune restoration, where we basically pulled out the evasive plants growing near the good roots and shrubs. We each got gloves and worked in different areas. We spent an hour picking and pulling. But then it was 2:43. We picked every single weed in sight. It was also time to leave. I climbed into the car, and we started driving. I still smelled like the ocean, sand in my hair. As I slept, I dreamt of the sea and sand.

Travel

Experiment. Fail. Learn. Repeat.

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We were on the bus driving along the road. My best friends Jacqueline and Evan kept asking me the same exact annoying question again and again.

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No stop it you two.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No. We. Are. Not”

“Are we there yet?”

“NO.”

“Are we there yet?”

“N- Wait a minute.”

I hesitated as I looked at the structure standing in front of me.

“You have the window seat. And we know you are going to say no but are we there yet?” Asked Evan.

“Yes.” I replied in awe at the site before me.

“Wow, didn’t see that coming.” Evan said despite her shock.

We had finally arrived at The Academy of Sciences, San Fransisco, California. We were visiting there for a school field trip. I was  in third grade at the time so I tended to exaggerate a lot in my speech. Like I did today:”THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE SEEN OUT OF ALL THE SCHOOL TRIPS WE HAD. HOW CAN YOU NOT BE EXCITED. THIS IS LIKE A DELICACY FOR OUR EYEBALLS. SOMEONE PLEASE HOLD ME.” I said that in my mind so no one else had heard.  Luckily my two friends seemed to have had the same thought because while we waited for the chaperone we started babbling about how amazing the architecture was how excited we were to go inside. Since my dad and another chaperone were both chaperoning , it took forever for him to get there.

When we entered a gargantuan skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex greeted us, it’s feet looked like it was in the position of pouncing at it’s prey. It’s mouth had rows and rows of sharp jagged teeth, I could almost imagine it ripping up a herbivore. As we walked closer I realized just how small we really were compared to this magnificent carnivore. The dinosaur itself is 40 feet( 12 meters.) While the average human’s height is 5 foot. So it is exactly 8 times taller than most people. Either way, it would tower above you like a skyscraper. As we continued on, my dad decided to let us explore a while with the other chaperone, and our teacher while he would meet us at the Early Humans Exhibits.

As we continued walking, we came to a stop at the rain forest dome. It was basically a large sphere built into the structure. But it was designed to look and feel exactly like a rain forest. Inside there were trees everywhere. There was a bridge and we started walking, it spiraled all the way around the sphere. ending at the bottom. At the top there were a bunch of areas where you were allowed to look at the view and sights. I stopped and looked. Below there was a pond with a cream colored crocodile swimming and greeting it’s visitors. The temperature was sticky and humid. The heat made my clothes stick to my callused and a sweaty skin. But what really made me want to stay was the butterflies fluttering endlessly everywhere. A beautiful blue and black butterfly land on my outstretched finger. It had actually stayed there for about 5 to 10 minutes. My other friends attempted to get a butterfly but had failed multiple times until finally a butterfly landed on each of there fingers and stayed there. For 4 seconds.

As we continued to walk we slowly started to merge into the underwater tunnel. I watched as I slowly walked through the underwater tunnel. I saw fish of all types. But my favorite was a beautiful whale shark swimming along in the distance. When we reached the end of the tunnel, we arrived at the entering area of the aquarium. There were tanks and walls of glass everywhere. One of my favorite ones was a tank that took up an entire wall. It was filled with small fish swimming through the murky waters. As we looked around, I noticed that unlike other aquariums, they filled the small tanks with natural rocks and sea stones just like the large tanks, instead of artificial colored “rocks.”

About an hour or two had passed since we arrived. The entire grade was called for lunch in one of the main rooms near the entrance. As I ate my sandwich and water, I made plans with my friends on what we should visit next with the maps we were each given. I put my trash in the recycling and walked along. We next visited the Space and Exploration area. (Since each place in the museum was so large, it took us a while to look at each of them.) We saw a small place where you could try on a space helmet. It felt huge and heavy against my skimpy shoulders. My friends and I next went to a small spacecraft where you could climb in and sit in the seats. The seats felt leathery and firm. The craft itself was small and tight. It had at least a thousand buttons. Since there wasn’t much in that exhibit, when went to the Early Humans Exhibit, and met my dad there.

My dad led me and my friends to a glass case that had skulls from each human species. The Homo Erectus had small skulls. Thus leading them to have small brains as well. The Homo Neanderthalensis( or just The Neanderthals) had large thick skulls, therefore encasing a fairly large brain. Finally the Homo Sapiens had medium sized skulls, and supporting a bit of a smaller brain. But definitely larger than a Homo Erectus’s. Each skull( besides the Homo Sapiens skull) looked extremely old and aged. It looked almost tarnished. Beside the glass case was a taller and thinner one. But encase inside was the skeleton of one of the first humans( Homo Erectus.) It was very short and looked extremely skinny and frail. We looked around some more and read the information given in each case and artifact. The next exhibit we went to was the animals one.It showed there skeletons and fossils. They even showcased a couple dinosaurs.

It was 1 o’clock. Time to leave. As we boarded the bus, I looked at the museum one last time before I settled in my seat.

Stories, Writing

I am a rebel.

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Rebellion. That word is probably what represents 80% of our spiritual blood. For most people, it’s hard to find that they have it in them. You could be the most proper person in the world. And yet most of you is made up of a renegade’s blood. People who show acts of rebellion radiate on people. They inspire them to follow there own beliefs and truths. They encourage people to follow what their heart has been shouting at them ever since their soul was introduce to the world. Nowadays people tend to stay low in there comfort zone, they don’t hound for new adventures. They don’t stand up for what they believe is right. Radioactive. The one word that can describe a person that has the blood of a renegade, and the heart of a rebel.

All my life I was running, running for myself and more. I didn’t care what the other teens my age said about me. I was standing up for me. I was standing up for what I believed in. I didn’t realize until now how much of an impact you could make doing thing like this. Especially since I’m only twelve, and I am a female artist standing up for what I think is right for not just for my school, but for everyone. Not just me.

“As a young artist myself, I believe that art not only increases scores in an average student’s comprehension, but can create a huge impact on the students life. Physically and mentally in there health and lifestyle. It can clear a students mind from the conflict of everyday problems and abnormality’s. Art is all about expressionism, letting a student express themselves in this way, allows them to not only feel calmer, but make them a better student. For years you have told the student body that you would create an art room in the school for students to go in and out of with there classes. I haven’t been seeing that for the six years I have been here. Though I am in sixth grade I still care about the education of the next generation. Therefore I would like you to introduce art to the young children here.”

After I was done with my speech, the principal just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“But we have art appreciation days in each classroom.” He said

 “But that is not enough.” I said.

“I am surprised by your determination, you’re a true rebel aren’t you? He said with a sly smile.

“I don’t now about that sir, but what I do know is that these students, you have no idea what I have seen from them. They are going through things you can’t even imagine can happen to a child as young as they are out there.”

“But we have nothing. You have nothing, unless you can start a hit fundraiser, I don’t understand how you could.” He said with a sad smile.

“But I have faith.” I said with more confidence.

“I will consult with the head superintendent of the district.” He said.

Right then and there I knew that it was going to happen. I saw that my prediction was correct when the next day, the head superintendent was signing a paper stating that they would spend the next school year spending, saving and retrieving for the new art room installation. But what really had surprised me was how students started to start there own rebellion,consulting with teachers, principles, and other staff and head specialists about change and new additions to improve the school for future generations. I was shocked to see that I was the first student to ever rebel against a principle. I continuously slipped pieces of my art and work into the offices. Representing the acts of hate against the fact that there was not art.

When people ask me things like  “What are three words to describe you” or “How would you describe yourself?” All I can say is I’m a rebel.

( This is a true story.)