Hero Project Reflection

To answer the essential question, "how does a hero become a hero?" I believe that a hero becomes a hero by changing someones life in a positive way. For me, Davey has changed my life in so many ways. He spent time with me, always made sure I was fine and happy, listened to me when I wanted to talk, formed a good relationship with me, was honest, taught me about life and people, got me into punk, gave me reasoning for every action, etc. For those reasons and many others, Davey is my hero.

The 'hero in my eyes' project was a way to get thinking about who your heroes are, why they're your heroes, how they changed you, and write about it. At least for me that's what it did. We had to ask questions, write based on experience, tell a bit about that experience or the story, depending on what you chose to do.

For the process, I met the first couple of deadlines but I didn't meet the first deadlines for the actual paper itself: the first or second rough draft. That effected what improvements I could make and opinions, how I could improve, lowering my grade and ultimately got me behind. I was absent several days, also leaving me confused about assignments and how to do them, leaving me further behind. For the final product, I somehow managed to catch up and meet the deadline. Yet, my paper got lost in the pile and I had to re-do it.

I have learned that I MUST keep up with my work, turning my projects on that meet the deadline and do the work, if not, my grade goes down and makes it harder for me to catch up. I found it hard to sneak in Davey's answers into the paper at first, then I got the hang of it and found it to be rather easy. Asking Davey questions was rather hard itself considering he was always at work then left town to go to The Fest 8. In between times that I rarely saw him, I'd ask him small questions, making him unaware of the fact I was going to use them for my paper. I would definitely meet up with deadlines next time, sit down and ask more questions, and make it less "last minute." I think it'll help me later because now i really have more appreciation for people and will wonder about why I like/dislike/love them.

Wonder was definitely the first one I did. I had to ask myself before I even began, "Why is he my hero? What all has he done for me?" and write a list of the reasons why I look up to him then wonder what I was going to do about the paper and how I was going to map it out or even what exactly it was about and where/when it took place using details and to the point where people would understand instead of telling a boring story.

http://leftovergenevieve.blogspot.com/2009/11/spilling-beans.html

Spilling The Beans

Tears streamed down from Davey, my step-father's now glazed, baby blue eyes hinted with splashes of green and outlined with red. His mouth quivered and body shook as he wrapped his thick arms around me, weeping. "I love you more than anything else, kid," his voice cracked, going in and out of different pitches like a teenage boy going through puberty. "You're the only reason I'm even still in this house, or even alive, really." Before I knew it, streams of salty, bitter water streamed down from the corners and bottom of my eyes and down my cheeks, rapidly falling and splattering onto the surface below from my chin.

My parents had been miserable together for three, horrid years before officially deciding to split up for good. While my mother went in and out of jobs, Davey had been holding onto the same job for over a year and a half, working everyday from the time he got up, to the mid night/morning, which usually totaled up to over 80 hours a week. Once coming home, he'd usually hide upstairs for up to an hour, check up on me, go to band practice or a show and try to get which ever extra work he could do to make ends meet or get that "beautiful " guitar or bass. I cherish those times were we sit in the living room, spinning records, singing and talking- just the two of us. Still, the word "stressful" was a bit more than an understatement, but he still seemed to give everything his all, despite his misery. Despite knowing all this, I still climbed up those steps leading into his room, fully aware I was about to stack up those piles of stress and worry he faces everyday.



Several chills crawled up my spine and under my flesh as I slowly spoke. As I confessed to things that no fourteen year old girl should do or even deal with, Davey sat there- listening. No interruptions, shocked faces, horrible reactions, just his full attention. Although I felt ashamed, rarely would and do I hide things from him, leaving in all the gory details that I cant imagine any father would want to hear or know about his child. He did not and still does not judge me, no matter how bad the actions. In-fact, Davey probably knows more about me than any other person I've ever known, even up to this date.

After sluggishly kissing Davey goodnight and leaving his room, a sense of relief and warmness filled me. As I glanced at the clock that then read 4:00 AM, a light smile stumbled onto my face as I drifted to sleep. No matter how bad things got, or how horrible I felt, Davey would always be there for me and we'd have each other. That bit of knowledge and teaspoon-- no-- lifetime of love put me to ease and I knew things would be okay.

The Origin of Zero

What really caught my attention/strikes me about the article was zero's history. I would have never really thought that zero was simply just a placeholder. Its crazy to think that zero wasn't even really acknowledged til much later. Its also hard for me to think of life and speech without "zero". Its also really rad to see how other people wrote/drew zero. To me it was always just that weird oval, but its super cool to see other peoples concepts of it! I've never really thought of zeros origin before, but now I'm beginning to wonder about the other numbers..

Angela

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. As her crisp golden eyes, splattered with blue sparkled like diamonds, she tucked a thin layer of aqua hair behind her right ear before she slowly began to speak. "H-hey! M-Mikey? Do you remember me..?" she stuttered, fidgeting with long, thin fingers. The boy looked up, his green eyes turned warm and a welcoming smile graced his soft skin as he jumped up, wrapping his arms around Angela. "ANGIE!" he cried out happily, nearly knocking both of them over. Angela's face went from a pale pink to beat red-- almost as if someone had dunked her head in a bucket of blood. A bitter-sweet smell of cigarettes and 'Old Spice' filled her as the sudden memory of the first time she'd seen him took over. The skies were different shades of gloomy gray, mixing with the clouds, water poured rapidly down from the air, bursts of air lifted Angela's faded green hair as she hugged herself walking down the empty sidewalks of Central Park, located in New York. After finding a small dry piece of pavement, she quickly rushed over, nearly throwing herself at it, in the processes, it seems she became blinded by this sudden rush and crashed smack into a boy. His eyes were soft and warm, consisting of green with hints of gray, tall and skinny with semi-short hair fell on his face. But, before she could even get a good look at him, everything went black. The next thing she remembered was lying on the dry spot, soaking wet and that boy-- Mikey, leaning over her and making sure she was fine. From then on, Angela knew she was in trouble. Coming back to reality, they unlinked their messy arms and got to eye level. Instead of beating around the bush, Mikey bombarded her with questions, Angela raced to find answers and catch up with an old friend-- the type you know you'll be in love with for the rest of your life, but could never admit it.

Unity

As I rest my body on the sinking, soft, red, velvet couch beside my best friend, Maya, all that ran through my head was the not only displaying of talents, but the unity that was about to happen in several hours. The horrid, stomach churning feeling that was going to enter me before the night was over made me shake with a roller coaster of excitement. The bright, blood-red walls of the collective that resides inside of The Che Café in La Jolla gave me a more excited feeling as I craved to scream the lyrics, “This Is What I Want.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Terry, Ted and Rymodee finished setting up their equipment, the fresh, warm and delightful smell of vegan cupcakes and cookies quickly faded and was replaced with a mixture of an odd, musty, ‘I’ve-been-on-tour’ and everyone else’s body odor scent, yet I didn’t even cringe. Instead, I smiled and took my place in the crowd, in the center front, as close as I could manage to get while my shins kissed the rather short front wall of the stage. Terry smiled as she said, “Hi, we’re This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb.” Followed by her proceeding to sing her lungs out, keep a fast pace on her bass while Rymodee did the same except with his guitar, and Ted pounded the wooden stick onto his dirty drum kit and followed along to the singing. My heart leapt, I bounced around, pushing and getting pushed while everyone screamed the lyrics with them. People piled on top of each other, kids hung from the rafters, everyone pushed to get to the microphone and I was no exception.

Sweat dripped off of my body and rubbed onto others, although, it didn’t matter at this point. The combination of everyone’s heat and odor seemed to combine, as a result, every window in the small venue fogged up, any and all fresh air was now eliminated, it was hard to breathe and my face grew green with a sick feeling. I couldn’t do a thing but smile and sing though. The music came to a halt as Ted and Terry announced that they had one more song. Loud, screeching voices protested from every corner and angle at this fact. After calming the crowd down, the words, “This next song is about punks taking over the world!” Terry yelled as my eyes bulged out, my heart raced, the widest smile I could manage quickly formed onto my face and I screamed my lungs out. The last song, ‘This Is What I Want’ started and everyone became one. And I swear, at that moment, all of our now hoarse and faintly voices, sweaty, tired, hyped up bodies, fists in the air and love for music combined. If it was possible, my eyes—no body, would have turned into hearts, resistant of letting this moment go.

Sensory Detail: Sound

Portal to another world!

Its body slowly takes the water from its hands and pours it back into its place. Swimming across the water, gentle and cool, the solid body begins to enjoy the bright sun. Water trickles down the carcass's face and traces across the sand. Breathing in deeply, the gentle ripples quickly shift into raging aggression, choking on the aggression, the body bobs up, searching for air. Mother nature calms itself down momentarily, letting the body drag itself to shore. It begins to gallivant once more, deeper into the liquid, splashing and slapping back at mother nature. "Plunk.. kerplunk..", it repeats itself. After thinking a moment, mother hisses, becoming silent for a moment, she hisses again then her anger surfaces. Swallowing him and drowning him, deeper and deeper into her world. Escaping her clutches, his arms and legs scream for him, violently hitting her. She lets him go, not attempting to grab him again. Gliding back and enjoying the peace, his mind suddenly changes and he begins a violent streak once more. Outraged, she waits a moment, letting him abuse her surface til he begins to swim back. Then it happens, she grabs him and drags him down. Deciding to tease him like he did her, she brings him to the surface once more before she repetitively bobs him up and down, taking him the the open air and then pushing him back to the bottom. The last of his breath comes, bubbling its last words and everything ends.

Locker Problem!

My group got 31 lockers open and 969 are left closed. Lockers 1, 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49, 64, 81, 100, 121, etc. are the ones to remain open. The 31 numbers are perfect squares, after that the numbers are not perfect and go over 1,000.
For example-
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. etc.
O, C, C, O, C, C, C, C, O, etc.

S.L.O.B. Weekend

As I opened my drowsy, crusty eyes, I cringed, expecting the sun beaming directly onto my pale body, but the sun wasn't even out yet. It was a cold, foggy Saturday morning and I had to peel out of bed just to help out around the house and make honey with August. Dreading to face June, I crept towards the kitchen, avoiding to make much contact with the cold floor as possible. I entered and found August, June and Rosaline all participating in doing their part around the kitchen. June ignored me, decided what to make for breakfast and dinner with May while Rosaline tried to clean the best she could. Resistant, I started doing my part and joined in conversation.

After I washed my sticky hands I decided to go on a little "adventure" and explore the area. The leaves outside dripped with the water from on and off sprinkles all day and I struggled to not slip on any grass or get my shoes in any type of mud. After what seemed like I had walked forever, I came across a small creek. Small fish raced each other and gentle sounds of the flowing river danced into my ears. A smile painted onto my face after finding a small dry spot to rest on. I dipped my feet into the creek, not caring anymore if I got wet and got my clothing dirty. I felt at peace, resting my head onto the soft grass and listening to the soft sounds that nature produced.
And that was the last thing I remember.

I woke up, it was rather dark, but the moonlight made it a bit brighter. Crickets chirped, the creek continued to sing, most of the fish seemed to have found their beds except a small few who were still trying to find theirs, the grass had dried somewhat and my feet grew pruned due to I had fallen asleep for several hours. I lazily got up and found my shoes, struggling to find a way back, I groaned. "Shitbucket" was the only thing I could manage to say as looked for the dirt path I had followed. I finally stumbled into August, May and Junes house, where dinner invited me in and everyone's arms were opened to me, despite small grudges. Even if T. Rey manged to end up finding me, I would cherish these moments for as long as I could manage.

Favorite Fictional Hero.

My favorite fictional hero would have to be Holden Caulfield from The Catcher In The Rye by J.D.
Salinger. Holden is one of my absolute favorite, not only hero, but fictional characters. After being kicked out of Pencey Prep, his college prep school in Pennsylvania, Holden sets out to New York City. From there, Holden sets on not-so-adventures adventures and discovers many things about life and people.

Now, I know that every teenager who reads this book says, "Oh my Jebus! I'M HOLDEN CAULFIELD!" and I, am no exception, except maybe the female version. He is a strong, non b.s.-ing type of person; he sees the phony in everything and can be quick to call it out. As most, he is also a big of a teenager angst and wants to be on his own. As you read on, you either feel completely compelled and related to Holden or you feel completely disgusted by him. Holden discovers part of him and learns many valuable lessons in life that have helped me learn more about who I am.

30 things you didnt know about me. ;P

1. I totally wanna marry John Cusack and Kat Von D. at the same time >:3
2. I would LOVE to destroy any and all cottage cheese. >:0
3. I am trying to learn Japanese.
4. Im the biggest anime and manga nerd ever since I was 5! (otaku!)
5. I LOVE to read.
6. I want AT LEAST 3 more piercings
7. Horrible, disgusting, scary, gory movies are my absolute FAVORITE!
8. I am a lover, not a fighter but I will fight for the things that I love and believe in.
9. I say words like 'stoked', 'rad', 'dude', etc. but I do not use them for my writing.
10. I am always laughing and smiling.
11. My two best friends are pretty much complete opposites of each other.
12. Creepers and Doc Martens are my favorite types of shoes everrr.
13. I really dislike the police and police brutality.
14. I was born across the street from Disneyland :D
15. My biggest passion is photography, I want to have a career in it.
16. Going to shows (for me) is the greatest thing
17. I love to make kandi and wear it! (google it!)
18. I go to Comic Con every year!
19. I draw a lot, earlier this year I drew 24/7.. I think I need to start again.
20. The cold is my favorite type of weather!
21. Im addicted to patches! (the kind you sew, clearly.)
22. I like to alter things if I don't like them that much and make them appealing to myself.
23. English/"language arts" is my favorite subject.
24. I try to give and give back as much as I possibly can, but I sometimes fail
25. I DESPISE (serious) homophobia, sexism and racism. (I could care less about the jokes.)
26. I live to make people smile
27. I make weirdo photoshop things of random things.
28. I ALWAYS squeal/yell 'KAWAII!!' when I see something cute.
29. I make up lots and lots of nicknames for everyone!
30. I ADORE mini/chibi things!

P.S. That dude in the photos is my best friend, Parker and the guy in the background is my friend, Aaron. :3