As the year is coming to an end, it only made sense for our IT teacher to make a project for us to show what we have learned. Our only criteria was that it had to be something that we were interested in, and it had to be something social for other people to check [...]
On January sixth, our grade 9 class will being taking a trip across the border to Seattle Washington. On this trip we’ll be taking a tour of the Boeing Factory, The Science Fiction museum and going to the Space Needle.
The Boeing Factory is where the Boeing planes are made, and that is what we will be seeing. From the reviews I’ve read, this tour is really informative and captivating. There haven’t been any complaints about the Guides or the organization of the tour, ever raves. I’m really looking forward to this tour, almost as much as the Sci-Fi museum.
The Sci-Fi and music Museum is not only the only place of the three planned excursions that I have been to, but it is also the one that I am most looking forward too. I love both music and Science Fiction so of course it would be on the top of my list.
The last place we are going to is the Space Needle. I’m not quite sure why we are going to this one, but none the less, I’m looking forward to it. I was going to go here last year, but me and my dad weren’t able to fit it into our trip.
Over all, I’m really looking forward to this trip, and to go on it with my friends it will be ever better.
This week in IT, we were talking about our digital tatoo and how it can effect your life. As an assignment, me and two of my friends were to make a Comic life, show one thing that could happen to you depending on how you decided to display yourself on the internet.
It’s been three months. Three months since I’ve seen my family, three months since I’ve seen my friends, three months since I ran away. Things weren’t going too well at home, my dad was a violent drunk that made next to no money for our family, and my mom, bless her, had to live with it, while struggling to support my younger brother and sister. I miss them. I miss them almost more than I can bear. I would have left so much earlier if it weren’t for them, my mother and my siblings truly were the reason why I’m still alive. Why I ran from them, instead of running from life.
I remember the night I left. It was a warm night, no rain, no clouds. I came home from my job in the market, excited for a bit of dinner and a good sleep, dreading seeing him, the drunk. I walked in, and stood in the door holding my breath while I waited for the screams. I was relieved when I heard nothing. For a minute I let myself believe that maybe, maybe he was sober. Maybe he was asleep and I wouldn’t see him today. Maybe he was sober, and we were going to have a nice family dinner. The possibilities that ran through my head were endless, and also completely hopeless, and yet I still ran into our kitchen, waiting for one of the scenarios in my head to come true. They didn’t.
As I entered the room, the first thing I saw was him. My father. My idiotic, drunk, no good, useless father; sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, looking at her. Looking at my beautiful, poised, confident mother, who was lying on the cold tile floors, knocked out with new bruises covering her arms. I looked back at my father, who still hadn’t noticed my arrival, and ii found something. A feeling that I had never felt before, especially not towards a family member, I felt a burning hatred swelling within me. I wanted nothing more than to take that bottle in his hand, and smash it over his head. I wanted that man, I wanted that man that I once respected and loved, to be out of my sight. For good. But I couldn’t. If I were to kill him at the moment, they would blame me. They would blame me for beating my mother, and murdering him, and I couldn’t do that to my siblings. They would need me in the time to come, and if I were not here, who would protect them? No, I couldn’t kill, but I still had to get away from this place. I needed to run.
I exited the kitchen, before the man that was once my father would notice my presence, and went to my little brother and sister’s room. Before I woke them, I watched. I wanted to remember them this way, peaceful and at ease; not knowing what was happening as they rested, not knowing the terror that they would have to face when they awoke. They looked beautiful. What I did next broke my heart, but I knew I had to do it.
I gently woke them up, being careful that I didn’t surprise them with my shaking hands. I didn’t want them to be afraid. I recall the look on their faces, the joy of seeing their big brother before they went to school tomorrow. It almost made me not want to leave. I had to tell them the truth about here I was going, even though I had no clue myself. “Elise, Eric.” I remember saying, “I’m leaving.” Those two words that just came out of me, were easily the hardest I have ever have to get out in my life, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it stays like that for the years to come.
They may just be kids, but already they have grown up so much. My little brother and sister, who are both younger than 10, already understand that this family, or the remains of it, is dysfunctional and unhealthy. They understand that this choice I have made, it’s not one that I wanted to make, but one that I need to make. They know that it wasn’t their fault; it was their fathers.
I didn’t have to say anything other than those two words. In those words, there was nothing left unsaid and unheard; there was a silent message that only us three could decode and understand. They heard the love and the tenderness towards them and my mother, they heard the hatred towards my father, they heard the longing for a loving and caring family, and they heard everything. Everything I have ever felt towards our family and our life, they knew of in only those two words.
We spent the next ten minutes holding each other, crying silent tears, knowing that if we made any noise what so ever, the brutal man in the kitchen would walk in, knowing that we knew.
The time came where I had to leave. I hugged my siblings, not knowing when I would get to see them again, and walked out the door with a promise to write. Before I exited the house though, I walked into the kitchen, still seeing my mother passed out on the floor, but this time seeing the man I once knew, asleep on the counter. Without even thinking, I took two long strides towards him. I pulled his head up by his hair, jerking him awake, and I whispered in his ear.
“If you hurt anyone in this house ever again, I will come after you. That’s a promise.” And I left, once and for all.
I went back to my childhood home yesterday, and I saw my mother and sister in the window, laughing and singing while making dinner. There was a BMX bike in the alley next to us, and I could only assume that it was Eric’s. The thought put a smile on my face. At least they were able to still have happy moments in life, even living with the jerk they call “Dad”. As I turned to leave, I saw the old lady that lived next to us for my entire life, looking up at the window with me.
“He’s gone you know.” She said, not averting her eyes from the window to look at me, even though I plainly stared at her. “She kicked him out, the week after you left. I believe she did it with the hope that you would some back.”
This alarmed me for two reasons, the first being that this women that I have said a total of 3 words to in my life at the most, actually knew who I was, the second being that my mother was able to get rid of the guy. She was always cared so much for others, not wanting to be the bad guy in the situation, with is why, I believe, that she didn’t leave him.
“You should go in.” The old lady said. I realized now, that I don’t even know her name.
This idea, the idea of walking into that house, and calling it my home again, hugging my little brother and sister, seeing my mother eye to eye again was tempting. I could picture us, a family. A proper, loving, caring family. It was so close, and yet so far away. It has been 3 months, and I have changed more than I am willing to admit. I have lived so long with the idea that I have no family, that the idea of having one, was the only thing that kept me here, on this planet. I’m afraid that going back to this family, will ruin me and I will have to go through the pain of leaving them all over again. And I just can’t go through that again, and I most certainly don’t want to put them through it again.
“I love them. And for that reason I’m not going to.” I said, planning for it to be my final statement towards her, as I turned around starting to walk away from the house that I once called “Home”.
“Is there anything you want me to say to them?” She said, making me turn back to look her in the eye.
“A poetry slam is a competition at which poets read or recite original work. These performances are then judged on a numeric scale by previously selected members of the audience.” -
As of today, I will be attending my first Poetry Slam, and to say the least, I am excited. No, I have never been a huge poetry fan, but I love to hear what other people have written, and to have the chance to give them feedback would be incredible.
Here is a video of America’s national poetry slam of this year, held in New York.
Today I went to visit many different blogs, but I think my favorite was Olivia’s from Canada. I really liked her blog because, well, she wrote about Harry Potter. But I also found that her posts were really well thought out and written really well. She had this awesome post about J.K. Rowling that I found really informative and interesting. I loved learning how JKR chose the name “Potter”.
Hey there! My name is Alana, I'm 14 years old and live in BC, Canada. I have declared myself as a Nerdfighter, Unicorn Warrior, and, of course, a Potterhead. So if you didn't already guess, I am a nerd (and proud!). I love to listen to music, read, write, and hang out with friends, I also like to play some sports, like golf, soccer, and wake boarding.
This blog as been created for my DI (Digital Immersion) program at my high school, and the majority of my posts will be assignments about school, but I will have recreational posts too.