Welcome back from Thanksgiving Break. I hope you ate well, traveled safely and took a lot of naps :) We have only a few weeks left before Winter Break. So, here are the eleven writers for the month of November. Please read ALL submissions and leave comments for at least five. Remember to write helpful and thoughtful comments on the pieces. Don't forget to state what you enjoyed and why you are leaving a comment. Your comments are due by Wednesday, December 7.
Writers,
Thank you for your work. Watch the blog and the comments that appear on your page. Respond to three of your peers' comments AND leave comments on two of the November pieces. Your comments are due until Friday, December 9.
I know we have a lot of work these next two weeks with research and deadlines. Take the time to relax and enjoy the creative writing side of our class.
Feed Your Soul,
Mrs. Solano xoxo
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Birds of A Feather--Nick A.
"The police are on their way, for
now just stay calm and stay somewhere safe."
3 minutes. 3 minutes is the average
time it takes for a police officer to get to his destination, 4 if he's taking
his time. I've never realized up until now, with my face pressed up against the
sliding closet door, how untidy I've been keeping this small private area. The
clothes I put inside the closet are clean and ready to be worn at all times no
doubt about that; I can't keep my personal appearance looking disheveled over a
small crease in the cuff but this is a different matter altogether. There's a
big possibility that no one besides myself will ever be in such a precarious
position where their feet is skewed across the floor trying not to step on any
scattered objects usually found on one's closet and I must let it be known that
this must be the least enjoyable moment
of my life so far. Of all the houses that surround mine, of all the different
lives they contain that either dwarf or far exceed my own who most likely even
though there must be a slight chance they can relate to my current predicament,
why must my life be bothered with the notion of my house being the one broken
into? I guess I can put this under the random category that I must admit most
events that transpire in my life fall under. Everything up until now has been
seemingly by chance so why would this one be any different? Who knows what
category of events the robber currently invading my home must of went through
to end him, or her, because life is unisex, up in this unseemly profession;
what did they do different compared to my own life that led them here? To me?
Ok so key word that pops into my mind when the question arises of , "How
do I think of myself?" Which is always the same, is average. I lived the
entirety of my life as I can assume many others before me have done as well.
Elementary I was considered gifted, I read books a little better then the other
kids and what does that get you? A pat on the back, one more sticker on your
binder, and if you're lucky, another plus on that "A" that by now you
were accustomed to seeing. Middle school can only be labeled as the same thing
but with a new coat of paint but that certain paint has a certain peculiar
name, puberty. Its gross, it was unnatural, well not really but you get the
point, and it was timed so perfectly as the time where you just start learning
about what it means to be an actual person besides just a kid who blows morals
and thought to the wind. I don’t want to talk about it, bad times. Now high
school, high school changes it up on you. Now you're introduced to kids who,
believe or not, are as a smart as you. It's a weird concept you know? Why did
no one tell me I wasn't the center of the world? Don't get me started on the
people who just so happened to be smarter then you, because rest assured you
don’t want to be reminded of them either. So you're doing this whole school
thing fairly alright you're not the top in the class but cmon there is like 30
people in this class what did you expect? You've already come to the conclusion
you won't be the best at this whole scheme called life so why not just settle?
You're grades are continuing to be a sort of oblique shadow of what they used
to be but cmon its high school things are supposed to be harder. Well, they
aren't really, you still get things fairly well but the ambition isn't there.
You just kind of, lay there at your home, doing what would be considered to
many as nothing? Why? If I knew I probably wouldn't of done it but I did and
that’s how my life was and continues to be. To be keep waiting on that one day
where suddenly I would get it and life started to work again rather then skip
like your grandmother's old record player that would skip fairly often but you
wouldn't try to fix due to the fear of somehow making it worse. Yet my life is,
indeed, not a old record player I can fairly assume that but for some reason I
never tried to fix it. It wasn't a good cycle in any case. Repetition, at least
for me, started turning into a sort of preview of what my life was going to be.
Life started to appear to me as a sort of check list that you had to complete
and sadly finish every single day without fail. These weren't choices I was
making out of enjoyment or passion but ones of indifference and boredom.
Whoever designed this whole concept of mortality never had the thought that
once you start this process you can never stop. Life never pauses and that
didn't truly appeal to me and now, with my body displaced in my bedroom's closet
listening to the burglar who most likely lived the same life as me yet chose to
explore their options possibly with minute differences then my own get
progressivly closer to my impromptu hiding place did I start to wonder if this
cycle should continue. The door gives way to blinding light shined in my face.
Oh.
Well that’s disappointing.
Room 2302--Blessing
It was a Friday night, October 17,
2014 the night of Etiwanda’s Homecoming Game. I remember every detail. I
remember seeing him at the bottom of the bleachers laughing and making faces at
me. I remember walking past him and squeezing his shoulder to let him know I
was there. I wish I had taken a moment to fully capture his face because it
would be the last time I’d ever see it that way.
Exhausted from my band performance,
I went home and I immediately went to sleep. I went to bed not knowing that in
a couple hours, my life was going to change forever.
While I was asleep, my mother had
woken me up and said, “Jordan got in a car accident. Everything is going to be
fine. Just go back to bed.” I was so tired that I thought this was a dream. I
wish it had been.
As soon as I woke up the next
morning, I realized everything my mother said was real. We went to the hospital
and I asked to see him, but my aunt wouldn’t let me. In fact, no one would. I
remember being so upset and wondering why they weren’t allowing me to see my
own cousin, but when I ignored everyone and entered into room 2302, I understood
why. The next thing I remember was my vision going blurry and my body going completely
numb as I collapsed into my mother’s arms. Seeing him lie there, unconscious,
limp, covered in blood and surrounded by tubes will never escape my memory. His
face and body were completely swollen. He was unrecognizable. I told myself
there was no way that was my cousin. There was no way that my best friend was
in a hospital’s ICU and was in a coma. That’s not him. It can’t be.
But it was. And it felt like being
punched in the stomach over and over and over again. I remember forgetting how
to breathe as I sobbed uncontrollably, tears rolling down my face.
The next couple of days were the
hardest days of my life. I only left the hospital at night to go home and sleep,
but first thing in the morning, I would wake up and go back to him. I never
wanted to leave his side. I remember singing to him and telling him about my
day. I remember falling asleep while holding his hand. I remember waiting every single day for him
to wake up so I could see his smile and hear his laugh and feel his tight hugs.
I remember everyone’s smiles when the doctors told us he was improving.
Then they told us he wasn’t. They
told us his brain activity was at one percent. They told us he didn’t have a
gag reflex. They told us his kidneys and his liver weren’t functioning the way
they should. They told us all the things that were going wrong with him, all
the things we didn’t want to hear. They told us he wasn’t going to make it.
They told us we only had so much time left with him. They told us they could no
longer keep him on life support and the only thing keeping him alive was the
oxygen they were pumping into him. They told us they would slowly decrease the
amount of oxygen they were giving him. Then they told us they would give us
time to say our goodbyes. Goodbyes? Why were we saying goodbye if he was just
showing signs of improvement? Why was everything in his body failing?
My entire family filled up the room
that Sunday on October 26, 2014. I had never seen so much pain in the eyes of
the most important people in my life. I will never forget the regret and agony
in my cousin’s eyes as he held on to his little brother’s lifeless body or the
look on my aunt and uncle’s faces as they said goodbye to their youngest son of
16 years old. I gave him a kiss on the cheek only to feel that it had grown
cold. He was gone. Just like that, I lost my best friend in room 2302.
The Lesson--Tiffaney
I'd say I've endured many eye opening experiences throughout my eighteen years of life. While
many of these experiences have been incredibly beautiful, bringing laughter and tears of joy to
my eyes, others have left me in great heartache, fear, and pain. Through each and every one of
these moments I've been enlightened with a very important lesson about life. Since the
beginnings of my entire existence I've been learning these valuable life lessons. I even get to
teach a few; to my younger siblings. Lessons such as “stealing is wrong”, “be patient” and “try
ketchup on your fries, because everyone likes ketchup, and if you don't try it, you'll never know if
you like it”. Yes, my little brother is terrified putting ketchup on anything. I too have been taught
these important life lessons, and I am hoping you have as well.
I've taken notice that once we learn a lesson, we usually don't need to re-learn it, because once
the second time comes around, you know better than you did before. Once a child learns that
stealing is wrong, more often than not, they will always know that stealing is wrong; however,
these morals don’t always stop children from stealing. Let's admit, we've all been that kid at the
grocery store that thought taking this one Kit Kat bar, this one and only time couldn't hurt
anybody. In conclusion, we humans seem know right from wrong, the correct paths to take in
life, yet almost unconsciously take a different route.
I'd like to share a very important lesson that I've learned throughout multiple experiences in my
life. Perhaps it's one of the most valuable lessons I've ever been taught; however, much like the
kid and with the Kit Kat bar, I've ignored and neglected this lesson every day of my life thus far.
To save you from any further suspense, the lesson is, “live each day as if it were your last,
because tomorrow is not guaranteed”. I know, what a cliché. You were probably expecting
something much more profound; however, honestly, it couldn't be more true. I've learned this
lesson through watching countless life-threatening catastrophes on T.V. I've learned this lesson
by witnessing multiple family members of mine pass away much too soon. Family whom I was
convinced would be present for the rest of my life, or at least a majority of it. With memories to
be made and words left unspoken, I am extremely regretful for not spending my last moments
with those people like they were our last. I do not truly know what my last day would look like, I
couldn't create such a day if I tried. Yet I do know, that on my last day, I would want those
unspoken words to be spoken and those memories to be made with my loved ones. I would
want to have accomplished all my dreams, be left with no worries, and to live in the present
moment.
Still, I sit here with the mindset that I always have tomorrow, as if it were promised. I willingly
give a checklist of my life goals to a tomorrow that I may not live to see.
I continue to only hope, that once my final day has approached, I will have broken this habit of
stealing Kit Kat bars.
many of these experiences have been incredibly beautiful, bringing laughter and tears of joy to
my eyes, others have left me in great heartache, fear, and pain. Through each and every one of
these moments I've been enlightened with a very important lesson about life. Since the
beginnings of my entire existence I've been learning these valuable life lessons. I even get to
teach a few; to my younger siblings. Lessons such as “stealing is wrong”, “be patient” and “try
ketchup on your fries, because everyone likes ketchup, and if you don't try it, you'll never know if
you like it”. Yes, my little brother is terrified putting ketchup on anything. I too have been taught
these important life lessons, and I am hoping you have as well.
I've taken notice that once we learn a lesson, we usually don't need to re-learn it, because once
the second time comes around, you know better than you did before. Once a child learns that
stealing is wrong, more often than not, they will always know that stealing is wrong; however,
these morals don’t always stop children from stealing. Let's admit, we've all been that kid at the
grocery store that thought taking this one Kit Kat bar, this one and only time couldn't hurt
anybody. In conclusion, we humans seem know right from wrong, the correct paths to take in
life, yet almost unconsciously take a different route.
I'd like to share a very important lesson that I've learned throughout multiple experiences in my
life. Perhaps it's one of the most valuable lessons I've ever been taught; however, much like the
kid and with the Kit Kat bar, I've ignored and neglected this lesson every day of my life thus far.
To save you from any further suspense, the lesson is, “live each day as if it were your last,
because tomorrow is not guaranteed”. I know, what a cliché. You were probably expecting
something much more profound; however, honestly, it couldn't be more true. I've learned this
lesson through watching countless life-threatening catastrophes on T.V. I've learned this lesson
by witnessing multiple family members of mine pass away much too soon. Family whom I was
convinced would be present for the rest of my life, or at least a majority of it. With memories to
be made and words left unspoken, I am extremely regretful for not spending my last moments
with those people like they were our last. I do not truly know what my last day would look like, I
couldn't create such a day if I tried. Yet I do know, that on my last day, I would want those
unspoken words to be spoken and those memories to be made with my loved ones. I would
want to have accomplished all my dreams, be left with no worries, and to live in the present
moment.
Still, I sit here with the mindset that I always have tomorrow, as if it were promised. I willingly
give a checklist of my life goals to a tomorrow that I may not live to see.
I continue to only hope, that once my final day has approached, I will have broken this habit of
stealing Kit Kat bars.
BIG Sister--Kamryn
Growing up, I was a very spoiled kid but I wasn’t the only child. I had two other brothers and a
sister from my father, but we were all spread apart and we didn't see each other often. With my
mom, that was a completely different story because I was her first and only child at the time.Like
I said before I was very spoiled and I got everything I needed and wanted. I went any and
everywhere with friends and other relatives as much as I wanted too. Every time I will go out,
my mom would buy me a new outfit and she still does to this day. Life was great for those first
10 years or so, but a lot of times it would get lonely.Being the only child has its perks but the
Bitcoin was that you had no one to play with or talk to you. I enjoyed going to school because I
had a lot of friends who I could play with at recess and daycare and I was never lonely. It was
only when I got home and I'd have to play by myself in my room and sometimes talk to myself.
Then one day it hit me and I realized I needed a brother or sister. So I prayed to God and begged
my parents for a little one and 9 months later, my little sister Dallas came. Like everyone else, I
was so excited that I was a big sister. I was ready to change diapers, make bottles, the whole
nine, I was ready to go and do my big sister duties. It was fun having another kid in the house,
but as we got older, she started to be annoying like any other younger sibling. Sometimes I
would think to myself that I should have been more specific when I prayed for a sibling. She
would always follow me and talk to me about nothing all day and night. She always asked to
sleep in my bed or watch my TV. If I tried to leave, she tried to leave right along with me and
when she couldn’t come, she would cry. When she got older and really began to talk, that’s when
I started to REALLY get in trouble. She would tell my mom everything I said and did, even
when I bribed her. It’s five years later I thought it was going to be Dallas and I until I go off to
college and one day my mom tells me she’s pregnant again with my little brother! I was excited
but then I knew I was going to be the permanent babysitter and never leaving the nest. I thought
Dallas was bad but my brother Kaden has her beat and like any 1 year old, he gets into
everything he can reach or get his hands on, especially when he climbs and jumps on the
furniture. Even though, they both may get on my last nerve from time to time, I love them dearly
and wouldn’t let anyone or anything happen to them.
sister from my father, but we were all spread apart and we didn't see each other often. With my
mom, that was a completely different story because I was her first and only child at the time.Like
I said before I was very spoiled and I got everything I needed and wanted. I went any and
everywhere with friends and other relatives as much as I wanted too. Every time I will go out,
my mom would buy me a new outfit and she still does to this day. Life was great for those first
10 years or so, but a lot of times it would get lonely.Being the only child has its perks but the
Bitcoin was that you had no one to play with or talk to you. I enjoyed going to school because I
had a lot of friends who I could play with at recess and daycare and I was never lonely. It was
only when I got home and I'd have to play by myself in my room and sometimes talk to myself.
Then one day it hit me and I realized I needed a brother or sister. So I prayed to God and begged
my parents for a little one and 9 months later, my little sister Dallas came. Like everyone else, I
was so excited that I was a big sister. I was ready to change diapers, make bottles, the whole
nine, I was ready to go and do my big sister duties. It was fun having another kid in the house,
but as we got older, she started to be annoying like any other younger sibling. Sometimes I
would think to myself that I should have been more specific when I prayed for a sibling. She
would always follow me and talk to me about nothing all day and night. She always asked to
sleep in my bed or watch my TV. If I tried to leave, she tried to leave right along with me and
when she couldn’t come, she would cry. When she got older and really began to talk, that’s when
I started to REALLY get in trouble. She would tell my mom everything I said and did, even
when I bribed her. It’s five years later I thought it was going to be Dallas and I until I go off to
college and one day my mom tells me she’s pregnant again with my little brother! I was excited
but then I knew I was going to be the permanent babysitter and never leaving the nest. I thought
Dallas was bad but my brother Kaden has her beat and like any 1 year old, he gets into
everything he can reach or get his hands on, especially when he climbs and jumps on the
furniture. Even though, they both may get on my last nerve from time to time, I love them dearly
and wouldn’t let anyone or anything happen to them.
Defying the Box--Jeyovana
The box is a confined space that lacks or has limited creativity and lacks enough space
for the free flowing of ideas. Creativity is the flow of ideas that exists outside the norms. It can
come in several different and unique forms that might only be clear to the owner of that idea of
creativity. Creativity is open to different interpretations of what it truly is and the various levels
of it. I look at certain art forms and situations and based them off my expectation of what is
considered to be the box. I look for things and solutions that are outside the box in order to come
up with unique situations that might give insight to the situations.
This box traps many individuals and prevents the flow of ideas. My creativity is not
limited to the box, however, because I am an out of the box type of thinker. For instance, during
orientation there was a station that me and my team had to solve a series of puzzles in order to
move on to the next station. At first, no one could solve the puzzles cause they kept doing the
same thing and were expecting different results. Instead of jumping straight into it after my first
attempt, I stepped back and analyze the various different ways I took approach this problem.
While everyone was focused on the inner part and working outwards, I decided to look at it from
a different angle and started to work from the outer parts and work my way inwards.
This method turned out to be the correct one and helped to solve the puzzle. My unique
problem solving skills shows that creativity does exist at different level because me looking at
the puzzle from a different perspective that was different than others resulted in the completion
of the puzzle. The box consist of those who think that creativity is the only limited to art related
forms. Creativity is anything that exists beyond the limits of this box. The elements that exist outside the limits of the box are endless because I know that if I remained trap in it I cannot
express my ideas fully. I would be limited to only the ideas that me and the rest of the world
thought of and there would be not originality. Exploring ideas outside society’s norms allow me
to constantly see the world through different lens.
“The Box” is a trap that hold ideas hostage and does not want the creativity to penetrate
it. Creativity stimulates the imagination and imagination is vital to sustaining my control within
the world. Without creativity and imagination, life becomes nothing but constant repetition. The
Box lacks the ability to sustain an environment affluent of ideas and it contains the societal
normal way of living. The normal way of living is to not question anything and to repeat the
same actions and practice the same methods over and over again. These limits need to be broken
in order to create something that is out of the ordinary and once the limits are broken the
creativity is able to prosper.
for the free flowing of ideas. Creativity is the flow of ideas that exists outside the norms. It can
come in several different and unique forms that might only be clear to the owner of that idea of
creativity. Creativity is open to different interpretations of what it truly is and the various levels
of it. I look at certain art forms and situations and based them off my expectation of what is
considered to be the box. I look for things and solutions that are outside the box in order to come
up with unique situations that might give insight to the situations.
This box traps many individuals and prevents the flow of ideas. My creativity is not
limited to the box, however, because I am an out of the box type of thinker. For instance, during
orientation there was a station that me and my team had to solve a series of puzzles in order to
move on to the next station. At first, no one could solve the puzzles cause they kept doing the
same thing and were expecting different results. Instead of jumping straight into it after my first
attempt, I stepped back and analyze the various different ways I took approach this problem.
While everyone was focused on the inner part and working outwards, I decided to look at it from
a different angle and started to work from the outer parts and work my way inwards.
This method turned out to be the correct one and helped to solve the puzzle. My unique
problem solving skills shows that creativity does exist at different level because me looking at
the puzzle from a different perspective that was different than others resulted in the completion
of the puzzle. The box consist of those who think that creativity is the only limited to art related
forms. Creativity is anything that exists beyond the limits of this box. The elements that exist outside the limits of the box are endless because I know that if I remained trap in it I cannot
express my ideas fully. I would be limited to only the ideas that me and the rest of the world
thought of and there would be not originality. Exploring ideas outside society’s norms allow me
to constantly see the world through different lens.
“The Box” is a trap that hold ideas hostage and does not want the creativity to penetrate
it. Creativity stimulates the imagination and imagination is vital to sustaining my control within
the world. Without creativity and imagination, life becomes nothing but constant repetition. The
Box lacks the ability to sustain an environment affluent of ideas and it contains the societal
normal way of living. The normal way of living is to not question anything and to repeat the
same actions and practice the same methods over and over again. These limits need to be broken
in order to create something that is out of the ordinary and once the limits are broken the
creativity is able to prosper.
Beignets--Diamond
Beignets
(pronounced ben-YAY!) are a traditional,
fried pastry dessert from New Orleans, Louisiana. They are typically called the
“Louisiana
doughnut” and are pretty much a doughnut’s fancy cousin. This hot, powdered
sugar-covered fritter is cut into whatever shape you want, then fried to a
golden crisp and you can add as much powdered sugar as your heart desires on
top! I remember my first taste of a beignets during the summer of 2011 when I
went to Louisiana with my mom. We stopped by a store called Cafdu Monde who sold ONLY beignets! (Well…and coffee.) My mom and I
spent a good 5 minutes arguing how it was pronounced and of course I was wrong…
but when the we opened the bag of beignets, I did a happy dance and stuffed my
face with more than half the bag. When we got home, I told my mom I wanted to
learn how to make them and although they didn’t turn out exactly like the ones
at Cafdu Monde, they were still like heaven in your mouth:) I have made
the every year at Christmastime since then and my family loves them! This is my
own modified recipe that I use every year and I hope you love them as much as I
do!
Ingredients:
Directions:
First you must prepare the dough and it
takes time so be patient. In a large bowl mix the lukewarm water, sugar, and
yeast and let it sit for 10 minutes.
In another medium bowl, beat the evaporated
milk, eggs, and granulated sugar until it is a light yellow, slightly frothy
mixture.
Then, combine both the yeast mixture and
milk mixture (It will look lumpy and weird, but thats normal I promise)
In a separate bowl (sorry lots of bowls),
add ONLY 3 of the 7 cups of bread flour to the lumpy yeast mixture until its
fully combined. Add the 1/4 cup of shortening and stir that together BEFORE
adding the remaining 4 cups of bread flour. This will allow the dough to become
doughy and it will help when they fry later. Otherwise they can turn out a hard
fried rock.
By now it should look like dough and you
are going to put the entire mixture onto a surface (like a counter or board)
that is lightly covered in flour, so that the dough does’t stick.
How to Produce a Yearbook--Jade
As
my teacher has said for the past four years I’ve been in yearbook, “Making a
yearbook is like having a baby. The first couple of months are calm, then we
start to get a little uncomfortable, then we literally want nothing to do with
each other for the last week before deadline until we submit our book to the
publishing company (or give birth, to go along with the analogy) where it stays
hidden for months, because that’s your baby and you want to spend time with
your beautiful baby (book) then, when the time is right, you share your baby to
the public and there is no way you’d want someone to tell you your baby is
ugly, no way.” There is about 3,600 people who all want to be covered in the
yearbook. And, we only have nine months to finish it all. What does it take to
finish a yearbook? Here’s where I come in, the process is the same each year.
1. Recruit a staff: Send out applications
and schedule interview times.
2. Find a theme: the theme should reflect
this year, this school, and these people. A theme should convey the message of
the entire year. It should not be the cliché, “Where?” because that can be used
for any school. No, the theme is a universal idea portrayed through the entire
book which relates to Etiwanda and Etiwanda only.
3. Hold a yearbook staff meeting: Meet
with the staff, get them on board with the theme idea and let them share their
ideas, you never know what they could come up with!
4. Create a style guide: Set up external
margins, choose fonts for headlines, stories and captions. Find design elements
that visually portray the theme of your book.
5. Go to yearbook camp: Get ready to wake
up at 6:00a.m. for three long days of non-stop computer staring. During this
time, you will see a professional graphic designer who will make your book’s
cover “come to life.” Then, you will learn the basics of simple design; the
pica, eye-line, white space, the correct placements of photos and captions, the
feeling of complete and utter disappointment that comes at the mere glance of
trapped text (the horror). Camp is always fun. despite the long hours on the
computer, you make so many memories with the other editors and become closer
friends.
6. Summer: Meet with potential
photographers, assign summer photo-ops such as senior jobs, summer practices
and vacations. Keep in contact with them all and make sure they are getting to
where they were assigned to.
7. The first day of school: Photographers
should carry their cameras around with them the whole day to get pictures of
first day activities. Have a fun icebreaker activity to do with the staff to
get know each other (fun, right?)
8. The first six weeks: Training,
training, training. Teach the staff to write yearbook captions and stories
properly. Teach them how to choose worthy photos and interview students to get
“storytelling quotes.” This means no: “Homecoming was fun with my friends,”
quote. Staff must know to ask follow-up questions to get a better, more
interesting quote.
9. Group spreads: Pair up new members with
returning ones to complete the first six spreads of the book.
10. Assign the next deadline: Members will
each have their own individual spreads to complete!
11. Modules: Because the portrait section of
the book is a little boring, we use
“modules” to spice them up. Modules are like sidebars that add more coverage in
the book. They are creative secondary coverage packages that add more to the
portrait section of the book. The staff with break into a committee who will
only work on modules until they are done, then they are assigned spreads.
12. The clubs section: Schedule club photos,
which is super duper hard because clubs can sometimes be hard to communicate
with. Design the clubs section, and take the club photos. Then, after the
photos are taken, get a computer and turn your head extremely uncomfortably to
the side so you are able to read sideways to name every. single. person. in.
every. single. photo.
13. The index: The index is the same way, but
with sports (the last section of the book!)
14. Submit your book to print: One of the
best parts of being in yearbook. We come into school one day after all our hard
work and press the publish button. The way the progress page is all blue on
StudioWorks and the “fireworks” that we get once we press the publish button. I
use the word “fireworks” very loosely. It’s okay though it’s still a great
feeling to publish the production you’ve spent so much time on.
15. Sales: Create a sales plan, unsold
yearbooks are very bad because it’s a lot of money lost. We must sell out!
16. The distribution party: Make a committee
that will work together on set up, decorations and contacting food truck
vendors for the distribution party. And the best part, when the day comes, you
get to see the happy, smiling faces on all the students’ faces as they flip
through the book you created!
How to Make Spam Musubi like a Local--Cassandra
What
do you think of when you read the words “spam sushi”? Does is have a layer of
rice and spam wrapped together by a piece of seaweed? If so, that exact image
is known as the delicious snack of spam musubi. For those who have been
deprived of this delectable treat, spam musubi is a Hawaiian favorite which
dates back to the creation of internment camps after the bombing of Pearl
Harbor. People in the camps fashioned a slice of spam upon a piece of rice and
thus spam musubi was born. Personally, spam musubi traces back to my childhood.
My mother, who lived in Hawaii for a majority of her life, would prepare spam
musubi for my sister and I to enjoy when we arrived home after a long school
day. Through careful observation and personal practice, I have mastered the art
of musubi making which I will now share.
Ingredients:
- 1 can of Spam
- makes around 7 pieces depending on size of slice
- 3 cups of freshly cooked rice
- the stickier the rice, the easier the seaweed sticks on
- A pack of nori seaweed
- aka sushi nori; can be found at most markets although it is usually cheaper at Asian markets
- Furikake rice seasoning
- optional; can also be found at Asian markets
Tools:
- Musubi mold
- if you don't have access to a musubi mold, empty spam can and carefully cut off bottom of the can with a can opener and trim off any sharp edges
- Spoon if no access to musubi mold
- Bowl of water
- Can be any temperature
- This will be used to hold musubi mold to prevent the rice from sticking to it
Steps:
- Prepare all items: musubi mold in bowl of water, all items in an easily accessible area, make sure rice is cooked, make sure spam is fried (optional)
- Cut long slices of spam in the direction which keeps the shape of the spam to desired thickness. Also, cut the pieces of seaweed in half.
- Place a piece of the cut seaweed down. Next, wet the insides of the musubi mold then place it on top of the seaweed.
- Fill the musubi mold with around 3 centimeters of rice. Make sure all of the seaweed is covered. Once the rice is placed, press down wet musubi mold and squish the rice down so it is no longer puffy. If you are using the makeshift musubi mold, use wet spoon to press the rice down. Remove the item used to compress rice from the musubi mold.
- Sprinkle a desired amount of Furikake on the layer of compressed rice. (Too much may make it too salty and too little may leave it bland. I personally cover all visible rice with the seasoning.)
- Place one piece of spam on new layer of Furikake and repeat step 4.
- Once everything is pressed down and assembled, remove musubi mold and wrap the underlying piece of seaweed around the rice.
- Repeat steps 1-7 and enjoy!
Tip:
- If you want to wrap it to enjoy later, use plastic wrap and refrigerate if it is not being consumed within an hour or so.
- Instead of spam, try another ingredient! Fish and baked chicken musubi are also very delicious although I would not recommend adding Furikake with the chicken.
Although
it may seem like a lot of work, making spam musubi is really simple! It does take
some time but the finish results are worth it. Continuous musubi making will
improve your skills and fill your tummy with delicious food. I really hope
everyone gets a chance to enjoy one of the GREATEST Hawaiian snacks!
Figment of Her Imagination--Emma
She sat waiting in anticipation just to
experience this day. All she had gone through while she was alone, would be
forgotten when her eyes would rest upon his face. Eighteen months ago, her
husband was deployed across seas to fight a war facing the chances of never
making it back alive. In such a short span of eighteen months he missed a
lifetime of first occurrences back home. He missed his wife giving birth to a
little girl, he missed his little girl's first Christmas, Thanksgiving,
Halloween and a birthday, all filled with her toothless smiles he had yet to
witness. Today however, a family would be reunited and introductions would
occur. She awoke with glee and ache to see her husband, calmly getting dressed
in her best outfit, fit for such a glorious occasion, while dressing her
daughter as well. After months of only seeing pictures and trying to recall his
voice while reading his letters, which took months to receive, her hungry touch
for him would be satisfied. The feel of his stubble brushing against her cheek,
his fingers brushing the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her auburn
hair as they learned in to kiss one another were only images swelling in her
head as she drove along the highway. Upon arriving to the base, she was shaking
from the anticipation of what was to come. She waited along with other
families, who waited for their family member’s heads to poke out around the
corner. One after another, men and women appeared but none seemed familiar to
her eyes. The anticipation started to grow into dread as the line started to
dwindle and all hope she had, slowly started to escape her body. As one tear
stray down her cheek she saw him, one of the lasts. Body frozen, except for the
shaking of her hands, he appeared at her side in seconds, taking in her body as
fast as he could, grasping his child with tears streaming down his face. A
family not only reunited, but together for the first time. They encompassed
their child holding on to one another like they could drift apart at any
moment. He looked at her, as if considering her soul. He brushed the back of
her neck, allowing his stubble to brush her cheek, and in eighteen months
kissed her with a fiery passion. It was the best thing she had experienced, the
kiss was magical, almost too magical. Her feelings felt almost dreamlike, too
perfect for reality. As she opened her eyes from the unimaginable kiss,
blackness encompassed her. It seemed like this was routine to her. She would
fall into a deep slumber only to dream such fantastic dreams of being reunited
with her deceased husband finally introducing their only daughter to her
father. All she experienced were dreams, a figment of her imagination. Three
months these horrid dreams plagued her mind, three months since she last saw
him being placed in his coffin.
Unthoughtful Words--Silia
I didn’t mean it. I was angry. The words flew out of my mouth before I had the chance to
think about the damage my words would cause. It wasn’t until it was too late that I
realized what I have done. I hurt her and little did I know that it would hurt me even
more in the end. But what has been said cannot be unsaid and not even all my “I’m
sorry”s will bring her back.
think about the damage my words would cause. It wasn’t until it was too late that I
realized what I have done. I hurt her and little did I know that it would hurt me even
more in the end. But what has been said cannot be unsaid and not even all my “I’m
sorry”s will bring her back.
Sleep Paralysis- Martina
It was 3 in the morning when I woke up from my deep slumber, and I stayed there looking at the door. My nightlight was turned off, and the only thing I can see was the dark outlines of the inanimate objects in my room. In the corner, was my study table, I tried to look at it but my eyes went back looking at the door. I tried to move my arms, but they stayed in place, then I tried to move my legs, my arms again, then my eyes again, but still they stayed in place. In the corner of the room there was a shadow, but I tried to wave it off convincing myself that it was just dark and an illusion, but it moved. I could feel my heartbeat quicken as it got closer, and it reached out to me as if it was trying to get a hold of my neck. The moonlight gave me a better view of it, but it was almost as if it did not have a face, just a cloak. When it was a foot away from my bed, as it was about to grabbed my neck it grazed it instead. Then it started to chant in language I was not familiar with. He got closer and leaned down, and the headless creature came near to my face. This thing had eyes as red as blood, but it was almost as if it was glowing, again he started to speak in this language that I could not comprehend. He leaned down even more so that he would be in close proximity with my ear, then he whispered “Wake up…” and I did. That morning though, when I went downstairs my family was dead. There was blood on the floor, walls, carpet, and furniture. On the other wall, where our grotto was, was the only one clean. I need to wake up. This must be a dream. Surely it is a dream. Why am I not waking up? I NEED TO WAKE UP. WAKE UP!
The Stray--Deric
I am the stray. I go from place to place looking for a home without any guidance. My hair
is still drenched from last night's storm. It was my first time out in the rain like that… It wasn’t
as bad as I thought it would be. I would normally be inside for this kind of thing, but ever since
Brandon left I’ve been on my own. This kind of weather reminds me of the time that he first let
me inside of his home. It was raining, like last night’s, but it wasn’t as cheerless. He took me in,
gave me a place to stay, but I knew that it wouldn’t last, it never does. Back then, things were
full of life… Like Brandon was. There was always excitement and wonder. Everyday brought a
new surprise, but now nothing is a surprise. Everyone and everything stays the same. The only
thing that seems to change is the weather, but there can only ever be two variations: Hot or Cold.
The people are kind of the same in that way, Hot or Cold. Some say hello, and some walk by, but
in the end, everyone is the same. No one actually wants to give me a home. No one would want
me in their nice, clean homes. Why would anyone want a dirty old thing like me in a place like
that? The only person that didnt mind is gone now and it doesn’t seem like the people in this
town will ever give me a chance. It’ll be dark soon so I guess it’s about that time for me took for
a place to hide from tonight’s storm. I have a feeling that tonight will be far worse that last
night’s. Tomorrow will be better. A new town, new people, new chances. Change will be good
for me, I just wish that it’d stop raining...
is still drenched from last night's storm. It was my first time out in the rain like that… It wasn’t
as bad as I thought it would be. I would normally be inside for this kind of thing, but ever since
Brandon left I’ve been on my own. This kind of weather reminds me of the time that he first let
me inside of his home. It was raining, like last night’s, but it wasn’t as cheerless. He took me in,
gave me a place to stay, but I knew that it wouldn’t last, it never does. Back then, things were
full of life… Like Brandon was. There was always excitement and wonder. Everyday brought a
new surprise, but now nothing is a surprise. Everyone and everything stays the same. The only
thing that seems to change is the weather, but there can only ever be two variations: Hot or Cold.
The people are kind of the same in that way, Hot or Cold. Some say hello, and some walk by, but
in the end, everyone is the same. No one actually wants to give me a home. No one would want
me in their nice, clean homes. Why would anyone want a dirty old thing like me in a place like
that? The only person that didnt mind is gone now and it doesn’t seem like the people in this
town will ever give me a chance. It’ll be dark soon so I guess it’s about that time for me took for
a place to hide from tonight’s storm. I have a feeling that tonight will be far worse that last
night’s. Tomorrow will be better. A new town, new people, new chances. Change will be good
for me, I just wish that it’d stop raining...
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