Sai

How to Clean a Teenager’s Room

Enter the gloomy cave-like room filled with dead flies, filthy walls, and the stench that could be smelled from a mile away. Do not forget your gigantic pliers to pick up the dirty clothes and rotten food that engulfs every space and nook located in your typical teenage-room, protective glasses to prevent the virulent gases from attacking your precious eyes, apron so you don’t get any stains on both your body and clothes and hopefully it does not tend to dissolve into your bones and flesh, a clip to close your nostrils from the pungent smell, and all of your cleaning supplies for the full effect of the immaculate cleaning. It is time to get down and dirty.

First, loom over the filthy mess to get a basic idea of what needs to be completed besides cleaning the huge mess. Clean in steps or goals to minimize the stress that encumbers your ability and willpower to actually clean the entire area without many problems. It is time to get down and dirty.

Second, pick up your huge pliers and start picking away. But before that, make sure your eyeglasses and apron are on to protect you from intruders such as fungus and dirty air from getting into your eyes, one of the most effective ways to get a person sick. Pick up the clothes one by one to decrease the risk of getting infected or some kind of poisoning. Or you could use rubber gloves to grab more clothes at once to increase the speed of how fast you work and yet stay healthy. You would then toss it into the stinky depths of reek. It is time to get down and dirty.

Third, to defend your nose and sinuses from getting clogged and grossed out, pinch a clothes pin onto your nose to block the foreign mixture of smells from entering into your body system. Also, try not to let the tasty-smell for cockroaches enter into your system. It is time to get down and dirty.

Next, make sure you have all your cleaning supplies such as a broom, mop, some kind of soap, and rag or sponge to scrub the walls and floors. It is time to get down and dirty.

After some time, the messy room will slowly die into something better like how people age slowly and hopefully enter heaven to be with God. Finally, all the diligent work has paid off and the room is as sparkly as the future, crisp and clean.

He Is the Old Library

He is the old library across the block

He is the block that stands diligently in the rows of books

He is a book that cannot stand being written on

He is the messy writer that using his pencil, writing notes

He is the note that everyone studiesfrom

He is the study-buddy that rides the bus

He is the bus that cannot turn unless everything is completed

He is the completed cement that is the foundation of everything

He is everything when it comes down to work

He is my conscience, better yet, my best friend

5:00 A.M. Grand Station on Sunday, 3 April 2011

“What do you mean,” Matt yelled at Mike while grabbing the newspaper placed in Mike’s hand and slammed it on the ground.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. It just slipped my mind,” Mike answered while scratching his head. He then started to peer away so he would not look into the furious eyes of Matt.

“How could you do this? That is stupid of you. You know that right? Now they might trace it back to us. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Maybe I should just kill us both and get it over with. I don’t know. We are probably going to end up in jail anyways.” Matt turned around and looked in all directions, making sure no one witnessed the conversation that had just happened.

“Okay, I’ll tell you this. You get the other bodies and take them to Mexico. I don’t care how you do it, but just do it. We can’t lead the police to the other bodies.” He looked straight into Mike’s eyes, intimidating every move of him, trying to receive a confirmation that he will do what’s told.

“Okay. I will um… get a full-sized V8 truck and the tow package along with it. I will load the bodies onto the truck and cover it with a huge tarp and tell the security located at the borderline of Mexico that it’s lumber or something of the sort.” Mike scratched his head then started biting his nails nervously. He just wanted everything to end.

“How do you expect to get a full-sized V8 truck anyways?” Matt took another glance of the entire station, making sure there was no one else there besides them again. “And are you sure you can load the 24 bodies onto that truck without getting caught?”

“Yes I am sure, as long as I get the truck. If not, we’re in trouble.”

Mike went into thinking mode, where his thumb and index finger were placed perfectly on the surface of his chin. “Whatever it takes, we cannot be sent to jail. I don’t want to spend a lifetime in jail and you probably don’t want to either.”

Matt then heard footsteps arriving and decided to make an exit without any gestures or expressions, leaving Mike to stand alone.

Mike mumbled to himself in the dark and decided to call after about ten minutes of intense thinking. “Hello? This is Mike Chang and I would like to place an ad in the newspaper for tomorrow: $700 for a full-sized V8 truck for about three to four hours. Thank you.”

My Foot May Bounce Up and Down

My foot may bounce up and down making my muscles sore.

My pants may rise up because of my bottom shifting where it wants to sit.

My back may get stiff because I’m not allowed to move.

My jacket may slowly rip down the middle, making it cold.

My arms may get tired and may want to yawn.

My watch on my wrist may beep at the strike of an hour.

My hands may be shaking with the nervousness of what I should do next.

My pencil may tap on the desk while I ponder what it is that I want to know.

My eyes may begin to burn as the air touches the surface.

My nose may be irritated by the dust that surrounds it.

My ears may hurt while I listen to nothing.

My mind may go blank while I am taking this test.

My teacher may say “time’s up” without letting me finish.

A limerick

I once met a man from Japan

Every day he wanted a fan

But whenever he stopped

The fan always hopped

That strange man and fan from Japan

Writing on a Theme

It doesn’t matter if I win or lose. What matters the most is if I had fun or not. I envy the feeling of possessing the anxiety that rushes through every inch of my very thin body as I bow to enter the mats of a Judo tournament. I place my shaking feet in front of my body as I look at my opponent to the far right of the square shaped mat. I then peer ahead of me, seeing the referee preparing for the match. I could smell sweat, probably from previous matches, and the fear of losing as I taste the recycled air inhaling then exhaling as I take deep breaths into and out of my firm body. I hear the cheering of my fellow teammates screaming out my name as I slowly walk towards the outermost curve of the circle inside of the squared mat used to signify the boundaries.

I arrive at the opposite end of the circle of my opponent and then I immediately bow again for respect, simultaneously with my competitor. Then I begin to walk towards the center of the circle, coming face to face with another concentric circle and my rival. I then take another bow and the whistle is blown, messaging that we could start the artful fight.     

As I stand up straight, I place my arms in front of my body to get ready for what will come, the grabbing of the grip. “Oh no, my rival has gotten a good grip. What should I do?” I ask myself while panicking. I could feel the blood rushing throughout my body, expanding in each direction like pressurized air in a can. It feels good. I would die for the upbeat feeling I have during matches and the nervousness that travels through every vein of mine.

My opponent flips me at the same moment he grabbed my gi and I am down. I have lost. But it doesn’t matter to me because it felt awesome. The rush that pounded my heart to beat faster was like a drug that does not harm me both physically and mentally at all. It is a benefit to me. I can’t wait until my next match, even if I am defeated.  

It doesn’t matter if I win or lose although it may make me feel better about myself if I win. What matters the most is if I had fun or not and the upbeat feeling I get when I am in the spotlight. I could not ask for more but the intense breathing and worried feeling of people laughing at me because I lost. The embarrassment somewhat completes the emptiness in my heart. It feels good and it seems that I can’t get enough of it.

An Introduction to My Personal Narrative

As I shyly tiptoed towards the red cafeteria early in the morning on the first day of my school career with my light up roller-bag dragging beside me and my light up shoes that aided my every step with comfort, following two of my older sisters while one of them decided to drift away into the distance behind us to talk to her friends, I mimicked every move of my other sister down the hallway in which it seemed like it was built for giants. Simultaneously, I gazed out into the beautiful scenery: kids playing before school started, parents kissing their children goodbye, birds chirping in their nests high up in the tall pine trees, and the bumblebees soaring from one flower to the other. Along the never-ending path, or at least to me, I could smell the fresh water-tasting mountain air and the delicious food coming from ahead. Smelling the food was like actually tasting it. It seemed so real. I could also feel the cool breeze whirling onto my skin as if it was giving me a coat to snuggle into. And last but not least, I could hear such soothing noise that always seemed to cleanse my body like the filtering of a healthy heart, pumping with each beat.

My sister and I have finally arrived in front of the doors of the cafeteria. My sister was unaffected by the exciting rush, especially because she wasn’t a kindergartener like me; she was a little older than me, so she had gone through the experience of eating at a cafeteria with other kids her age. But when I arrived in the doorway, I acted as if I was a Power Ranger because I loved them so much. Everything I had was Power Rangers. My clothes, bag, shoes, bed necessities, everything! Also, with my sister standing majestically on my right, it looked like she was my sidekick…

This is a poem that blooms

This is a poem that blooms

In the midst of cool air

That breezes every soul into winter

Because from dawn to dusk, it is inevitable to say, everything has its beginning and its end.

Because it’s the cycle of life.

And when raindrops fall,

I begin to think, Is this what I want to do with my life?

This is a poem that blooms

In the midst of cool air

That takes away all summer, and in return, gives despair.

 

My Favorite Place

Tokyo Disney is my favorite place to be.

Here I can see a myriad of people scattering about like ants running from the raindrops, the Japanese words along every corner like the abstract paintings and drawings of a famous artist, and the diversity of people like the stars in the night sky.

I can hear the mysterious Japanese sounds surrounding every inch of my body, the delightful screaming and yelling from the people riding the roller coasters, and the tapping steps walking past me, rushing to get in line for the next ride.

I can feel the air rushing and brushing through my hair as I ride up and down the coasters, the freshly made popcorn that melts  into my watery mouth, and the smooth pavement that seems as if I was gliding on ice.

While I continue my journey,

I can see, I can hear, I can feel in my favorite place, Tokyo Disney.

 

The Porcupine

 People are tortured from the spikes,

Which the creature likes;

But it’s all fine,

Because it’s my porcupine.

 

I Murdered Your Face

I murdered your face,

Mind, body, and soul

When you were asleep,

Lifeless and cold.

 

My sympathy is

As empty as a hole

In which you lie

Beneath the surface.

 

But pardon me,

For your emptiness

Completes

My whole.

 

A Jumble Story

Crows of the night sky flew above the forest, in search of their prey while the fishes of the polluted pond looked up from beneath the surface, dazing at the full moon. The pungent smell of death roamed every space of the forest, looking for its next victim.

            “Come on man. Let’s go!” Drake demanded.

            “Nah man. I don’t think we should. It’s a National Forest for goodness sake. Anything could be in there. Bears, tigers, lions, anything!” Tyler explained with disagreement.

            “Why not?” Drake questioned.

            “I just don’t think we should,” Tyler said.

            “Why are you being such a baby? Are you chicken?” Drake mockingly stated.

            “No. It’s just that my mom, um, died, and my dad exploded on me about twenty minutes ago. I don’t know; it could be nothing,” Tyler said with a sadness.

            “Oh, I didn’t know. Maybe doing this crazy thing will get your mind off of it, you know?” Drake proposed. “We should just go for it. Plus, we just graduated from high school. It’s about time we have freedom.”

            “Fine! I’ll go,” Tyler finally agreed.

            “Good, come on,” Drake said while walking towards the forest.

 

            “Well, here we are,” Drake said, looking around in amazement.

            “This was a good idea. It’s kind of nice to just hang out, man,” Tyler said without regret.

            “Yeah, I agree,” Drake said while looking at the bright full moon.

            “Did you hear that?” Tyler asked with a scared look on his face.

            “Hear what?” Drake asked.

            “It sounded like something was shaking over there. Something was moving,” Tyler explained.

            “I think your mind is just playing games with you,” Drake laughed.

            “Maybe,” Tyler said while joining Drake in his laughing state.

            “Yeah,” Drake agreed.

            “No. Wait. There it is again,” Tyler said with fright as if he saw a ghost appear right in front of his eyes.

            “What?” Drake laughed.

            “No. Really. Stop. I think someone else is with us,” Tyler demanded.

            “You’re so full of it,” Drake continued to laugh.

            “Ahhh…” Tyler screamed while something pulled him from behind.

            “Oh shoot. What the heck man?” Drake yelled.

            “Ahhh…” Tyler continued screaming.

            “Tyler?” Drake called out while trying to look for him.

            “Ahhh…” Tyler continued.

            “This isn’t funny man. Cut it out,” Drake demanded. “Who’s there?” Drake stuttered after he heard something rustling behind him. “I should’ve listened to him. This would have never happened,” Drake told himself while tears started to drip from his eyes.

            “Boo!” Tyler shouted.

            “Oh, you dummy. Why’d you do that for?” Drake scornfully asked Tyler.

            “Because I like to play with my food before I eat it,” Tyler answered.

            “Eat?” Drake asked dumbfoundedly.

            “Yeah! Eat,” Tyler answered while grabbing Drake by his ankle and licking his lips.

 

The Fortunes of Maybe

There it was, standing in my doorway; aging while I hid beneath my bed covers, peeking through the holes of my ripped blanket. As I viewed his sleek complexion with gorgeous hygiene, he transformed into a wrinkly old man with teeth the color of dehydrated urine and also smelled like garbage. Flies flew around his busted up, old-like clothes while he started trudging towards my way, pointing at my soul. As each step came closer to my arrival, I hid more. Still, the man kept walking my way. As the creepy old man touched me, he turned purple and fell to the ground, showing no pain whatsoever. I peeked over the edge of my bed, and saw…

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” my optimistic mother pounded on my desk. “Rise and shine.”

“Mom.” I grouchily stated. “Close the curtains.”

“No, no. Get up. We have a lot to do today.”

“O.K.” I said reluctantly. “Oh. Mom. I have a date tonight with that guy I met online; the one you approved of and I also had that terrible dream again.”

“You know? Fear is the foundation of safety. (Keith Mohler) Maybe it’s meant for a reason. Anyways Chloe, get dressed will you.”

 “What will I wear tonight?” I asked myself. “Maybe this guy is the one. I don’t know.” I kept talking to myself.

 

As my mother and I got home at 5:00 from our day of errands, I rushed to get ready for my date and it took me an hour to prepare myself. Finally, it was time for my date at the Chinese restaurant that nobody could pronounce the name of. I would be meeting my date at 7:59 PM.

 

I finally arrived at the restaurant but did not know what my date looked like, but he sounded like a total hottie.

After about 10 minutes, I spotted him from afar. I went up to him and asked if he was Lover_120 and he answered with “Yes, I am. And are you mommys_girl_25?”

“Yeah.” I blushed.

Although he looked 39, I still went for it. At first I thought to myself: Is it appropriate for a 17-year-old girl to date a 39-year-old man? But I didn’t care and went for it.

Not even half an hour passed and my mother rushed into the restaurant. So I got up from my seat and said, “Excuse me.”

            I jogged towards my mother and rudely asked, “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your I.D., and I just came to drop it off.”

“Oh. O.K. Bye,” I stated sarcastically.

“Wait. Let me meet your date,” my mother demanded with curiosity.

            “O.K. Fine. Then you are leaving.”

            We both walked towards my table. My mother saw my date, and her mouth hung wide open as if I scored big time.

            “This is your date?” she asked with a disgusting look on her face.

            “Yeah. Why?” I asked with confidence.

            “Because this is your father.”

 

Clock of Time

Not wasting a second, minute, hour, or day

He tick tocks inevitably unless he breaks.

The epic pondering of what he should convey.

Must be organized for he may make some mistakes.

Mistakes may occur whenever and wherever

As the dulcet sound of quietness empowers

The clicking noise to distract others that are clever.

Each click is like the structure of stable towers.

Towers and buildings may collapse with one blunder,

But may be saved over a myriad of time

Without someone trying to steal others’ thunder.

Oh, what a shame it is to carry out this crime.

Finally towards the end he’s in a great shock

Because once again he beat the time of the clock.

 

Writing Philosophy

Tomorrow is a new day.

Me!

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