How to… turn your homework in right before lunch

This is one of the easiest, yet hardest things to do. The first thing that you need to do is make sure that you did not do your homework. The next thing you have to do is, think about doing your homework. Once you have those two crucial steps completed you need to relax and do absolutely nothing.

After you have procrastinated long enough, procrastinate a little more, and then you are set for the next step. The next thing to do is come up with excuses about why your homework was not in on time. These reasons include but are definitely not limited to:

  • My dog ate it.
  • I was one sentence away from finishing when all of a sudden my laptop shut down and I lost all of my work.
  • I thought I submitted it.
  • Oh I don’t think I was here that day.
  • I thought it was due next class.
  • I swear I e-mailed it to you.

Once you have established possible excuses it is time for the next step, forgetting about it. Try to do anything and everything you can in order to avoid doing your work. This is the time to go eat something, play some video games, or maybe even go to sleep.

The next morning is one of the most important times in this process, you will think about doing your homework about fifty times before you even get to school, but try to resist the urge as much as possible. Two classes will pass by like nothing; it is the third class that kills you like a murderer. This is when your urge will be the strongest but you have to find the strength to fight, and fight to refuse to give in.

When lunch finally arrives, stay in the class you are in, but make sure there are absolutely no distractions around you. This is the time to put on that game face; it is time to get serious. You now have the next fifty-five minutes to do the best work you can do under the circumstances of procrastination. Make sure you use all of you time wisely, and I mean all, but also make sure that you have at least five minutes leeway to turn everything in.

Once you have finished your work rush to class and make sure that your teacher has the work you did. That is the most important step, making sure that your teacher gets your work. If they don’t that means you did all of that procrastinating for absolutely nothing.

He Is

He is the Phineas and Ferb tattoos hidden on my back

He is the phone left off the hook night after night

He is the itch that I can never reach

He is the cheese and crackers that wait for me every Thursday

He is the dead battery living in my cell phone

He is the ice that fills my cup

He is the cartoons that invade my TV every Saturday morning

He is the pictures that flood my room walls

He is the light in every dark corner

He is my best friend

I Didn’t Do My Homework

I didn’t do my homework.
I hope she doesn’t get mad.
I’ll make up an excuse.
I’m sure it won’t be that bad.
I hope she doesn’t get mad.
She’ll hate me forever.
I’m sure it won’t be that bad.
She’ll see right through my lies.
She’ll hate me forever.
Please say it isn’t so.
She’ll see right through my lies.
Oh boy, Oh no.
Please say it isn’t so.
I’ll make up an excuse.
Oh boy, Oh no.
I didn’t do my homework.


This trampoline has provided me with nothing but bad luck and horrid memories. Because of this stupid trampoline I have lost my precious daughter, chubby hamster, two loyal dogs, three sassy cats, and five magical platypuses. It has also caused me to not only go deeply into depression but deep into dept as well. Over the years I have wasted all of my time jumping up and down and side to side on that accursed trampoline instead of showing up for work and tending to my ten wild children.  In fact, I have been fired from sixteen jobs within the past four months and in the last five my husband of twenty years has filed for divorce.

The type of excruciating pain that it brings to me is completely unbearable. I was busy jumping on the trampoline one day and he threw his shimmering wedding band at my face, but of course, I didn’t have a care in the world. I felt so free hopping all over the place on the round, plump, purple trampoline. My husband has disowned me, and I have lost all of my animal friends. I really need to get rid of this as soon as possible.

Big trampoline for free! Come and get it…PLEASE!!

I Could Have Been Eating Lunch

I could have been eating lunch,

I could have been hanging out with my friends,

I could have been doodling,

I could have been texting him,

I could have been venting to Mrs. Mason,

I could have been doing so much more,

But I instead I was writing this poem.

A limerick

There once was a girl from Alaska

She always had something to ask ya

She was very loud

Always drawing a crowd

That silly small girl from Alaska


There it was lying on the ground, hopeless, helpless, and frozen. I was scared, scared that my touch would put it in even more pain. She was a baby blue bird if I had to guess, she was about two or three days old. She had fallen from her nest. I stood above her, frozen, and just when I worked up enough courage to pick her up I saw her cradled in big gentle hands. I looked up and in that one moment that our eyes met, time paused. I was speechless. Who was he? Had he been here the whole time? Why does he look so unfamiliar? I cleared these thoughts from my head.

“What are you going to do with her?” I asked scared to hear a reply.

“I don’t know, what should I do?”  he responded in a soft tone.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so without thinking I answered, “My mom is a vet; she can take a look at her if you want to come over?”

He looked at me puzzled yet anxious, “All right.”

We walked together to my house. When we got there I opened the door and searched for my mom.

“Hey mom, this is…”

“Jordan,” he continued. “I just moved in next door. Well we found this bird; it looks like she fell out of the tree. Do you think you can help her?”

My mom stood behind the kitchen counter examining the boy that I had brought home, then answered, “Oh, of course, I’ll see what I can do. Can I see her?”

He followed my mom to the outside counter where he gently laid the bird.

It has been two years, three weeks, and four days since that day. The first day that we met, the first moment we laid eyes on each other. It was that bird that had brought us together, and we still have her.

Cooties, Crushes, and Coloring

First grade is a time for cooties, crushes, and coloring. My classroom was enormous to someone my size. The cubbies were located to the left of the door, the desks scrambled in clumps in the middle of the room. The white board was in the front of the class and the chalkboard to the left of it. My teacher, Mrs. Nagatani, was one of my favorite teachers ever. She was round, short, and had black fluffy hair.

The students in my class were all different in their own ways. Hernando was the shy one, but if you really knew him he was the smart charmer. Rissa, the sassy little know it all, who actually didn’t know anything at all. Jazzy, also known as my best friend, was the sweetest girl in the whole first grade, but don’t let her looks deceive you; she was also one of the toughest. Suzy was the piece of work, she was your typical rich, stuck-up, popular, mean girl that everyone pretended to be friends with because she had money. 

Jojo Pi’i was the most quiet in the whole first grade, but it was not because he was shy or anything like that. He constantly wore a face full of anger. No one really understood why, but I did. His mom had just died from cancer. He hated the world along with everyone in it. Who could blame the kid? The one thing that mattered most to him, his best friend, and mother was taken away from him.

Surprisingly the part I remember the most was not my classroom, teacher, or even my best friends. It was him. He was Mr. Popular, the bad boy, tough guy, the one all the girls went crazy over but wouldn’t admit it; he was my first crush. He looked like your average local O’ahu boy; tan, sun-bleached hair, and silver front teeth. His mom, Lala, was a makeup artist, and his dad, Shy, was one of my mom’s really close high school friends. We constantly exchanged glances with each other, turning the other way when we got caught in the act.

Things between us were perfect. We were what you could call a typical first-grade couple; sat by each other whenever got the chance, played footsies, and shared whatever snacks we had brought for the day. He was what made my days so happy. Whenever he came to tie his shoe by me, my stomach would immediately fill with butterflies, and my heart would skip a beat. Being around him was so easy, and it still is.

This Is the Poem That…

 This is the poem that lingers in hatred

In the bottomless pit of your heart

That eats away at every speck of hope

Because things will never be the same

Because you were never good enough

And when the pain finally seems bearable,

a flicker of doubt creeps its way in and takes you back to square one

This is the poem that expresses your hidden emotion

trapped in the creases of your dark broken heart

like a prison cell with no light


My Favorite Place 

Ice Ponds is my favorite place to be. Here I can see waterfalls glistening like diamonds, trees as tall as skyscrapers, and smiles on the faces of the ones I love. I can hear rustling trees, whooshing winds, and cruel laughter. I can feel the ice cold water piercing my skin, slimy moss slipping through my toes, and joy filling my heart, while I turn moments into memories. I can see, I can hear, I can feel in my favorite place, Ice Ponds.  


I Had a Cow

I had a cow, she was super cute

Too bad she was quiet, like she was on mute

She’s green and blue and she is my world

We went to a ball and danced and twirled


This Is Just to Say…

I have broken your heart

The heart you kept safe

You gave it to me


And I am to blame

I took it, I stole it

I ripped it, I wrecked it


Forgive me, I’m sorry

That’s all I can say


A Jumble Story

As the ending credits scrolled across the big screen, the young couple exited the movie theater, arm in arm.

“Do you want to know why I picked that movie?” he asked, with a smirk on his face.

“Tell me,” she replied. He laughed and said, “I figured since we met on Facebook, we should educate ourselves on how it began.”

She thought back to their very first date. It was nothing extravagant, just dinner and a movie. But to her, it meant the world. He had picked her up, met her parents, and then they departed for the remainder of the evening. He took her to a cute little Italian restaurant right outside of town, beaming with romance and wholeheartedness. The waiter came and took their orders; he had ordered the seafood pasta and she had gotten the steak.

As they patiently waited for their food to arrive, he asked her, “Your mother is okay with you dating me?”

“Well,” she paused, “I told her you were 17.”

“What?!” he exclaimed.

“If she knew you were a freshman in college, I would never be allowed to see you,” she explained.

He became withdrawn and silent, as if contemplating what to say next. She became uncomfortable and broke the silence by asking, “What’s on your mind?”

He glanced up at her, sighed, and replied, “Don’t you think that maybe lying wasn’t the best decision in this situation?”

Dazed by his response, she answered back, “So you’re saying I’m in the wrong? I’m wrong for trying to protect our relationship?”

Her cheeks were rosy now, her hands in fists around her starched napkin, lying against her dark blue dress.

“No, not at all, love,” he quickly added, reaching across the table to grasp her hands. “I never meant it that way at all. I just hoped this new beginning with you would be a fresh, honest start. I want your parents to like me for who I am, not for who I’m not.”

His empathetic eyes cooled her frustration, and they continued the evening without another word on the matter.


When the Sun Goes Down

“Why am I doing this?” she thought to herself as she sent the text, the text that would push away the only guy that ever cared about her.  She would simply smile when he would reply with, “I bet you’re wrong.” He would say something like that, he would; something that would make all the pain, hurt, and anger disappear in an instant. He was the one that she turned to on her darkest days, the one she could call in the middle of the night, crying her eyes out, the one that knew her for who she truly was.

 “I bet you’re wrong.” She started to remember the first time those words had slipped from his lips. They were standing together at the edge of the water, at a beach that they had visited often.

“I bet I can skip a pebble farther than you can,” she had said, looking up into his dark, brown eyes.

“I bet you’re wrong,” he said, and with those words, the challenge began.

She went first, skipping the rock along the water once, twice, a third time. At that glorious moment, she smiled, expressing her confidence in her ability. He then picked up a stone, and skipped it farther than her eyes could see towards the horizon.

“Defeat never comes to a man until he admits it,” (Josephus Daniels) he said to her, and with that, he placed a friendly, warm kiss upon her forehead. Yet, these moments would only become memories.

Lately her world has been crumbling. Her boyfriend recently became her ex, her papa just passed away, and her parents were getting a divorce. He is the only thing that has been consistent in her life and now she might just lose that too, but she only has herself to blame.

It was a dark stormy night when she sent the text that read, “I just can’t do this anymore, be friends I mean; I’m not strong enough to endure all of these obstacles.” There was no reasoning behind it; she didn’t even understand why she would send something like that. Maybe it was just a test, a test of their friendship. She was sure that it would push him away, but instead his reply was, “I bet you’re wrong.”


I Am Like a Dog Chasing Its Tail

I am like a dog chasing its tail

I see what my finished product should be, yet I cannot reach it.

My thinking process moves at the speed of a snail

The words are there, yet I cannot speak it.


The subject of literature is difficult and intense,

I find pleasure in liberal arts and more creative details.

This class was not my first choice, and in my defense,

 I will try my hardest with what this course entails.


Writing Philosophy

You can never have too many drafts.



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