With this piece I want to show that even though one person doesn't like something it doesn't mean everyone has the same opinion. As the saying goes, "One man's trash is another man's treasure".
Vivian breathed in the familiar scent of wood and paint. Home Depot is not exactly the dream job of most women, but she loved it. She smoothed out the wrinkles on her orange apron while the customer unloaded his things on the counter. A kind smile resided on her face and it never seemed to go away. Even as the man aggressively spoke to her, she treated him with the utmost respect.
At her job Vivian didn't have to dress up and always look perfect. She was able to be herself, dress comfortably and make money. The dull gray colour of the floor and orange banners hanging from the ceiling were things she was used to and things she liked even though some say they are depressing. She worked at Home Depot five days a week and she never, not once, found it depressing. On the contrary, she found exhilarating to meet knew people and talk with her co-workers on a daily basis.
The man tapped his finger impatiently on the counter as Vivian scanned his big, pink package of insulation. She quickly typed something on the computer then collected the money from the man. He left without a 'goodbye', but Vivian was perfectly content with that. Her eyes followed the man as he exited the store through the automatic doors. Suddenly, a bird flew in making everyone duck in cover. Vivian just smiled. Sure the store was gloomy and ugly, and a shelter for all kind of animals, but it was as comfortable to her as her own home and she wouldn't change it for the world.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Observation 3- Jumping to conclusions- ages 15-19
With this piece I want to show the readers that they shouldn't judge a person solely based on their appearance. Just because they look a certain way it doesn't mean they are not something more on the inside.
Jay flipped open his cell phone allowing the luminous glow of the screen to light up his face. He had exactly one hour to spend in the library during his spare. His eyes wandered around the room at the empty seats around him. Others had only started to file in now, taking seats in the back or near the enormous windows that provided brilliant light for the entire library. Something about it being so quiet made him uneasy. The constant suspicious glares thrown at him by the librarians only added to the matter.
He quickly turned on the computer screen and typed his student number and password; his eyes occassionally looking down at the keyboard. In less than a minute, the screen changed from royal blue to sea- foam green and the desktop applications restored themselves. He lightly placed his hand on the mouse and moved it around, testing its response on the screen. Satisfied with its effortless roaming, he shot the little, white arrow to the internet explorer icon. When he double clicked it seemed to echo through the empty room.
Lifting his hand to his face, he began tapping his finger on his chin, contemplating what to search for. His eyes drifted to the side and he caught the librarian giving him another look. A slight smile spread across his lips, as though he was expecting it. His low- hanging pants and lack of uniform shirt would have any faculty member a bit suspicious and he knew that. The red baseball hat he wore earlier rested in his lap and out of view of the librarian. He finally put his hand down and his fingers began to type. The librarian then made her way towards his desk with a frown. She was there to make sure he was doing something productive, Jay knew that for sure. No body ever trusted him. She leaned over his shoulder and looked at his screen only to see that he was, in fact, doing something productive. Instead of Facebook or youtube, Jay was on the Toronto Sun home page reading about genocide in Cambodia. He looked up at the librarian and noticed her embarrassed expression. She had jumped to conclusions, but it didn't bother him. That was the story of his life.
Jay flipped open his cell phone allowing the luminous glow of the screen to light up his face. He had exactly one hour to spend in the library during his spare. His eyes wandered around the room at the empty seats around him. Others had only started to file in now, taking seats in the back or near the enormous windows that provided brilliant light for the entire library. Something about it being so quiet made him uneasy. The constant suspicious glares thrown at him by the librarians only added to the matter.
He quickly turned on the computer screen and typed his student number and password; his eyes occassionally looking down at the keyboard. In less than a minute, the screen changed from royal blue to sea- foam green and the desktop applications restored themselves. He lightly placed his hand on the mouse and moved it around, testing its response on the screen. Satisfied with its effortless roaming, he shot the little, white arrow to the internet explorer icon. When he double clicked it seemed to echo through the empty room.
Lifting his hand to his face, he began tapping his finger on his chin, contemplating what to search for. His eyes drifted to the side and he caught the librarian giving him another look. A slight smile spread across his lips, as though he was expecting it. His low- hanging pants and lack of uniform shirt would have any faculty member a bit suspicious and he knew that. The red baseball hat he wore earlier rested in his lap and out of view of the librarian. He finally put his hand down and his fingers began to type. The librarian then made her way towards his desk with a frown. She was there to make sure he was doing something productive, Jay knew that for sure. No body ever trusted him. She leaned over his shoulder and looked at his screen only to see that he was, in fact, doing something productive. Instead of Facebook or youtube, Jay was on the Toronto Sun home page reading about genocide in Cambodia. He looked up at the librarian and noticed her embarrassed expression. She had jumped to conclusions, but it didn't bother him. That was the story of his life.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Observation 2- Liquor eases the pain- ages 15-19
Lawrence waddled his way in to the liquor store. The only amount of money he had was jingling in his right jean pocket as his foot collided with the recently polished floor. His grey hat was perched upon his dishevelled dark hair, slightly leaning to the side. He raised an old, wrinkled hand and scratched the stubble that enveloped the lower half of his face, deciding on which type of liquor would best subside today's worries. Maybe it was employment trouble or maybe it was just a stressful day. Whatever gave him the feeling self-loathing was easily fixed with a bottle of, what seemed to be, brandy.
The amber coloured liquid swirled around in the bottle as Lawrence tightly wrapped his hand around the neck and pried it off the shelf. His eyes glared down at the drink as though everything he lived for resided in that tall, glass bottle. He quickly zipped up his battered, old sweater before joining the line at the check-out counter. It was amazing how his energy suddenly increased once he picked up the brandy.
After a few minutes it was finally his turn to pay. He reached deep in to his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, some sliver and some bronze. No toonies or loonies. His finger shuffled through the change until he found the right amount and handed it to the cashier. His breathing became heavy, urging the woman to move faster as she slid the brandy in to a bag. She finally handed it to him and he thanked her with a low, rough voice before pulling his hat over his ears and stepping outside in to the cold, winter air.
The amber coloured liquid swirled around in the bottle as Lawrence tightly wrapped his hand around the neck and pried it off the shelf. His eyes glared down at the drink as though everything he lived for resided in that tall, glass bottle. He quickly zipped up his battered, old sweater before joining the line at the check-out counter. It was amazing how his energy suddenly increased once he picked up the brandy.
After a few minutes it was finally his turn to pay. He reached deep in to his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, some sliver and some bronze. No toonies or loonies. His finger shuffled through the change until he found the right amount and handed it to the cashier. His breathing became heavy, urging the woman to move faster as she slid the brandy in to a bag. She finally handed it to him and he thanked her with a low, rough voice before pulling his hat over his ears and stepping outside in to the cold, winter air.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Observations
The young man, Steve, effortlessly pushes through the short freshmen as he makes his way down the hall. In one swift motion he hitches his back pack higher on his lanky shoulder to avoid it slipping off. His dark, side swept hair and punk- rock accessories added to the school uniform clearly depict that he is a unique and original person that doesn't care about what others think.
The bell has already rung making his pace quicken as he tries to avoid the immature students around him. He looks over his shoulder at his quickly disappearing locker, wondering if he had forgotten any books. From the content smile that suddenly graced his lips, it was obvious that he had everything he needed. With a black, nail- polished finger, he rubbed the bottom of his eye lid, making his eye liner smudge. His fingers are coarse like those of a guitar players. He then lifts his hand higher and pushes back his dark hair, revealing his other eye.
Steve is then acknowledged by another student in the halls. He flashes a smile at the student, who is most likely his friend, and high- fives him. The student then accompanies him for the rest of his walk until they both reach a classroom. They converse for a few minutes until the other student tells Steve to call him then walks in the opposite direction. Steve immediately walks in to the classroom and disappears from view.
The bell has already rung making his pace quicken as he tries to avoid the immature students around him. He looks over his shoulder at his quickly disappearing locker, wondering if he had forgotten any books. From the content smile that suddenly graced his lips, it was obvious that he had everything he needed. With a black, nail- polished finger, he rubbed the bottom of his eye lid, making his eye liner smudge. His fingers are coarse like those of a guitar players. He then lifts his hand higher and pushes back his dark hair, revealing his other eye.
Steve is then acknowledged by another student in the halls. He flashes a smile at the student, who is most likely his friend, and high- fives him. The student then accompanies him for the rest of his walk until they both reach a classroom. They converse for a few minutes until the other student tells Steve to call him then walks in the opposite direction. Steve immediately walks in to the classroom and disappears from view.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Music is my life...literally: Diary of an iPod video.
February 15, 2009
4:00 pm
Today has been slightly...depressing. My owner hasn't used me once; instead she resorts to listening to music on that wretched computer of hers. I hate when she plugs me in to that thing. I feel so violated when the white USB cord synchronizes us. It has been exactly two days since I've played any music what so ever. I've just been sitting in the front pocket of her back pack, alone, next to her purple mittens and wallet.
It was all fine and dandy on Friday. She started off by unplugging me from her iPod dock where I spent hours charging, ready and refreshed for my long day of entertainment. After that she stuffed me in to her bag, but I knew I wouldn't be in there for long. I listened to the rushing wind as she made her way from the car to the warm temperature of the school. Her footsteps sent vibrations through the entire bag, one after another. Once I felt the bag begin to wobble, I knew she was preparing to take me out. The sound of books slamming against the metal locker was heard before she reached in to the front pocket and pulled me out. She began to unravel the headphones (that were wrapped tightly around my body) and turned me on. The screen light illuminated her face as she scrolled down the play list, trying to decide on a song. Finally, she settled on Paramore and began her long journey to room 111. There, she was welcomed by two familiar voices that I knew belonged to her friends. That was when I knew my music would cease to play. Just like I expected she pulled the headphones out of her ears and shut me off. I could feel the cold envelope me as she wrapped the head phones around my body and place me in her bag.
Hopefully, tomorrow will bring about a new day where she realizes how much she loves to listen to me.
4:00 pm
Today has been slightly...depressing. My owner hasn't used me once; instead she resorts to listening to music on that wretched computer of hers. I hate when she plugs me in to that thing. I feel so violated when the white USB cord synchronizes us. It has been exactly two days since I've played any music what so ever. I've just been sitting in the front pocket of her back pack, alone, next to her purple mittens and wallet.
It was all fine and dandy on Friday. She started off by unplugging me from her iPod dock where I spent hours charging, ready and refreshed for my long day of entertainment. After that she stuffed me in to her bag, but I knew I wouldn't be in there for long. I listened to the rushing wind as she made her way from the car to the warm temperature of the school. Her footsteps sent vibrations through the entire bag, one after another. Once I felt the bag begin to wobble, I knew she was preparing to take me out. The sound of books slamming against the metal locker was heard before she reached in to the front pocket and pulled me out. She began to unravel the headphones (that were wrapped tightly around my body) and turned me on. The screen light illuminated her face as she scrolled down the play list, trying to decide on a song. Finally, she settled on Paramore and began her long journey to room 111. There, she was welcomed by two familiar voices that I knew belonged to her friends. That was when I knew my music would cease to play. Just like I expected she pulled the headphones out of her ears and shut me off. I could feel the cold envelope me as she wrapped the head phones around my body and place me in her bag.
Hopefully, tomorrow will bring about a new day where she realizes how much she loves to listen to me.
February 16, 2009
1:30 pm
1:30 pm
Finally my owner has listened to me, even though it was only for a few minutes. The only part I regret is that she noticed two songs that were missing from her play list. Now she's going to plug me in to her computer. Have I mentioned how much I hate her computer? It just sits there, mocking me, with its enormous size. It feels so superior knowing that it gives me everything I have.
After listening to a song from her favourite movie August Rush (I know it's her favourite movie from the countless times she plays the song) she placed me carelessly on her printer. I am not looking forward to being synchronized, but it's inevitable. It's only a matter of time before she slides me out of the protective case and places me on the desk, bare and cold. She'll proceed to pull out the white USB cord and attach it to me and the computer. I shutter at the idea.
Until that time comes I will remain on the printer, my headphones hanging off the ends. Maybe she'll show some mercy and not synchronize me. No, that's impossible. I know this girl too well. She's completely obsessed with music. Well, I'll be back with an update after I pay a dreaded visit to the computer.
February 17, 2009
7:00 pm
Dear Diary,
Today takes the cake as the most depressing day of my life. Not only did my owner update me on that moronic, egotistical computer, but to top it all off, she forgot to take me with her. So, the entire day I spent sitting next to the computer that likes to call himself, D.E.R.C. (Doing Everything Right Continuously). More like J.E.R.K. if you ask me.
The rivalry between us didn't always exist. It all started one dreadful summer ago when I left with my owner on vacation. I spent the entire summer playing music and movies for her entertainment. When we returned home, Derc wouldn't speak to either of us. At first I tried to console Derc by telling him that he was the fastest, virus- free computer I had ever connected to (a regretful decision on my part), but he didn't buy it. He even did the horrible thing of crashing on her while she was doing her essay. That was when I completely lost it. I confronted Derc while I was being updated, telling him that he should just get off his high horse already. Derc didn't like that. Ever since then the tension between us has thickened and the prospect of us rekindling our friendship is very slim.
February 18, 2009
5:30
Dear diary,
I’m back and I’m a little… handicapped, because my genius owner decided to leave me out of my case ALL DAY! Now, at the top right corner of my body, resides a dent the size of a pea (which I estimate is the size of my owner’s functionless brain). Derc has been laughing at me continuously for an hour. Have there been any stories of an iPod going crazy and killing every electronic device it encounters? No? Well, there will be now.
Why do all the bad things have to happen to me? I’m the one who falls on the ground and gets a permanent scar! I’m the one who gets forgotten in a locker only do be found one hour later! I thought she loved me. I thought she would protect me through anything, at least that’s the lie she fed her parents when she wanted to buy me. It’s all been lies! Everything has been a lie. I think I’m on the brink of a malfunction, which is a serious thing for me because I haven’t ruined once since the day I was rescued from my dark prison (the box I was purchased in). I guess I’ll be writing more when I’m in a slightly better mood.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Membership...
This is something I over heard in class. Two friends were just talking about how boring their spares were.
Girl 1: I was so bored during my spare
Girl 2: Why didn’t you read a book?
Girl 1: I don’t have one (Said with laughter)
Girl 2: So, go to the library and take one out.
Girl 1: I don’t have a library membership.
Girl 2: A membership? What is it, a gym?
Girl 1: Well, what do you want me to call it?
Girl 2: A library card.
Girl 1: Oh my God, does it really matter?
Girl 2: Yeah, it does matter because it sounds stupid.
I thought this conversation was pretty funny because the one girl is overreacting about the girls choice of words. This conversation kind of reminds me of something that would be said in a sit-com or in a stupid show like family guy because what they are saying is pointless, and yet I was still drawn to listen to their argument.
While Eavesdropping, I also noticed that the two girls were opposite in personalities. Girl 1 was not much of a talker and was usually forced by girl 2 to start a conversation. Girl 2 was a lot more talkative whether it be with her voice or with the text messages she continuously sent and received in class. I found it intriguing how two girls with opposite personalities were- or seemed to be- best friends. I guess the saying "opposites attract" stands true in this situation.
Girl 1: I was so bored during my spare
Girl 2: Why didn’t you read a book?
Girl 1: I don’t have one (Said with laughter)
Girl 2: So, go to the library and take one out.
Girl 1: I don’t have a library membership.
Girl 2: A membership? What is it, a gym?
Girl 1: Well, what do you want me to call it?
Girl 2: A library card.
Girl 1: Oh my God, does it really matter?
Girl 2: Yeah, it does matter because it sounds stupid.
I thought this conversation was pretty funny because the one girl is overreacting about the girls choice of words. This conversation kind of reminds me of something that would be said in a sit-com or in a stupid show like family guy because what they are saying is pointless, and yet I was still drawn to listen to their argument.
While Eavesdropping, I also noticed that the two girls were opposite in personalities. Girl 1 was not much of a talker and was usually forced by girl 2 to start a conversation. Girl 2 was a lot more talkative whether it be with her voice or with the text messages she continuously sent and received in class. I found it intriguing how two girls with opposite personalities were- or seemed to be- best friends. I guess the saying "opposites attract" stands true in this situation.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Partying Hard
Eavesdropping is not exactly something I am good at. Usually, when I have nothing better to do with my free time in a boring class or an uneventful bus ride home, I am either listening to my iPod or reading a book. However, when I absolutely have nothing to do, I at least stumble across some interesting conversations.
The following conversation is one I heard while staring blankly at the blackboard in one of my classes. My mind must have drifted out of its usually dreamlike state and I managed to catch a few words of this conversation said by two boys.
Boy1- Yeah, so there was this girl and she was so drunk from the party.
Boy2- I have never seen someone so drunk. She was choking on her own vomit.
Boy1- We poured a bucket of water on her head to try and wake her up.
After focusing my complete attention to their conversation, I soon realized that they were describing a crazy spring break they had. It was definitely disturbing to hear that a girl was so drunk that they had to pour a bucket of water on her unconscious body. This made me wonder: Is it really fun to be insanely drunk or have the possibility of your own vomit causing your death?
This conversation was just another example of why I don't understand the fun and thrill behind drinking.
The following conversation is one I heard while staring blankly at the blackboard in one of my classes. My mind must have drifted out of its usually dreamlike state and I managed to catch a few words of this conversation said by two boys.
Boy1- Yeah, so there was this girl and she was so drunk from the party.
Boy2- I have never seen someone so drunk. She was choking on her own vomit.
Boy1- We poured a bucket of water on her head to try and wake her up.
After focusing my complete attention to their conversation, I soon realized that they were describing a crazy spring break they had. It was definitely disturbing to hear that a girl was so drunk that they had to pour a bucket of water on her unconscious body. This made me wonder: Is it really fun to be insanely drunk or have the possibility of your own vomit causing your death?
This conversation was just another example of why I don't understand the fun and thrill behind drinking.
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Intelligence of Children
This is a conversation I heard between a mother with a 16 month old girl and a mother with an 8 month old girl. Both children seemed to be completely mesmerized with each other and began to try and communicate.
Mother 1- Wow, look at them. They're trying to talk to each other.
Mother 2- Yeah, kids these days are so smart.
That's true. Children these days seem to be a lot smarter. Well, with new brain stimulating Dora games and television shows teaching good behaviour, what else would one expect. However, I believe that in the end it is the parents that project morals and intelligence on to their children. This is what I though until I witnessed mother 2 giver her 16 month old daughter a stick of gum to chew. Sure, kids these days are smart, but are they smart enough to prevent their underdeveloped jaw muscles to make a wrong move and swallow that gum instead of chew it. The answer is no.
I just thought that this conversation was incredibly ironic since the mother is claiming children are smart and the parents are the ones with the stupidity.
Mother 1- Wow, look at them. They're trying to talk to each other.
Mother 2- Yeah, kids these days are so smart.
That's true. Children these days seem to be a lot smarter. Well, with new brain stimulating Dora games and television shows teaching good behaviour, what else would one expect. However, I believe that in the end it is the parents that project morals and intelligence on to their children. This is what I though until I witnessed mother 2 giver her 16 month old daughter a stick of gum to chew. Sure, kids these days are smart, but are they smart enough to prevent their underdeveloped jaw muscles to make a wrong move and swallow that gum instead of chew it. The answer is no.
I just thought that this conversation was incredibly ironic since the mother is claiming children are smart and the parents are the ones with the stupidity.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Hallway Conversation
This was a conversation I was listening to during my spare at school. Be forewarned that it is extremely disgusting and shows the lack of maturity in East York C.I.
Making my way to my friend's class, I was walking behind a couple of younger students. As I neared the classroom the girl in front of me acknowledged one of her friends who was a boy.
Girl- Hey, what's up?
Boy- Do you want to know what I think of you?
The boy, in a very juvenile attempt for some laughs, lifts his leg and farts. The girl begins to shriek and continuously says that he is disgusting. Would you blame her? He practically- for lack of a better term- went to the washroom in his pants and he still had the audacity to laugh at it. Now I know I wasn't supposed to get caught while "eavesdropping" on this conversation, but I couldn't exactly hide when the situation happened so suddenly.
Personally, I found it disgusting that somebody would actually do that in public and to their friend no less. Putting all this aside, the strangest thing about all of this is that, as I put my hand up to my nose in a desperate attempt for safety, he looked me right in the face and continued to laugh.
Making my way to my friend's class, I was walking behind a couple of younger students. As I neared the classroom the girl in front of me acknowledged one of her friends who was a boy.
Girl- Hey, what's up?
Boy- Do you want to know what I think of you?
The boy, in a very juvenile attempt for some laughs, lifts his leg and farts. The girl begins to shriek and continuously says that he is disgusting. Would you blame her? He practically- for lack of a better term- went to the washroom in his pants and he still had the audacity to laugh at it. Now I know I wasn't supposed to get caught while "eavesdropping" on this conversation, but I couldn't exactly hide when the situation happened so suddenly.
Personally, I found it disgusting that somebody would actually do that in public and to their friend no less. Putting all this aside, the strangest thing about all of this is that, as I put my hand up to my nose in a desperate attempt for safety, he looked me right in the face and continued to laugh.
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