The Carrot Collection

 The Curvy Roads  -  A Certain Twist of Fate  -  Straight as an Arrow

I am crestfallen. Beaten down. Crushed.
I've learned it's best to be silent. To not say a word, because people will just yell and scream at you.
But I HATE THAT!!! I hate that I have to say, "it's best to be silent." Because IT'S NOT!
I just feel that way. I've been MADE to feel that way.
There is so much loud, annoying music in this world. So much demand. So much "do this, do that! Let's GO!" Whatever happened to appreciating what you have?
When you comfort and congratulate, THEN people will want to accomplish more.
But when you beat, order, and demand, who would want to just silently obey? AH! It's ridiculous.
It's like they stuff you with all this nonsense, trying to abduct you and make you into one of them.
Stay strong. Don't let them kill you, take over you. AHHHHH!!! What else is there to say?
This is the chaos theory:

Tribal Chaos:

Sometimes, things really click. And when they do, everything starts rolling, smoothly, in a productive though creative way.
It feels awesome!

Lola Lafia                            This I Believe                 ELA; Second Draft

706                                                                           M.S. 51

I believe in the piano.

Everyone has a way to express themselves. A way to let their feelings out. Usually, by doing something they feel comfortable and confident with.

Music is wonderful. The simple though rich sounds that come out of instruments, creating an orchestra of melodies. Rolling hills of pure beauty, vast oceans of overflowing music.

All this, the piano can create.

However, all brilliant things do not always come naturally. They take practice, enforcement, and (unfortunately), criticism. They take work, and passion. While one may want to egress, there are many guerdons that come from playing the piano.

Walk to the piano bench and just sit there; observing and taking in the black and white notes you see in front of you. And you will soon ingress, and finally enter its world.

Sometimes, my fingers fly across the piano. While in my mind I am not fully aware of what I am doing, my fingers know where to go. And, it’s just this amazing feeling that bubbles up inside of me.

I’m being taken over by an instrument!

But it is not just that. It is more.

Be sure to not mitigate the music, but to feed it, feed the fire until it roars! The beauty will be tacit.

But there are many times when I do not want to go and play. I don’t want to enter the piano world.

I have better things to do! I want to text, watch a movie, be with my friends, play a game! But of course I want to do all these things. I’m a kid!

While it is still important to complete the tasks and urges that life presents, as there are many as a twelve-year-old, you must not loose the instrument, for it is a life long companion.

Embrace it.

Put your anger into it.

Put your impatience into it.

Put joy into it.

Put happiness, pleasure, grief, shock, pressure, stress, put everything into it. Put your very soul into the music.

What I love about the piano is that I can loose myself in it. I can be anything while playing. And whatever it may be that leads you to it, everyone must experience that feeling. This, I believe.

Also, music. It's a lyrical speech, a message with melody, it's beautiful. When I make true music, when it really clicks, it is an amazing feeling. When I practiced piano today, I don't think I had that. It just didn't happen.
But a few days ago, I was all into it. It felt tremendously wonderful. I whizzed through the song, swinging my body on the piano stool, my fingers trapezing, rapidly moving across the keyboard. 
When it happens, I know I'm about to say a dumb, common, cliche word, but it is really magical. 
And even listening to music, gives me pumps of happy energy- the world might still have a chance.

I really love my dad. It's great to have a person who is always there for you, complimenting you on your every move, encouraging you, pushing you forward in a gentle way. That's my dad. With him, everything is a fun, engaging experiment. I like that.

I believe in the piano. In the way it makes music- beautiful, living music.
I believe the piano is a tool to express yourself, whether the emotions come out in a glorious or melancholy way.
Through the piano I have learned that sometimes, you have to accept criticism. People are only trying to help you when they comment on what could be better. I have resisted playing piano many times, and in the future I probably still will, but I have learned that the piano is a wonderful instrument and is worth playing.
And it's not just that. I believe that the piano is an excellent model of the real world. While I'm using typical words here, the piano IS happy, delighted, angry, and sad all at the same time. That is the beauty of it.
In the world there will always be people who are strong, and want to push society forward with new thinking and new ideas: those are the sharps. There are always the people who will be calm, laid back; the flats.
And then, there will be the notes in between. 
All of us together, us who make up the keyboard, make the music. Some may be stronger, some may be weaker, but in unison we are powerful.

 

Wonder

Wonder is a wonder: a book that grasps you into its world and doesn't let you out till the end. 

Wonder explores the true meaning of what it is to be a friend. The characters in the book felt so, so real, and I kept thinking, "I want to meet you!".

The main character, Auggie, born with a very rare facial deformity, has been protected at home all his life. But his parents decide that its time to take him into the real world, so this coming fall, Auggie will enter 5th grade at a school called Beecher Prep. Mixed with excitement and fear, Auggie isn't sure if he wants it or not.

The book describes his experiences at school, the ups and downs of what happens and what changes to Auggie throughout the school year.

By June, Auggie has made new friends, experienced school, and has accomplished something one has to be very brave to do. I was proud of him at the end of the book!

A great author can create a whole world within just the pages of their book, can make characters come alive. R.J. Palacio, author of Wonder, did exactly that.

I love writing, and hope that I can make my stories pop out of their pages and become alive, too.

I haven't written in a while. But I'm feeling good. I don't know what to write.

Last night, my family watched the Olympics. We aren't able to do that at home, so it was really exciting.
I love the Olympics. It's dramatic, thrilling, and fun to watch.
Yesterday, we were watching track and field. It goes by very fast, and the people running beat each other by just a tenth of second! It's so close.
But sometimes I feel for the contestants. They look so pressured, and I wouldn't want to feel that way.
It might be fun to be in the Olympics, but it's probably much harder than it seems. So I guess I'll just keep watching them instead!

Usain Bolt won the mens' 100m run, and Ryan Baily, from AMERICA :), won second! Also, after China, the USA has the second most gold medals in all of the Olympic sports. That's pretty good!
Here is a picture:

Cooking is an experiment in itself. Keep playing around with ingredients, amounts, proportions, and maybe it’ll be right.

But baking is different. Proportion is the key thing. If you miss one ingredient, or cook it for to long, your product won’t turn out as well.

My brother can’t eat gluten our dairy, so him and I try to make gluten free dairy free treats. We just made muffins, and they actually turned out pretty good!

However, we’ve made other foods, and they’ve turned out awful!

Life is an experiment, mixing up different things along the way. Every moment that passes by is an ingredient to the final dish. But I wonder: when do you taste the final dish?

Maybe in the afterlife? In a parrelel world once your done with Earth’s? We will never know.

Where do you go when you’ve, well, checked out? Once your done baking?

It makes me sad to think about that.

I can’t imagine myself any older. It feels like I’ll always be 12! But then time keeps ticking. I see videos of my self at age 5, how was I ever that age?

Even as I’m typing, second by second we’re moving: time is moving, life is moving.

Moving, moving. The Earth is a giant cruise ship, moving and floating through space. Moving, moving, through moments, through space, through life, time. We are the fingers on the clock, repeating our days over and over again.

My dad used to tell me: repetition and difference. Everything is a repetition of something else, with a slight difference.

Each day is a repetition of another day, but with a difference.

Anyway, I think that’s an interesting concept.

I like concepts, theories, ideas. They all come from questions. And I know I have millions of questions. And all of those will lead to new concepts, new theories, new ideas.

And those will lead to more questions, more answers, then more contemplation. Repetition, and difference.

Waking up.

Feel the slight, welcoming, summer breeze from my window.

And just walking outside, sticking my arms out like a bird, feeling the air seep through my body, hearing the birds chirp away, speaking in an unknown language, seeing the many shades of green, everywhere, everywhere.

Even though one can here the rumbling of cars driving by, why pay attention when you have pure life, nature: flowers, insects, birds, beautiful sounds, beautiful wind, beautiful beautiful vacation?

What is a vacation? It is a break.

Where I am now is nothing like it is where I live.

That is vacation.

Constant sounds, different bodies of water always changing, rocks, pebbles, and shells, trees, plants, leaves of all sort, vines creeping out of every corner, family. I am happy.

While I'm here I need to enjoy it. I need to embrace the forces of life around me, to take in simply the wonderful, fresh air. 

Time goes by so quickly. So take the extra two minutes. Because they won't come again.

Time puzzles me sometimes. What is time? It isn't just the numbers we have composed to work around the clock. 

Time is just a tool we use. 

Speech is a tool we use to communicate.

Writing is a tool, partners with speech.

Writing, writing, scribling, scribing, writing, getting down thoughts, information, emotions, writing, writing, writing, now the word, writing, writing, writing, writing is starting to sound a little funny.

What is also interesting is how thoughts can trail off. Just like how I write (writing writing writing :). One thought leads to another, one sentence brings on more.

My next sentence is that I am hungry and should go eat breakfast.

The sharp, fierce edge pierces the red sphere, slicing it into pieces. I gently pick it up, place it in a bowl, and bite. The light, filling juiciness assures me. And, most of all, it taste good.

So much an apple can do :)

What is hello?
It is a h, e, l, l, and an o.
It is a composition of various letters composing a word.
It is a gesture that says "welcome".
It is a greeting.
It is a way to approach someone.

It is the opposite of goodbye.

Hello.

Goodbye.

 Summer is finally here. Well, it was a while ago but still.

The heat is both relaxing and, well, quite HOT.

As I think about temperature, I think about seasons. Where I live we have all of them. Spring transforming into summer, summer to fall, then fall to the chills of winter.

If someone asks me the question, "would you rather live in a place where it is always cold or where it is always hot?", I would say cold. To me, there is a sense of comfort and warmth when I cozy up under a blanket in the winter. It feels good.

But now it is summer, and I am welcoming the heat to nourish and calm my body, day by day. I am in Cape Cod. Here there is an excellent balance of heat, and of course various bodies of water to keep cool in. Each day so far we have gone to a different pool of water; on Monday a place to swim, to play paddle board, and to skim board; on Tuesday a private and wonderful pond (Spectacle Pond (I like the name, let that be noted) ), and today to Duck Pond, where we caught some frogs and saw huge tadpoles!

What I like about Cape Cod is that I have that feeling of nature, trees, ponds, oceans, wildlife, but still that assuring feeling of civilization around you. And with the adventures I am having, the places I am swimming, the food :) I am eating, and, of course, the deep sleep I am getting, I am finally on vacation!

Social Connections

I think my father found this on the internet, but it's pretty cool.

Yesterday I went with my family to the MoMA to see the show on Cindy Sherman. It was a walk through gallery where you saw various pictures of the same person, Cindy Sherman, modeling/acting different personas. Museums always have the same effect on a kid, you know, but this exhibit was actually pretty cool. I like acting a lot, and in these photos, in each one she is acting, trying to portray different scenarios herself. I liked that. Here are some photos:

“When you’re ready, plug yourself into a power source.”

“Life has no limits or breakpoints or finish lines. Life is only the new step to continuing: to keep going.”

“It is okay for a work of fiction to still be in the hands with the pen. It becomes a process not quite finished, only ready to go on.”

“Beauty is beneath. Beneath is under. Under is…”

“Anything can be connected to anything. You just have to make the connection.”

“Your imagination is a facet of yourself. Treat it with respect.”

“See, over there? It’s storming; a fierce rain is erupting. But notice over there? The sun is shining, and it’s a beautiful day.

Chose where you are. It’s all a conception.”

“Thoughts are just the thoughts of other thoughts.”

“You don’t have to ‘think again’. If that’s what you think, anyhow…”

“Today is the tomorrow of yesterday. And if tomorrow is the future, then so is today.”

“Everyone is a strong, invincible phantom, and can conquer anything. They just have to want to.”

“No one is born a genius. No one is born a certain way. One adapts to themself, in a process I’m pretty sure we call ‘life’.”

“How are you today? The answer is your choice.”

“It’s hard to keep going. It’s hard to keep your pen on your paper. And it’s hard to keep your tank full of gas. But you’ve got to. Because in the end, when the end comes around, you’ll realize your accomplishment and be proud of it. And that’s a feeling that most certainly want to have.”

I had my piano lesson today, and it felt very good to play. It's just that feeling of, of satisfaction, of relaxation, of endearment.

It was a rough day, and despite how well or not I played during my lesson, I enjoyed forgetting about my feelings and entering the world of music.

My dad had showed me a bunch of piano performances, and some of those players were fascinatingly beautifully excellent. But what I take away from that is not that I am no good at piano, is not that there are thousands of better musicians out their than me, but is that piano is such a deep, expressive instrument I have levels to explore.

I wonder what a utopian dystopia feels like.

I have to go back to school today.

I don't see why.

I wish vacation was never-ending.

Practically no one would be against that, probably.

But I have to go.

I think that a big part of school is just the fact of going there everyday; again, and again, and again!

But it's going well, so...

And I'll get to see all my friends, so...
So....

So...

So I have to go do some writing and work on my book. Au revoir.

Oh, also, I was watching "Ghostbusters" the other day and it's quite funny!

"Not everything ends in an explanation. Do the math." - Lola Lafia

I am at a passover-dinner-party-sort-of-event. It was quite fun actually, because we kind of made our own version of the Seder.
I am about to leave and am writing through an iPad that is not mine. Okay; I have to go because I do. Goodbye.

In my social studies class, we are making ancient Greek ABC books. There are four people in my group got six or seven letters of the alphabet to illustrate some aspect of ancient Greece on. I got A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. Here are my letters:

 Interconnection

Sometimes, all we want is some comfort; some comforting, supportive words told to us. Just to soothe our minds. There are some people that are naturally skilled at that. 

But unfortunately, comfort is not always provided in the world.

I want to do something big. I need to do something big. And I need to, I will, do it today.

I'm going to try: really going to try. To become skilled in one of my interests, and to make something out of it. I'm going to comfort myself when I need to be supported, and I'm going to make it out there. 

The trouble, for everyone, is putting their finger on what it is they want. Life is going to flourish through my fingers, run through me like I am the champion of the world: I am strong, I will be strong, I am going to become so intimate with the world that I'm going to burst; overflowing with compassion, joy, pleasure. I am going to use everything in this world to make it. I will not only use the pen but the pencil and the keyboard too; not only the paper but the computer; not just my friend, but my friends.

After all, I am a philosipher already; my love of wisdom is unstopable.

Ludicrously ridiculous.

Deliciously entertaining.

Fabulously cherishable.

Emphatically encouraging.

Ripely energetic.

Engagingly fascinating.

I will seek to recognize, to understand the world. I've got to see what it really is before I start the thoughts of a personal utopia.

I will be a magnet, sticking to my interests, hopes, and inovations.

Give up?

What the ***?

Are they kidding me?

No way.

"Our goal is to become with the way of things. And in so doing to become more intimate with the world, more intimate with ourselves. This is our pleasure, this is our demand, this is our delight: to become with the world."- Great line. So, so lush, descriptive: it has meaning within each word.

Sentences are all about the way they are formed. All the words coming together create a whole nother world.

Yeah, that's my big line. But it's a good one.

I think it's great to start out young. I'm young, so "what do I know"?

Well, think again.

The young are going to revolt! We need some respect here!

Everyone may not live up to the same standards, but everyone has ideas!

And so everyone should share them!

But my question is, why don't people?

Are we brought up in a society where we are scared of sharing our opinions?

No, I don't think so.

So why is it that kids aren't ruling the world yet?

*That felt surprisingly good to write...

I think thinking is brilliant. It is. Just the ability to put your mind to work is something.

Bonjour. Comment ca va?
Ca va bien, merci.
J'ai sommeil.
Je suis AAAAAHHHHHHH.

Bonjour. Quell est la date aujordui?
Eh? Qui, c'est mardi, le vingt-sept mars. Il fait beau.
Je suis, eh, je ne sais pas. J'ai sommeil.

La la la. Est-ce que tu parle? Je parle beaucoup.

Je ne sais pas.
Je ne sais pas.

Am I saying any of this right?
Does it really matter?
Maybe it does.
Maybe our reader wants the story to have some action.
Maybe.
Maybe.
GOSH! What does maybe mean?

Hello.
In social studies, we are learning about the ancient Greeks. We read a bunch of Greek myths, and now we have to write our own. This is what I wrote:

Long ago, there lived underground two very jovial gods, who ruled the kingdom of the underground. Soiler, the royal king, always made certain that all plants had enough soil and nutrients to grow. Roota, queen of the roots, inspected the roots of every natural plant to make sure they were healthy.

Everyday of life went on fairly well for the couple of gods and their nymphs and apprentices. Everyday would be a repetition of the day before; warm, sunny skies, and full of, well, standard happiness. And because of their immortal souls, they never grew any older. And that was the way they liked it.

Until one day, one very usual, regular day, it wasn’t so regular. That was the day on which Hades, god of the underworld, captured Persephone, daughter of Demeter, goddess of crops and growth. That was the day on which every thing grew black, shrivled up, and grew angry. Crops and plants did not grow.

Water did not fall to the ground, and so the crops did not grow, and so Soiler and Roota grew very worried. How were their precious plants to grow if they did not grow? How would they live?

You see, the whole Family of the Underground depended on their plants to grow. Or else, they would die of unhappiness.

Soiler and Roota, being the very un-inovative gods that they were, quickly grew very glum. There was no work to be done, no roots and soil to be nurtured, no plants to grow!

All the while, Demeter weeped. Her daughter, her precious, beloved daughter, was trapped in the Underworld. She mourned, until one day, Persephone slowly rose from under the ground.

As you all know, from the myth of Persephone, there came the seasons. When she was trapped in the underworld, her mother refused to have growth, and that became winter. But when Persephone arose and came back to her mother, it would be spring, and in it the flowers blooming with joy.

Actually, Demeter had no say in when or why or how flowers grew. That was Blooma, goddess of bloom.

Blooma was Persephone’s long lost sister, whom neither Persephone nor Demeter knew about. But Blooma knew all right.

After being thrown away in secrecy by her father, Blooma left to live with Soiler and Roota, her aunt and uncle. The two patiently listened to her tale and took Blooma in. But Blooma had only one problem. She had, not yet, a power.

And so that day, that very day on which Persephone was captured, Blooma mourned with her aunt and uncle. Her sister, her true sister, was to be, well, she didn’t know. It just sounded so scary.

But Blooma knew there was nothing to be done.

So days went on and on with unhappiness.

One day, one very solemn day, Flowr, a young, thoughtful god, walked in through the door to the underground. As soon as Blooma and Flowr met eyes, it was love. At first sight.

Blooma, knowing that her aunt and uncle would not be pleased with her sudden outburst of strong emotions, kept Flowr a secret.

Life, at least for Blooma, became well again. She was happy: she had found her true love.

One day, Blooma had to admit something to Flowr.

“Flowr,” she said in a gentle voice. “Flowr, I have to admit something. I cherish you more than anything, but, well, there is something I need. I need a power! I need a skill, like my aunt and uncle, and all the other gods of Mount Olympus!”

“My darling,” Flowr replied. “I wish the same thing as you.”

With this need on their fingertips, the two searched for something special that they could create. They looked and looked, constantly contemplated, until one day, they found it.

And so together, Blooma and Flowr, created springtime: the Blooming of Flowers.

My comic for French (it doesn't have the accents yet):

This is a philosophical, non-fiction-ish, personal, short piece of writing dedicated to the parts of being eleven years old:

One is me, and me alone. Some people say one is the loneliest number: take the song “One is the Loneliest Number”-by Three Dog Night. But I disagree.

Being alone is just a small space to think: to go beyond normal thinking, and to have space and silence for yourself. And as you get older, around the age of eleven, you start to become much more independent: you have a lot more time alone.

Only last year did I start walking around by my self, going to school alone, and picking up my brother. Only then did I get keys: a sense of independency. Only then did I realize that other people were not always going to “be there for me”.

That, in a way, can be frightening: but it also makes you stronger. I know that I will always have the support of my family and friends, but I, me myself, have to be able to be there for myself. I can never give up.

I think that two represents a true friendship. I am lucky to have a very steady friendship with my best friend, Hannah Lola. I met her when I was six, and we have been really, really good friends since.

Because no two people are the same, to have a relationship, you have to be able to accept other opinions and preferences. That can be very hard, especially if you have your mind set on what you think.

Just the other day, as we were walking home together, Hannah Lola and I were just talking about school and various other things. I made a statement about something, but she thought I was blaming her. I wasn’t at all, so I told her so.

And then, even though I didn’t show it, I started to get frustrated that she didn’t understand what I was saying.

But, as usual, it resolved.

I guess that sometimes, you can’t take things so seriously. There have been multiple times when we have gotten into arguments, but it always turns out okay.

I’m really glad to have a friend that I can confide in and talk to anytime I want, and that we support each other for our own thoughts and opinions. Even though we misunderstand sometimes, it doesn’t stop us from being friends. I’ve learned that it is not, in any way, worth it to give up a friend, any friend, over a small disagreement.

Three is the first odd prime number. Music is odd too. When I think of music, I think of taste: one’s musical taste. Every person has their own taste of music: each and every person has their own “three” of music.

This means that everyone has his or her own likes and dislikes of music. Of course, there are some songs that everybody knows; like music that is usually popular at a certain time period, or is often played on the radio or in restaurants. Everyone knows the song “Billionaire”, for example. “Don’t Stop Believing” as well. And there are some musicians and singers that most people have heard of; Lady Gaga, the Beatles, and the Black Eyed Peas for starters.

And then there are so many other great bands out there too.

I listen to music, sometimes, to escape. I take in the music, and just listen. I listen to the beats, to the lyrics, and just forget about everything else. It is a very relaxing feeling.

I also play the piano. That’s music too, and it’s special music because I am the one who is making the sound. I really enjoy it. When I am done practicing, I sometimes create my own music, and just let my fingers do whatever they want.

Just like painting and drawing, music is an art in itself.

Four always reminds me of the four essential elements: air, water, fire, and earth, and how they work together to create everything on our planet. And this statement is also true with siblings. We work together everyday in ways that we don’t realize: I mean, we live together. Occasionally, we have to give certain things up for each other, even if we do it grudgingly.

Sometimes, having a sibling can be frustrating and (I hate to admit it) very irritating, but other times (I like to say it) they can be the greatest thing in the world.

I have a six-year-old brother named Roman. From what I’ve heard from my friends and their siblings, I’ve concluded that we have a pretty good relationship. We’ve both got a pretty equal share on things; attention, toys, and just plain stuff.

But brothers and sisters, if you have any, are like permanent friends: they have to be! You’re cooped up with them until you go off to live by yourself. And sometimes, we each, especially me, need time alone. In the last couple of years, as my brother really started “forming” and being aware of his actions (basically how he has grown up), I have realized that he admires me a lot. He’s five whole years younger than me, and I am, in many ways, his major role model.

But often, I just start to get annoyed. I feel like he is copying me, even though (as my mom tries to tell me), he really just likes my ideas. And even though I’ve been explained this quite a few times, it’s hard to accept.

I don’t mean to say that they are always that way, because if I did I would be contradicting my own self. Being an older sibling, it’s all about the way you react. I just have to understand that that Roman is younger than me, and his thought’s and his ideas are on his level, which are different than mine. So for me, by just saying yes to him, I can easily get what I want too.

* Because he is younger than me, I just wanted to state that sometimes, I think my brother is so cute! Just the things that go on in his little first-grade mind are just, well, adorable!

And when I am frustrated, it’s hard to believe that I ever thought that. Emotions are confusing.

Five is the natural number following 4 and preceding 6. And so is middle school; following elementary and preceding high school.

Last year, the last year of elementary school, was a bit unnerving because of the fact of Middle School: we had to chose where we would be going.

I toured so many schools with my parents, was conflicted on where to go, and even had to change my application. For some of my friends, it was easier to choose because they had older siblings in middle school, so they already knew what they liked.

I have to say, though, it was kind of fun visiting all these other schools.

And now I am here, sitting at M.S. 51, writing my Independent Writing Project. I like it. I think that I chose a very good school, and because it is a lot like my old school, I got comfortable here pretty quickly.

Here is my class schedule:

As far as school goes, I’m happy.

Some say six is the most loving number of all. I have to agree; it’s beautifully shaped, all round and curvy, and is easily divisible by two and three. The number six is easygoing.

And easygoing is what parents have to be to have an eleven-year-old child.

My parents are literally the best people I have ever known. They take care of me; they gave me my life!

But as you get older and start to feel more confident in yourself, there begin to be more and more things that you disagree with your parents about. And not just about disagreeing: there are something’s that you, personally may want, but your parents don’t think you need it.

That is part of the normal relationship of parents and a child.

But I feel that my parents are really always there for me; for support, mainly. And that is just what a parent does. If something goes wrong, or if I am upset about a project, or anything like that, I know that my parents will never, truly, get mad at me, and they will always look to the positive side. I don’t know how, but they always have good things to say; even about the worst things.

Which makes life a lot easier. It’s comforting to know that there is always someone who will appreciate anything I do.

When I do get irritated, however, I think about how much they have done for me; for me and my life. I think about all the fabulous “things” (gadgets, toys, books, etc.) I have, all the amazing trips we’ve been on, the house I live in, the food I eat. My parents are supporting my brother and I in every possible way.

And that makes me feel very, very good.

Seven is the number that always stands out. Seven is the original creativity that every person has in a different way.

One of my major talents is writing. I just really, really enjoy it. When I write, it’s exactly like being president, in a way. You get to design a whole world through simply a paper and a pen. And the great thing about it is that there is no judging by anyone: you can come up with whatever you want.

Last summer, I started writing my own piece of literature. I made a goal for myself to write a book. It was, actually, extremely hard to come up with a topic that would cover a time span to be “qualified” as a book.

But I did it. At this point in time, I am on my 54th page. That’s right: typed page, and absolutely no double spacing. I measured it in comparison to the Little Prince, and it’s actually longer. It’s a lot. And it’s a lot of goodness.

I really love my story. And I’m not even done.

Sometimes, I just think about how utterly amazing it would be to have a published book; a real, published story.

I’m going to try to achieve that. I plan to enter the Scholastic Young authors’ competition in March.

The hard thing about writing a story, however, is keeping at it. On some occasions, I really don’t feel like writing even though I know I should.

But other times, my whole body pours into it.

Overall, writing is a great thing to do. It really gets your mind going. Sometimes, it takes me half an hour to write just three paragraphs. But those three paragraphs have a lot of effort in them, and they become so extravagantly wonderful!

There are just something’s that some people really love to do.

And for me- “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

Eight is the number that when put backwards our upsidown, it’s appearance stays the same. Eight is consistent.

I am told something’s many, many times. It’s consistent. And it never stops.

-My mom always tells me to sit up straight. I do, but I forget. And somehow, I always forget right when she’s there.

-I am always reminded to play piano. I know I have to, but it’s another thing to do. When I get to the piano, however, I really enjoy it, but it takes a lot of urging (by my parents) to get me there.

- I always have to do my homework; everyday. But I guess I shouldn’t complain about that because I’ve had to do that all my life.

Argh!

Nine is nine. Nine is the number that is simply itself. Nine has it’s own opinion: nine has the freedom of speech.

As a person grows older, there mind keeps forming, and at about eleven years old, it’s pretty much fully built, and your mind is sophisticated enough to do just about anything. So this part of the book is dedicated to writing whatever you feel like.

On the lines below, please write (it can be as random as you like) whatever you want:

Express your thoughts!

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Ten is the first two-digit number. Saturday and Sunday (the weekend), are two digit days. I love weekends. I love that feeling of having nothing to do: to be free, all to myself and to my wants. The weekend is the time to relax.

But I hardly get to feel that feeling anymore. Homework just piles up. And it’s that need to do my homework that sometimes bothers me.

Because I know I need to do it. And I know it all through Friday evening, all through Saturday, and through the whole of Sunday. And it nags me the whole weekend.

But I want to do so many other things too!

I’m sure every kid feels this too. But I try never to leave my homework for Sunday night, so I’m not worried about what I have to do. I’m also sure some kids do leave it all for Sunday night.

Sometimes, which I probably shouldn’t be, I get worried that I didn’t do the homework right. On some days, the homework isn’t clear for certain subjects, so I am confused on what to do. So I call my friends, but I get about five different opinions.

Which is exactly why I don’t wait until the last minute to do it.

I know, every weekend, that I’m not going to let the homework be the only thing I do (if you drag it out, it can take a really long time). So I break it down; I do half of it on Friday, some of it on Saturday morning, and the rest in the afternoon. Of course, I take brakes. For me, it works.

And then, I’m free; free to do whatever I want.

Until Monday comes...

Eleven is the repitition of one. Or maybe it’s not: maybe it’s just one two times, or 1x11, or 2+9, or all the other mathematical equations it could possibly be.

Or is eleven just a six-letter word? Or is it a word with three E’s? Or is it the age of me? Or is it the age of all the people in my class? Or is it:

E L E V E N

Eleven

Eleven

eleven

eleveN

eleven

11

The thing is, it’s all these things. And life is so many things too. Everyday, someone new is being born, new jobs are being occupied, new buildings are being built, and new stories are being writing. Life is everything everywhere.

And everyone is part of this everything.

Twelve is the future.