Going to College

October 19, 2004

High school is “A place of primary instruction; an establishment for the instruction of children; as, a primary school; a common school; a grammar school.” (www.dictionary.com) In my high school days, I remember ninth through eleventh grade I always hated school and really couldn’t wait to get out. However, in twelfth grade I realized that my high school days were soon going to be done and over with. Surprisingly enough, I was upset about that. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t see all my friends as much, I wouldn’t have my own locker, and I wouldn’t have to ride a school bus. I actually miss some of these things now. I found it weird how my how outlook on school changed and I had actually thought about how I would be missing high school. In high school I attempted many jobs and volunteer work. My first job was being a hostess at Denny’s. I was there for three years, and then I moved on the being a waitress at Ponderosa. That lasted a couple months. From there I worked at NCI. That was a job I hated with a passion. I volunteered at many places too, such as General Hospital, the MDA, the Red Cross, Windsor Baptist Church and the Harpursville High School guidance office.

Growing up, I always wanted to do what my mom was doing. She worked at Kmart, I wanted to… and when she worked at Lupo’s… I wanted to. In seventh grade I found my passion for writing with the help of two English teachers, Ms. Mikoda and Mr. LeStrange. I have been writing poems and short stories ever since and I absolutely love it. Since I began writing, I have had three poems published in a worldwide poetry book, three editor’s choice awards given to me, two poems publish on an audio poetry book soundtrack, and I am currently working on my own poetry book entitled “Loves Me… Loves Me Not.” So, when I found my passion, I decided that I wanted to do that “when I grew up.” My dad is currently a journalist for his local newspaper in North Carolina and has been a journalist since before I was born. Growing up around newspaper writing, I can to the conclusion that I wanted nothing to do with being a newspaper journalist. Instead, I wanted to be a magazine writer. My main goal is to end up in New York City writing for a big magazine like CosmoGirl.

My father is the only person who went to college and graduated. He attended Oklahoma State, where he took courses to be a firefighter. My mom never went to college because the price was too costly for my grandparents at the time. My adopted sister Shannon, started at Purdue University in Indiana to be a veterinarian, but then dropped out. My half sister Christie started at BCC for nursing and still has not graduated from a high college. My closest cousin Ryan went to Albany University then ended up dropping out. Therefore, my real goal in life is to at least graduate from BCC let alone any other college.

To me, college is a privilege. Not a lot of people go to college, and some are unable to attend due to financial issues. That is why I believe those of us that can go to college and have that “luxury” should take full advantage of it. And I believe that the smartest way to a college degree is to start at a local college such as BCC, then transfer to a bigger one later. One thing my cousin Ryan said is, “I wish I went to BCC first. Maybe then I would have been more prepared for Albany.”

College is “An undergraduate division or school of a university offering courses and granting degrees in a particular field,” (www.dictionary.com) College for me is on a completely different level than high school. College is so much more independent where pass and fail is the choice of the student. High school was dependent. We all depend on our parents to be involved and our teachers to update us if we are failing or if we have missed anything. With college being so much more costly, it all helps build responsibility. And I believe that responsibility in college builds to have more responsibility outside in the “real world.”

J.I. JOE’S PLAY BALL

J

ohnny just closed his eyes. His mind went blank. Yet, he sensed that feeling he did when he was younger. He was so confused with it all. However, he sat on his bed every night trying to remember. Remember those times… the ones with his father. The more he tried to remember, the less reality came, and the more fantasies arose with hints of imagination. His mother was seldom help. She was hallucinating horribly. She made up stories more often than Johnny, which just frustrated him more. He was determined. Determined to be taken from a 35 year old and back to his childhood. Back to when he was 6.

29 years earlier…

“Daddy… Daddy… come play.” Johnny’s voice stung his father’s ears as he came into the house at noon. “There is a war daddy.”

“A war son?” His father looked tired most often, but pretended not to be when Johnny wanted to play.

“Yes a war. And the cap… he just called for the J.I. Joes.” Johnny held his wooden gun on his shoulder and pointed to the woods when he talked of war.

“It’s G.I. Joes.” His father always corrected him.

“That’s what I said Daddy. We are the J.I. Joes.” Johnny never got the concept that he was wrong with what he was saying.

“Okay boy, whatever you say. So where do we have to go?”

“To the woods. The wind will led us…” Johnny’s eyes widened… his pupils blackened, and his lips turned into a grin.

“The wind will let us what?” His father knew what Johnny was talking about, but waited for Johnny to correct himself.

“Not let… it’ll led… le… Take us there, you know what I mean!” Johnny swung open the screen door and yelled, “C’mon Dad. Their a waitin’. We don’t have much time.”

Grabbing his coat and bb gun, Johnny’s father traipsed after him. “Soldiers stand tall Johnny. Your slouched. Straighten your back son.”

“Like this?” Johnny’s back curved up fast, his hand raised to his forehead in salute, as his tiny legs marched.

“Pretty good lad, pretty good.”

They made it to the woods. “East to the sea, West to the war. Right daddy?”

“That’s right.” Johnny’s granddad used to say that all the time.

Suddenly, Johnny slammed his body to the ground. “DOWN DAD! THEY’RE SHOOTIN’! BANG, BANG!” Johnny raised his gun to his eye and randomly shot at the sun rays. With no hesitation Johnny flew into the leaves and hid. His father followed like he was told.

“Did you hear ’em shootin’ dad?” Johnny whispered in a quiet mumbling voice.

“Yes son.”

“They think they got us… but we’re not dead. Us J.I. Joes live on.” Johnny peeked us head up and looked around. “Ah-ha… they’re gone. They left us ‘lone. They probably got scared of my gun and ran.”

“Probably Johnny.” His father grinned.

“That’s Captain J.I. Johnny to you. I am the new boss.” Johnny and his father headed home.

“Well Cap, you sure fought a pretty good war. Thanks for saving my life.”

29 years later…

“That would have been fun. Normal. Exciting.” Johnny continued with the adjectives. He held his mothers hand. She was laughing.

“I remember that!.” She proclaimed.

“But it didn’t happen mom. Its not real. It was just a story. Imagination got to me. Dad and I never did that.” He knew her condition was what made her think it happened. He thought some more and his brain began to hurt.

27 years earlier…

“Kenny Rogers…” Johnny said. “I want to play ball like the kid in the song.”

“What are you taking about son?”

“And the ball goes up in the moon so bright, he swings his bat with all his might. And the worlds as still as still can be, and the baseball falls, and that’s strike three…” Johnny sang.

“You want to strike out?” Johnny’s father asked.

“No. He finds out he is a good pitcher dad.” Johnny stood in the hall with his ball and mitt. “C’mon dad, let me show you.” Johnny and his father went out to the backyard. Johnny ran across the grass to the other side near the creek. “Okay dad, get ready to swing. Its gunna come fast.”

Johnny threw the ball, and it went rolling on the ground. “Hmmm… the ball must be heavy.” Johnny attempted again. “Maybe it just needs a push… up…” He threw with all his might, and on the ground it rolled. “Nope, it definitely is a heavy ball. It won’t fly.”

“Maybe you should try swinging and I will pitch son.” His father suggested.

“I…I… I don’t know dad… it could get dangerous when I have the bat.” He opened his eyes wide and looked at the bat. “I guess I could… try.”

“There’s a good lad. You try your best.” His father laughed and grinned. “You go over there now. Stand your ground and make sure to keep your eye on the ball.” His father picked up the ball and threw. It went past Johnny and onto the driveway. He ran over to Johnny and asked, “why didn’t you swing?”

“Did you not hear what you said dad? You said, and I quote, ’KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL.’ Well I did, and I am still figuring out how you got it to stay in the air.”

“Yes. Watch the ball, but swing too.” His father shook his head as he looked towards the screen door. Johnny’s mother stood there watching and laughing.

Johnny swung around and waved as he yelled, “I’m doing good mom. I‘ll be a pro in no time. Go call the Yankees and tell them on am on my way.”

“Okay son… now keep your eye on the ball… AND SWING!” The ball flew, curved up towards the sky and then came flying towards the bat. Johnny lifted the bat, pulled back and swung. The bat went flying through the air as Johnny ran to first base, and the ball hit the ground. His father ran to his side again and asked, “Why? Why did you throw the bat? You are a hitter not pitcher anymore.”

“You poor thing… you don’t watch enough baseball. When Jeter is up at bat, he swings, throws the bat and runs. I think we should be teaching you and not me.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Mom, he really needs some lessons,” He yelled to the house as he pointed at his father.

“You know son… they hit the ball and run. Maybe we should try some other day.” His father and him walked to the house.

“Its always on dad… just watch baseball and you’ll catch on.” Johnny said as he shook his head.

27 years later…

“Yup, you always wanted to play pro baseball.” His mother cried now.

“I never like baseball mom. I never understood it. No one taught me to play.” Johnny closed his eyes. It was coming back. He was remembering the real story. He could see it and feel it. His eyes clinched, and his fingers curled…

29 years earlier…

“Daddy, daddy…” Johnny jumped up and down in front of his father. His dads hand pushed on his head to stand still.

“Stay down.” His father said.

“C’mon Johnny. Bed.” His mother called from the upstairs. “Its 9 o’clock.”

“But… daddy…”

“Go. Listen to your mother son.” His voice was rugged and his eyes drooped.

Johnny slowly climbed the stairs to his room. “Why does daddy get home late?”

“He has to work honey. Make money. So we can live.” She explained in small detail.

Johnny closed his eyes as she flipped the switch and the lights vanished. Hours later he awoke to the wind blowing outside and the thunder cracking. He cried, but no one heard him. Laying in his pajamas, he shook. With a big crack from the sky, he ran to his parents room. He hopped onto his fathers side of the bed and shook him with his tiny hands. “Wake up! Wake up! There are loud noises outside.”

“Its thunder. Go to sleep.” His father waved him away.

“No daddy, I can’t. I’m scared.” Johnny said in a crying voice.

“Ok… ok… I am up.” They walked down the creaky staircase, and went to the kitchen where the sliding glass door was drenched with rain. “Want to make popcorn and talk?”

“Really? We can eat at…” Johnny pointed to the clock.

“Three in the morning.” His father answered when he saw Johnny trying to figure it out.

“Tree in the morning.” Johnny replied.

“Yea we can.” His father made the popcorn, and they sat in front of the window.

“Why does the sky light up and make noises when it is raining?” Johnny asked softly.

Trying to figure out a way to explain it to the six-year-old, he said: “Well, in Heaven, the angels are bowling. And when they get a strike and knock down the pins, the lights go on and off to congratulate them.”

“Really? There is bowling in Heaven?” Johnny looked up and shoved another piece in his mouth.

“Yes son.” They both yawned. “Looks like you can sleep now. What do you say?”

“Ok. As long as they are having fun.” Johnny and his father crept up the stairs again.

“Good night son.”

“Good night daddy.” Johnny smiled.

29 years later…

“Bowling… pffft.” He shook his head. “That’s it. That’s the memory I have. No more. We never bonded.”

His mothers hand turned cold and her fingers slipped out of his. He looked at her and said… “I always had you mom. I had memories with you. Thank you for that.” Outside he heard the rain and the cracking of the thunder. With nothing, he went home.

Life within Her Eyes

Under the staircase of an old house was a small, but big enough room for one living soul to live in. In the corner of this room, lays a helpless young girl with no feeling of happiness. The mirror that hung on the wall of the peeled off paint room was musty and old. The glass was covered in a residue that never seemed to come off. But in the reflection, she saw herself. Her dark brown hair was long and knotted. Her clothes were anything she could find her mother’s dusty old closet. They were tattered and worn. She tries to smile, but all she sees is sadness. There is no sense of happiness inside of her. The eyes that starred back at her were green but full of loneliness and tears. She hung her head and looked away. Not once had she stepped foot outside her house; afraid of what could happen to her. Nobody has seen her, heard her, or even known that her parents had children.

Ever since her parents died, she stayed to herself in this big old wooden house. The only time she could get out of the house was late at night when the neighborhood was sleeping. That is when she tried her best to survive, looking for good and something to drink. She found scarps in the garbage and on the ground. This was her daily routine. This is how she though everyday life was supposed to be, up until she was seventeen. Years on end, she looked out from a window that was in the hallway. She always saw the kids outside and wishing she could be there too, she got the nerve to go to school for the first time. She went to the office in her local school, asked for the information papers to enroll, and took the home to fill out. No one seemed to care that this girl was there in the ratty clothes she was in. She had memorized how her mother’s signature was written, and she forged the name on the paper.

So she figured that she should clean herself up and off she went to the nearby high school. She opened the big metal doors that led to a long hallway. Kids were scattering their way to classes with their books in hand. She looked around, scared inside of all the noise around her. She ran to a nearby corner, just like she did when she heard weird noises at home. This made her feel a little more secure. When out of the blue, a girl tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Hi. You must be new here. My name is Tarah. Want to be friends?” They quickly looked over their schedules and notices that they had all the same classes. “Oh cool. I can show you everywhere.”

The girl had a slight smile on her face as she said her first words to any human being. “Hi. I’m Novalee.”

Out of nowhere, a boy running down the hall runs into her and rudely yelled, “Get out of the way!”

“Don’t mind him; Scott is just a big bully. Just mind your own business and stay away from him.” Tarah comforted her.

At that time, Novalee followed Tarah to the locker room. They both were starring in the mirror, when Tarah noticed that Novalee looked like a plain-Jane type of girl. So Tarrah said, “Come to my house tonight, and I can make you look really pretty.”

As Novalee glanced in the mirror once again, she noticed a slight glimpse of somebody looking back at her with what would be called “murder” in his eyes. She twirled around, but no one was there. Tarah asked, “What’s wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

“Oh nothing,” replied Novalee. “Let’s go to class. We don’t want to be late.”

A few classes later, they found themselves in physical education and Novalee found herself with no clothes to change into, and again wanted to hide in a corner wondering if she was doing the right thing by going out into the world. She heard footsteps that sounded closer with ever move. She looked around but nobody seemed to be there. When she yelled Tarah’s name, there was no reply, just someone breathing heavily from behind. Being scared, she scrunched down in the corner where she had been standing. That is when Scott appeared in front of her.

Holding the knife, he said, “I haven’t liked you since you since you first walked through the front doors. You don’t belong here. So I’ll fix that.”

He moved in closer as Novalee closed her eyes tightly. So with one quick move, he slit her throat, and left her for dead.

Novalee was shaking terribly and broke out in a sweat. Grabbing her neck, she felt for the wound. Pulling her hands away, she looked for blood on her hands- nothing. Nothing was there. No blood, no scratch, no wound. She opened her eyes and sighed. “It was all just a dream. That’s it, just a dream.” Her whisper was full of relief. Yet, she looked around where she sat in her bed. The paint on the walls were peeled. Afraid of what she looked like, she slowly got up out of the bed and walked to the mirror. The residue was still there, and Novalee’s reflection hadn’t change a bit from what it was in her dream.

She still had that knotty long hair, and her clothes were still tattered and worn. The big green eyes that starred back were full of sadness, and her smile still had no meaning. Knowing that school didn’t go well in her dream, she told herself, “I am never going to leave this house. It is better to stay right here. Safe from the cruel world.”