One of my best friends hates reading.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate a good analysis of a book,” he said, “I just feel like I don’t get anything out of reading the novels they forced on us in high school English class. Like, it makes me feel like it’s a waste, because just the fact that I had to read it on a certain timeline and do a certain thing with it ruined the book for me. I feel like that sucked out the chance to really get anything out of the book.”
At first, I was appalled.
I have taken Caltrain twice in my lifetime.
As I sat and watched the landscape fly by outside the window, I was also extremely conscious of those surrounding me. The man with the bright orange bike and even brighter shirt. The girl with a tired-looking book-bag slung across her shoulder, headphones in and eyes closed. The young boy chattering excitedly to someone that looked to be his mother- “Mommy, train run fast? Train fly far!” Continue reading
My dear queen/embodiment of pretty much everything I aspire to be in life,
This letter probably won’t even cover half of what I wish I could put into words. Honestly, it may be about as sequential as Ralph Ellison’s “On Bird, Bird-Watching, and Jazz” (not even close to being as well written, though… unfortunately).
I came into the year as a pretentious fifteen-year-old who thought she was the most thoughtful, understanding, and worldly person simply because she had just returned from a three-week trip to India two days before school started. Now I exist as a still-rather-pretentious-but-at-least-slightly-better sixteen year old who will forever be thankful that she decided to take AP English instead of going the simpler route. Continue reading
All of the following pertains to writing essays.
“Don’t fart in your spacesuit. It won’t get you anywhere, it just makes everything smell kinda funky.” Continue reading