this written piece is intended for the early adult age group-19-24
At the Pape stop, he arrived on the bus. He shall be named Noah. In Noah's right hand he is holding onto a bus pass card,valid for February. Looks like Noah will be needing a new one soon as February is almost over. From the bus pass it seems that Noah often travels frequently. Stopping in front of the bus driver, Noah flashes his bus pass to him in order to allow him to sit on the bus and carry him to his destination. Let's see where Noah is headed on this journey.
After flashing his card to the bus driver, Noah turns and walks to the first available seat at the front of the bus. He sits down looking calm and collective. He removes his backpack from his shoulders and places it on top of his lap. The young man who looks to be in his early 20's seems to be a student at Ryerson university. Noah is wearing long, grey pants with a long band dropping from his left pocket that has Ryerson and it's colors on it. Noah is also wearing a black long winter jacket. To complete his outfit, he is wearing black, formal shoes. Noah is looking ahead of the bus driver's window in anticipation. It seems that he maybe looking forward to reach his destination. From Noah's appearance that destination seems to be Ryerson university. Noah definitely is quite punctual.
Looking at Noah, leaves one with the impression of uniqueness. His handsome face is definitely not one you can forget easily. His piercing, dark brown eyes are wondering around the bus and then to the scenery outside the window he is faced with in front of him. His light brown complexion smooth skin contrasts against the white collar sticking out from under his jacket. As Noah's average size body built sits on the seat of the bus, he takes out a book, opens it to the middle and begins reading it. It can be clearly seen that Noah is interested in learning and definitely likes to read.
Noah seems to be a very welcoming and friendly guy. his expression of calamity says that he is an easy-going, stress free type of guy. He seems to love the environment he is living in as well as the people around him. Looking at Noah, it is hard to determine whether or not he is living independently or with his family. He appears to be so mature and adult-like. However on the other hand, when noticing that he attends university and travels by the bus, it's likely that he won't be able to afford and balance out rent, work, a car, university and food supplies. Most likely he lives with his family, probably his parents. It appears to be that the reason he takes the bus is probably because his working parents use their car(s) to get to work. Plus with university tuition, buying a car would be too much of an expense for Noah. One can almost be certain that Noah lives with family because just by looking into his eyes, he seems to be so loving and caring. You can almost tell that he is quite attached to his family.
Noah's eyes continue to skim the pages of his book while the East York school stop approaches. His body language obviously does not say that this is his stop to get off at. In fact Noah seems to be making himself even more comfortable in his seat taking of his long black jacket and placing it on top of his backpack. It seems the journey ahead for this stranger still has a long way to go.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
At the grocery store with Selena
This written piece is intended for the age group of 24-40 (working moms)
There she is standing in the long line at the grocery store. We shall call this stranger, Selena. Selena can be seen standing at the end of the long line, with a packed cart in front of her. Her average size body weight is leaning on the handle of the cart in front of her, as she seems to be tired and exhausted from a typical 9-5 office day job. Selena is looking past the approximate 10 customers in front of her and straight ahead to the cashier who she is hoping can speed up the rate at which she is cashing each item. Selena continues standing in the line, which doesn't seem to be progressing, with an expression of exhaustion, tiredness and frustration.
From the appearance of Selena's body language and facial expression right now, one may get the impression that she is not a very welcoming person, in fact she appears to be quite mean and intimidating looking. This may be mostly because of the frustration of standing in such a long line. By looking at Selena, one sees that she is most likely in her 20's. She is quite attractive with layered-shoulder length chestnut brown hair along with dark chocolate-colored eyes. It seems as if Selena doesn't get much sleep as she has a layer of bags under both of her eyes, perhaps it's the result of working late. The use of dark eye liner and a dark shade of red lipstick stands out on her cream-skin colored complexion face. Selena seems to be a born pure Canadian.
Selena seems to be in the Sobey's grocery store after coming from a long, hard day at say her office job. Her formal office stripe pants and black heels along with a long black coat says that she has a well-paying job at maybe a company. The black purse hanging from Selena's shoulder seems to contain a lot as if it's weighing down the lady's shoulder, perhaps it contains a 'fat wallet'.
Oh, would you look at that, Selena is next in line to cash her grocery items at the cashier. From a fully packed cart of grocery items, Selena begins taking each item out and onto the belt in a rush, she begins with the loaf of Dempsters sliced bread. From the variety and amount of food items on the belt and in the cart, Selena definitely does not live alone. From the Rice Krispes, Candy and a large rectangular cake with the words on it saying,'Happy 6TH Birthday Jessica', it appears that Selena has a family of her own. It appears the Selena's family consists of herself, a six-year old daughter ad a husband who loves snacking on Pistachios nuts. The pasta and canned Tomato sauce say that is what will be cooked and served by Selena tonight for the nightly family dinner. The last of the items, the frozen food meals packed in a box send the message that sometimes 'mom' won't have time to cook dinner as she may be busy with work or pulling a late night.
After all of her grocery items are cashed for, Selena takes out her credit card to pay. She quickly shoves the receipt into her stuffed wallet and in a rush fills the cart with her grocery bags. Selena in a quick pace, walks out of the Sobey's store pushing her cart and arrives outside to the parking lot to a black SUV where she opens the trunk and begins filling it with the bags. Selena quickly jumps into the car seat and drives away just as another stranger.
There she is standing in the long line at the grocery store. We shall call this stranger, Selena. Selena can be seen standing at the end of the long line, with a packed cart in front of her. Her average size body weight is leaning on the handle of the cart in front of her, as she seems to be tired and exhausted from a typical 9-5 office day job. Selena is looking past the approximate 10 customers in front of her and straight ahead to the cashier who she is hoping can speed up the rate at which she is cashing each item. Selena continues standing in the line, which doesn't seem to be progressing, with an expression of exhaustion, tiredness and frustration.
From the appearance of Selena's body language and facial expression right now, one may get the impression that she is not a very welcoming person, in fact she appears to be quite mean and intimidating looking. This may be mostly because of the frustration of standing in such a long line. By looking at Selena, one sees that she is most likely in her 20's. She is quite attractive with layered-shoulder length chestnut brown hair along with dark chocolate-colored eyes. It seems as if Selena doesn't get much sleep as she has a layer of bags under both of her eyes, perhaps it's the result of working late. The use of dark eye liner and a dark shade of red lipstick stands out on her cream-skin colored complexion face. Selena seems to be a born pure Canadian.
Selena seems to be in the Sobey's grocery store after coming from a long, hard day at say her office job. Her formal office stripe pants and black heels along with a long black coat says that she has a well-paying job at maybe a company. The black purse hanging from Selena's shoulder seems to contain a lot as if it's weighing down the lady's shoulder, perhaps it contains a 'fat wallet'.
Oh, would you look at that, Selena is next in line to cash her grocery items at the cashier. From a fully packed cart of grocery items, Selena begins taking each item out and onto the belt in a rush, she begins with the loaf of Dempsters sliced bread. From the variety and amount of food items on the belt and in the cart, Selena definitely does not live alone. From the Rice Krispes, Candy and a large rectangular cake with the words on it saying,'Happy 6TH Birthday Jessica', it appears that Selena has a family of her own. It appears the Selena's family consists of herself, a six-year old daughter ad a husband who loves snacking on Pistachios nuts. The pasta and canned Tomato sauce say that is what will be cooked and served by Selena tonight for the nightly family dinner. The last of the items, the frozen food meals packed in a box send the message that sometimes 'mom' won't have time to cook dinner as she may be busy with work or pulling a late night.
After all of her grocery items are cashed for, Selena takes out her credit card to pay. She quickly shoves the receipt into her stuffed wallet and in a rush fills the cart with her grocery bags. Selena in a quick pace, walks out of the Sobey's store pushing her cart and arrives outside to the parking lot to a black SUV where she opens the trunk and begins filling it with the bags. Selena quickly jumps into the car seat and drives away just as another stranger.
The stranger 'sweeping' his eyes across the halls
This written piece is intended for the age group of 14-18 (teens who attend high school)
He walks down the hallways of the school from Monday to Friday. He is frequently seen after the lunch hour, cleaning up after the dirty students who leave their 'leftovers' lying around on the floor of E.Y.C.I. You know of his arrival by the jingling sound of the keys hanging from his left pocket of his pants. He 'sweeps' the floor with his eyes looking out for a sign of dirtiness and garbage.
He appears to be heading for the empty container that lies against a locker straight ahead in his direction. It seems that when he is done in this hallway, he may be headed onto a journey throughout the rest of the school to complete his job. He goes by the name of Bob, his last name unknown to all students. Probably not to be noticed, he blends in with the rest of the students of E.Y.C.I. He is seen wearing a solid blue E.Y.C.I long-sleeved sweater with dark blue long pants, similarly to the rest of the students in uniform. Bob is sometimes seen wearing gloves to avoid being in direct contact with germs and others food. To complete his outfit, he wears black solid shoes, that drag along in the hallways.
Bob's tall and thin body pushes in front of him a garbage trolley, where he collects the mess and garbage of the school. The young boy who looked up to him while walking in the English hall, only saw a grumpy, pouted expression on Bob's pale complexioned wrinkled face. This is not a surprise to the students as they are aware of the fact that Old Bob dislikes his job as a caretaker. The students often get the impression that Bob has low self-esteem and does not show any care in taking care of himself as he wears his hair in a ponytail and is unshaven.
Although Old Bob seems to dislike his occupation, he is left with no other choice. It is rumored throughout the school that Old Bob didn't have a good education while growing up as he choose to hang out with the 'wrong crowd'. Not much is known about Bob's parents, but is is also rumored that his mother abandoned him in his early teens.
What students and staff do know is that Old Bob has a family of his own, consisting of a wife, a son and himself. Once when Old Bob was doing his regular duties in the hallway, he bent down to pick up some garbage, that was when by accident his wallet fell out of his pocket and opened , lying on the ground was a clear picture of his wife, his son and him hugging in a family portrait. When a student nearby innocently asked him if that was his family, he in a grump tone replied; "Leave my family alone!", this was when it was known for sure.
It's given that the only reason Old Bob is still working as a caretaker, a job he despises, is so that he can support his family. Maybe he doesn't want his son to feel that his father doesn't care, as maybe his mother who supposedly abandoned him did. Watching Old Bob right now, pushing the garbage trolley in front of him with a grumpy expression, one thing is for sure, Old Bob does quite the job cleaning up after everyone. In contrast to the rest of the students, Old Bob walks the hallways in silence, remaining a stranger to everyone.
He walks down the hallways of the school from Monday to Friday. He is frequently seen after the lunch hour, cleaning up after the dirty students who leave their 'leftovers' lying around on the floor of E.Y.C.I. You know of his arrival by the jingling sound of the keys hanging from his left pocket of his pants. He 'sweeps' the floor with his eyes looking out for a sign of dirtiness and garbage.
He appears to be heading for the empty container that lies against a locker straight ahead in his direction. It seems that when he is done in this hallway, he may be headed onto a journey throughout the rest of the school to complete his job. He goes by the name of Bob, his last name unknown to all students. Probably not to be noticed, he blends in with the rest of the students of E.Y.C.I. He is seen wearing a solid blue E.Y.C.I long-sleeved sweater with dark blue long pants, similarly to the rest of the students in uniform. Bob is sometimes seen wearing gloves to avoid being in direct contact with germs and others food. To complete his outfit, he wears black solid shoes, that drag along in the hallways.
Bob's tall and thin body pushes in front of him a garbage trolley, where he collects the mess and garbage of the school. The young boy who looked up to him while walking in the English hall, only saw a grumpy, pouted expression on Bob's pale complexioned wrinkled face. This is not a surprise to the students as they are aware of the fact that Old Bob dislikes his job as a caretaker. The students often get the impression that Bob has low self-esteem and does not show any care in taking care of himself as he wears his hair in a ponytail and is unshaven.
Although Old Bob seems to dislike his occupation, he is left with no other choice. It is rumored throughout the school that Old Bob didn't have a good education while growing up as he choose to hang out with the 'wrong crowd'. Not much is known about Bob's parents, but is is also rumored that his mother abandoned him in his early teens.
What students and staff do know is that Old Bob has a family of his own, consisting of a wife, a son and himself. Once when Old Bob was doing his regular duties in the hallway, he bent down to pick up some garbage, that was when by accident his wallet fell out of his pocket and opened , lying on the ground was a clear picture of his wife, his son and him hugging in a family portrait. When a student nearby innocently asked him if that was his family, he in a grump tone replied; "Leave my family alone!", this was when it was known for sure.
It's given that the only reason Old Bob is still working as a caretaker, a job he despises, is so that he can support his family. Maybe he doesn't want his son to feel that his father doesn't care, as maybe his mother who supposedly abandoned him did. Watching Old Bob right now, pushing the garbage trolley in front of him with a grumpy expression, one thing is for sure, Old Bob does quite the job cleaning up after everyone. In contrast to the rest of the students, Old Bob walks the hallways in silence, remaining a stranger to everyone.
Monday, February 16, 2009
It hurts!
Dear Diary, Mon,Feb 16,2009
"Owwww", is my constant everyday reaction to what she does to me. What's remaining of my short-lived bristles are forced to endure the burns and struggles she most gladly chooses to put us through. How would she feel having the big, intimidating black hair-dryer penetrate deep onto her human skin. If she doesn't like it then why should I as old as I am tolerate having the burning heat melt away what's left of my bristles.
I have been tolerating and putting up with this treatment ever since her big mouth friends introduced her to "straightening with the hair-dryer". Why couldn't her parents just agree to get her the hair straightener. Oh yeah! It was too expensive for a really good one, as well as useless. Of course that's just my luck. Anyway that's when she turned to what she calls 'the comb. I am not a comb! I am a brush for God sakes, anyone in their right mind can tell you that. Not only does she treat me badly, but calls me by my long-time enemy's name. What does he think, just because he is used for the soft, silky,untangled hair without any pain or torture, he laughs at what I have to go through.
The only companions/friends that I have now are the other species; the hairs. I mean although some of them are long, tall, some are even short, I don't make fun of them, unlike the comb. My friends, who have been detached and abandoned by that girl are very attached to me now, they cling on to my bristles for dear life. At least I have them to love me. I guess the girl still kind of cares about me. Once in a while she takes time to clean me by taking the hairs off of me. But wait! Even when she shows that she cares about me, at the same time she is being mean. She's separating my friends who are so attached to me away from me! It pains me to have to watch the hairs being torn and pulled away from me, then being thrown into a garbage bag where they suffocate. Not only is she putting me through pain and torture, but she's taking away what really matters to me; my friends, the hairs. She is also separating me from what makes me, me; my bristles, which is essential for my survival just as skin is to a human. I don't know how much longer this will prolong for, but I'll say one thing; I don't think it can get worse than this.
Dear Diary, Tues, Feb 17,2009
OK, you know how I said that things can't possibly get worse for me? Well they just have. I have just been emotionally hurt and abused. Yup, you've guessed right, it was no one else but 'HER'.
So during the after school hours, as usual on the dresser I was just taking my beauty sleep to help energize my burnt out bristles. To my surprise, I was awoken by the loud chatter of 'her' and those encouraging friends of hers; Laura, Joanne and Eugene. As they all sat on the bed talking about the typical teenage stuff, I could not help but to eavesdrop closely to a certain conversation that suddenly aroused. So Laura says; "Oh, I like your hair today, no wonder Riehl was checking you out today, you look hot!" Eugene then puts in her comment by saying; "Yeah girl, what do you use? Your hair is burning hot!" I thought how ironic, you have no idea how 'burning hot' it gets in here, meaning me of course.
At that point there was a happy sensation running through my handle. I thought to myself, 'oh finally, some recognition and credit for all the hard work it takes brushing through her hair and not to mention the burns I have to endure. I could feel it in my bristles that Laura's and Eugene's comments was leading 'her' to say something nice like, 'Oh well it's all thanks to my brush, it does all the work for me.' But the shock of mt life, I was wrong and I mean dead wrong. 'She' replied to Laura's and Eugene's comment by saying; "Oh thanks guys. Actually I don't really do much in the morning to my hair. When I do though, I use this technique with my old brush to flip the ends, that's how it looks so great!" At that part my friends, the hairs on me stood up, I couldn't believe what i was hearing. I just couldn't get over the fact that she gave all the credit to herself for ho great her hair looks! It's all because of me and nothing else! This 'old brush' she refers to is the only one who makes sure her hair is untangled and is up to the job of flipping her hair. I am the one who has to put up with the burning, excruciating heat of the mean hair dryer. What did she mean when she said she doesn't really do anything in the morning to her hair? Every single morning she can be seen with a hair dryer and me in her hand. She spends at least 45 minutes on her hair and how great the results are is all due to me. How can she say something like that after all I've done for her to look amazing, well that's her hair at least, can't say I'd say the same for the rest of her. I'm so angry right now, I feel like just making her bald while going through her hair. I'm sure then she won't have anything to boast about!
Dear Diary, Wed, Feb 18,2009
How much is too much? I ask myself daily as I am forced to continue enduring more torture,pain,burns and emotional hurt. Right now I have a terrible cold and it's all because of a certain someone. Now she has this new thing of using me when she finishes washing her hair. Before she used to use, you know him... oh it even makes me angry to say his name, The Comb. Just last night I had no other choice than to brush through her wet, soaked tresses. I could feel the water penetrating and soaking deep beyond my bristles and into me. But, that wasn't even the worst part, this proves just how much she really hates me and the extent she would go to.
After doing my part of untangling her tresses, guess where she puts me in my soaking, wet condition? Get this, right on the ledge of the window which was frozen shut to the extent where icicles were beginning to form. As she laid me down on the ledge, she walked across her room to the mean hair dryer. As it loudly turned on, I was hoping with everything that was still intact in me that the hair dryer would try to sympathize with me by blowing some heat onto me. But being the big meanie he is, he conveniently came up with the excuse that he was malfunctioning and couldn't blow anything but cold air. I could tell from her face expression and body language that she was frustrated that the hair dryer was "malfunctioning" (yeah right) by not blowing out heat in order for her hair to dry properly and not feel cold and damp. Therefore, she had to use the hair dryer for a while longer in order to have her hair completely dried.
I never thought in my life-span that things would get worse for me, but in my case there is always room for 'worse'. As i laid on the ledge of the frozen window, as if I wasn't cold enough, I could feel the cold air across the room from the hair dryer she was still using. With coldness coming from both directions, eventually I was at the point where I could not feel anything inside of me. Not even the bristles that were deeply instilled in me, which by the way was always a constant pain. I was so cold I couldn't feel the soaring of the burns she caused me. When the hair dryer was shut off, I was a bit relieved, knowing that I would now only be faced with one direction of coldness; the window.
She took the lights off and quickly crawled into her bed. I, of course had no other choice than to endure an entire night, eight hours to be precise, of my sides touching against the frozen window and who could forget the approximate -20 degree draft. I couldn't sleep of course. I tried staring out the window but it was all frosted up.
When I was awoken in the morning by the sound of her getting out of bed, I could feel that the water droplets inside of me from last night, were completely frozen to my insides. The hollowness inside me was literally replaced overnight with ice. I know my time is quickly drawing to an end and there was nothing could do about it. I try looking on the bright side of when I pass. Maybe the Gods will see how much pain I've gone through and decide to reincarnate me into something where I'll lead a much happier and comfortable life, say a comb.
Dear Diary, Thurs, feb 19, 2009
I'm still sick. Today when she woke up, she reached for me. She was standing in front of the mirror, ready to use me once again. I was so angry at her, like I usually was. I decided not to untangle the knots in her hair. Too bad for her, if she can't treat me with at least some respect, then i refuse to do what she wants me to do. As she was staring into the mirror, examining her hair she realized it was in the same messy, tangled condition. In fact when I glanced over into the mirror, I noticed that her hair was at it's worse. Perhaps the heat wasn't only getting to me, it was perhaps burning out her hair as well which was why it probably looked so frizzy and dry. To herself, in a voice of frustration, she said;"Oh, this useless, old brush, I think it's time I got a new one." Hearing this I was glad. I would longer have to endure burns at my bristles from the hair dryer, nor would I have to be put through pain of untangling her hair. At the worse, I would just probably be put aside with the rest of the old brushes, or maybe be used for the Mother's soft, silky conditioned hair. Finally things were looking up for me. My bristles told me that good times were ahead.
When she came home after school, she marched into her room and laid next to me a 'Wal-Mart' bag onto her desk. Out of curiosity, I wondered what was in the bag. Was it what I thought it was?
After taking a quick shower and changing , she came into her room. She walked towards the desk I laid on. Just then I saw her hands reaching into the 'Wal Mart' bag that laid right next to me. At that point, my bristles raised higher, I was curious to know what she would pull out of the bag. Suddenly,her hand reached out of the bag. When I saw what was in her hand, I could feel the frozen bits in me beginning to melt. The burns to my bristles didn't seem to hurt anymore. I was feeling great just at the sight of the new silver beautiful brush that laid in her hand.
She took the tag off of the brush's handle. She laid the beautiful brush with shining bristles right next to me. I felt for some reason, small butterflies and a tingling sensation run through my damaged bristles and it felt good. The beautiful brush next to me introduced herself as Salon. We began conversing even more, I enjoyed it and I could tell she was as well. She inquired about my beat-up, not-so -good condition. I told her the entire story, leaving out no negative details of 'her'. I could tell that she was scared for her bristles also being burnt and damaged. With the rub of her handle onto mine, she tried comforting me and it worked.
I think I am falling in love with the beautiful Salon. Now that I won't be used and tortured by her, I wasn't going to let 'her' also put Salon through the burns, pain and torture of her hair and be faced with the heat of the mean hair dryer. Now, I figured that the rest of my short time was to go towards protecting the love of my life, the beautiful brush, Salon. By forgetting to live for myself, I will now remember to live for her.
"Owwww", is my constant everyday reaction to what she does to me. What's remaining of my short-lived bristles are forced to endure the burns and struggles she most gladly chooses to put us through. How would she feel having the big, intimidating black hair-dryer penetrate deep onto her human skin. If she doesn't like it then why should I as old as I am tolerate having the burning heat melt away what's left of my bristles.
I have been tolerating and putting up with this treatment ever since her big mouth friends introduced her to "straightening with the hair-dryer". Why couldn't her parents just agree to get her the hair straightener. Oh yeah! It was too expensive for a really good one, as well as useless. Of course that's just my luck. Anyway that's when she turned to what she calls 'the comb. I am not a comb! I am a brush for God sakes, anyone in their right mind can tell you that. Not only does she treat me badly, but calls me by my long-time enemy's name. What does he think, just because he is used for the soft, silky,untangled hair without any pain or torture, he laughs at what I have to go through.
The only companions/friends that I have now are the other species; the hairs. I mean although some of them are long, tall, some are even short, I don't make fun of them, unlike the comb. My friends, who have been detached and abandoned by that girl are very attached to me now, they cling on to my bristles for dear life. At least I have them to love me. I guess the girl still kind of cares about me. Once in a while she takes time to clean me by taking the hairs off of me. But wait! Even when she shows that she cares about me, at the same time she is being mean. She's separating my friends who are so attached to me away from me! It pains me to have to watch the hairs being torn and pulled away from me, then being thrown into a garbage bag where they suffocate. Not only is she putting me through pain and torture, but she's taking away what really matters to me; my friends, the hairs. She is also separating me from what makes me, me; my bristles, which is essential for my survival just as skin is to a human. I don't know how much longer this will prolong for, but I'll say one thing; I don't think it can get worse than this.
Dear Diary, Tues, Feb 17,2009
OK, you know how I said that things can't possibly get worse for me? Well they just have. I have just been emotionally hurt and abused. Yup, you've guessed right, it was no one else but 'HER'.
So during the after school hours, as usual on the dresser I was just taking my beauty sleep to help energize my burnt out bristles. To my surprise, I was awoken by the loud chatter of 'her' and those encouraging friends of hers; Laura, Joanne and Eugene. As they all sat on the bed talking about the typical teenage stuff, I could not help but to eavesdrop closely to a certain conversation that suddenly aroused. So Laura says; "Oh, I like your hair today, no wonder Riehl was checking you out today, you look hot!" Eugene then puts in her comment by saying; "Yeah girl, what do you use? Your hair is burning hot!" I thought how ironic, you have no idea how 'burning hot' it gets in here, meaning me of course.
At that point there was a happy sensation running through my handle. I thought to myself, 'oh finally, some recognition and credit for all the hard work it takes brushing through her hair and not to mention the burns I have to endure. I could feel it in my bristles that Laura's and Eugene's comments was leading 'her' to say something nice like, 'Oh well it's all thanks to my brush, it does all the work for me.' But the shock of mt life, I was wrong and I mean dead wrong. 'She' replied to Laura's and Eugene's comment by saying; "Oh thanks guys. Actually I don't really do much in the morning to my hair. When I do though, I use this technique with my old brush to flip the ends, that's how it looks so great!" At that part my friends, the hairs on me stood up, I couldn't believe what i was hearing. I just couldn't get over the fact that she gave all the credit to herself for ho great her hair looks! It's all because of me and nothing else! This 'old brush' she refers to is the only one who makes sure her hair is untangled and is up to the job of flipping her hair. I am the one who has to put up with the burning, excruciating heat of the mean hair dryer. What did she mean when she said she doesn't really do anything in the morning to her hair? Every single morning she can be seen with a hair dryer and me in her hand. She spends at least 45 minutes on her hair and how great the results are is all due to me. How can she say something like that after all I've done for her to look amazing, well that's her hair at least, can't say I'd say the same for the rest of her. I'm so angry right now, I feel like just making her bald while going through her hair. I'm sure then she won't have anything to boast about!
Dear Diary, Wed, Feb 18,2009
How much is too much? I ask myself daily as I am forced to continue enduring more torture,pain,burns and emotional hurt. Right now I have a terrible cold and it's all because of a certain someone. Now she has this new thing of using me when she finishes washing her hair. Before she used to use, you know him... oh it even makes me angry to say his name, The Comb. Just last night I had no other choice than to brush through her wet, soaked tresses. I could feel the water penetrating and soaking deep beyond my bristles and into me. But, that wasn't even the worst part, this proves just how much she really hates me and the extent she would go to.
After doing my part of untangling her tresses, guess where she puts me in my soaking, wet condition? Get this, right on the ledge of the window which was frozen shut to the extent where icicles were beginning to form. As she laid me down on the ledge, she walked across her room to the mean hair dryer. As it loudly turned on, I was hoping with everything that was still intact in me that the hair dryer would try to sympathize with me by blowing some heat onto me. But being the big meanie he is, he conveniently came up with the excuse that he was malfunctioning and couldn't blow anything but cold air. I could tell from her face expression and body language that she was frustrated that the hair dryer was "malfunctioning" (yeah right) by not blowing out heat in order for her hair to dry properly and not feel cold and damp. Therefore, she had to use the hair dryer for a while longer in order to have her hair completely dried.
I never thought in my life-span that things would get worse for me, but in my case there is always room for 'worse'. As i laid on the ledge of the frozen window, as if I wasn't cold enough, I could feel the cold air across the room from the hair dryer she was still using. With coldness coming from both directions, eventually I was at the point where I could not feel anything inside of me. Not even the bristles that were deeply instilled in me, which by the way was always a constant pain. I was so cold I couldn't feel the soaring of the burns she caused me. When the hair dryer was shut off, I was a bit relieved, knowing that I would now only be faced with one direction of coldness; the window.
She took the lights off and quickly crawled into her bed. I, of course had no other choice than to endure an entire night, eight hours to be precise, of my sides touching against the frozen window and who could forget the approximate -20 degree draft. I couldn't sleep of course. I tried staring out the window but it was all frosted up.
When I was awoken in the morning by the sound of her getting out of bed, I could feel that the water droplets inside of me from last night, were completely frozen to my insides. The hollowness inside me was literally replaced overnight with ice. I know my time is quickly drawing to an end and there was nothing could do about it. I try looking on the bright side of when I pass. Maybe the Gods will see how much pain I've gone through and decide to reincarnate me into something where I'll lead a much happier and comfortable life, say a comb.
Dear Diary, Thurs, feb 19, 2009
I'm still sick. Today when she woke up, she reached for me. She was standing in front of the mirror, ready to use me once again. I was so angry at her, like I usually was. I decided not to untangle the knots in her hair. Too bad for her, if she can't treat me with at least some respect, then i refuse to do what she wants me to do. As she was staring into the mirror, examining her hair she realized it was in the same messy, tangled condition. In fact when I glanced over into the mirror, I noticed that her hair was at it's worse. Perhaps the heat wasn't only getting to me, it was perhaps burning out her hair as well which was why it probably looked so frizzy and dry. To herself, in a voice of frustration, she said;"Oh, this useless, old brush, I think it's time I got a new one." Hearing this I was glad. I would longer have to endure burns at my bristles from the hair dryer, nor would I have to be put through pain of untangling her hair. At the worse, I would just probably be put aside with the rest of the old brushes, or maybe be used for the Mother's soft, silky conditioned hair. Finally things were looking up for me. My bristles told me that good times were ahead.
When she came home after school, she marched into her room and laid next to me a 'Wal-Mart' bag onto her desk. Out of curiosity, I wondered what was in the bag. Was it what I thought it was?
After taking a quick shower and changing , she came into her room. She walked towards the desk I laid on. Just then I saw her hands reaching into the 'Wal Mart' bag that laid right next to me. At that point, my bristles raised higher, I was curious to know what she would pull out of the bag. Suddenly,her hand reached out of the bag. When I saw what was in her hand, I could feel the frozen bits in me beginning to melt. The burns to my bristles didn't seem to hurt anymore. I was feeling great just at the sight of the new silver beautiful brush that laid in her hand.
She took the tag off of the brush's handle. She laid the beautiful brush with shining bristles right next to me. I felt for some reason, small butterflies and a tingling sensation run through my damaged bristles and it felt good. The beautiful brush next to me introduced herself as Salon. We began conversing even more, I enjoyed it and I could tell she was as well. She inquired about my beat-up, not-so -good condition. I told her the entire story, leaving out no negative details of 'her'. I could tell that she was scared for her bristles also being burnt and damaged. With the rub of her handle onto mine, she tried comforting me and it worked.
I think I am falling in love with the beautiful Salon. Now that I won't be used and tortured by her, I wasn't going to let 'her' also put Salon through the burns, pain and torture of her hair and be faced with the heat of the mean hair dryer. Now, I figured that the rest of my short time was to go towards protecting the love of my life, the beautiful brush, Salon. By forgetting to live for myself, I will now remember to live for her.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
No threats!
"You're so mean!"
"No, I'm not, it's true."
"But still, you know"
"Oh come on, she even gets on your nerves, don't lie!"
"But she's not that bad, compared to other people."
"Yeah but still, she really annoys me, sometimes I just feel like killing her."
This was a conversation that i overheard while walking in the hallways during lunch. This conversation really got to me because as you've read there is a threat in it and that too a death threat. I'm sure we've at some point heard ourselves saying oh i just want to kill that person or you're dead. But the thing about saying stuff like that is that you never know who will overhear what your are saying, like me for example. God forbid if this girl ends up dead, and someone had overheard this conversaton between these two girls then she would be in some serious trouble.
"No, I'm not, it's true."
"But still, you know"
"Oh come on, she even gets on your nerves, don't lie!"
"But she's not that bad, compared to other people."
"Yeah but still, she really annoys me, sometimes I just feel like killing her."
This was a conversation that i overheard while walking in the hallways during lunch. This conversation really got to me because as you've read there is a threat in it and that too a death threat. I'm sure we've at some point heard ourselves saying oh i just want to kill that person or you're dead. But the thing about saying stuff like that is that you never know who will overhear what your are saying, like me for example. God forbid if this girl ends up dead, and someone had overheard this conversaton between these two girls then she would be in some serious trouble.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Don't speak to your mother that way!
(mother) "Aww man I don't have enough. Sweetie, can i borrow $10 from you please?"
(daughter) "What do you mean you don't have enough mom? C'mon you work everyday!"
(mother) "Young lady don't you talk to me that way!"
(daughter) "Too bad, I'm not giving you my money, it's mine!"
(mother) "Ok then I guess you will just do without dinner tonight, too bad."
(daughter) "Oh my God fine, here!"
This was a conversation that I unfortunately had to encounter while in the line at the Sobey's grocery store. I couldn't believe that this teenager who didn't look any older than 16, would say such mean things to her own mother. I mean yes there are most teenagers who get into arguments with their parents but to me this is the worst thing you can tell your mother. You should have more respect for your parents than any other person in your life, especially your mother. All this mother asked for from her daughter was $10 which is not even a sum that comes close to the amount of money that she put into raising her child. The thing about was that the groceries on the belt that the mother was purchasing were all the items that she would need to make her daughter's dinner. I can't believe this young girl had the audacity and courage to tell her mother "too bad, I'm not giving you my money, it's mine".
I really thought the mother handled the situation effectively. She told her daughter, "Ok then I guess you will just do without dinner tonight, too bad". She fed her daughter the exact same words she had given her. The daughter immediately probably pictured herself lying on her bed, starving. The sad thing that this conversation sort of revealed was that the daughter was using her mother to just cook her dinner. Another thing about this conversation was the fact this this rude girl was speaking so loudly that even i couldn't stop but overhear. I'm sure others who were standing in the line as well as the cashier, heard how rude this girl was towards her mother. I bet this girl would never talk to her friends that way because she just wants to 'fit in', which apparently in today's society is more important than treating your mother with love and respect. If this was my daughter talking to me, just as she embarrassed me in front of other people, i would also stand right there and embarrass her the same way by putting her in her place. Apart from manners, this girl needs to learn how to speak to her mother. I wonder how this girl would take it if her mother said to her,"oh my god, I'm not spending money on you go out and work to support me".
(daughter) "What do you mean you don't have enough mom? C'mon you work everyday!"
(mother) "Young lady don't you talk to me that way!"
(daughter) "Too bad, I'm not giving you my money, it's mine!"
(mother) "Ok then I guess you will just do without dinner tonight, too bad."
(daughter) "Oh my God fine, here!"
This was a conversation that I unfortunately had to encounter while in the line at the Sobey's grocery store. I couldn't believe that this teenager who didn't look any older than 16, would say such mean things to her own mother. I mean yes there are most teenagers who get into arguments with their parents but to me this is the worst thing you can tell your mother. You should have more respect for your parents than any other person in your life, especially your mother. All this mother asked for from her daughter was $10 which is not even a sum that comes close to the amount of money that she put into raising her child. The thing about was that the groceries on the belt that the mother was purchasing were all the items that she would need to make her daughter's dinner. I can't believe this young girl had the audacity and courage to tell her mother "too bad, I'm not giving you my money, it's mine".
I really thought the mother handled the situation effectively. She told her daughter, "Ok then I guess you will just do without dinner tonight, too bad". She fed her daughter the exact same words she had given her. The daughter immediately probably pictured herself lying on her bed, starving. The sad thing that this conversation sort of revealed was that the daughter was using her mother to just cook her dinner. Another thing about this conversation was the fact this this rude girl was speaking so loudly that even i couldn't stop but overhear. I'm sure others who were standing in the line as well as the cashier, heard how rude this girl was towards her mother. I bet this girl would never talk to her friends that way because she just wants to 'fit in', which apparently in today's society is more important than treating your mother with love and respect. If this was my daughter talking to me, just as she embarrassed me in front of other people, i would also stand right there and embarrass her the same way by putting her in her place. Apart from manners, this girl needs to learn how to speak to her mother. I wonder how this girl would take it if her mother said to her,"oh my god, I'm not spending money on you go out and work to support me".
A new addiction!
(girl) "Is this your class?"
(guy) "Yeah"
(girl) "Ok, see ya soon. I'll come to your class after the period's over."
(guy) "Ok, bye."
(girl) "Wait!" (they kiss)
(guy) "Ok bye" (enters class)
(girl) "Bye babe, I miss you already! I love you! wanna come out here with me?"
This was a conversation I witnessed during my spear while sitting at my locker. The boy's girlfriend was dropping her boyfriend of at his class. While the boy, who was already late for class and didn't want to be even more late was ready to enter his classroom, his girlfriend was keeping him from going in. As if it is not evident enough; this girl is experiencing clingy girlfriend symptoms. It really irritates me when girlfriends or boyfriends are so clinged on to their partner. It's as if one or the other can't stand to be separated. It is obvious that the boy himself in the conversation really just wants to get away from his girlfriend. As soon as the poor guy enters the classroom, the girl starts yelling in the silence of the halls and in front of his class of how much she already misses him. That is just extremely ridiculous. The sad part about this entire situation is that the girl actually thinks the guy feels the same way. She's not aware of the fact that the guy just wants to get away from her. I asked myself exactly what you were wondering; why doesn't he just break up with her? or tell her to stop being so clingy as if she can't live without him.
This situation reminded me of the recent popular Twilight series. Bella just can't find it possible to live without what she thinks is life itself, Edward. Perhaps Bella is even worse than the girl in the conversation. The fictional character and the girl's lives seem to revolve around a guy. In today's society, a lot of women believe that their life is over because they don't have 'the man'. Since when are women incapable of taking care of themselves and find it as a life-death situation if they don't have a man. Today men want to find women who respect themselves and love who they are. They want the type of women who can take care of themselves and be independent. What this girl in the conversation has shown is that she can't be independent and do anythingwithout her boyfriend. I didn't know there is a new addiction available out there besides drugs.If you know you cant live without a man in your life, then how about trying something new; living for yourself.
(guy) "Yeah"
(girl) "Ok, see ya soon. I'll come to your class after the period's over."
(guy) "Ok, bye."
(girl) "Wait!" (they kiss)
(guy) "Ok bye" (enters class)
(girl) "Bye babe, I miss you already! I love you! wanna come out here with me?"
This was a conversation I witnessed during my spear while sitting at my locker. The boy's girlfriend was dropping her boyfriend of at his class. While the boy, who was already late for class and didn't want to be even more late was ready to enter his classroom, his girlfriend was keeping him from going in. As if it is not evident enough; this girl is experiencing clingy girlfriend symptoms. It really irritates me when girlfriends or boyfriends are so clinged on to their partner. It's as if one or the other can't stand to be separated. It is obvious that the boy himself in the conversation really just wants to get away from his girlfriend. As soon as the poor guy enters the classroom, the girl starts yelling in the silence of the halls and in front of his class of how much she already misses him. That is just extremely ridiculous. The sad part about this entire situation is that the girl actually thinks the guy feels the same way. She's not aware of the fact that the guy just wants to get away from her. I asked myself exactly what you were wondering; why doesn't he just break up with her? or tell her to stop being so clingy as if she can't live without him.
This situation reminded me of the recent popular Twilight series. Bella just can't find it possible to live without what she thinks is life itself, Edward. Perhaps Bella is even worse than the girl in the conversation. The fictional character and the girl's lives seem to revolve around a guy. In today's society, a lot of women believe that their life is over because they don't have 'the man'. Since when are women incapable of taking care of themselves and find it as a life-death situation if they don't have a man. Today men want to find women who respect themselves and love who they are. They want the type of women who can take care of themselves and be independent. What this girl in the conversation has shown is that she can't be independent and do anythingwithout her boyfriend. I didn't know there is a new addiction available out there besides drugs.If you know you cant live without a man in your life, then how about trying something new; living for yourself.
Monday, February 9, 2009
''Oh my gosh, did you study?''
''No, did you?''
''No I don't know anything.''
''I'm gonna fail, it doesn't make sense studying now.''
''Yeah an I hear his tests are really hard.''
''Oh my gosh really? How am I gonna get into university man?''
''Same here. I think all teachers just want us to fail, so they give us the hardest things.''
''Yeah I know.''
This was a conversation I overheard between two girls during the five minutes we have to get to the next period. They were walking in front of me doing something I find extremely inconsiderate; walking very slowly like they have all the time in the world and with the other crowd of people following suit I was unable to push myself through. Besides this fact, while waiting for these people to move their lazy legs, I thought about my writers craft assignment. I thought this conversation was interesting and a lot of students can relate to it.
I'm pretty sure on the day of a test or exam, students will ask each other, 'have you studied?', some may say yes, but from my entire school life, most say no, including me at one time. I thought about the conversations between these girls and wondered, ' why didn't they study?' I mean from what i heard the girl said she wants to get into university. Do they know that it takes hard work, dedication and a whole lot of studying to even be considered as a potential for university? I'm definitely not trying to say these girls are dumb or incapable in any way. In fact, i truly believe that they can most certainly do well on the test they were conversing about and i believe that they really can get into university. But how is all of that going to be possible if they don't do their part? In order to do well on a test you have to study and look over your notes, ask teachers questions even if you don't understand. This brings me to the next part of what the girls were talking about.
Why is it that they firmly set their mind to believe that their teachers want them to fail? If these girls proved this true, then why do we have dedicated teachers standing in front of a classroom of 30 students everyday ensuring they receive a good education and trying their best to answer their questions? Having taken co-op at an elementary school and currently studying to become a teacher myself, i can say that teachers want students to succeed and pass with flying colors. Their only main goal as a teacher, apart from many other positive ones is to educate students. However they want students to do their part and study and put in the effort.
These girls need to buck up and in order for them to get into university where you must keep up, they need to take initiative and not blame teachers for their lack of studying and academic care. Maybe like their slow walks to class, it may unfortunately take a while for students to take their first step in taking care of their education.
''No, did you?''
''No I don't know anything.''
''I'm gonna fail, it doesn't make sense studying now.''
''Yeah an I hear his tests are really hard.''
''Oh my gosh really? How am I gonna get into university man?''
''Same here. I think all teachers just want us to fail, so they give us the hardest things.''
''Yeah I know.''
This was a conversation I overheard between two girls during the five minutes we have to get to the next period. They were walking in front of me doing something I find extremely inconsiderate; walking very slowly like they have all the time in the world and with the other crowd of people following suit I was unable to push myself through. Besides this fact, while waiting for these people to move their lazy legs, I thought about my writers craft assignment. I thought this conversation was interesting and a lot of students can relate to it.
I'm pretty sure on the day of a test or exam, students will ask each other, 'have you studied?', some may say yes, but from my entire school life, most say no, including me at one time. I thought about the conversations between these girls and wondered, ' why didn't they study?' I mean from what i heard the girl said she wants to get into university. Do they know that it takes hard work, dedication and a whole lot of studying to even be considered as a potential for university? I'm definitely not trying to say these girls are dumb or incapable in any way. In fact, i truly believe that they can most certainly do well on the test they were conversing about and i believe that they really can get into university. But how is all of that going to be possible if they don't do their part? In order to do well on a test you have to study and look over your notes, ask teachers questions even if you don't understand. This brings me to the next part of what the girls were talking about.
Why is it that they firmly set their mind to believe that their teachers want them to fail? If these girls proved this true, then why do we have dedicated teachers standing in front of a classroom of 30 students everyday ensuring they receive a good education and trying their best to answer their questions? Having taken co-op at an elementary school and currently studying to become a teacher myself, i can say that teachers want students to succeed and pass with flying colors. Their only main goal as a teacher, apart from many other positive ones is to educate students. However they want students to do their part and study and put in the effort.
These girls need to buck up and in order for them to get into university where you must keep up, they need to take initiative and not blame teachers for their lack of studying and academic care. Maybe like their slow walks to class, it may unfortunately take a while for students to take their first step in taking care of their education.
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