In the book Girl In Translation, Kimberly goes through her coming-of-age process in America, having moved there as a complete foreigner around age 11. There are many similarities and differences between child and adult Kimberly, but a change I see clearly is how much more mature Kimberly became as she ‘came-of-age’. One of the primary aspects of coming-of-age is maturity, including how you deal with problems and face your responsibilities. As and adult, people expect you to be mature, even if it can be very hard to be the ‘bigger person’, and Kimberly takes on that expectation head-on.
Kimberly and her mother are extremely poor, working in an illegal sweatshop for long hours and living in a roach-ridden apartment in the projects of Brooklyn. One of Kimberly’s only friends in America, Annette, doesn’t have a clue what a rough life Kim has. Besides the language barrier, it is extremely hard for Kim to deal with, much less tell her wealthier best-friend, about her home and financial situation. In the beginning, Annette doesn’t seem much to notice, and their friendship glides along, but as they get into high school, Annette starts to wonder why she can’t call Kim, and why Kimberly can’t even afford to wear nice underwear to gym class. Later on in the book, Kim finally comes clean about how she lives when Annette shows up at her house. “I knew you didn’t have a lot of money, but this is ridiculous. No one in America lives like this.” [Annette said]. I stated the obvious. “Actually, they do.” (p. 242) A part of maturing is accepting who you are, and if you don’t like, then you try to change it. Kim does both those things, by toughing it out in her home and working her butt off trying to make a better life for her and her mom.
Another part of maturing is voicing things and taking stands for what you believe in to get things done, rather than waiting around for things to happen on their own. Since the beginning, Kimberly’s Aunt Paula has held over her head that she was the one that brought Kim and her mother to America. She makes them pay her back almost immediately, and puts them in a crappy apartment, secretly not wanting them to ‘make it’ in America. “America! If I hadn’t brought you here, you’d still be in Hong Kong. I even gave you another address so you could go to a better school.” [said Aunt Paula]. “You did that because it’s illegal for us to be living where we are.” [said Kimberly]. In this moment, towards the end of the book, Kim finally voices what she knows, and then she and her mother quit their jobs in Aunt Paula’s sweatshop so Kim can go to Yale, something Aunt Paula didn’t want her to do since it was a sign that Kim was better than her son.
One last way that shows how Kim matured is by getting a boyfriend, and showing Matt that she cares about him. I know this may seem like an odd example of maturity, but telling and showing someone you like them is incredibly hard, which I would know from personal experience. In the beginning of the book, Kim acts as if she is afraid of boys. While reluctantly going on a motorcycle tour with Matt, she says “I did desperately want to put my arms around him but...shyness overwhelmed me just at the thought of it.” Telling someone you like them not only shows bravery, but it shows that you have the power to lay-out who you are and what you’re thinking, instead of being afraid and hiding your whole life.
In conclusion, the main aspect of Kimberly’s coming-of-age that shined through was how much she matured, and took life by the reigns. As a young adult, you can’t always wait for life to make the decisions, you have to, even if that can be scary or tough. Life doesn’t always work out the way you may want it to, and the only way you can try to fix things is by getting up and fixing them yourself.
Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Response on Prompt #6
Rebelling, I feel, is a necessary part of growing up. Rebelling is such a general term though. When I say we should all rebel, I don’t immediately think about going out every night to drink and party. Everyone has their own boundaries, and we should rebel to our own limits. If you’re born n’ raised in a religious suburb, your tolerance for ‘crazy’ may be slightly lower than a born-and-raised New Yorker like myself.
To me, the term rebelling just means a way of going ‘against the system’, whether the system is the authority in your life, social norms etc. To learn who-we-are, we need to see where our moral beliefs and stance is. For example, do you think it is ok to be gay, or not? Going against the ‘system’ is also good just to, maybe, see how you deal with things you don’t believe in, whether that’s thinking it’s not fair to have to say ‘please’ or having a curfew before midnight. Part of getting our feet stabilized on the ground is learning how to fall. Like the saying “Forward two steps, back one step”, life isn’t always going to be up, so we need to fall a few times and see which way we can pick ourselves back up.
The thing about rebelling though is that it can have major consequences. While going against the ‘system’, we find that we like it too much and take it from experimental zone to a more permanent place in your life. For example, though I don’t want to take drugs, I understand if maybe you try it out. Well, maybe not understand, but I probably won’t blow up on you and give you an intervention. I think if we don’t try something ‘bad’, we will never understand ourselves that they are bad or disgusting. All we will know is what everyone else thinks, which to most people isn’t good enough. When this one-time thing though becomes permanent, that’s where the problem begins.
Why would so many people rebel though, if it does come with a high risk? Besides my opinion of it being necessary, the honest answer I have is that rebelling can be fun. Since I am a bit grounded, rebelling to me is not too huge, but I still remember the time I openly chewed gum in class and put my legs on the table. Wild, huh? Though it sounds stupid, a small moment of rebellion like this leads to a huge feeling of satisfaction that for many people is enough. Ok, I tried it out, I’m cool now. Rebelling is definitely something to avoid if you tend to maximize problems, but small moments of breaking the rules teach you who you are and what you can do (without hopefully getting in too much trouble...)
To me, the term rebelling just means a way of going ‘against the system’, whether the system is the authority in your life, social norms etc. To learn who-we-are, we need to see where our moral beliefs and stance is. For example, do you think it is ok to be gay, or not? Going against the ‘system’ is also good just to, maybe, see how you deal with things you don’t believe in, whether that’s thinking it’s not fair to have to say ‘please’ or having a curfew before midnight. Part of getting our feet stabilized on the ground is learning how to fall. Like the saying “Forward two steps, back one step”, life isn’t always going to be up, so we need to fall a few times and see which way we can pick ourselves back up.
The thing about rebelling though is that it can have major consequences. While going against the ‘system’, we find that we like it too much and take it from experimental zone to a more permanent place in your life. For example, though I don’t want to take drugs, I understand if maybe you try it out. Well, maybe not understand, but I probably won’t blow up on you and give you an intervention. I think if we don’t try something ‘bad’, we will never understand ourselves that they are bad or disgusting. All we will know is what everyone else thinks, which to most people isn’t good enough. When this one-time thing though becomes permanent, that’s where the problem begins.
Why would so many people rebel though, if it does come with a high risk? Besides my opinion of it being necessary, the honest answer I have is that rebelling can be fun. Since I am a bit grounded, rebelling to me is not too huge, but I still remember the time I openly chewed gum in class and put my legs on the table. Wild, huh? Though it sounds stupid, a small moment of rebellion like this leads to a huge feeling of satisfaction that for many people is enough. Ok, I tried it out, I’m cool now. Rebelling is definitely something to avoid if you tend to maximize problems, but small moments of breaking the rules teach you who you are and what you can do (without hopefully getting in too much trouble...)
Monday, May 16, 2011
Response on "Girl in Translation"
Though I believe Kimberly Chang began her coming-of-age process as soon as her feet hit American soil, there is clearly a difference in her from the beginning to the end of the book Girl In Translation. Alongside the many differences though, there are many similarities between adult and child Kimberly. I feel like being a kid is a time we all cherish, and though we come-of-age, we never completely get rid of it. Many parts of us as a kid actually follow us into our adult life, whether prominent in who-we-are or just another one of our hidden personalities.
An aspect of child Kim that seems to creep up on us in adulthood is being insecure and wanting to fit in. “It became harder and harder to pull the sweater over all the under-layers I wore (unlike the other girls), but I had no choice.” This feeling of needing to be like the other kids is one I know well. Though I am far from being poor, I am not the most ‘in-with-the-trends’ and find it hard to deal with the other kids that will laugh at you if you aren’t. I think we all want to be normal, since then you can live under the radar without any negative attention. This happens more so when you’re a kid and a teenager though. It’s human nature to want to ‘fit-in’ and be normal, but as an adult you know yourself better and are more stable overall.
A second trait of Kim’s that follows her into adulthood shows when Kim goes to school in America for the first time. She gets outcasted, accused of cheating, and naturally becomes very upset. “After my talk with Ma about Mr.Bogart, I did what any sensible kid would do: I started playing hooky.” Instead of solving the problem (by maybe talking to Mr. Bogart about her trouble accustoming to American culture), she decides to cut school. Though this could be looked at as a form of rebellion, in the context she does this action in, I don’t consider it rebellion. She is not trying to make the authority (her mother and teacher) angry, she is trying to hide from her problem. Though hiding from any problem is a childish thing to do, Kim does something very similar in the end of the book. When she becomes pregnant at age 18, she doesn’t tell Matt, the father, in fear of making a bigger deal out of it. She didn’t want to “Tye him to her with a baby”, so she runs off to Yale, being a college student by day and a mother by night. Adults and parents are supposed to be the people that solve problems and face their duties, but as Kim matures, she still hangs on to her childhood shy and scared self.
The last way Kim acts like a child is by being afraid to stand-up for herself. Now, I say that like it is an easy thing, which it’s not, but another part of coming-of-age is being able to take care of yourself in a world that does not always play in your favor. When Kim and her mother treat themselves to ice-cream, they get ripped off, and they both know it. “When he rang up the price, it was three times more than it said on the carton...I didn’t know if I should speak up or how you complained about prices in English, so I kept silent as well.” The interesting part is that her mother, who in theory has already experienced her coming-of-age, didn’t stand up for herself or say anything either. I guess none of us completely turn into an ‘adults’, since most times it is just so much easier to be a kid.
As I flipped back through the pages of my book, I realized that many aspects of being a kid follow you to your adult life. Though I would like to think that as an adult you are always in control, that’s not true. As I read about Kim getting scared as a police called from behind, I immediately thought Not ready to be an adult and play it cool yet, huh? After some thought, I realized most people, kids or adults, would be scared in a situation like that. I also need to give credit to Kim for having to experience her coming-of-age in a completely foreign place with a very different language and culture. Coming-of-age means changing, but more in the way that you build on what you already know. Though being a kid and being an adult are so very different, and coming-of-age feels like a slap in the face sometimes, we always have a part in us that still wants our old teddy-bear to hug or our mommies to tuck us into bed at night.
An aspect of child Kim that seems to creep up on us in adulthood is being insecure and wanting to fit in. “It became harder and harder to pull the sweater over all the under-layers I wore (unlike the other girls), but I had no choice.” This feeling of needing to be like the other kids is one I know well. Though I am far from being poor, I am not the most ‘in-with-the-trends’ and find it hard to deal with the other kids that will laugh at you if you aren’t. I think we all want to be normal, since then you can live under the radar without any negative attention. This happens more so when you’re a kid and a teenager though. It’s human nature to want to ‘fit-in’ and be normal, but as an adult you know yourself better and are more stable overall.
A second trait of Kim’s that follows her into adulthood shows when Kim goes to school in America for the first time. She gets outcasted, accused of cheating, and naturally becomes very upset. “After my talk with Ma about Mr.Bogart, I did what any sensible kid would do: I started playing hooky.” Instead of solving the problem (by maybe talking to Mr. Bogart about her trouble accustoming to American culture), she decides to cut school. Though this could be looked at as a form of rebellion, in the context she does this action in, I don’t consider it rebellion. She is not trying to make the authority (her mother and teacher) angry, she is trying to hide from her problem. Though hiding from any problem is a childish thing to do, Kim does something very similar in the end of the book. When she becomes pregnant at age 18, she doesn’t tell Matt, the father, in fear of making a bigger deal out of it. She didn’t want to “Tye him to her with a baby”, so she runs off to Yale, being a college student by day and a mother by night. Adults and parents are supposed to be the people that solve problems and face their duties, but as Kim matures, she still hangs on to her childhood shy and scared self.
The last way Kim acts like a child is by being afraid to stand-up for herself. Now, I say that like it is an easy thing, which it’s not, but another part of coming-of-age is being able to take care of yourself in a world that does not always play in your favor. When Kim and her mother treat themselves to ice-cream, they get ripped off, and they both know it. “When he rang up the price, it was three times more than it said on the carton...I didn’t know if I should speak up or how you complained about prices in English, so I kept silent as well.” The interesting part is that her mother, who in theory has already experienced her coming-of-age, didn’t stand up for herself or say anything either. I guess none of us completely turn into an ‘adults’, since most times it is just so much easier to be a kid.
As I flipped back through the pages of my book, I realized that many aspects of being a kid follow you to your adult life. Though I would like to think that as an adult you are always in control, that’s not true. As I read about Kim getting scared as a police called from behind, I immediately thought Not ready to be an adult and play it cool yet, huh? After some thought, I realized most people, kids or adults, would be scared in a situation like that. I also need to give credit to Kim for having to experience her coming-of-age in a completely foreign place with a very different language and culture. Coming-of-age means changing, but more in the way that you build on what you already know. Though being a kid and being an adult are so very different, and coming-of-age feels like a slap in the face sometimes, we always have a part in us that still wants our old teddy-bear to hug or our mommies to tuck us into bed at night.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Poetry Project: Divorce
Foreword:
Whether it is having to deal with new art on the walls, new food in the fridge, or a new face to wake-up to, divorce causes many problems, solutions, and changes. These changes, for better or worse, impact us all in a myriad of ways. Some are glad to have their parents living separate lives, while some are still looking for the parent that got away. Even with divorce being so common in these modern times, with married couples breaking up daily all across the nation via text message or phone calls, the feelings that are brought from it are all so different. Happy, sad, confused, lost, fresh, bright, or stupefied, divorce can turn things upside down.
Growing up with divorced parents, divorced since I was 4, there have been many bumps along the way. Whether it’s my parents fighting, having to deal with potential step-parents, or juggling time to see both of my parents, being a child of divorce has made me who I am. Divorce has made me a girl used to having to suck-it-up, or just blast some music and stay in my room the entire night. With a new house and family, I try to live my life regularly, but with having moved 3 times in the past 4 years, it has been hard.
Writing about divorce isn’t easy. When writing these poems, emotions that I tried to bury for a long time were unleashed, screwing with my mind. Some people say it’s easier to have your parents get divorced when you are young; you won’t remember the time spent with both parents there, so you won’t miss and long for it. I think it works both ways. I haven’t ever had a time where me, my mom, and dad have spent the night together in the same house, or had a nice dinner with a round-table sharing of what each of us did that day. This is one of the things that haunts me daily.
Through my poems, I hope that other kids of divorce will see that other people share their worry, hate, and confusion about divorce. I am aware that my parents will read this collection, and maybe it will give all parents a bit of insight to what their kid thinks about throughout their whole life because of the divorce.
All kids want is a voice, a hug, a kiss, and a choice.
It.
It kind of just
happened
I don't remember it at all
how could I really?
I was only four
a toddler to life
a baby to my parent's problems
One day he was there
Next day gone
the house a bit emptier than before
ok. i was ok. fine.
I had 2 houses, 2 sets of toys, double the amount of clothes
I thought that was
cool
what mommy didn't want me to have
I could always ask daddy for
great
no dent in my heart
why would there be?
I saw him on the weekends,
I stayed in her ‘suitable’ house,
and their fights just breezed over my head
Life through my glass-clear emerald eyes was
fine. cool. great
It kind of just happened.
and I kind of just ignored it
He says, She says
He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
She smiles
He laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here is the cure. My famous soup."
i look up at him
and He looks down
His eyes pop out of his head a bit
“This must be your daughter.”
yes,
She says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before i stutter a hello
satisfied, Her hand goes away to close the door and motions for Him to
“come in, come in, it’s so cold out there.”
He walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
“whenever you are sick, I will make this”
He says
that would would be nice,
She says
and then flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
She says
fantastic, I'm starving
He says
Questions
What I never understood was
Why?
As I got older
I questioned
but answers to my own questions
weren't satisfying anymore
I tried to ignore these questions that popped into my head daily
more and more and more
bursting on my lips
that only got shot down
Why do I have two houses, mommy?
Why do I only get to see daddy on weekends, mommy?
Why don't you like mommy anymore, daddy?
Why do you fight so much, mommy?
Why can’t you just hug and make-up?
"When you're older, sweetie."
The inevitable answer
The only answer I ever did get
was the one I’m still not quite sure
if I really want to know the answer to
Was it my fault?
A Choice
I found about the move-in by accident
I never really got the option
the quick let’s sit down
and question of
is this ok?
how do you feel about it?
Instead I got the
“Oh. She knows. I guess the cat got
out of the bag.”
Yep. it did
and with it, the cat scratched me across the face
how long have they been planning this?
did they ever think to ask me?
just ask.
a mere question would do
they probably wouldn’t give a shit
to what I said
but the fact that I could think
even for just a moment
that I had a choice
well,
that would have been nice
real nice
It’s funny
how we can trick ourselves
and they can trick us
“You are the most important thing to me.
You know that right?”
uh-huh
ok
so the fact that the ‘no-one’
is now a permanent house guest
was ok by me?
new art on the walls
new food in the fridge
a new face to wake up too
why not just up and turn my whole life upside down
shake the last bit of
my
out of it
and sure this food may taste better
and the art may look better
but the face
not always better
it was fine
the way we were
I can deal with
my old food
old art
one face
me and her
where does he fit in the equation?
in my moms heart, pushing me aside
or maybe in her brain
worried about him, thinking about him,
I could be off
by her side
trying to fight for her attention
and not a glance would come my way
how does that work?
she bore me
and yet she loves him
where is my voice?
my kiss hello?
my hug when feeling sick?
no thank-you
I won’t take your pity
I just want a voice
a hug
a kiss
and a choice
***EXTRA CREDIT: ARS POETICA POEM***
Everyone’s Piece of Steak
Chew
chew
chew
can’t
you spit it out
on the plate it looks different
a bit gnarled and chewed
but still edible
definitely edible
the flavor will remain on your tongue,
the precious flavor,
salty, spicy
mean
different for everyone
some automatically rejecting it
others trembling in it’s delicacy
people have a different takes on it
a kaleidoscope of colors
more than one blue, red, yellow
and black if you think that’s a color
the texture is ever-changing
one time soft as a pillow
the next maybe sharp as a nail
or dense as concrete
the effort it takes to make it
may rise or fall
but that comes naturally
with our progress of life
the world changes before us
and we change with it
one day our steak may look juicy
the next dry
as our own hearts are too
Whether it is having to deal with new art on the walls, new food in the fridge, or a new face to wake-up to, divorce causes many problems, solutions, and changes. These changes, for better or worse, impact us all in a myriad of ways. Some are glad to have their parents living separate lives, while some are still looking for the parent that got away. Even with divorce being so common in these modern times, with married couples breaking up daily all across the nation via text message or phone calls, the feelings that are brought from it are all so different. Happy, sad, confused, lost, fresh, bright, or stupefied, divorce can turn things upside down.
Growing up with divorced parents, divorced since I was 4, there have been many bumps along the way. Whether it’s my parents fighting, having to deal with potential step-parents, or juggling time to see both of my parents, being a child of divorce has made me who I am. Divorce has made me a girl used to having to suck-it-up, or just blast some music and stay in my room the entire night. With a new house and family, I try to live my life regularly, but with having moved 3 times in the past 4 years, it has been hard.
Writing about divorce isn’t easy. When writing these poems, emotions that I tried to bury for a long time were unleashed, screwing with my mind. Some people say it’s easier to have your parents get divorced when you are young; you won’t remember the time spent with both parents there, so you won’t miss and long for it. I think it works both ways. I haven’t ever had a time where me, my mom, and dad have spent the night together in the same house, or had a nice dinner with a round-table sharing of what each of us did that day. This is one of the things that haunts me daily.
Through my poems, I hope that other kids of divorce will see that other people share their worry, hate, and confusion about divorce. I am aware that my parents will read this collection, and maybe it will give all parents a bit of insight to what their kid thinks about throughout their whole life because of the divorce.
All kids want is a voice, a hug, a kiss, and a choice.
It.
It kind of just
happened
I don't remember it at all
how could I really?
I was only four
a toddler to life
a baby to my parent's problems
One day he was there
Next day gone
the house a bit emptier than before
ok. i was ok. fine.
I had 2 houses, 2 sets of toys, double the amount of clothes
I thought that was
cool
what mommy didn't want me to have
I could always ask daddy for
great
no dent in my heart
why would there be?
I saw him on the weekends,
I stayed in her ‘suitable’ house,
and their fights just breezed over my head
Life through my glass-clear emerald eyes was
fine. cool. great
It kind of just happened.
and I kind of just ignored it
He says, She says
He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
She smiles
He laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here is the cure. My famous soup."
i look up at him
and He looks down
His eyes pop out of his head a bit
“This must be your daughter.”
yes,
She says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before i stutter a hello
satisfied, Her hand goes away to close the door and motions for Him to
“come in, come in, it’s so cold out there.”
He walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
“whenever you are sick, I will make this”
He says
that would would be nice,
She says
and then flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
She says
fantastic, I'm starving
He says
Questions
What I never understood was
Why?
As I got older
I questioned
but answers to my own questions
weren't satisfying anymore
I tried to ignore these questions that popped into my head daily
more and more and more
bursting on my lips
that only got shot down
Why do I have two houses, mommy?
Why do I only get to see daddy on weekends, mommy?
Why don't you like mommy anymore, daddy?
Why do you fight so much, mommy?
Why can’t you just hug and make-up?
"When you're older, sweetie."
The inevitable answer
The only answer I ever did get
was the one I’m still not quite sure
if I really want to know the answer to
Was it my fault?
A Choice
I found about the move-in by accident
I never really got the option
the quick let’s sit down
and question of
is this ok?
how do you feel about it?
Instead I got the
“Oh. She knows. I guess the cat got
out of the bag.”
Yep. it did
and with it, the cat scratched me across the face
how long have they been planning this?
did they ever think to ask me?
just ask.
a mere question would do
they probably wouldn’t give a shit
to what I said
but the fact that I could think
even for just a moment
that I had a choice
well,
that would have been nice
real nice
It’s funny
how we can trick ourselves
and they can trick us
“You are the most important thing to me.
You know that right?”
uh-huh
ok
so the fact that the ‘no-one’
is now a permanent house guest
was ok by me?
new art on the walls
new food in the fridge
a new face to wake up too
why not just up and turn my whole life upside down
shake the last bit of
my
out of it
and sure this food may taste better
and the art may look better
but the face
not always better
it was fine
the way we were
I can deal with
my old food
old art
one face
me and her
where does he fit in the equation?
in my moms heart, pushing me aside
or maybe in her brain
worried about him, thinking about him,
I could be off
by her side
trying to fight for her attention
and not a glance would come my way
how does that work?
she bore me
and yet she loves him
where is my voice?
my kiss hello?
my hug when feeling sick?
no thank-you
I won’t take your pity
I just want a voice
a hug
a kiss
and a choice
***EXTRA CREDIT: ARS POETICA POEM***
Everyone’s Piece of Steak
Chew
chew
chew
can’t
you spit it out
on the plate it looks different
a bit gnarled and chewed
but still edible
definitely edible
the flavor will remain on your tongue,
the precious flavor,
salty, spicy
mean
different for everyone
some automatically rejecting it
others trembling in it’s delicacy
people have a different takes on it
a kaleidoscope of colors
more than one blue, red, yellow
and black if you think that’s a color
the texture is ever-changing
one time soft as a pillow
the next maybe sharp as a nail
or dense as concrete
the effort it takes to make it
may rise or fall
but that comes naturally
with our progress of life
the world changes before us
and we change with it
one day our steak may look juicy
the next dry
as our own hearts are too
Monday, January 24, 2011
Narrative Poem
Hello
Goodbye
I say as I wave to my parents
Though I’m nervous, I am a big girl
and I can do this
I can do this
and if my friends can do this
Then I Can Do This
right?
This place, it’s not a monster
it’s my new home, kind-of
I will love it, I’m sure
my friends love it
and I will love it
I walk up to a women waiting for me at the door
“Hey,” she says all i-won’t-remember-your-name
but why not tell it to me anyway?
I stutter it out and tell her about myself
say where I live, what pets I have, what I like to do
and she nods and points me up ‘that way’
I don’t see where she is pointing but I know I can find my way
my friends found there way and
I will find my way
am I cheating if I ask her again?
I walk up the hill, looking around as I go
it looks like a typical camp
trees, birds, rocks, plants
I take a left, like she said
and walk into the log cabin
other big-people greet me and I repeat everything I said to the other one
and since they seem a bit more interested
I tell them a bit more
and ask if I can have a top-bunk even though I am afraid of heights
but I can get over that
my friends got over their fears
and so I will get over mine
they say 'sure' enthusiastically
and one says “just like me. Adventurous”
I nod once and look down
they take my bags and put them in a closet
I walk up to a bed and wonder how the hell I am supposed to get up
climb? jump? fly?
I step onto the lower one, and for dear life fling myself up
my muscles strain, but thank god, I make it
and then I almost fall down a bit dizzy from the journey
but I stay put
A girl walks inside now, looking a bit pale like I’m sure I do
she follows the status-quo and keeps polite
her hands stick-straight at her side and then
she looks over at me
her eyes widen
she takes her bag and puts it
hesitantly
on the bed below mine
she waits a few seconds
I don’t move
and she sits down and looks up at me
I lean over, forget that there is a 99 percent chance that I will fall, and whisper
Hello.
Goodbye
I say as I wave to my parents
Though I’m nervous, I am a big girl
and I can do this
I can do this
and if my friends can do this
Then I Can Do This
right?
This place, it’s not a monster
it’s my new home, kind-of
I will love it, I’m sure
my friends love it
and I will love it
I walk up to a women waiting for me at the door
“Hey,” she says all i-won’t-remember-your-name
but why not tell it to me anyway?
I stutter it out and tell her about myself
say where I live, what pets I have, what I like to do
and she nods and points me up ‘that way’
I don’t see where she is pointing but I know I can find my way
my friends found there way and
I will find my way
am I cheating if I ask her again?
I walk up the hill, looking around as I go
it looks like a typical camp
trees, birds, rocks, plants
I take a left, like she said
and walk into the log cabin
other big-people greet me and I repeat everything I said to the other one
and since they seem a bit more interested
I tell them a bit more
and ask if I can have a top-bunk even though I am afraid of heights
but I can get over that
my friends got over their fears
and so I will get over mine
they say 'sure' enthusiastically
and one says “just like me. Adventurous”
I nod once and look down
they take my bags and put them in a closet
I walk up to a bed and wonder how the hell I am supposed to get up
climb? jump? fly?
I step onto the lower one, and for dear life fling myself up
my muscles strain, but thank god, I make it
and then I almost fall down a bit dizzy from the journey
but I stay put
A girl walks inside now, looking a bit pale like I’m sure I do
she follows the status-quo and keeps polite
her hands stick-straight at her side and then
she looks over at me
her eyes widen
she takes her bag and puts it
hesitantly
on the bed below mine
she waits a few seconds
I don’t move
and she sits down and looks up at me
I lean over, forget that there is a 99 percent chance that I will fall, and whisper
Hello.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Poem On An Important Event in My Life
He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
she smiles
he laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here I have the remedy"
I look up at him
and he looks down
his eyes google out of his head a bit
this must be your daughter
yes she says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before I stutter a hello
satisfied, her hand goes away to close the door and motions for him to
come in, come in
he walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
whenever you are sick, I will make this
he says
this will be good
she says
and flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
she says
fantastic, I'm starving
he says
bearing matzoh ball soup
she smiles
he laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here I have the remedy"
I look up at him
and he looks down
his eyes google out of his head a bit
this must be your daughter
yes she says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before I stutter a hello
satisfied, her hand goes away to close the door and motions for him to
come in, come in
he walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
whenever you are sick, I will make this
he says
this will be good
she says
and flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
she says
fantastic, I'm starving
he says
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