SAPPY

Anh, you dare say there be something "straight trippin" with sappy...TAKE THIS

Henrietta von Anhalt Hospital was not on his usual route.  Rick did not know what compelled him to enter the hospital.  Maybe it was the need to reach out to someone who understood the pain he felt.  Or was it simply the need to not be alone―the innate instinct to seek companionship out of solitude.  Deep inside, Rick knew why he decided to come after school to the hospital: he wanted the guarantee that all his pain was worth holding.  He wanted to comfort himself by having someone to talk to, even if she could not talk back. 

He walked down the desolate halls with only the sound of his footsteps his companion.  After checking a few maps, he found his destination.  Rick stood in front of the room’s window as a few nurses exit the room, glancing at him.  His school uniform and combed brown hair portrayed a façade of control to his otherwise distraught mind.  Realizing that Rick was a friend visiting her, they left the door open for him to enter.  Rick gave them a false smile in gratitude and they walked away. 

He set he gaze back to the room.  The florescent lights gave everything an unforgiving glow.  The light reflecting off the plethora of medical equipment and clean and polished tiles made the room appear washed out, indicative of the person resting inside.  He slightly opened the door and smelt the air, icy and filled with disinfectants.  Rick felt nausea just by smelling this overly familiar scent, the scent he has associated with many traumatic times in his life, though minor compared to this.  Though the room was huge and could have fit multiple patients, one solitary bed was in the far right corner of the room. 

The girl could have wasted away without anybody noticing if not for the ECG echoing the electrical impulses of her heart.  The light washed out her body as well, making her previous brown skin and hair look grey, though that could just be a reflection of her condition.  She was sedated and tucked, more like locked, underneath a large blanket, her tousled brown hair spilling everywhere.  An I.V. line slowly dripped nourishment to her frail body.  Rick, even at the door, could see how small she was, smaller than she seemed in his mind.  Where previously she would tower above him and yell, here she was tiny, calm, and relaxed.  This by itself troubled him; she was never calm in real life, always outgoing and loud.  No true calm can be formed from medication. 

Rick did not know what was wrong with her. His mom, the head of the hospital, would say nothing about the matter.  His mom probably deemed him a simple child who would not understand what Jane went through.  Maybe his mom was right.  Jane entered the hospital three months ago and he never visited her until today.  Even today, he was here for himself, for his own solace, and not for her.  But he was here now and in Rick’s mind that is all that counts, if only he could find the courage to walk into the room.  He stood at the doorway and finally, after he mentally struggled on his body’s motion, collapsed to the ground.  “Jane…Please talk to me” he said softly.  “Jane…Please speak to me!” he screamed out.  She did not move or make a sound, her present condition not allowing her to.  If awake she would yell and make Rick miserable, but to him that would be preferable to indifference.  “I’m sorry Jane.”  The feeling of self-disgust enveloped him as he choked out those words.  Silence filled the room once again, wrecked periodically by the beeping of the ECG and Rick’s crying.  

End of School Life

So we tried our hand at making a coil gun today.  It reminded me of most of my school experiments since it was a total failure.  I didn’t expect anything less (it was Dietrich teaching it), but I did realize I have a really bad habit.  Whenever our coil gun would fail, I would just hand it to Patrick and go run off to do other stuff.  I goofed off with Jacob and his flash, talked to Sam about his inability to blog, and attempted to steal Anh’s camera parts (she didn’t leave an archer to defend them).  When things get rough, I end up ditching them until I feel like I should get back to work.  I guess I should work on that, but on the other hand VNA was becoming super frustrated because he couldn’t get the soldering iron to work.  

When to lunch and debated on if I should do my senior handprint.  Feeling of my belly being full vs. having a handprint that nobody will care about.  Amazingly I did both.  Had to run around a lot, but I got it done.  In English I left and went to work on my valedictorian speech.  I don’t want to appeal to the masses as Jessie wants me to do.  I would rather fill it with random inside jokes and humor only a few friends would get.  Hopefully Mr. Nelson will not look at it and say it is horrible.  I’ll leave ‘nav to explain all the “good” things about Sherando.  

Went to history.  There Mrs. Andrews gave each of us a card with a message she wrote for us.  Picture should be included in post.  Expand it as you know how to (just follow Anh’s instruction on her handwritten blog posts).  At the end of class, she gave the four students she has had for four years (Elizabeth, Amber, Jessie, and I) a book.  She seems to really understand us.  Book pictures in blog too.

How True

Note!

  

Love that Bookmark

Another Note

Then later today at 6, our history class had a dinner party at Butcher Block.  There we chatting with Mrs. Andrews, culminating in us giving her a scrapbook we worked on.  It included pictures, quotes, messages, random drawings, everything a scrapbook should be.  Mission success, we got her to cry (in joy of course).  Good day.  

Scrapbook

Who Else Doesn't Know What To Do With Their Life?

I was bored this morning and wanted to write something sappy so I did.

A single wish floating through time, 

I keep close to my chest the future that is mine.

This gap signifies another day. 

In the shade, you start to fade away. 

I keep my arms ridged by my side

The distance is becoming wide

There is no point to have pride. 

Why was I at peace when the world left its scars?

Letting go, when that wish could be ours.

Move on, you can go to your dreams

But my heart is ripping from the seams.

No one can keep your will at bay.

So I stay, while you go back away. 

In your eyes, I see your subtle pain

But I try to contain

Why fly towards what I can’t attain?

How do we suppose to know how life plays out?

Everyone goes down their separate route. 

People can’t always be by your side.

You have to be your own guide.

The wish echoes boundlessly in the sky

Pursue, this shall be our last goodbye.

Go on, there is no time to grieve.

Then maybe I will still believe.   

Sort of a response to me not having dreams or aspirations while others seem to have something.  Though I may not have any now I hope I have some later, so that is why I ended on a semi-happy note because I do believe people can pursue their dreams.  This is what happens when school doesn't give me work to do.  I feel like Anh feels, that there must be something looming because that is what we are trained to feel.  The shame of doing nothing, why do I have that but not the shame of having no dreams?  Time to go block this sense of helplessness and have some fun. 

Random Stuff Parte Uno

So I didn’t have any one event to blog about, so here are some random stuff.  

All my memories are in third person.  Don’t ask me why, they just are.  I guess this is more just me editing my memories since I see myself.  It is sort of like a backshot of my head and the event, but sometimes I see snippets of my face, which explains my emotions at the time.  

On a more depressing note, my arm and my book reminds me of pain.  Mental pain is easy to get rid of.  It fades in time, and can be removed with lies to oneself.  That is how I handle it I guess, I don’t remember.  It is all just a mind game when dealing with mental pain.  Physical pain is the real deal.  It doesn’t care what you are thinking.  You can’t just massage it away.  It all depends on the body, which is separate from that mind.  It throbs and hurts indiscriminately.  

Why is it that the end of senior year is the time I have to work the hardest?  Yes this coming from the guy who doesn’t show his face in class a lot.  Too much work, too much I want to do, so hard to do it all.  People who can balance it all are amazing.  I just was trained to do schoolwork, nothing more.  Having things outside that were never in the picture, so I’m pretty lost right now.  I better figure out something before I got to college and get more lost.  

I don’t know why but I don’t like to talk about individual events and make it a blog post.  I only wanted to do that for the DI because that was pretty cool.  I would rather share my thoughts than events of my life.  

Sometimes I’m sad when I don’t understand others.  When they have a talent or hobby I never knew about, I get mad that they didn’t feel like telling me.  You can’t just let be judge you without my having all the facts, think about my feeling sometimes.  (I hope people can understand my sarcasm by now.)  Seriously people, tell me about yourself, it is boring to only explain my views.  

This format of mini-thoughts is cool.  I should use it more often. 

Wow I'm Graduating...

“I Shelly Andrews, hereby leave to Tomy, Jessie, and Elizabeth the understanding that it has been one of the great honors of my career to have worked with you four different years (6, 9, 11, and 12)!  You are wonderfully capable and empathetic young people.  I wish you nothing but happiness.  To my seventh period AP World class: You made my day 1, every day 1.  You will be missed.  Carpe diem, bon voyage and see ya on the flip side”  

I was told there was something in the school’s newspaper I had to read, but I didn’t expect this.  I almost cried in anatomy class after reading this.  Mrs. Andrews really has been a base for my whole school experience.  No matter how different each year seemed, I knew I had someone who I could count on as my teacher.  As the will says, yes I had her in 6^th grade, the only year she taught in middle school.  Though I don’t have that many memories, I remember analyzing pictures and trying to discern the hidden meanings. I guess she was training us from a young age.  

In high school I had her in World History 1.  I don’t know how she put up with me as a smart aleck freshman.  I know for a fact I tested her nerves many times, but she persisted and made that class awesome.  I had her again for U.S. History, which I have to say is what I consider my true history class.  World I knew most of it before, but I knew nothing about the U.S.  I talked before about how she taught me about themes, which plays a vital role in my thinking.  When I learned she was going to teach AP World History, it was one of my absolute requirements for senior year.  I had to walk up to guidance and explain to them why I would deviate from my path just to take an “unnecessary” class.  

WHAP was a class filled with pretty much her handpicked favorite students.  This alone made us realize the year was going to be awesome.  Barely anybody was in there for a diploma or AP requirement, just to have another year with her as our teacher.  Zach, who should be reputed as one of the greatest skippers, refused to skip WHAP.  

This respect and appreciation didn’t go one way, she had the same feeling for us.  One day I was absent and, since I’m not used to being absent, forgot to tell Mrs. Andrews.  I heard later she ran to the office to make sure I was ok since it seemed only some horrible event could have stopped me from coming to her class.  I was so touched, apologizing profusely the next class period.  When I learned that we would be taking AP tests in a room with tiny desks that didn’t help left handed people and told her, she went up to Nelson and told him off, telling him to plan better next year so the problem would not arise again.  She came to our Academic Team matches to cheer us on, sometimes even becoming impromptu judge.  She was always willing to listen to our problems and give us advice about our futures, especially helpful for me since I’m going to UVA.  Maybe I should ask her for her letter of recommendation to see what she wrote about me; Elizabeth read hers and loved it.  

The feelings in her will are mutual.  Elizabeth, Jessie, and I are blessed to have her as our teacher for four years.  She was compelling as a teacher, and caring as a person.  She made history not a chore and one of my favorite subjects.  She took the time to know us as individuals and be flexible with us.  As Elizabeth says “The first thing I’m going to do after graduation is add Mrs. Andrews on Facebook.”  Our teacher and friend, Mrs. Andrews will always be my first memory when I think about my happy times at Sherando.