Things to Do Over the Summer

9 05 2011

Things to do over the Summer

 1. Roast marshmallows over a campfire

2. Read all the books on the book list

3. Dive off a diving board/ go off the drop slide

4. Sleep until 10 o’clock 

5. Sign up for some classes at the library

6. Tie dye a shirt

7. Make a new friend

8. Fly a kite

9. Host a party

10. Get some music from the library (see # 20)

 11. Make dinner for your family

12. Learn something new

13. Wake up early to watch the sun rise

14. Write a letter to someone you know

15. Do a job to earn money

16. Watch a movie at the library

17. Plant a tree

18. Buy something with your own money

19. Make your own paper

20. Check out the library’s website at www.stdl.org

 21. Blend a smoothie

22. Bake some cookies

23. Make a firefly lantern

24. Go on a hike

25. Decorate an ice cream sundae

26. Make a bird house

27. Check out a book from the library

28. Pull a prank on your friends

29. Make a scrapbook

30. Learn how to juggle

31. Send secrets by Morse Code

32. Launch a rocket

33. Perfect your drawing skills

34. Find the constellations

35. Identify clouds

36. Start an ant farm

37. Dry flowers

38. Grow a garden

39. Learn how to skateboard

40. Learn how to do the worm

41. Learn how to moonwalk

42. Walk on your hands

43. Do a magic show

44. Write a song and sing it

45. Form shadow puppets

46. Skip a stone

47. Shoot some hoops

48. Hit a home run

49. Write in invisible ink

50. Fold an airplane

 

 I wrote this for a newspaper club article. What do you think??? 🙂

 

Advertisements




The Debate of a Bookworm

27 04 2011

Why didn’t I join a book club?

That’s a good question- after all, I am an avid bookworm, and you can often find me with my nose buried in a novel. My friends say that they find me with a different book each day, which, though not true, is what to be expected from the daughter of a librarian. However, my motto is: A book is meant for reading, not dissecting.

[FYI: I detest nonfiction books, for they don’t apply to my motto]

You see, although I adore literature, I HATE breaking it down. For example, stating the climax (shudder) or naming an internal conflict (wince) is easy for me, but I loath it because it’s so BORING. 😦 This, as you can tell, makes Language Arts class a sort of battle of opinions: I can easily say that my favorite part is read aloud (BTW, go Mockingjay!!!! 😉 )

Book clubs do involve reading, but it is forced reading (tremble) and you have to TALK about it afterward. My kind of reading is reading for reading’s sake, not to dissect it like a frog in biology class. Sure, my mom may think me crazy, and my friends may think I’m silly, but one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to join the book club.





Essays in Life

15 04 2011

I loved the rain. I loved the wind, caressing my hair, blowing it straight back or tangling it over my eyes. I loved the delicious feeling of raindrops on my face. I would close my eyes and smile.

On summer nights, when the tornado sirens wailed, my feelings were battling between fear and ecstasy. The house would creak creepily and the pine branches outside the window would flail helplessly as the wind batted at them forcefully. I would half-wish, despite the fact that I knew it would be horrible, that a real tornado- a swirling mass of howling gales -would come, come whip away my life. I would emerge from the rubble of my house with a story to tell.

On other summer nights, when there was a gentle, carefree breeze, the bonfire was lit and our faces flickered in he darkness. We would run all over the neighborhood, heedless of property and domain, cutting through yards and sprinting down streets in the black. I would fly across rolling terrain and feel free. I would crouch behind trees and be still. I would be quiet and win.

I’m not sure whether it’s surprising that I grew up to be a meek girl. I still feel as if my personality wages war. I crave adrenaline, yet I scorn sports- competition holds little to no interest for me. I love riding my bike- I love cruising through town, zooming past yards of uniform concrete and leaving landmarks in the dust. When I cross the road from the park to my house, I pedal so fast my legs feel like their flying- and I feel like I’m flying. It’s as if I’m going a hundred miles an hour, and- once more, adrenaline- I’m afraid I will fall. When I arrive at my garage, my heart is always pumping and I’m always smiling.

P.S. The topic of this essay is nothing.