I Am From Muddy Play Clothes

I am from pencils and paper,
Faber Castell and Daler Rowney.
I am from the big stone house
by the white cotton field.
I am from the tall evergreen trees,
the sticky yellow sap that sits on your fingertips.
I am from birthdays and homemade cakes,
with Elizabeth and Frances,
covered in silky soft icing.
I am from knives and forks,
sitting up strait and acting proper.
From occasionally going to church
in muddy play clothes on sunny Sunday mornings.
From looking for the purple monsters under the bed
and believing that sprinkles were made out of waxy crayons.
I’m from the sun in Malaysia and the bitter wind in Britain.
From hot Sunday dinners
and tasting food before it was ready.
From the big custom made bed—
the one that everyone sleeps in together.
The one that we jump on, the one that we hide under.
I am from the dusty pictures
I’m from blue eyes and strait hair,
white skin and lovely voices.
From the tree that grows in my family’s heart.

Japan Erthquake Hits Northeast

On March 11 at 2:46 in the afternoon a devastating audible earthquake hit Japan measuring an 8.9 magnitude that was later brought up to be 9.0—people are still feeling aftershocks. The most powerful Japanese earthquake since records began, triggered a massive tsunami just 250 miles from the capital—Tokyo. This proceeded not long after the large tremor. Taking everything in its path with it, a copious mess of debris covers the ground making it hard to find survivors. Adept Japanese soldiers have been deployed all over japan as well as contingents of rescue teams from around the world to find survivors. But it is feared that up to 100,000 people could have died. Everyone is trying to help with things like rescue dogs that can detect people hidden under in capacious spaces.
A Japanese nuclear power plants pressure has exceeded normal levels. People have been told to seal and stay in their houses along with power cuts to save energy. Risking health of anyone near it—scientists are trying to find ways to cool it and are worried that fitful explosions might take place.
Although the sky is an azure blue, the ground is covered with everything and anything the tsunami caught. It is crucial for everyone to hope for the best.

Chinese Cinderella

Chinese Cinderella by Adeline Yen Mah is the memoir of an unwanted daughter. Born as the fith child into and affluent family. Her mother died shortly after her birth--leaving her with the title of 'bad luck' or 'cursed' (p.3). Adelines father quickly remarried a young womman who favors her own two childern significantly more than fathers other children. Denied love from her father and stepmother, she turnes to her grandfather--YeYe--for afection. He and her Aunt Baba are the only ones she looks up to, who inspire her.
‘
"And if I should be so lucky as to succeed one day, it’ll be because you believed in me."’ (p.208)Says Adeline to her YeYe.

Chinese Cinderella was writtlen shortly after Yen Mahs first book, Falling Leaves. Wich details Adelines life from 14 years old to adulthood as Chinese Cinderella focuses on her life before that. This inspiring memoir is organized in a collection if vignettes --in a cronological order--that each make you go 'wow'. Because of this, the author, jumps some parts on time--often the parts of her childhood that were less important than the others.

The memoirist—Adeline—came to realize about herself was even thought she loves education; it doesn’t give her any love back. She wants something more like a family who loves and supports her. She has a heart full of love, now she just needs someone to love her.

I think this book was hard to put down because the author wrote with so many fresh details and feelings, it felt like you were there with a real Chinese Cinderella the whole time. It feels like she doesnt mark the events in her life by dates but by feelings.


‘"Now they knew the pathetic truth! Unloved and unwanted by my own parents! How long did it take for a person to die of shame."’ (p.129)

‘"My whole being vibrated with all the joy in the world. I only had to stretch out my hand to reach the stars."’ (p.220)

I Believe There Are Monsters under the Bed

I believe there are monsters under the bed,
To sleep with a teddy bear is a good thing,
They scare the monsters away each night.

I believe blankets are a necessity.

I believe dreams are great,
That when you don’t want to wake up in the morning,
Your excuse should be, “I was dreaming.”

I believe a little scare, every now and then, is good for you.

But I don’t believe in nightmares,
I believe that their just a dream with a little edge.

I believe you toes shouldn’t be left out from the covers at night.

I believe when you know where everything is in your room,
Others call that messy.

I believe reading puts you into another world,
But you have to let the book take you there.

Interview with Mrs Murrow

Yes, I was on the train quite late, on my way to New York I was. Going to visit my sister she’s not very well at the moment, and this was the only ticket I was able to lay my hands on. The train was quite empty except for this one dear young man. You mentioned it was, well, Holden Caulfield? Sorry, I don’t recall anyone by that name. But on the train, the only person I did meet was Rudolf Schmidt—a bit strange to my liking, though he went to Pencey Prep, I thought that was nice anyway. Well dear, that sounds like that could have been him, did he really have a brain tumour removed, poor thing. Yes, well, he was a bit touched in the head, anyway. I mean… he offered me a cigarette; he must smoke a lot because the case was almost empty. Yes yes, he was a strange boy, he also asked me if I wanted to get a cocktail with him in the club car—I don’t even think he was old enough and it was about 3 in the morning, it would be closed for goodness sake. He was saying that he would be able to get in on account of his “grey hair”, really. (Disappointed face). Tut tut . (shakeshead).
One funny thing about him was he started to talk about my boy, Ernest, but Rudolf...um I mean ,what was it …Holden, started to talk about this nonsense that he was running for class president, but surely my boy Ernest, would have told me about it, he writes me every Sunday, yes that’s him. Mmm.(nodding head)
Bit cheeky though…ermm Holden he was, mind you, my son can be as well sometimes probably picked it up from some of those kids at Pencey, though the boy couldn’t have made up all those stories he told to me about Ernest…could he?
He told me he lots of pretend things (shakes head) I’m mean there was so many of them. About my Ernie being shy n’ modest and all, he’s not that shy, is he? Well then, poor dear (looks into space)
If you ask me the boy Holden, could have been a total nutcase, if you ask me, he kept looking at me as if I was 16 again, boy, he was strange. Now I come to think of it, I don’t think he had a brain tumour after all, on account he was most surely lying about everything else. Thank goodness. Then what was he doing out of school before they let you out for the Christmas holidays. Oh! He didn’t get thrown out did he, poor thing. I feel terrible for him, his parents too. I wonder what they’ll have t’ do. I wonder what I’d do if my Ernie got the ax.
D’y’know what I remember that his nose was bleeding, I don’t know why but it makes me feel a bit funny so I told him in the end. I guess that anyone would have anyway. Bit peculiar if you ask me though.

An Old Student of Mine Again

I decided to embark my daily walk around two. It was a serene stroll down all that hustle and bustle by the train station. It was pretty gloomy outside and I always had an inkling that it would rain, but I went out anyway. Soon enough it did, then it started to rain profusely, throwing down buckets at a time. I rushed over to the nearest place I could see—the train station café. I waited just inside the door for a few long minutes by then decided to sit down because the rain wasn’t going to stop any time soon. So, I lackadaisically stalked over to an empty table near the back and ordered some water, I felt quite dehydrated for some reason. I sat back and a look around and saw not many people: a dark woman in a beige coat, two nuns clad in their uniforms, and… oh, it was Holden Caulfield—wearing a funny read hat of some sort with a grimace on his face. I hadn’t seen him since he was in my class a few years ago; I could remember him from anywhere, always doing the most unusual things. I gingerly walked over to him and said in a very nervous yet affable voice,”Hey, Holden, is that you boy?” he spun around and said, “Oh…uhh yea it’s me, nice to see you again miss…” I quickly interrupted him—though I’m sure he still didn’t remember my name anyway—and said, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He replied as I endeavoured to shake his hand, “quite well actually, been moving around a lot to lots of places, one where there was quite a few ducks. Oh well, I best be of then, I wouldn’t want to be late.“ He smiled and nodded and quietly walked away. Now that evoked memories from when he was always making excuses in my class, they pervaded my mind for a few seconds. I thought that was quite a cursory encounter but it didn’t really matter, he wasn’t my best student anyway. Then I shook those thoughts away and went to sit down.