?

I go running almost everyday. My average base is six miles. Lately, however, I've decided that I want to add in some muscle building routines. My goal is lean muscle. Is this a good STARTER routine?

Run 6-7 miles. Immediately after, complete 5 sets of 10 pushups. Regular pushups. 10 sec break in between sets. Next, one minute plank. Then, one minute side plank (two altogether - one on left side one on right side). Finally, a tricep workout...the one where you hold onto a ledge behind you and extend your legs and dip down? In any case, I then proceed to do 3 sets of these, 10 dips each.

I want to build onto this routine but it will be gradual (considering I just started and all). Is this a good starting workout however? Reminder: I want to build LEAN but DEFINED muscle. I'm 16 years old, 135 pounds 6'1. I'm also pretty skinny as it is.

THANKS!

Set Your Soul Free

Slamming, winning, what can we be achieving

no less than what we are believing

a mind who is created equal, but whose thoughts are only partial

Space, and I'm swimming, drowning, floating, and riding

through the waves like a surfer with a board, or a sailor with a boat

the sails propelled upwards, but the wind flying backwards

Stop. Life stops. You stop. We stop.

And then the green light goes, and your engine starts,

your feet pumping hard on the gas

and its masculine blast, roaring back through the past

and you breathe and let it all in, and you exhale

let it all out, and your minds all back to normal

free from the doubt.

Life's cycle, its inner propelling spiteful need

to make us all not equal, but all free

well what's a life if you're not living, but your rights are supposedly givin

I can't see a future brighter than those who illuminate truth

as the mighty need for us to all be free

to all have need, and to all be rescued without unnecessary plea

give us a chance, we won't let it go

give us a chance, and let us show

we all have something to give, tucked away from you

even from us, although we may not see

but if given the opportunity

it may be

we can set our souls free.

This is the story of Charlie Smith - a young boy whose perspective on love changes - and he begins liking males. This is a satirical short story that I am in the process of writing, that is supposed to poke fun at our societies stance on "gays" and "homosexuals," and how a majority of us believe that we CHOOSE to love other sexes, besides the opposite sex, which is supposedly "inherit" by some people's standards, but it is not inherit or natural for homosexuals to like the same sex. Not all of this is underlined in this short excerpt from my story, but this is what I want to put online.

TWO SIDED

I never knew much about love. Some would tell me it is an indescribable feeling – yet manage to elaborate sentence upon sentence, explaining with unparalleled accuracy its hollow and distinct pinch of realism. A first kiss, a hug goodbye, or a simple “I love you.”

I never had that. I had a mother and a father who loved me dearly. I kissed them goodnight, but I don't believe that is the same thing as giving a beloved girlfriend or boyfriend a kiss. At least, not for myself. And I'm sure, not for others. Yet I did love them nonetheless

“Keep love in your heart”, Oscar Wilde once said. “A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.” When the flowers are dead – does this mean your emotion is dead, too? I feel like my emotions are numb at this point. I'm in high school for Christ's sake. Yet, the one piece, that would make every person complete, in all sectors of their life, has managed to remain absent from mine, up until this point.

That is, up until this point.

I tell today, of a story about true love. There has been a misused, discriminated against, and looked down upon term in today's society. Homosexuality.

Although true love has remained absent from my life, and a relationship is nothing but distant in my world – a spark of interest always manifested in my tiny, tiny heart when a cute girl would walk by.

In the sixth grade there was a girl, her name was Jazabel. The most beautiful human I had ever laid my eyes upon. It was her first year attending our school, and on the first day of school, I couldn't believe what I was laying my eyes upon. I think that her beauty would be evident to anyone – “straight” or “gay,” “bi” or “lesbian.” And maybe that was the problem – that her beauty was so immense, it overcame any sense or urgency I might have been facing – or any other conflicting feelings I truly felt. I thought Jazabel was the one for me. At sixth grade. It was my only, and first, touch with love.

And then, Jazabel moved away. Her father was given some other job opportunity in the Bay area, from what I remember correctly, and she left school and our city two weeks before summer vacation. And that was over. Like the beautiful sight she gave me by coming to our school, her leaving and exit left a horrible, and ugly stain on my heart. I remember even crying. Only because I wanted Jazabel back.

It's been six years since that day. And gradually, slowly, I've been feeling a new love. A new sort of emotion. I still remember Jazabel, and I still remember my feeling towards her – but it isn't there with anyone else. At least, not with other girls. No other girls, whatsoever.

And it's weird. To feel that way, even some long amount of time ago – such as six years – but to gradually develop and change, and. And. Feel different. About something like love. I may not be successful with love, but I would think that I could still feel it. Sense its presence, and understand who I love, even if it would never come true. But now, I'm questioning who I love. And it's been tearing at me since the time Jazabel left.

But it isn't because of Jazabel that my perspective on love has changed. It's me. I am the reason my perspective on love has changed. And I have a feeling there is nothing I can do to fix it.

I don't understand her! This last winter, we started talking. We texted over winter break and went bike riding once. This girl is pretty busy with soccer, and other stuff, so it made sense that she would be available to talk and hang out during break. Then indoor soccer season started for her, and school soccer. We go to the same school by the way!

We started talking less once her sports started. We would hang out at school sometimes, but I didn't want to feel clingy. She's this incredibly pretty girl but she's pretty shy. She doesn't have a facebook or anything, and she keeps to herself and her close group of friends (which is like three other girls).

Anyways, for the longest time, we haven't really been talking. Over break, she would text me and I would text her. Now it's always ME who ends up texting HER. I think she may be busy, or maybe she just wants be to start initiating the convos more. This happens in real life also.

I started losing faith in her liking me, until l I saw her starring at me today, full on. We have P.E. together, and we sit in the same third position, except on opposite sides of the gym. I sometimes get the feeling she's looking over at me, but I never know for sure. Then today, on the soccer field, I accidentally looked behind myself to yell at a friend, and the girl I like and her best friend were walking around the soccer field and she was looking behind herself too look at me! I hadn't even said anything to get her attention...she didn't her my voice or anything because I hadn't yelled yet! I got really embarrassed and looked back the other way, but she was starring at me before I turned around. Just trust me on this. She was already in front of me so it means she had seen me before I turned around.

So the point is, is this girl just playing hard to get? Does she want me to do something more than just text her and casually hang out with her? Is that why she is trying not to initiate to many conversations? I guess you could say I treat her more like a friend than anything, but I really do like her - I'm just really bad with girls, and I sometimes give the wrong impression. She is looking at me though! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?!?!?!

I don't understand her! This last winter, we started talking. We texted over winter break and went bike riding once. This girl is pretty busy with soccer, and other stuff, so it made sense that she would be available to talk and hang out during break. Then indoor soccer season started for her, and school soccer. We go to the same school by the way!

We started talking less once her sports started. We would hang out at school sometimes, but I didn't want to feel clingy. She's this incredibly pretty girl but she's pretty shy. She doesn't have a facebook or anything, and she keeps to herself and her close group of friends (which is like three other girls).

Anyways, for the longest time, we haven't really been talking. Over break, she would text me and I would text her. Now it's always ME who ends up texting HER. I think she may be busy, or maybe she just wants be to start initiating the convos more. This happens in real life also.

I started losing faith in her liking me, until l I saw her starring at me today, full on. We have P.E. together, and we sit in the same third position, except on opposite sides of the gym. I sometimes get the feeling she's looking over at me, but I never know for sure. Then today, on the soccer field, I accidentally looked behind myself to yell at a friend, and the girl I like and her best friend were walking around the soccer field and she was looking behind herself too look at me! I hadn't even said anything to get her attention...she didn't her my voice or anything because I hadn't yelled yet! I got really embarrassed and looked back the other way, but she was starring at me before I turned around. Just trust me on this. She was already in front of me so it means she had seen me before I turned around.

So the point is, is this girl just playing hard to get? Does she want me to do something more than just text her and casually hang out with her? Is that why she is trying not to initiate to many conversations? I guess you could say I treat her more like a friend than anything, but I really do like her - I'm just really bad with girls, and I sometimes give the wrong impression. She is looking at me though! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?!?!?!

I don't understand her! This last winter, we started talking. We texted over winter break and went bike riding once. This girl is pretty busy with soccer, and other stuff, so it made sense that she would be available to talk and hang out during break. Then indoor soccer season started for her, and school soccer. We go to the same school by the way!

We started talking less once her sports started. We would hang out at school sometimes, but I didn't want to feel clingy. She's this incredibly pretty girl but she's pretty shy. She doesn't have a facebook or anything, and she keeps to herself and her close group of friends (which is like three other girls).

Anyways, for the longest time, we haven't really been talking. Over break, she would text me and I would text her. Now it's always ME who ends up texting HER. I think she may be busy, or maybe she just wants be to start initiating the convos more. This happens in real life also.

I started losing faith in her liking me, until l I saw her starring at me today, full on. We have P.E. together, and we sit in the same third position, except on opposite sides of the gym. I sometimes get the feeling she's looking over at me, but I never know for sure. Then today, on the soccer field, I accidentally looked behind myself to yell at a friend, and the girl I like and her best friend were walking around the soccer field and she was looking behind herself too look at me! I hadn't even said anything to get her attention...she didn't her my voice or anything because I hadn't yelled yet! I got really embarrassed and looked back the other way, but she was starring at me before I turned around. Just trust me on this. She was already in front of me so it means she had seen me before I turned around.

So the point is, is this girl just playing hard to get? Does she want me to do something more than just text her and casually hang out with her? Is that why she is trying not to initiate to many conversations? I guess you could say I treat her more like a friend than anything, but I really do like her - I'm just really bad with girls, and I sometimes give the wrong impression. She is looking at me though! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?!?!?!

Nasty Buyers

I watch them stand in line

I too standing, but only behind

They pack their arms with dirty things

Unhealthy assortments, and bottled, sugary drinks

The little kid screaming, “Can't We Just Leave?”

Pulling and screaming for the candy or some treat

His mother patting his head, and allowing a purchase

They walk on out, and the little boy's desires are met with no purpose

The next person walks up, and throws the items at the cashier

Unzipping her purse, and pulling out a bill

“Will this do, and please, a pack of Marlboro's too?”

She walks outside, and pulls a ciggy and lighter

Takes a drag or two, and inhales mightier

She begins to cough, but it takes no effect

What can I say to these unhealthy buyers?

A man walks up, balding and gray around the chin

Holding a crumbled ten, and some various types of gin

Be careful when you're driving, I can only think

Life is much more precious then your tiny, bustling drink

He walks on out, with his bags covering

But I know later on, his habit will only begin blubbering

What can I say to these nasty buyers?

What would happen if we make these dime a dozens lighter?

Is it a problem with the money you have to pay

So little, for such a likened item

With a conscience that shouldn't be worth your liken?

Maybe it's our fault for inciting such nasty buyers

Or maybe it's just human fault, after all

What can we say, to all of the nasty buyers in life?

Nasty Buyers

I watch them stand in line

I too standing, but only behind

They pack their arms with dirty things

Unhealthy assortments, and bottled, sugary drinks

The little kid screaming, “Can't We Just Leave?”

Pulling and screaming for the candy or some treat

His mother patting his head, and allowing a purchase

They walk on out, and the little boy's desires are met with no purpose

The next person walks up, and throws the items at the cashier

Unzipping her purse, and pulling out a bill

“Will this do, and please, a pack of Marlboro's too?”

She walks outside, and pulls a ciggy and lighter

Takes a drag or two, and inhales mightier

She begins to cough, but it takes no effect

What can I say to these unhealthy buyers?

A man walks up, balding and gray around the chin

Holding a crumbled ten, and some various types of gin

Be careful when you're driving, I can only think

Life is much more precious then your tiny, bustling drink

He walks on out, with his bags covering

But I know later on, his habit will only begin blubbering

What can I say to these nasty buyers?

What would happen if we make these dime a dozens lighter?

Is it a problem with the money you have to pay

So little, for such a likened item

With a conscience that shouldn't be worth your liken?

Maybe it's our fault for inciting such nasty buyers

Or maybe it's just human fault, after all

What can we say, to all of the nasty buyers in life?

Just a little background - the main character's name is Clemens - inspired by Mark Twain's true name, Samuel Clemens. This is important because Mark Twain - or Samuel Clemens - was always known for satirizing education (among other things). This book that I am in the process of writing satirizes education specifically, so I chose the name Clemens just for fun. In a nutshell, this book is about a young boy (Mr. Clemens) who runs away from school, and the entire school goes looking for him. Along the journey, the school continue their classes, and Clemens continues to lead them on - fully knowledgeable that the class is looking for him. It's supposed to point out that education can still make you a fool - especially when the answer, or what you're looking for, may be RIGHT in front of you. Here's an excerpt from the very beginning of my book. Thanks! P.S.- Disregard my grammatical mistakes, and I purposefully leave quotation marks of my dialogue.

Sequester

This will liken to the hearts of many out there, young and old, incoming and out – school is horrible. Education is flawed. Youth are fleeting, and something must be done. I rest my case, you flapjack privies. I am on the brink of extinction – with my unshapely pencils, and their mockingly, low point lead pieces, and the crinkled paper bestowed upon my desk surface. The icky gum, drooling from its hanging crevasse, located up side and around gravity – slandering heavenly on the bottom piece of my desk (with the paper atop). It's sticky residue. And the inappropriate and foul language and crude drawings amidst the desk surface, underneath my lined paper, staring through with gleaming eyes unholy and true. YOU ******. COCK BLOWN, WHORE IN A PENITENTIARY. Smitten to pieces, I rest my case again. My eyelids bore, my mouth droops, the drool begins to culminate, and my hair hangs low. Hearing is impaired, the teacher continues to talk, in and out, in and out. These words unconsciously flowing from point A to point – what point? What point?

Clemens. Clemens.

Yes, maam.

What is the answer?

Paper blank. I rest my case.

1928?

The class laughs. It begins to grow louder and louder. I can only hope that the teacher has ignored that first answer. I probably would know the right answer – had I been listening to the ORIGINAL question. But sometimes, that isn't the case. Not this time, at least.

Clemens. One last try.

I'm sorry maam. I wasn't listening. Could you repeat the question?

Ms. Baca stared long and hard. Five seconds I think. I've never been great at math, either. Then, the direction of her eyes glinted elsewhere, and my heart rose from its sunken position. I began to breath once more. One, two, three – the bell rings, and my classmates fleet towards the door, their feet stomping and angrily kicking at the poor tiles amidst the shiny, dirt ridden surfaced floor.

Just a little background - the main character's name is Clemens - inspired by Mark Twain's true name, Samuel Clemens. This is important because Mark Twain - or Samuel Clemens - was always known for satirizing education (among other things). This book that I am in the process of writing satirizes education specifically, so I chose the name Clemens just for fun. In a nutshell, this book is about a young boy (Mr. Clemens) who runs away from school, and the entire school goes looking for him. Along the journey, the school continue their classes, and Clemens continues to lead them on - fully knowledgeable that the class is looking for him. It's supposed to point out that education can still make you a fool - especially when the answer, or what you're looking for, may be RIGHT in front of you. Here's an excerpt from the very beginning of my book. Thanks! P.S.- Disregard my grammatical mistakes, and I purposefully leave quotation marks of my dialogue.

Sequester

This will liken to the hearts of many out there, young and old, incoming and out – school is horrible. Education is flawed. Youth are fleeting, and something must be done. I rest my case, you flapjack privies. I am on the brink of extinction – with my unshapely pencils, and their mockingly, low point lead pieces, and the crinkled paper bestowed upon my desk surface. The icky gum, drooling from its hanging crevasse, located up side and around gravity – slandering heavenly on the bottom piece of my desk (with the paper atop). It's sticky residue. And the inappropriate and foul language and crude drawings amidst the desk surface, underneath my lined paper, staring through with gleaming eyes unholy and true. YOU ******. COCK BLOWN, WHORE IN A PENITENTIARY. Smitten to pieces, I rest my case again. My eyelids bore, my mouth droops, the drool begins to culminate, and my hair hangs low. Hearing is impaired, the teacher continues to talk, in and out, in and out. These words unconsciously flowing from point A to point – what point? What point?

Clemens. Clemens.

Yes, maam.

What is the answer?

Paper blank. I rest my case.

1928?

The class laughs. It begins to grow louder and louder. I can only hope that the teacher has ignored that first answer. I probably would know the right answer – had I been listening to the ORIGINAL question. But sometimes, that isn't the case. Not this time, at least.

Clemens. One last try.

I'm sorry maam. I wasn't listening. Could you repeat the question?

Ms. Baca stared long and hard. Five seconds I think. I've never been great at math, either. Then, the direction of her eyes glinted elsewhere, and my heart rose from its sunken position. I began to breath once more. One, two, three – the bell rings, and my classmates fleet towards the door, their feet stomping and angrily kicking at the poor tiles amidst the shiny, dirt ridden surfaced floor.

Found from the waves of the world

fresh out of breath, and back for the return

Facing the fear that the truth had discovered

no telling how, or when this will work out

but we've gone to far to tell now

I'm looking for freedom, I hope I find it

taking everything I have

Looking for freedom

and we'll find it

take everything I have

I know the will of our heart's don't come easy

the trains of the world they seem to move to tight

I try to walk around, but the stumbling is so familiar

try to get up, but the down is so strong

there has to be win in my bones

I'm looking for freedom

and we'll find it, cause it takes everything we have

Life hasn't been to kind to me lately

but I suppose its a push for moving on

and this time the sun is going to shine on me nicely

something tells me good things are coming

and I'm not going to stop from the belief

I'm looking for freedom, and I'll find it

take everything I have

Well we're looking for freedom, looking for freedom

and we find it...take everything I have.

*Fifteen year old writing. Feedback, please. Thanks!*

Every 15 Minutes

Every fifteen minutes. The words echo throughout eternity.

Every fifteen minutes. Do you know the pain you are causing? Are you careful and cautious of your actions? Do your actions speak louder than your words? If so, why are you so careless?

Every fifteen minutes.

- - -

Marcus never envisioned much for himself. He was a “partier,” a ruthless teenage boy who would slip out of his house late into the night time, and stir commotion and trouble. At school the problems never ceased to exist, and he was always being sent to the principal's office.

“Mark,” Mr. Thomas was peering straight into his eyes. He was a tall man. Mr. Thomas once said, there are no bullies at this school but me. If you bully someone else, then you have to deal with me. This is my school. “This is your fifth visit to my office this year. School started two months ago. What can I say...”

Marcus would drift into an unconscious state, and just sit there, allowing for Mr. Thomas' words to slip through his ears, never truly listening to anything he had to say. Occasionally he would twiddle his thumbs and rearrange the pens sitting on Thomas' desk. But he never listened.

“And what can I say?” Mark sat there. “I'm sorry?”

Thomas just continued starring. “That would be the first step.” Next, Mr. Thomas loosened his large arms and elongated his legs allowing for himself to stand. He broke his gaze from Mark and peered out through his window, starring point blank into the parking lot. A few cars were parked, including Mark's. Mark almost wondered if Mr. Thomas would go as far as to take his car away from him. But he didn't believe that was possible; it was Mark's after all.

“We cannot have people like you at our school,” is all Mr. Thomas was able to blandly state. His voice seemed tired, eradicated from hard work and petulance.

“Maybe I don't belong here...” Mark's eyes were beginning to droop. He was getting tired. He didn't care the punishment, just let him be, was all he could render in his mind.

“That's a poor statement on my part,” Mr. Thomas was now concentrated on Mark once more, “what I mean is... we cannot have attitude like yours. This attitude that doesn't care for the welfare of the school, your peers, or even yourself. It needs to stop.” Mr. Thomas' voice was clear and abrupt now. In fact, it was so boisterous it almost made Mark jolt from his seat. That last part...needs to stop now.

“Yes, sir.” Mark stated. “Is that all?” School was going to be released in a near five minutes and it was a Friday more importantly. Mark didn't want to waste anymore time being lectured and nagged at.

Mr. Thomas collected a weary expression once more, as if the energy that he had merely five seconds ago had vanished and he was drained like a raisin. All wrinkled and emotionless. Thomas stroked his goatee and gathered some papers. “Yes. That is all.”

Mark was preparing to open the door when Mr. Thomas uttered one last mention, “Can I count on you?”

Mark stopped and turned his head back towards Thomas' expressionless face. Mark almost felt sorry for the guy. He looked so stressed and worn, was being a principle really that hard?

“Yeah. Yeah, you can count on me.” Mark looked back towards the door, trying to hide the smirk that was covering his face now. “You can always count on me,” Mark finished. He then opened the door and sprinted down the office hallway, his sneakers creating annoying thuds amidst the shiny tile. He then collected some of his books from his lockers, met up with some of his friends, and drove off into the violet, cherry sunset. Vulnerable, anxious, and free.

A Struggle of The Mind and Heart

The only moment I was ever alone

the skies began to crumble

and the pain emancipated my soul -

sending it's flowery substance throughout the cold,

wintery night

“Johnny, the door is right in front of you

all you have to do is unlock it

unlocking a problem usually solves it

with my quick, swift hand, and a turn of the wrist

all problems dissipate, making my mind cessation

and by body functions once more

my mind at rest, my heart is too

conquering one's own territory is not an easy thing to do

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

I understand that the power of a haiku piece comes from the conception that the reader analyzes after reading its three lines - but does this piece even come through as sensual? I have an idea, but do the readers? Additionally, is this piece good in your opinion - or more importantly, does it fit into a "haiku category?"

The hill will bring me

up, so to it will bring me

down, flattening out

This is the New Year

with presents underneath our tree

and stockings placed above the mantle

hanging tip-toe to the floor

but that was the "last year"

An implication is capered when those gifts are opened

and the smiles appear

it's like introduction

to an entire New Year -

Happy New Years

and merry Holidays!

Whatever you do

wherever you go

the spirit and joy

will always be there

Let me explain.

I am a sophomore student attending a very competitive, smaller, magnet high school, in the Sacramento District. When I graduate from high school, I plan on majoring in one of the following: Law, Government, or Political Sciences.

I am an incredibly proactive and energetic student. In fact, in terms of extracurricular(s)/achievements, I have DONE more than some of the four year seniors attending my high school. I am definitely one of the most enthusiastic students in my 2015 sophomore class. Here is a list of some of my extracurricular involvements/achievements:

Freshmen Year:

- ASB (Associated Student Body) Freshmen Class President

- Speech & Debate, club vice president, qualified for the state competition in San Francisco; helped judged at local MIDDLE SCHOOL debate tournaments and earned community hours

- Newspaper Club

- Cross Country/Track and Field, qualified for section finals in each, and placed on Varsity for both teams

- "Every 15 Minutes---" A program that our school acquired, it picks top performing students throughout the school to participate, it helps to inform kids about the consequences of drunk driving (my role was acting as one of the "deceased," and I attended a mock funeral)

- Optimist International Essay Context Applicant

- Worked Summer Internship and gained comm. service hours at Sacramento State University, four week program, four times a week, five hours a day----helped review schooling material with second graders entering third grade

Sophomore Year:

- ASB, ASB Liaison

- CASC (California Association of Student Councils) I am the Co-Outreach director for the entire region of California, I work with other members on an elected cabinet who rally student council groups in CA together for annual conferences and such; I have staffed conferences during the school year, and attended a summer camp at UC Berkeley

- President of CASC Club

- Y&G YMCA (Youth and Government) Y&G is a local delegation of students who attend conferences and propose bills and legislation in regards to social and economic issues concerning citizens, students, and families.

- Speech & Debate, Club president and Team Coach (for underclassmen). I just recently attended the NCFL (National Catholic Forensic Tournament) and I received a bid for the National Grand Tournament to be held in Philadelphia!!!

- Cross Country and Track and Field, Varsity; Cross Country section finalist

- (I have a PAID working position at the same internship I worked at last summer, so I will be doing that this summer additionally)

- Environmental Club, Club Liaison

- SAC (Student Adversary Council)

- Assistant Coach of Middle School Debate Team, attend tournaments, and judge in debate rounds (this earns me extra community service hours)

- "Short short story" Reader's Digest contest participant

- JFK Essay Contest Participant

- Dream Quest One Poetry contest participant

In addition to continuing these clubs next year, I plan on either adding (maybe subtracting cross country next year...) either Drama, or starting a philosophy club at my school. In addition, to all of this, I (by myself-sent out an e-mail and everything-the entire event was MY idea) found a motivational speaker for my school, and had her come speak to students about her brother, Christopher McCandless. The ladies name was Carine McCandless.

Now...my extracurricular achievements are stellar...or at least PRETTY good in compariosn to other students. Here's where the troubling part comes into play.

My grades.

Freshmen year, without taking any AP courses (not offered) I received all A's and C in math. This year, I believe the same thing is going to happen- All A's, and a lonesome, dreaded, C in my math category. Sophomore (this year) I am taking AP World History (the only AP class for sophomores) and next year I will be taking AP US History, AP English, and AP government.

Will this C (especially since its consecutively occurred two years-in the same class also!) affect my chances of getting into a good college? I'm going to be frank-and take my word for this- I never HAVE, I never WILL, and I never PLAN on being good at math. Science, I can survive-but math. NO NO NO NO. I HATE math. I have tried (since middle school) to master it's bitter customs- but to no ambition have I succeeded. When I apply for college(s), I hope to make this clear...

But the question is, once more...considering that my other grades are fine, and considering the frantic amount of extracurricular involvement (leadership, as well) and achievement - will this C (which I believe will stick with me....every math year) hurt my chances of getting into a good college?

I would sit atop that dandy hill every morning, simply awaiting the essence of the next, blossoming sun. With the patches of green, and mixed colors, varied with the essentials of dirt, bugs, twigs, and industrial trash. A harsh combination of the world in which we lived in; an instantaneous combination of it all. I never learned to except things as they were. I was a fighter, not a preacher, my mother would always tell me. Throughout life, you learn a lot, and a lot happens to you, but sometimes you have to keep moving on; that's what earns to esteem above all else. A loving life, a harsh life; an existing life.

Our Lives' Before

I always walked to school. Every morning, through heat and cold, sun and rain. Even snow at some points. California wasn't an absolutely snowy area, however. It's towns and cities bustled with accelerated life, and you had to fit in amidst the dynamic environment. People and workers always making their way to work so incredibly, early in the morning. Smog would configure in the early allotment of each day at such a terrifying, and untactful pace, that I wasn't even sure if an aesthetic, innate way of living was even possible in the city. That was the other problem; living in the city. I was in Sacramento, specifically. It was a terrible companionship. My mother worked at the local bakery; a tiny, yet prominent bit of the entirety of the city. People loved stopping by the bakery. My mother was always useful in the dexterity of appointing baked goods; cakes, cookies, pies, and tarts. Often, I would enjoy a little snack after returning home from a long, tiring day at school. I attended West Campus High School, right near the bustle of it all. I'll tell you, traveling across the several, not just one or two, busy intersections was a near, death experience, almost every day. Making my trek to school, to and from, was long, vigorous at instances, and dangerous above all else. But taking public transportation was not an option; for the distance proved to be a little short of a buses potential, and catching a bus everyday would be even more tiring – in my opinion. It was only three miles, but it felt like an eternity. I wasn't out of shape; in fact, if anything, all the walking had put me in a better architect than the average person, yet laziness always got the better of me. It always did. I think it did to everyone.

Puffy Mouth

I now walk alone

among the darkening skies

my breath gasping air

visible puffs coming from

the mouth, and the chill

continues to strike my mood

The Point

The point is sharpened

Similar to the idea

we just don't realize

our very true potential

Clouds

A white image of fluff

floating high amidst the sky

a setting backdrop

a beautiful demise

the rain began to

pour, and a gap did occur

but the sunlight did

shine, upon heavenly earth.

I wrote all of these. Feedback much appreciated. I'm trying to get better at haiku poetry. All follow 5-7-5-7...syllable count.

I would sit atop that dandy hill every morning, simply awaiting the essence of the next, blossoming sun. With the patches of green, and mixed colors, varied with the essentials of dirt, bugs, twigs, and industrial trash. A harsh combination of the world in which we lived in; an instantaneous combination of it all. I never learned to except things as they were. I was a fighter, not a preacher, my mother would always tell me. Throughout life, you learn a lot, and a lot happens to you, but sometimes you have to keep moving on; that's what earns to esteem above all else. A loving life, a harsh life; an existing life.

Our Lives' Before

I always walked to school. Every morning, through heat and cold, sun and rain. Even snow at some points. California wasn't an absolutely snowy area, however. It's towns and cities bustled with accelerated life, and you had to fit in amidst the dynamic environment. People and workers always making their way to work so incredibly, early in the morning. Smog would configure in the early allotment of each day at such a terrifying, and untactful pace, that I wasn't even sure if an aesthetic, innate way of living was even possible in the city. That was the other problem; living in the city. I was in Sacramento, specifically. It was a terrible companionship. My mother worked at the local bakery; a tiny, yet prominent bit of the entirety of the city. People loved stopping by the bakery. My mother was always useful in the dexterity of appointing baked goods; cakes, cookies, pies, and tarts. Often, I would enjoy a little snack after returning home from a long, tiring day at school. I attended West Campus High School, right near the bustle of it all. I'll tell you, traveling across the several, not just one or two, busy intersections was a near, death experience, almost every day. Making my trek to school, to and from, was long, vigorous at instances, and dangerous above all else. But taking public transportation was not an option; for the distance proved to be a little short of a buses potential, and catching a bus everyday would be even more tiring – in my opinion. It was only three miles, but it felt like an eternity. I wasn't out of shape; in fact, if anything, all the walking had put me in a better architect than the average, person, yet laziness always got the better of me. It always did. I think it did to everyone.

Arriving to school was the usual. Walk to my locker, retrieve my books for first period, and sit down in my seat right before the bell would go off. It was a ritual in a sense; having to do it, and having to do it in a timely manner. That always pissed me off.

“Okay, class,” Ms. Vandertramp screeched, “Settle down, settle down.”

Her apparel was indecent, her hair was in a mess, makeup smeered all over, and her face enervated as though she had just woken up from a lengthy, hibernation. “Today, today we are going to be taking a look at -” And I couldn’t digest anymore.

Ms. Vandertramp was my math teacher. Math was my least favorite subject of all. All of the theorems, equations, graphing, and such was unpalatable, lethal, and unethical in my opinion. I had decided at an early stage that I would rather fail math, and understand none of its subjects; live out on the streets, poor, cold, and lonely, without food and money, rather than fall into an occupation that dealt with math and its depraved genre. Science also for that matter. Science was a little more on the relevant side of things. Science could also be fun; yet still, math nor science would ever show up in my book of satisfactory or tolerable affairs. And I mean that.

Our Lives' Before

Characters:

Emile Hampton (Narrator, protagonist)

Samantha Willow

Maxwell Levi

Harold Dean

Setting: Suburbia Utopia, California

Theme (statement): Education

“Education is a failing apparatus that inadequately prepares students for their lives after leaving its bondage; live is in everything and anything, we just have to be searching for it apart from the classroom textbook, or school exams.”

Symbols:

The “Suburban Hills”: The hills that set apart the city from Suburbia Utopia. Emile wishes to be apart of the city, but his suburban education and small, suburban area continues to set him apart from the rest of the world, giving him little to no chance of succeeding.

The Chain Link Fences: There are chain link fences around all of the buildings in his suburban area. They are open for customers/visitors during normal visitation hours.

No Cars: There are no cars in Suburbia Utopia, only foot travels, which limits people's ability to make long distance journeys outside of the suburban area.

The “Suburban Protection” fences: The entire area of Suburbia Utopia is enclosed in a granite wall that reaches thirty feet. The only entry and exit point is at the north end of the suburb.

Avenue High School: This is a critical symbol, and incredibly ironic. Although Suburbia Utopia is isolated, and completely chained, the only high school in the suburban area is Avenue High School; an avenue is a broad road in a town or city; which is what Suburbia Utopia does not represent nor have because of its bonded complications. In this sense, the high school does little to teach students about anything outside of their “utopian society” and does not lead them down a straight path.

Exposition: Emile moves to Suburbia Utopia where he encounters Samantha Willow, a tenth grade student attending Avenue High School. They become good friends once Emile's mother enlists him at the high school. Emile hated the life of a city boy before moving to Suburbia Utopia, but he enjoys the friendliness and safety Suburbia Utopia has to offer

Rising Action: Emile soon begins to hint on the fallacies of Suburbia Utopia. It is completely non adjacent to his older life, which was horrible and boring in the city; but the suburbs have a more menacing side to them. Emile begins to realize that the Suburbs have a stricter hold on him; especially Suburbia Utopia, where everyone is the same. Emile's mother, who is single after her husband is shot to death in a liquor store, begins changing attitudes, and Emile pairs up with Samantha and two other boys, Maxwell and Harold. Even Avenue High School begins to seem odd to Emile, as he notes that everyone has the same attitude and perspective, aside from his three friends. Emile hated life in the city; school boys and girls were mistreated, and poorly equipped with knowledge and skill to conquer the future in front of them; in Suburbia Utopia; kids were the same, given endless amounts of attention, and shared no freedoms whatsoever. The education in the suburbs has a motto, “Enter to learn, leave to serve.” In the city, no one cared about education, and kids were dropping out of school like new toys.

- - -

Not completed, but what do you think?