My favorite room of the house is my room because it is like a sanctuary to me. I do all of my homework is in there and I keep all of my special things in hidden boxes inside my room. In my own house, I would never want to sleep anywhere else! My room is quiet and away from all of the commotion in the house it lets me read and be myself. It is also big enough so that I can do cart-wheels inside of my room, and other spacious starches and movements, too.
AHW
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
An Unknown Biography
Probably not many people know about Samantha Smith. Well, I do. I know who she was (She passed away decades ago) because in my forensics (acting team) I am in the category declamation where we perform speeches. And the speech that I am performing was written and spoken by her.
I am going to write a summary of that part of her life.
When ten year old Samantha Smith, from Maine, wrote a letter to a Russian (back then Soviet) premier Yuri Andropov over her concern of the possible nuclear war between America and the Soviet Union. She received a letter back and a personal invitation to visit as a quest. That fall in the year of 1983, she was invited to address the Children's Symposium held in Kobe, Japan in 2001. Sadly, Samantha and her father were killed in a plane crash, just 2 years later.
I am going to write a summary of that part of her life.
When ten year old Samantha Smith, from Maine, wrote a letter to a Russian (back then Soviet) premier Yuri Andropov over her concern of the possible nuclear war between America and the Soviet Union. She received a letter back and a personal invitation to visit as a quest. That fall in the year of 1983, she was invited to address the Children's Symposium held in Kobe, Japan in 2001. Sadly, Samantha and her father were killed in a plane crash, just 2 years later.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Deutsch Sprechen
(A tale of last Summer - AHW)
In North Carolina sind wir mit einem Boot über den James Lake gefahren. Und in Chicago haben wir die Stadt gesichtet.
Fingers
AHW
I know! This is the worst possible thing that can happen! Oh, I forgot to say: I bruised my finger's bone right before it was time to leave for a school trip to Williamsburg, VA. It was last Friday. This is how it happened:
"Ania, may you get the chap-stick for your bathroom bag?," my mom said in a casual tone. Me not knowing what would happen next I replied, "Sure, it'll take a minute though." I walked to my bathroom and pulled out the drawer. There it was, my favorite tutti-frutti flavored kind. So, I grabbed it with my left hand, and since we were kind-of in a hurry I yanked the door a bit to fast and a bit too strongly. I happily strutted forward with a millisecond of time left when my right hand was still behind me, next to the wall...
Suddenly, SLAM! the door crushed my pointer finger about one hour before it was time to leave for the trip. I didn't know what to do! It took me 2 seconds to digest what had happened. My eyes swelled with tears, both hands shaking, I couldn't think, I couldn't feel my finger, and my chap-stick fell to the ground. "HELP ME, PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!", I was saying the first thing that came to mind. What would you say if you just slammed your finger in your door unwillingly? The pain was so unbearable like 200 knives slicing into me and I felt like it was on fire, and really burning. "It hurts! Help! My finger is bleeding! I'm turning purple!" Within moments my mom rushed up with my sister close behind and soon after my grandparents (who were visiting). Indeed a stream of blood pooled on my finger and slowly dripped down to my palm. The side with the nail had a black line on it and my finger was turning purple. There I lay whimpering, crying, motionless besides my quivering hand.
"Get up! Put your hand in cold water!" Someone yelled to me. I was still in my room. Even though I was crying I managed to shove my finger in the freezing, cold water. "Ah, it still hurts!", I moaned, it felt as if a needle was poking itself all the way through. I couldn't tell who was speaking because my eyes were clouded and my and all I could hear was my heart pounding. But, I did hear someone say, "You are putting it in the cold water so it will numb, and so it won't swell up." I guess they were right - I didn't want to feel the pain and I didn't want it anymore purple than it was.
My sister came to me with a ice-pack, so I put it on the wound and whimpered to myself for the next 20 minutes, laying on my bed. "Let's rap your finger.", my mom soothed me. She took me to the same bathroom where it all happened and got an ace-rap, non-stick bleeding pad, and medical tape. Soon enough we had a make-shift finger cast going and we were ready to go.
I ended up having a good time in Williamsburg. Other kids were worse, for example: a boy broke their arm, and a girl broke their ankle, so m finger was not as bad as it seemed.
This is what my finger looks like, one week from that Friday:
I know! This is the worst possible thing that can happen! Oh, I forgot to say: I bruised my finger's bone right before it was time to leave for a school trip to Williamsburg, VA. It was last Friday. This is how it happened:
"Ania, may you get the chap-stick for your bathroom bag?," my mom said in a casual tone. Me not knowing what would happen next I replied, "Sure, it'll take a minute though." I walked to my bathroom and pulled out the drawer. There it was, my favorite tutti-frutti flavored kind. So, I grabbed it with my left hand, and since we were kind-of in a hurry I yanked the door a bit to fast and a bit too strongly. I happily strutted forward with a millisecond of time left when my right hand was still behind me, next to the wall...
Suddenly, SLAM! the door crushed my pointer finger about one hour before it was time to leave for the trip. I didn't know what to do! It took me 2 seconds to digest what had happened. My eyes swelled with tears, both hands shaking, I couldn't think, I couldn't feel my finger, and my chap-stick fell to the ground. "HELP ME, PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!", I was saying the first thing that came to mind. What would you say if you just slammed your finger in your door unwillingly? The pain was so unbearable like 200 knives slicing into me and I felt like it was on fire, and really burning. "It hurts! Help! My finger is bleeding! I'm turning purple!" Within moments my mom rushed up with my sister close behind and soon after my grandparents (who were visiting). Indeed a stream of blood pooled on my finger and slowly dripped down to my palm. The side with the nail had a black line on it and my finger was turning purple. There I lay whimpering, crying, motionless besides my quivering hand.
"Get up! Put your hand in cold water!" Someone yelled to me. I was still in my room. Even though I was crying I managed to shove my finger in the freezing, cold water. "Ah, it still hurts!", I moaned, it felt as if a needle was poking itself all the way through. I couldn't tell who was speaking because my eyes were clouded and my and all I could hear was my heart pounding. But, I did hear someone say, "You are putting it in the cold water so it will numb, and so it won't swell up." I guess they were right - I didn't want to feel the pain and I didn't want it anymore purple than it was.
My sister came to me with a ice-pack, so I put it on the wound and whimpered to myself for the next 20 minutes, laying on my bed. "Let's rap your finger.", my mom soothed me. She took me to the same bathroom where it all happened and got an ace-rap, non-stick bleeding pad, and medical tape. Soon enough we had a make-shift finger cast going and we were ready to go.
I ended up having a good time in Williamsburg. Other kids were worse, for example: a boy broke their arm, and a girl broke their ankle, so m finger was not as bad as it seemed.
This is what my finger looks like, one week from that Friday:
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
200 Below Zero AHW
A tale of a really old grandfather telling a tale of exploring Antarctica to a 5 year old girl.
"Oooh, there I was standing among bears, so cold that I couldn't even imagine…", said the old man in a hoarse, aged voice. "But, Grampy George polar bears don't live in Antarcti-what-i-ca, they live up North, silly!", A short stubby little girl corrected her grandpa, with such a squeaky voice that you'd think that she ate sugar for breakfast every day. "I'm sorry Snowflake, I meant penguins.", he croaked back with an even more cracked voice. "Hey, my name isn't snowflake! It's Polly. Now tell me a boat them snow drifts.", You might not think 5 year olds have accents, but this one has the heaviest Southern accent you'll ever know. Meanwhile her grandfather had a… well, sort of, a Canadian mixed with Northern accent. "Polly, I know how much you want to see snow. Anyway, snow is white- very white, kindly fluffy and gentle - like a lamb's touch, cool eh." She stared at him blankly: it wasn't enough for her, "How cold was it Gramps?" He didn't think she would need to know - he underestimated her now he knows that Polly needs details, detail, examples in order to understand. He began, "Um snow is white like a cloud. Fluffy like cotton candy, but not as sticky. Gentle like slowly falling leafs. Graceful like a thousand ballet dancers. Fun like, uh, Fun like you Polly." He thought that he pretty much covered it all - he barely had any voice left! "Okee-dokes, but, I wanna know how cold it was, Grampy G," now they both understood each other. Polly was used to coolish Winters and steaming Summers, so she couldn't know what cold felt like. Her grandfather started again.
"As cold as your fridge."
"How cold's that."
"In Antarctica it was freezing nothing in sight besides ice for miles at a time."
" Ya-huh. A better word'd be frigid and I now mean exactly how cold it was."
Unlike the other questions her grandfather didn't stutter at this one, even though it meant some exaggeration Polly would understand. "200 degrees below zero." Polly's jaw dropped, "Wow, gramps I wanna go, too."
"Oooh, there I was standing among bears, so cold that I couldn't even imagine…", said the old man in a hoarse, aged voice. "But, Grampy George polar bears don't live in Antarcti-what-i-ca, they live up North, silly!", A short stubby little girl corrected her grandpa, with such a squeaky voice that you'd think that she ate sugar for breakfast every day. "I'm sorry Snowflake, I meant penguins.", he croaked back with an even more cracked voice. "Hey, my name isn't snowflake! It's Polly. Now tell me a boat them snow drifts.", You might not think 5 year olds have accents, but this one has the heaviest Southern accent you'll ever know. Meanwhile her grandfather had a… well, sort of, a Canadian mixed with Northern accent. "Polly, I know how much you want to see snow. Anyway, snow is white- very white, kindly fluffy and gentle - like a lamb's touch, cool eh." She stared at him blankly: it wasn't enough for her, "How cold was it Gramps?" He didn't think she would need to know - he underestimated her now he knows that Polly needs details, detail, examples in order to understand. He began, "Um snow is white like a cloud. Fluffy like cotton candy, but not as sticky. Gentle like slowly falling leafs. Graceful like a thousand ballet dancers. Fun like, uh, Fun like you Polly." He thought that he pretty much covered it all - he barely had any voice left! "Okee-dokes, but, I wanna know how cold it was, Grampy G," now they both understood each other. Polly was used to coolish Winters and steaming Summers, so she couldn't know what cold felt like. Her grandfather started again.
"As cold as your fridge."
"How cold's that."
"In Antarctica it was freezing nothing in sight besides ice for miles at a time."
" Ya-huh. A better word'd be frigid and I now mean exactly how cold it was."
Unlike the other questions her grandfather didn't stutter at this one, even though it meant some exaggeration Polly would understand. "200 degrees below zero." Polly's jaw dropped, "Wow, gramps I wanna go, too."
SS Patriot Conversation
The patriot I choose is Benjamin Franklin.
B is for Ben Franklin.
A is for me (A for Ania)
A - Hello sir.
B - How are you young patriot? Are you writing each day?
A - I am doing well and I don't know how to write.
B - Will you help me prove to Britain our independence?
A - Yes. I am very fond of your wisdom and discoveries. You have contributed do much to the colonies.
B - I am only doing what is right. Their laws are unfair!
A - I know! I am just so angry! I could just scream at them or worse…!
B - Calm down. There is always a safer way to solve problems. I wrote to change other's minds', and it worked.
A - We can no longer trust the King! Anyway, Good-bye, sir.
B - They will continue making unfair laws. Give me liberty or give me death! Bye.
B is for Ben Franklin.
A is for me (A for Ania)
A - Hello sir.
B - How are you young patriot? Are you writing each day?
A - I am doing well and I don't know how to write.
B - Will you help me prove to Britain our independence?
A - Yes. I am very fond of your wisdom and discoveries. You have contributed do much to the colonies.
B - I am only doing what is right. Their laws are unfair!
A - I know! I am just so angry! I could just scream at them or worse…!
B - Calm down. There is always a safer way to solve problems. I wrote to change other's minds', and it worked.
A - We can no longer trust the King! Anyway, Good-bye, sir.
B - They will continue making unfair laws. Give me liberty or give me death! Bye.
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