The Worst Friday and the Getting Better Weekend

Hannah Crosier


May 24,2011


Ms. Gurian


English 11


Period 2




The Worst Friday and the Getting Better Weekend

Have you ever felt like punching something because you had a day so nightmarish that you want you to die? I have! For what I'm about to say is depressing to read.

The day was a Friday in November. I wanted to stay home and be there for my dog, Max. But my parents insisted that I should go to school. My dad dropped me off in front of the school and said, "Make good choices." Then his car took off.

Okay, just one negative issue that has happened? Big deal! What else could go wrong? Oh yeah! Everyone had to go to the an assembly. Unless you had a good excuse why you can't watch the assembly, then you had to stay in the main office. Because of what was happening right now, I wanted stay in the office. My friend, however, insisted I should go. Of coarse, I changed my mind and went to the stupid assembly.

Normally, when upperclassmen shouted, " Go home Freshmen," I would've been offended, but I had my dog and getting this stupid required assembly over with. I can't remember much, but I believed I cried throughout the assembly. I even tried to cheer up for the guest speaker. Unfortunately, that made it worse because she talked about a loved one that she lost in a car accident.

After the assembly, everyone went outside to see the smashed car, which it looked like it was hit over a hundred times with wedged hammer.

After school, I walked home. I had to get ready for my Confirmation retreat at Santa Maria. It was required for high school students to go if they want to become adults in the Catholic church. The students would have to do religious activities such as picking a saint name in order to be confirmed.

At last, I arrived at home. I'll never ever forget what I had asked my mom, who was in the living room reading the newspaper, "Mom, where is Max?"

She looked up from the newspaper and replied, " Max died."

She and dad comfort me about the loss of my my childhood friend.

An hour later mom dropped me of at the church's youth group center. Before she left, mom told Karen, the person who was in charged of this trip, about my loss, for she was sorry. Every one else who heard what happened was, too, but they didn't didn't to be sorry.

After playing games, the bus came to get us. And we gathered our stuff and went on the bus. We watched The Princess Bride to and from Santa Maria.

After what seemed like hours riding on the bus, we arrived at Santa Maria. We put our stuff at our assigned cabins and went to the place where were supposed to meet. Then, we went to bed.

Saturday, we did various activities, had meetings and ate together all day. Then after our final meeting that night, we went to bed.

Sunday, we packed up and had one final meeting and went to the bus with our stuff.

We arrived back to the familiar Arvada church and went home.

My parents and I talked to each other on the way home.

Heidi Shoemaker
Ms. Gurian
English 11 - 2
11 may 2011

Most people live in a world where they know they will have a dad to scare away boys, help you move to college, walk you down the aisle, and have a special dance at your wedding. I live in a world were my mom will try to take over this specified role because my father was a coward and left. You never realize how much you rely upon the fact that your "daddy" will always be there. It never crosses your innocent and naive mind that he is incapable mentally of being your dad and caring about you. You are plunged into a world where "father" is filled with contempt and anger. How quickly your entire world can change.
Stress. It's like a parasite that feeds off of anxiety and fear. It grows and evolves taking on a new level with every passing day. This parasite makes people act weird and relationships hard but if you try and are dedicated enough the parasites can be cured or at least that is what we originally believed. My dad has lost his job yet again, another fight ensues, and secrets are brought to a new light.
A credit card! A stupid piece of plastic that holds too much meaning for what it is. There is denial and lies that flow so easily that you want believe it is true. My mother takes this plastic and calls only to find that he cheated and was using my mother's money to do it. Upon checking the computer this seemingly irrational fear is confirmed. Fighting and anger ruled our lives for many months till we reached a stand still. There was finally an agreement he could stay as long as he got counseling and we talked. However my mom always knew that he would never do it and that he would eventually crack. Every day she reminded him that he could leave and to go home to his mommy, however he took the cowards way out and decided to take actions that would affect us forever. He started smoking, locking himself in the basement for hours, and no longer showering or eating. All that rules his life is mountain dew and pain medication. The only way to draw him out of his hole is another fight. My mom, the one to always try so hard, makes yet another attempt at reuniting him to our little family. He ostracized himself in such a way that we never would have, we never believed in separating him from us and it was his always his choice alone.
I remember the time we were all huddled in the front room afraid to speak and afraid to move. The conversation began with a promise by everyone that we would listen to each other and understand what we could. My mom began and I soon entered. All I remember from that conversation was my dad with the coldest and cruelest face I had ever experienced it was filled with all the hatred and contempt in the world. Without warning that face turned flaming red and he jumped up like the devil were chasing him. Mean while my cat that had been in the wrong place and the wrong time ran by as well. My first instinct was, “Don’t hurt Lily!” and I ran closely at his heels. He stopped abruptly in the kitchen and my cat was smart enough to escape to the basement. “You care more about the cat then you do me!” he roared in my face. In the knife drawer to his left he fished around till he pulled out the longest and biggest butcher knife we owned. Fear and adrenaline raced through my body, I was prepared to run and prepared to protect. However it was never his intention to hurt me or my cat. No his intention was to harm himself in the hopes of making us feel guilty. He raised the gleam of silver to his stomach and placed it point first. “You don’t care about me! Now I am going to be gone so that you don’t have to deal with me anymore” he roared again applying a slight pressure to the knife. By this point the whole family had joined together. Yet again he applied more pressure, Natalie cried and pleaded for him to stop saying she loved him, Madi turned away not wanting to look at the fool in fear that he would be stupid enough to harm himself, and my mother stood stoically in the background staring him down like she did with her clients, people with developmental disabilities, when they had a behavior. All that went through my mind was he was so incredibly stupid and something was seriously wrong. My father then ran to the basement shouting behind him, “DON’T FOLLOW ME!” I never completely comprehended why he ran for the basement maybe he hadn’t gotten the reaction he wanted or maybe… at this point who knows. I did know however that my kitten was down there and I was sure as hell not going to let anything happen to him.
When I arrived in the basement the slam of a door indicated that my father had locked himself in the bathroom. The breath caught in my chest as my mind immediately went to him torturing my cat. However I knew that if my cat needed saving I had to gather my courage. I screamed at the bathroom door, “I am just getting Lily don’t worry.” Much like you would talk to a robber or a criminal. All I wanted was my cat. I began to search my room and the television room in hopes of finding my cat. I was literally swimming in fear that I wouldn’t find him however by some divine intervention it seemed I found my cat shoved behind the couch shaking. Never before have I been happier to see my cat. I snatched him up and ran upstairs.
An hour or two passed still no sign of him and we all began to question whether anyone should go down there. Finally my Mom went to the basement out of sight and ear shot. In the background we hear the pounding of a fist on the door. She began shouting and we all paused until we heard the response of the suicidal idiot. None of us had wanted to see him if he was dead and we didn’t want the world to know how he had failed us.
An hour or two passes and my mom emerges victorious with the knife in hand. She placed it in the kitchen sink and walks past us. My sisters and I stand in a circle in the kitchen unsure of where to go or what to do. My only relief was that fact that it was spring break and I wouldn’t be leaving Lily alone.
Another 2 months pass, we no longer have communication with the basement dweller as he began to be known. My sister Madison and I sleep on the couches afraid to sleep down there. A new fear has been instilled in us. We no longer trust this stranger that threatens with knifes and anger. Every day after school we hold our breaths when we enter the door, prepared to find death and blood in our once happy home. My days were ruled by fear and anger. I almost wished every day that he had been dead so I no longer had to be afraid and so that my cat would no longer be in danger of this crazy man’s moods. I’ve never despised anyone that much and I probably never will again.
One day something strange happened, if that were possible at this point, we came home and a fire was going in the fire place. We never lit a fire in our entire time of being there. I still remember the crisp, smoky smell that clogged your nose and filled the house. I hate fire. It’s dangerous and destructive, the smell is overwhelming, and all that comes to my mind was he was destroying papers or something of value. It was the first day he had emerged from the place we began to believe was the equivalent of hell and it was to light a fire, make cake, and clean the house? Why? Who knows maybe it was the beginning of saying good bye or maybe he was just covering his tracks. Whatever the reason we never ate the cake and we let the fire burn down to embers.
The next day we arrived home prepared for the worst and praying for it to be a eventless day. A ray of sunshine appeared when we noticed his car was gone. This wasn’t unusual but he usually did not go during the day, he preferred to leave at all hours of the night to smoke his cigarettes and waste gas. We entered the house slowly still afraid, perhaps that would stay with us forever. We entered the house and noticed that the house seemed somehow cleaner, somehow less evil. I went to the basement to check the computer and see if he had anything going when I noticed there was no computer. There was no computer, no television, and nothing of value left in the basement. I ran up the stairs to inform my mother of the bitter sweet news. We had gotten rid of the evil parasite but in the process we had lost electronics. But every time I almost start to regret losing those few material items, I realize that they were exactly that, material items. We no longer have to live in fear and we no longer have to worry about saying the wrong thing and thinking you would be tortured with the death of the innocent animal that you had promised to take care of always.
Though losing you father may seem like a punishment or bring sadness to someone, I believe it has shaped me to be the person I am today. Without him leaving I wouldn’t nearly be as strong as I am and I wouldn’t be as grateful for my real family. This experience has brought me to my lowest point so that I could see the bottom and never go back.

The Arch

The gravel crunched under the van’s tires bumping and jostling the crammed people inside. The tires slipped spitting up showers of rocks as the engine screamed slowly grinding up the hill. The van crested the hill and turned the corner sliding to a stop in the parking lot. As the group of 20 boys piled out and began to unpack the camping equipment I noticed how the skinny twisting trail was slightly overgrown and wet from the intermittent rain…
2 years earlier.
The crunch of the gravel had become a background noise; I stared out the window as we rounded the final bend into a gravel square designated as the trailhead parking lot. As the car rolled to a stop we threw open the doors anxious to stretch after the long car ride. We were glad for the break in the heavy rain that had accompanied us on our drive up as we dawned our packs and set off down the twisting overgrown trail. It immediately dove steeply downhill cutting strait to the floor of the valley before curving out of sight behind the thick growth. We slowly worked our way down switchback after switchback until the trail leveled out. Our pace quickened as the path weaved lazily through the trees and thick plants. Crossing a small creek our path turned sharply to follow alongside it. Several minutes later the overcast sky again began pouring its torrent of water upon us so the five of us dug out our rain gear of ponchos and coats and sat down to wait it out.
Ten minutes later the water let up and allowed us to continue are the trek. the trail became steeper as it wound toward are goal. Then all of a sudden the trail ended leaving us wondering where to go next. Me and another broke off and began searching for the trail if it picked back up. After awhile we gave up and cut straight at the arch followed at a distance by the other three. The clouds cleared as we emerged into the open of a massive rock plateau. After weaving around a few crevices and boulders we finally arrived at Harmonica Arch.
On the walk back the rain resumed soaking us again so we quickly loaded back into the van and began t he long drive downward. Looking out the back window the last view I say was a slightly overgrown trail wet from the rain.

My brothers Wedding in England

My Brother’s Wedding
A few years ago my brother Thomas met a British girl named Charlotte here in the U.S. They turned out to really like each other but she had to go back to England. So eventually my brother went to England to live with her for a while. I thought that he wouldn’t stay there for long but I was wrong. He came back to the states twice before he asked her to marry him. The last time he came back to Colorado he bought an engagement ring and my family was very surprised about his decision. Nobody ever thought that he would be the one to settle down and get married at the young age of 20. When he went back to London with the engagement ring he took her to Tower Bridge in London and when they got to the middle of the bridge he popped the question. She said yes and they set the date of the wedding for July 4th, 2009. They set it on this date because it was the date my brother flew out to London the first time to see Charlotte. There was a lot of work to be done for the wedding because many of the family from both sides lived in the U.S and had to have their dresses and suits fitted. This was hard to do over dozens of e-mails. But it all worked out and they planned everything out very well.
My other brother Wes and I were planned to go out here 10 days before the wedding to meet the family and see England. The first few days we spent exploring London and going to skate parks all over England which was strange because everyone rides bikes in England. We visited castles and drank dark beer in my brother’s flat. Then we went to Brighton on the coast were Charlotte grew up and we got our suits fitted. Around his time my brother's best man Colin and groomsmen Kyle arrived and so did my dad. The day of the wedding was very busy but fun. The guys stayed at my brother’s and got dressed and took pictures while the girls did the same. The church were they got married was right across the street and was built some 400 years ago and was were Charlotte’s parents got married. We got an awesome shot of the guys crossing the street to the church that looked like the Beatles cover to Abbey Road. We prepared everything in the church and when everyone was seated Charlotte arrived in a 69' Chevy Impala which was very rare to see in England. Then we took our seats and the wedding started and was really beautiful. After the wedding we went to the reception on a big bus while my brother and wife took wedding photos in a field. At the reception the fun really started. My brother's best man had a really funny speech and when the speeches were over we started to party. We gathered all the wine from the tables and set in a circle with a bunch of people and drank them all. When the band started playing I just started going to the bar to get coronas and shots. Our band stopped playing at 1 am but we still wanted to dance so we crashed another wedding in the hotel. But the English guys at that wedding didn’t like that a bunch of Americans crashed their wedding. So they told us to leave and we did. That’s when my mom came over to me and told me my brother Wes wasn’t felling good. So I went to check on him and took him into the forest so he could puke. It was hilarious and the best man Colin took a bunch of photos. I still have yet to see the photos but I hear that they are hilarious. This is about the time we went to bed around 4 in the morning.
The hardest part of the trip was the next morning. We had to wake up at 7 am and go to the airport and fly back to America. Running on 3 hours of sleep and the worst hangover I’ve ever had it was not a good experience. The first thing Wes and I did was go to a restaurant and order the biggest cheeseburger we could find and we grubbed down. But it didn’t help much and when we got on the plane we couldn’t sleep because of the noise. When we got to Denver we immediately went home and slept for what seemed like a whole day. But overall I’m very glad I had the opportunity to see England and meet new people from another part of the world. It is so interesting to see the ways people live in other parts of the world.

Tones

Mark Schleske

5-18-11

Per. 2

Tones

A big factor in my life is music. It’s everything I stand for, and more. So many people list music as their raison d’être, and for different reasons. It’s the definition of influential. So, as much as I appreciate originality, it’s time for me to go with the flow. I suppose when something is so essential to your character, you can’t afford to let the opinions or actions of others change you negatively. More and more it is a part of me, and life would be much harder without it. Music is one of my passions, and I believe that the world would be a better place if we all shared those things that ignite us. It’s always genuinely interesting to hear someone talk about their fascination.

I can’t say when my personality changed beyond the point of no return. Perhaps, with luck, I have not yet fully developed my musical appreciation. What I can state is the first time I started playing music. In the 5^th grade, at Fairmount Elementary, we proudly retained an amazing music teacher who instilled in us a greater respect for our instruments. She was the one who helped us play our first individual notes. It was like opening up some new form of life, a different way of living. For some of us, it was our first experience with life itself.

Practicing, for me, has always been difficult. I didn’t enjoy hearing myself play alone, and, in my defense, the violin is not the most forgiving of instruments. This might sound like a trivial hardship, but it brought about some of the lowest mental conditions of my life. After 6^th grade, I moved onto middle school, where I stopped playing in an orchestra. I still took private lessons, so I hadn’t quit the art entirely, and I joined the school orchestra for 8^th grade. The violin is the first instrument I ever learned, and I have stuck with it ever since. There’s some quality in the tone of stringed instruments that I find fascinating and unique, and I hope to keep with it as long as possible.

During my sophomore year of high school, my sister found a deal on a studio style piano that she could not resist. And as I passed that piano day after day, I naturally began to gravitate near the keys. Both my sister and I were self-taught, and it wasn’t long before we had built up our respective repertoires of pieces. In hindsight, it probably would have been better for me to start on piano, as most people do. Few things I have experienced are as rewarding or as satisfying as taking a new song and conquering it. Piano is really where I hit my stride, and it took my veneration of the musical world to a new level. Suddenly it was like I could hear everything, and I was able to follow it wherever it lead me. Life turned out to be so much easier than I had originally thought.

This is where I become slightly (more) ethereal and frivolous. There’s an entire world symbiotically linked with ours. It’s in the air, surrounding us; cohabitating, if you will. Some people know it, some don’t. But the ones who do tend to see a brighter world, full of possibility and life. My journey here has only started, but I have great expectations.

bike ride with lucy

Jamie D. Akens
Gurian
English 11B
5-12-11
A Day Without Gas
We were somewhere outside of Wheat Ridge when our thirst began to take hold. Our destination… unknown. We had merely stumbled upon a path directing us out of our normal boundaries. We had been riding for a few hours now, and our water supply was nearly empty. All we had left was one water bottle full and we needed to ration it. We didn’t want to venture off of the trail, for we weren’t familiar with the neighborhoods. We find its best when we just go with the flow and follow our instincts. This was proved to be true once again on our bicycling quest.
It all started out at our local bead hookup my mother used to labor at. I had matters of discussion to take care of with my mother while Jonas, my companion armed with his trusty camera for this bicycling adventure, browsed the bead selection. From that point we headed through the sketchy apartments. We rode by with our colorful tie dyes and the inhabitants of these housing developments stared on. We were the colorful crazies riding bikes down the path in their eyes. When really, we are much more than that. In reality we are doing this to set an example, reducing carbon emissions, a day without gas.
After a few miles of riding my compadre and I came upon a bridge. It was a marvelously architected bridge. We took a rest before we set of on this journey to the unknown. There we ate a small snack of granola, praised jah, and drank some water to give us the proper energy to complete the ride. The day was only just beginning. We hopped on our bike and headed westbound down the trail. We headed down the trail with a steady pace so we could cover good distance. As we traveled the trail we went under roads, over bridges, and we saw many animals. About an hour into the trip we both began to feel this Euphoria. A euphoric feeling only achieved by pushing your body to the limit, we rode hard.
We came up on an underpass of Wadsworth. The overpass towered over us and you could hear the roar of the vehicle above us. The sound of cars polluting and constricting our beautiful earth, the one that we hope to not hear anymore. At this massive man-made structure we took a brief pause in our journey to observe our surroundings. We walked around and we saw some amazing street art. We took some pictures with the art and took it in knowing that it would either be removed or painted over by another artist of the night. Off we went down the trail again. We rode and rode knowing we had nowhere to be this evening so we didn’t care how far we went. We were somewhere in Wheat Ridge when we ran out of water to drink. We were balls deep in the trail. We were faced with a question. The question of, “Do we go off trail to an area unknown, or do we continue on the trail and hope for a drinking fountain?” We only had one choice and that was to go off the trail to find a business with a drinking fountain. Too bad for us in this day in age we live in a pre-bicycle friendly time. Our society isn’t as accommodating for cyclers as we’d hope. This keeps people from making the switch to forms of transportation not harming to the environment. Yes, we have bike paths next to our rode, but we need water stations along our bike paths. We need mobile first aid stations to help fallen riders. If these were provided I think it would help make the switch. That’s why my friend Jonas and I like to ride around on our bikes in the nicer months rather than drive. It not only saves gas, but it sets an example.
We ended our journey and headed back with more knowledge for the future. More ways to make a difference. We knew now to pack much more water and snacks so we can go farther. The farther we go the more people we can show that riding bikes isn’t bad. It’s good for the environment, our health, and is fun. If a couple of hippies can ride their bikes around and have fun while doing it, why can’t biking be the main local transport for America. It all started out with us just going on a bike ride. The future is in our hands.

Ray Robitschek
Ms. Gurian
English 11-1
15 May 2011
Working at the Arvada Press
Knock! Knock! Knock! One morning during the summer before 8th grade, my mom banged on my bedroom door and asked me to get up. I was frustrated with my mom for waking me up. Even though it was 8:30 am I still wanted to lounge in my bed and rest a little while longer. But, when she mentioned that blueberry pancakes was for breakfast I decided to get out of bed. I got dressed and went up stairs to stuff down the delicious pancakes my mom had fixed.
After eating about 8 pancakes I felt satisfied. Then I looked outside and noticed what a beautiful day it was going to be. I thought about how much fun it would be to take a bike ride to the park. So, I asked my mom if she had anything for me to do around the house, and if I could go to the park. I prepared my bike and headed out into the sunshine. It felt great being on my bike again; plus it was a nice change from being held up indoors most of the morning. As I continued to ride I realized that I had to much free time and needed something to occupy my time. So I rode home to search for different job opportunities online.
When I got home my dad called me upstairs and said, "I found something you'll want to see in the newspaper." So I rushed to my dad expecting something exciting like a car show, discount amusement park tickets, or an amusing comic. What I didn't expect though, was that it was just an ad for a job with the Arvada Press. I thought about it and, honestly, it sounded pretty lame. My dad told me that I could ride my bike to deliver the newspapers, and I guess I just went along with my dad. When I got to the headquarters in Golden, I met with the hiring supervisor who told me I had the job. I got a bag, a map, and directions for folding the papers.
After school, I came home to find two huge heaps of papers to fold and stuff into the plastic bags. I let out a long sigh and got to work. After the newspapers were stuffed, I placed them into my delivery bag and hopped onto my bike. After riding down to my section of houses, I started my work, and tossed the papers towards the porches. After just about 10 houses I soon discovered that you could not get the papers on the porch nicely. So I got off my bike and began delivering them on foot. By walking up and down the streets, I got to have a more personal relationship with the people that I was delivering to.
Week after week I placed newspapers neatly on the porches of the 85 houses in my delivery route. I would still deliver on foot in deep snow and heavy rain, trying my best not to get my papers wet. After a while I began to respect my work, and I felt like I did my best to leave a good image for Arvada Press. Most of the delivery boys around my area just delivered the papers at the end of the driveway, in the snow, rain, or mud. I felt bad for the people they were delivering to, and wished that they showed the same level of care that I showed.
By the end of the year, I was unexpectedly laid off. The note said that I was laid-off because of the lacking economy, which I really didn't understand. Overall though, I learned a great deal about how to do a great job with your work. It didn't even matter that the pay was just $7.00/week. Since my experience with the Arvada Press, I try to always do my best at work, and I would really miss not having this opportunity.