The Twelfth of February - Emily Quinn

HELLO ALL

So there were a few ideas I had for my blog entry, but I'll just stick to one. Before I get to that though, I want to thank everyone who has blogged so far! The Tappy blog is looking much more interesting now. If you missed your day, you didn't get out of blogging. You will be reassigned. And you shouldn't want to miss it anyways! This is a chance to share your work or work that you enjoy.

So a few weeks ago I saw a writing prompt online that really interested me, so I figure now is a good time to try it. I'm going to attempt to describe a color in a paragraph without ever mentioning that color. If I find the link to the original prompt I'll include it here later.

It's in your breath when you say you hate him. And it's in your eyes when you mean it. It's the color of your hair when you decide you know better than your parents, and the color of your mom's cheeks when she finds out. It's your sister's chipped nail polish when she scrambles through your window at 3:00 in the morning. It's subdued in the scar you got on your knee when you were eleven. It's the color of every warning you've ever ignored and every wound you've ever suffered because of that. It's in your grandma's poorly applied lipstick. It's anger and it's passion and it's love and it's hate. It is the color of every rejection you've ever been given and every fight you'll ever have.

PS - WEAR YOUR TAPESTRY SHIRTS TOMORROW!

Read Me!

Hellooo Mates!

One time like 20 minutes ago, I was eating my dinner and watching the Create channel on TV. The show I was watching was about this local nursery that grew flower plants and sold them to professional florists. And this farmer lady that was being interviewed described how the visitors were always struck by beauty of nature and had amazed looks on their faces at the end of the visit. She talked about wonder-filled children who came in and wanted to touch all of the plants and smell them. Of course I wanted to sit and hear more about this woman's experience as a plant tamer, but I had homework to do. So, I got up, set the plate in the sink,  washed my hands, got three Hershey Kisses from the pantry and made my way up to my room. But I started thinking about the lady and how she had said that children were filled with wonder and the adults that were left amazed, and I began to reflect on what had made me feel that way in the recent past. So I reminisced..

It was February 6th 2013, middle of a school week, 8:06 p.m. a very stressed out me made my way out the front door to go for a run. I was being bombarded with the thoughts of history notes, precalc homework problems and all the shows I was missing for comedy Wednesday. And so really.. I was pretty distressed. Now, my street is truly the street to Tartarus. It is hilly and curvy and then you reach a point where you basically fly downhill for 1/4 of a mile because it's super steep. Therefore, coming back up this 1/4 mile is not a walk in the park, you pretty much want to whip your phone out and call your mom to tell her to pick you up. So you get me? Well, after the first half, I was at the bottom of the hill and it was time to go back up. And as I was running upwards, my gaze turned towards the sky and it was the most magnificent oh-my-god-I-want-to-lie-here-and-stare-at-the-stars-foreverrrrr moment ever. I stopped running and I couldn't help but just bend my neck upwards and STARE.  The  night was dark and cloudless. Maybe 10 mile wind speed tops. The temperature no more than 34 degrees, probably lower. And, man I was literally and figuratively breathless. I could see all the constellations, all the seven sisters, the Venus, the Mars, the Jupiter, the moon, the horizon, I could see everything. Obviously to make this moment perfect my mind started playing Coldplay's Yellow's lyrics, "Look at the stars, Look how they shine for you," and then to make it more perfect I whispered to myself, "I swear in this moment, I am infinite." and I was just so completely and utterly happy by staring at the sky; it was unbelievable. 

I finished my run in peace and walked up my driveway panting like a dog.

So, now I leave it to you to figure out what is something out there that might leave you having epiphanies, or multiple cheesy moments,  or even just stop you and make you reflect. In the end, I felt relieved, refreshed and renewed and ready to finish my school work. 

Thanks for reading.
BUYEEEEEEEEEE!
Jaagrit 

The "it's not my day, but I'm gonna post something anyway" post

So, I was just looking on this list that has mostly all the national "holidays" and do you know what tomorrow is? February 11th is "Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk Day." Which I find very interesting, because I was totally one of those kids who would cry after spilling my drink. But more importantly, I find it funny there is a day just for not crying over spilled milk...I mean of all the days to "celebrate"....

In other news: THIS WEEK IS BREAST CANCER AWARENESS WEEK! Tomorrow is breast cancer awareness day so pull out your pink and WORK IT!

Eddie ;)

The winky face was just to get your attention.  Business is first:  Somehow, everyone forgot their number assignments in Manuscript.  Consequently, when the poster that had all the group assignments was mysteriously kidnapped, our club became chaos.  Here are the new assignments:

1:  Me and Marisa
2:  Kelly and Mackenna
3:  Bennett and Adlai
4:  Emily and Emily
5:  Sarah and Juliet

Here's the other problem: Even when the numbers were posted, no one followed the rules and made sure they were available on their assigned day.  I'll clarify how it works:  At the beginning of every week, check the M-F calendar in the Manuscript corner.  Your number will be written under a day.  Be available on that day.  Otherwise, one of three things will happen when a starry-eyed pupil arrives for guidance:  1) I will have to take over the session and become annoyed with you (most common), 2) someone else, generally one of the same two or three people, will have to take over the session and become annoyed with you (second-most common), or 3) the starry-eyed pupil will not be tuted (unfortunately, still common).  This is not good for us.  Please change this.

And now, to brighten our spirits, and awkward poem.

My Bed of Spikes

            She

            looked

            like a flight

            attendant    And talked

            like a flight attendant I think she

            would have been okay at flight attending 

            Her hands felt like aluminum  Her

            elbows felt like elbows

            And her voice

            was that of

            a flight

            attendant

            It was like being cramped

            In the passenger seat, with nowhere

            to go, with a person you don’t like Except you’re

            not allowed to wear clothes and that person

  touches your back   While she says

            things like “How’s that

  feel, hun?” in her

  flight attendant

  voice

            How am I

            supposed to answer that?

            She knew  Her hands were on the answer,

  for God’s sake  I was about as tense as a Naked person

  on a cold table Which makes a lot of sense actually

            I have learned a few things now:

            Physical contact is not

            for everyone

            Relaxation

            does not

            cost

            $45

            It

            takes

            thought

            And answers

            And Sleep

            And Pill

            Ow

February 6 Juliet

Good morning!!! I am writing to you via the school bus...how exciting. Haha, not really...i know. I was actually hoping that something magical or incredibly beautiful would happen this morning so i could have amazing things to share with you. However my morning, not surprisingly failed to provide me with any of that. It was quite uneventful. It consisted of the usual: waking up late, taking the world's shortest shower, putting on an outfit that doesn't really match and then running out the door, my coat and lunch in hand. C'mon...I know you know what I'm talking about. :) Here's the deal though...supposedly mornings like these are bad for your brain...surprise surprise! According to my youth pastor, the adreline that accompanies crazy mornings like these stops your brain from fully focusing until 4pm...how convenient! ;) So, my friends, the  lesson of the day is get sufficient sleep!!! And of course...SUBMIT TO TAPESTRY!!!
The deadline is none other than Valentine's Day!

FEBRUARY (BELATED) 4TH by adlaiii

HOWDYYY?!?!

So anywhooo, this is suppose to be feb.'s 4th blog...sooo let's just go with it.
Did you know my favorite poem as a kid was:

Sick
by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today," Said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I'm going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I've counted sixteen chicken pox And there's one more--that's seventeen, And don't you think my face looks green? My leg is cut--my eyes are blue-- It might be instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I'm sure that my left leg is broke-- My hip hurts when I move my chin, My belly button's caving in, My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained, My 'pendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb. I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight, My temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what? What's that? What's that you say? You say today is. . .Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

(http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16480)


It's probably the best poem written...................
^^^^TRUE DAT.

PEACE AND BLESSINGS,
Adlai :)

february 3rd by alyssa g

Helllllllo blogosphere! Welcome to February 3, 2013.
Today is the day of the Super Bowl... aka the televised Beyonce concert.

I don't know how you all are spending this fine afternoon, but I am reporting from my grandparents' house.

Sometimes when I'm bored, although my grandmother always makes a point to remind me that "only boring people get bored," I wander up to their office to look at the bookshelf.
I'm going to attempt to describe this bookshelf...
First, its pretty small, but it stores an impressive amount of books. There are more than two hundred, which is where I stopped counting. On the left side of the bookshelf, there are mostly works of fiction. There is some Hemingway, some Fitzgerald, some Faulkner, some Steinbeck, some Tolstoy, Plath, and some Kafka (cringe..?). There are probably ten books on the art of the haiku poem placed beside twenty copies of the dictionary/thesaurus/atlas. There's a vast array of books on history. I think it's a safe guess to say that there are two shelves devoted wholly to Japan and its languages, customs, religions, children stories, flower arrangements, and arts. The bottom shelf is full of books about counseling and psychology. I like the book called thoughts without a thinker: Psychotherapy from a Buddhist Perspective. My favorite section of the bookshelf is the middle section. There is a copy of the Holy Qur'an next to a Lutheran bible next to a book called Misquoting Jesus next to a book called Zen Way-Jesus Way next to a book on Hinduism next to yet another book about Japan. Next to another book about Japan.

The only word that I can use to describe this collection seems to be "worldly." I feel smarter just sitting in front of the bookshelf. I also feel rather inadequate, but mostly I feel inspired to explore the world. Yesterday was my grandpa's 77th birthday. He has been to 50 countries on all seven continents (give or take a few), lived and taught in Japan, and in a few months, is planning to go to Portugal. For now, I travel the world vicariously through their photos and through these books. In the future, I hope to have a collection that compares to this one. ... awwww.

The funny thing to me is that as I sit in awe at these books, both of my grandparents are sitting downstairs reading on their iPads.