- We thrive with creativity

2. We are all in common in some way
- Creativity brings us together

3. Do things you don’t normally do, experiment. 

2 points:

1 comment/question:

2 Things You Agree or Disagree with

1 Question/Comment

Overall a question I would ask is, 

How do we prevent ourselves from playing into societal expectations/stereotypes to preserve our childlike fearlessness to play the fool after we grow up and experience what we do, and are influenced by certain people, events etc.

Two points I strongly agree with:

One comment or question:

Something I agree with is that most people don’t care about art or poetry unless they are going through something great or very bad, since its a way to feel connected to others and feel grounded in that thought.
Something I disagree with is how he explains how he came to the realization that his experiences are not nearly as unique as he once thought, since no, one person experiences the same thing in the same way.

One question I have is how far can you go until something is no longer thought as creative? Where can you draw the line? Is there a line to be crossed?

Two points I strongly agree with are… 

One question/ comment… 

Strongly Agree: 

Question:

I agree with this because I feel as children of God that we should look after one another. Also, I feel like we should help each other naturally in order to fulfill our quest for happiness. 

I agree with this because I think of it like survival being more like a physical need (food, shelter), while thrive I feel relates more to your mental health (creativity/imagination)

Question:

Why is creativity so unfair?

Why does society value certain creativity so differently? Is Beyonce's creativity that much better than Quadeca's?












 

Complex Sentence: As I walked out of my house, I could hear the birds chirp excessively loud this morning

Compound Complex Sentence: As I walked out of my house, the sun was rising above the trees and the birds chirped excessively loud this morning 

Balanced Sentence: The birds chirped excessively loud on their nests; the sun grew larger over the houses

Freight-Train Sentence: As I walked out of my house, the sun was rising above the houses and the birds were chirping excessively loud and the day was only getting brighter

Compound: They ran so fast and I moved so slow.

Complex: As we started the race, they ran so fast. 

Compound-Complex: As we started the race, they ran so fast and I moved so slow. 

Balanced: They ran so fast; I moved so slow.

Freight-Train: They ran so fast, and I moved so slow, and I finished in last place.

Compound: His mother grew anxious while the young boy fell sick.

Complex: After playing outside in the rain, the young boy fell sick.

Compound- complex: After playing outside in the rain, his mother grew anxious while the young boy fell sick.

Balanced: his mother grew anxious, and the boy fell sick

Freight-train: After playing outside in the rain, his mother grew anxious, and the young boy fell sick, and their family was left worried.

Complex sentence: 

Complex Sentence: 

Compound-Complex Sentence: 

Balanced Sentence: 

Freight-Train Sentence: 

“The wind blew strong”

“The wind blew strong, and the ocean made tall waves”

“As I walked down to the beach, the wind blew strong.”

“As I walked down to the beach, the wind blew strong, and the ocean made tall waves”

“She wore her pink fitted dress; he wore his loose white collared shirt”

“I have brown hair, brown eyes, and a big smile”

The Cafeteria. Lunchtime. When these words are said; there are a few things that come to mind.  The first is the noise; the noise that comes not only comes from people's daily conversations, but also comes from the video they play on the big monitor (that almost no one is actually paying attention to),  and the music blaring through the speakers that are set up in an unknown location. All these noises seem to blend together. The colour of the bluish grey tables; some that have doodles from students that sat there previously, the sight of the vending machines and microwaves (that prove to be useful tools) as the students surround during their time of lunch. The open door of the school's kitchen, where the grey metal counters, the pots, pans, and fryers can be seen. The cafeteria is a place where people connect. People are taking time out of their busy school schedule to take a break to refuel. Some people find the presence of others comforting and as a way to energise, while others enjoy their own peaceful silence. There are the exceptions of those few people who are trying desperately to finish that last page of homework before class, or last minute studying; trying their hardest to study with their headphones on. The most visually appealing food within the cafe is the sight of the poutine. Crisp french fries; soft on the inside and crispy and golden on the outside covered in thick brown gravy and topped with stretchy mozzarella cheese. All in all; the cafe is loud and uniformed and emits the strong smell of people’s lunch; hot dogs, wraps, fruits, leftover macaroni and cheese, noodles; everybody has their own variety lunch.

Aisha 

 She understands my circumstances, she listens to my problems and I listen to hers, she finds ways to purposefully contradict my opinions on various topics which broadens or fortifies my ideas.

Describe an important moment in your life using the power of three:

My little sister was born and while she was growing through her first year of life. My little sister was chaotic; she got into everything and made every mess possible, she preoccupied herself with own feet while finding interest in her socks, she made loud noises that had no meaning behind them other than the fact that she was testing out the own sound of her voice and telling the house she was still there.

Aisha

Details:

Focus:

Attitude: 

Supporting focus/ developing attitude:

Caps pulled low on their heads

Grease on their faces

Lumpy bags full of tools

Thermos with a handle 

Coat closed tight 

Keep my hands from shaking

Even though it isn’t that cold.

Walk at a leisurely pace

Quicken my steps.

Power of Three: 

The one with the thermos is max, and the other must be Siunek, and I'm not sure what kind of workers they're supposed to be. 

I hold my coat closed tight to keep my hands from shaking, even though it isn't that cold, and walk at a leisurely pace toward Tatarska 3.

Lists:

They have caps pulled low on their heads, grease on their faces, lumpy bags that could be full of tools on their backs, and one holds a thermos with a handle. 

Interrupted movement:

What had started as fun- running to chase mice or the tractor- and had then become a way to escape his father's clutches…

Periodic sentence:

“He was never good in a sprint, but if the game was to run around the block twice, he always won”.

Polysyndeton:

“He had run to the grain elevator and back and even taken a shower before the others returned”.

Balanced Sentence:

“He threw out a football to see who threw or kicked it the farthest; a basketball to see who made a couple of jump shots”.

I inched into the apartment, gently shutting the door behind me. I sighed, grateful for the absence of building security, when I caught a whiff of bleach so intense and overwhelming and all-consuming that I choked on my breath. Coughing violently, I whirled around to take in the room before me.

Clean. Incredibly clean. Ridiculously, obsessively, painstakingly clean. The marble floors, polished for the utmost shine, were reminiscent of a frozen lake at the height of wintertime. The furniture - white as the snow covering the ground outside - was pristine and in mint condition. The pictures framing the walls were perfectly aligned and were meticulously spaced so that they remained equidistant. Not a speck of dust, dirt, lint, hair was to be found on any of the surfaces in the apartment. I ran my finger along the top of a chestnut table, inspecting the smooth surface and contemplating why anybody would want to live like this. This place didn’t feel like a home: it reeked of separation, detachment, disconnection. Discomfort washed over me as I shuffled into the master bedroom.

Something had happened here. 

The covers were strewn across the floor and the sheets had been torn off of the bed and the clothing lined the corners of the room and the pictures on the wall had been pulled off. A wintry breeze gusted into the room from a window left ajar; chills coursed through my body. I sauntered over to the window to close it when something in the closet caught my eye. 

I let out a guttural scream and sprinted out of the apartment.

As I made to rap my knuckles against the aged wood, the door whipped open. A woman stood there: five feet tall, glasses perched on the end of her nose, black hair streaked with gray. I looked down. A furry, white ball slinked around her ankle, purring loudly. 

“Uh,” I said. She beamed back. 

“A visitor! I haven’t had a visitor in so long! Come, come.” She ushered me in.

Without thinking, I entered. 

The simple entryway was clean, almost minimalistic. Sunny wallpaper lined the walls, and a scruffy welcome mat circled the floor, and a coat stand in the corner stood tall, and framed photographs of bumbling kittens sat atop a side table. A low, constant humming came from deep within the house, as if that purring cat were breathing all around me, and unbidden, my muscles relaxed. 

The woman watched me expectantly, and I realized she was waiting for me to take my shoes off. Slowly, I did. In the distance, the reality of what I was doing rang like a muffled church bell. What was I doing here? I was in a stranger’s house. This woman was going to murder me. 

But a part of me still felt inexplicably at ease. Safe, even. 

He was wearing his brown cloak, with his gray lightsaber in his hand, and his undermining passion for duelling with me one last time. The opportunity appeared: defeating Obi-Wan Kenobi. Regardless of the current conflict, he was once my master. Teacher. Someone who I idolized. We fought alongside each other in the Clone Wars. Though despite my best efforts to pursue peace throughout the Galaxy, never was I acknowledged for my contributions. The Jedi council failed to respect me and instead treated me as a child. Force-wielding members declared I was not ready to become a master, which felt invalid considering I endeavoured to fight and protect. The only entity I had left was to approach Obi-Wan for support, yet I was wrong to do so. He chose to side with the council and agreed with their decision, executing ignorance, blindness, dishonesty. The pain of this outcome dashed loudly through my body and consumed the purpose of who I was. Destroying the Jedi- destroying Obi-Wan- was the new mission. He tried to stop me. I was close to defeat in battle, but that factor gave me the strength to learn and emerge as the most powerful ruler in the Galaxy. To this day, hunger aggressively fills me as I aim to defeat Obi-Wan, and now I have my chance. The red glow of my lightsaber indicated furious laser sparks. No part of this would have come about if he had listened to me or understood me or respected me. Nevertheless, the final battle has been initiated.

Joel Miller. You ruined my life. Do you even know who I am, why I’m here? I’ve spent ages searching for you, bearing through the freezing temperature, the whishing winds, and the sinking snow. (power of three) I’ve finally found you, tortured you, killed you. (power of three) You took everything away from me. He was my everything. Dad was all I had left in this disastrous world. You killed him for that stupid, immune girl. You murdered Marlene and all those other Fireflies at that hospital. That’s why I’m here. You are an evil person Joel Miller. You kill and torment without a pang of regret. If so, why don’t I feel better? Why don’t I feel as though I’ve received the closure I’ve been yearning for? The look on that girl's face–the one Nora was holding down–filled me with guilt, regret, shame (power of three); as if I’d made the wrong choice. She doesn’t understand; he took my father away from me. She will never understand; he was all I had left. I was determined to kill Joel Miller the moment I laid eyes upon my father’s burned and bloody and broken body. (power of three) Nightmares disturbed my restless sleep; flashbacks traumatized my conscious mind. I wish Dad were with me, and I wish Dad were holding me, and I wish things could just be different. (power of three) I often feel futile; as if my life has lost meaning. Joel Miller took away my world. My world was you, Dad. 

Innocent. Imprisoned. Alone. Trapped in my cell, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead flickered relentlessly. The stench of stale air and sweat hung heavy in the silence. I could feel the rough concrete walls closing in around me, suffocating me. My world has been reduced to this wretched, lifeless cell - a place where hope withers and dies, and the weight of isolation threatens to crush my spirit, with no hope of escape. The only sounds around me are the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead and the incessant drip of a leaky faucet. I am trapped here, imprisoned for a crime I did not commit, and the weight of that injustice is crushing. With no hope of escape trapped in this cell, my mind races with possibilities until it reaches the point of exhaustion. However, I am determined to escape and clear my name and find out who framed me for these crimes and get the justice that I deserve. For the time being, these goals are the only things that matter, and they motivate me to move forward even when the weight of my situation threatens to consume me. To break free from prison, I must have patience, resourcefulness, and  willingness to take risks. I must keep myself motivated and develop an escape plan. I creep along the corridors. I strain my ears to hearken to the faint sound of footsteps. I scramble up the walls like a cornered animal, using every muscle in my body to pull myself up. I crawl through the ducts, dodging pipes and wires. Despite the odds, I am determined to escape this place and clear my name. My reputation. I will not give up. I will not let them win. I will find a way out. 

I could feel the stare of the crowd burning the back of my head as they waited in anticipation, excitement, and curiosity. I searched through the hundreds of eyes till mine landed on a familiar, warm gaze - my mother. A loving smile graced her face as she mouthed the words: "You'll do great!" before pulling out her phone and pointing the camera at my face. I turned my head back to the sleek red track. I got into position and waited for the blare of the alarm indicating the start of the race. "Beeeep''. I leaped off my foot, pumping my arms and legs, flying down the track. I was almost there now—one more foot. Done. I finished and closed my eyes and hunched over and let out a breath. The announcer was talking, but I was too tired to listen. I heard my name once, then a second time. "... the champion of the 2023 Olympics." The crowd roared, and they stood to their feet, and they stomped and clapped, and the bleachers thundered, and confetti filled the air. I did it. I actually did it. I heard my name being called again; however, this time, I wasn't on that remarkable track but instead on the gravel road of a playground. I heard my name again. It was my mother. She had the same loving smile that she always had. Now I am more determined than ever. I will win this race for her. I will win it for her.

How dare he. Who would throw their own kid out of the house! This is annoying. This is ridiculous. This is disgraceful. Not only that, who would clobber their daughter! I can’t believe that he is just going to leave me here bleeding and throbbing and suffering. Instilled in me is a mix of emotions: I am enraged yet sorrowful. This is who I call a father? Only now do I realize that my body is aching with unimaginable pain. I’m left here powerless. I’m left here hopeless. I’m left here brutally. I can hear people faintly in the distance, but I can’t find my voice to call for help. I wish I could do something, and I wish the reality was different, and I wish I could escape this void that is slowly consuming me. I lay on the concrete in misery; racing thoughts begin invading my mind like missiles of pure anguish. Shock. It has paralyzed my body, leaving an uncontrollable ringing sound in my ears. I don’t deserve this, I’ve done my best to obey the rules. The one time I slip up in the slightest, I’m punished irresponsibly, recklessly, shamelessly. Unbelievable. In a daze, I crawl to an unknown destination. A putrid smell suddenly graces my nostrils. A stray dog has found me. I feel my body dragging across the sidewalk as I start to lose consciousness, with my final sight being a place of familiarity. It was the local hospital.     

I took a pebble I found outside, painted it white, and made sure to tell my mother I “lost another tooth”. The trap was set. Before bed, I tucked the painted pebble underneath my pillow. I laid under my covers for what felt like centuries, wondering when she’d come. A part of me still hoped the real tooth fairy would walk through my door. If only I were so lucky. 

Something else came to visit me that night. Slow. Heavy. Loud. I heard footsteps from outside my room dragging across the vinyl flooring. With each step, it got louder, closer. I knew instantly it wasn’t my mother. There was something so unnatural about the way it moved. Once the footsteps reached my door I was paralyzed. I don’t remember every single detail about that night, but one thing I will never forget is the smell. It haunts me to this day. An overwhelming stench diffused through the air as whatever it was shambled closer. I can only describe the horrid scent as rotten, decayed, deadly, like a cavity. I tried my best not to gag as the pungent odor attacked my nostrils. Its body, tall and twisted, brought me immense discomfort. It stumbled toward my bed.

My reason for writing this letter, placing these items and making a time capsule will become clear the more you discover. I wrote this so that you could; study, understand, learn, adapt. You guys are most likely going to be studying what occurred on earth before your time, the same way the humans discovered ancient civilizations and bones and artifacts and life forms. Humans had the opportunity to study the brown decaying bones of dinosaurs. Where some bones were even as big as a human.The sharpness of their teeth, the strength of their jaw, the grandness of their size, all these things made the dinosaur powerful. In Comparison, Humans have a weak structure. Dinosaurs were destroyed by asteroids. Humans. Humans lead to their own demise. The human race had always had difficulties, they’re was always wars, plagues, and natural disasters. Now only 5% of the human population is left. Famine killed 25%  after droughts, over fishing and infertile land became abundant and green lush land was almost non-existent. The nuclear war killed off 30%. The last 10% died of a mutant disease.Take humans as an example; don‘t use your intelligence in a way that would dig your own grave. I left whoever finds these three items; an unlocked tech piece (I included the manual). One of the final cups of grain; wheat, barley and rice. This will help you in understanding the way that the earth once was — since it’s too long to explain in a letter. Lastly I leave a painting, skeletons may be too vague, art was an important part of human culture that united everybody through emotions and creativity. As my final words of wisdom, don’t take what you have for granted. 

Sincerely the last 5%

The box. The door. The crumbling brick. It begged me to enter. I called it “The Gravestone Gateway.” Either a frivolous fortune, devious delight, or chronic charity lingered on the other side. The powdered blue paint on the door urges my limbs to manifest movements of their own. My nervous eyes dart down to see my All Stars conversing with the cracks in the concrete. My nervous neck begins to tingle with the rise of the goosebumps. One step forward. The bumbling box becomes clear to the eye. This scarlet carton has been crafted into a velveteen vessel. It peaks my highest curiosity, while it jolts my worst nightmare. Two steps forward. The boiling sweat of my palm melts the icy tip of the door handle. The twitchy twist of the knob halts. This entryway was not to be entered. I pause. I breathe in the fresh scent of lavender - in the midst of all of the rust. My bamboozled brain tries to decipher this misleading message. I take a quick glance beside me and there it is again. The bumbling box. The scarlet carton. It groans as I inch it open, and the lavender engulfs my lungs. A simple silver key sleeps under its luxurious velveteen covers. My spaghetti fingers fumble the key into the handle. The door screams open and the void takes me and the fear frightens me. I was on the other side.

Simile :  I hung on to the pencil  like a rock climber on a steep cliff, relying on it to support my weight and guide me to safety.

Personification : The pencil came to life as the person hung on, its fibers pulsating with energy and purpose. 

Contradictory Bibliography

Bamboozled by the books, I'm lost in their maze

The bloodlust for knowledge, a never-ending craze

The bibliography haunts me, with its endless list

Of authors and titles, that I must not miss

I'm drowning in words, I can't find my way out

Trapped in a world of pages, full of doubt

Am I really learning, or just chasing a dream?

Is this thirst for knowledge, really what it seems?

Bamboozled and perplexed, I need a break

From the endless pursuit, for knowledge's sake

But the books continue to call to me. 

Think of the nicest thing someones ever said to you. Then write a poem about a rainy day and something flooding. End the poem with the good thing someone said. 

Raindrops falling down,

The streets start to flood.

But your words brighten my days.

And makes everything good.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me,"

You said with a smile,

And suddenly the rain and flooding,

Didn't seem so horrid. .

        Bibliography

Why are there so many links

I am bamboozled

2. (Tatiana)

No one understands. 

They walk nonchalantly down the street 

Unknowing, stupid, naive, 

Their boots sloshing in puddles,

Reminding me of all I have yet to achieve.

No one understands.

The constant never-ending rain 

Steady, unwavering, forever, 

It reminds me of my pain, 

Flooding back to me because of the weather.

3. (Manahil)

Wallowing in a prison of my own

Design, my eyes can’t stop their looking,

My blood is alight, my heart sown

With ecstasy. Your body has me cooking.

4. (Sonia)

You were my love and my light

I couldn’t be away from you,

You were always so bright 

I hope I was your love too

The nuclear vibes made me happy

At first there was never an issue

But then you started being crappy

And I needed to buy more tissues 

The toilet was my new house

Like a dung beetle I reside 

I sat there with dirt on my blouse

And then I layed there and cried 

So thank you for everything did

Because now I know when to forbid

The people below deep in their slumber.

A prison of sinners forever trapped alone,

Sleeping their wrongs, guilt, and sloth aside.

Their laziness punished in this dark afterlife.

The king of laziness rested his eyes,

Sluggishness leading him into a deep sleep.

Another endless night for his deadly kingdom.

Think of the nicest thing someone has ever said to you. Write a poem about a rainy day and something flooding. End the poem with something good someone said

The rain rolls down the windows.

The thunder rocks me to sleep.

I hear the water flowing.

My slumber will be deep.

The sound slows my breathing.

Dreams flooded for a while.

The rains calming presence lulls me,

Pricking my lips into a smile.

The bloodlust sky projects through the atmosphere

Bamboozled with its color, 

That is dark like no other

Curiosity fell to question

Peculiar in expression

A bibliography that must be told

To the sky high’s unknown. 

 2. Rainy Day

Drops of rain fell on this day

No light that shunned the sky stayed gray. 

As the water towered over my heels and toes

A flood that bled through the weather unknown. 

The picture that's painted with tints of blue and black 

But as he said “the rain restores the beauty in sadness in life's lost soundtrack”. 

The rain pours from the black sky  

Natures tears fall to the ground as I sigh

I hear the clouds roar as the water comes rushing down

I watch out my window as the water floods the streets of the town 

Its unfortunate but oddly mesmerizing

4. Dear the love of my life, 

I write this letter to you today to reassure to you the love i have for you. As I sit down to write this letter to you, I can't help but think about the nuclear explosion of emotions that have taken over my body since the first day I met you. You are the skeleton of my body that holds me up, and keep me from falling. I love you forever and always. 

I’ve been bamboozled

A wave of anguish floods through my veins

He stole from the wrong soul

He will lose everything he gains

My bloodlust rages violently

A bibliography of weapons is at my command

A war is coming

Revenge is at hand

4. Delilah

Our love was nuclear

As sweet as a cranberry

Nothing could pull us apart

Except the day we depart

I thought it was everlasting

The dung beetle stung your heart

And now I remain

A skeleton in pain

3. Pride

My pride could never be taken away

A heartbeat in the light of day

A candle that burned and never faded

A feeling that never left me jaded

Standing still and solemn even as I melt.

Trying to light the way 

Hoping to start a fire 

Through all my destruction, they will plea 

But soon realize

It is me, 

Who lets them see 

Hoping the bullets will come to a stop and peace will restore to the days tinted rot. 

You may cut me with your eyes

You may kill me with your hatefulness

You may bruise me with your lust 

You may scar me with your spite 

But still, like air, I rise

You may cut me with your eyes, 

You may kill me with your hatefulness, 

But still, like air, I'll rise. 

You may tear me down word by word,  

You may stare at me with disgust, 

You may mock me behind my back, 

But still, like air, I'll rise 

Forgetting I have a mind of my own

The pain, the agony, the torment you put me through

All for those ratty little kids

Everyday you stand for hours

You pace around and jump around

Bruising me on the numerous different textures

Without ever apologizing to me

Everyday you stand for hours

I grow bumps, and bruises, and scratches

And I cry for help 

And you don’t answer

Everyday you stand for hours

I wish you’d give me a break

A break to breathe, a break to rest, a break to take care of myself

Everyday you stand for hours

I wish you’d put the same effort into my health

As you do the entertainment

All for those ratty little kids.

Through streets and fields, to and from

You take me places far and close

And keep me moving with each stride

You're strong and sturdy, yet so light

A wondrous weapon, you can't be beat

You dance and jump, you skip and run

A joyous expression of life and fun

Oh feet, how often we take you for granted

Until we're in pain, and our movements are stunted

But even then, you never fail to strive

To keep us moving, and feel alive

How incredibly grateful I Am for you

I struggle the further we go 

You rely on me most days 

Yet provide me with the same old shoe soles 

I constantly feel on fire 

I ache, wither, and groan 

I wish you'd give me some proper pamper 

After all I've carried you as you've grown 

No more will I take this agony 

Why wont you hear my cries 

I’ll halt all our journeys 

Until you put an end to my demise 

You're reckless. Distant.

You’re also a strange sight, that is some new kind of wonder,

With good hidden under.

Lost in the darkness

You’re like a soldier wounded in a battle, that must give up the fight,

But If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow.

Choose to find your center, 

Because then you are sure to succeed 

Because you are as swift as a river,

While possessing all the strength of a raging fire,

And you can be as mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

Strange how I'm drawn to the danger,

So I will understand you.

I'll reach out my hand to you.

Your skin makes me cry

You can dance

You can jive

You come to look for a king

But I'm a creep

I'm a weirdo

Say it ain't so

Looking out for a place to go

Something is bubbling

Is giving' me chills

run, run, run, run

What am I doin' here?

You can watch all the hate coming out of a generation.

I see familiar faces I would like to forget, 

But at the end of the day, it’s a human trait

Running in our blood, running through our veins.

We live we die, we steal, we kill, we lie

You’re in for a surprise, i’ve been lying to the liars

She finally found someone out there

Now I sit here in a reflection chamber 

Waiting eternally for a savior.

Under its hands I am a pawn

I never saw it until she was gone

What really mattered wasn’t a dream

It was too late to be redeemed

My entire being is a costume

Each day entering the changing room

Little did I know

She did not want a faux

I used to rule the world

She would rise when I gave the word. 

Now in the morning, I sleep alone. 

At least now I know. 

I’ve grown.