It had to be Holden!

Paulo Alfaro

December 6, 2010

Mrs. Meadows

Periods C/D

Holden, he is one talkative, annoying kid. I was eating in this fancy restaurant called Sushi Itto, right by Central park. I had ordered tofu, sushi, and a lot more. I was eating by myself, calmly listening to the wind blow throw the tress of the park. It was just great. Suddenly I saw a familiar person throwing rocks at a lagoon full of ducks. He had this red hunting hat if I’m not mistaken. He also had this scary grimace while throwing rocks at the ducks.

Minutes later I got this avid desire that haunted me to see who was this familiar person, so I had no alternative but go and find out. I stood up and started walking towards him. Finally I got to him, and immediately I saw who it was, Holden Caulfield, the kid I met in elementary.

“Holden?” I asked, “Is that you? Caulfield?” He turned around and looked at me with this profound, what seemed like an interminable strange attitude.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked with this irascible voice, as if he was busy with what he was doing.

“Paulo, Paulo Alfaro!”

“Oh, yeah you, want to go for a drink?”

“Ok, I guess.” I walked to Sushi Itto with him. He ordered one drink, then 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and a lot more. I was getting scared. I thought he had changed. I was starting to abhor Holden.

I got tired and told him to stop drinking, but it was a bad idea, because he went on this stupid tirade and rebuked me, on something I didn’t pay attention to. He had rankled me, I had enough. I just stormed out of Sushi Itto, it seemed as if I had embarked on a endless journey; I didn’t turn back.

I hate that bastard. He just ruined my day! I totally regret saying hello to Holden, because it ended up putting me into a lackadaisical mood. Although I acted pretty serene, I wasn’t. In an electrifying moment I felt as if I wanted to extricate his mouth from his face in the brusquest way, so he would stop talking so much garbage. This was one awful night with Holden.

It had to be Holden!

Paulo Alfaro

December 6, 2010

Mrs. Meadows

Periods C/D

Holden, he is one talkative, annoying kid. I was eating in this fancy restaurant called Sushi Itto right by Central park. I had ordered tofu, sushi, and a lot more. I was eating by myself, calmly listening to the wind blow throw the tress of the park. It was just great. Suddenly I saw a familiar person throwing rocks at a lagoon full of ducks. He had this red hunting hat if I’m not mistaking. He also had this scary grimace while throwing rocks at the ducks.

Minutes later I got this avid desire that haunted me to see who was this familiar person, so I had no alternative but go and find out. I stood up and started walking to him. Finally I got to him, and immediately I saw him, Holden Caulfield, the kid I met in elementary.

“Holden?” I asked, “Is that you? Caulfield?” He turned around and looked at me with this profound, interminable face.

“Who the hell are you?” Hr asked with this irascible voice, as if he was busy in what he was doing.

“Paulo, Paulo Alfaro!”

“Oh, yeah you, want to go for a drink?”

“Ok, I guess.” I walked to Sushi Itto with him. He ordered one drink, the 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and a lot more. I was getting scared. I thought he had changed. I was starting to abhor Holden.

I got tired and told him to stop drinking, but it was a bad idea, because he went on this stupid tirade and rebuked me, on something I didn’t pay attention to. He had rankled me, I had enough. So I just embarked out of Sushi Itto and didn’t turn back.

I hate that bastard. That just ruined my day! I totally regret saying hello to Holden, because it ended up putting me into a lackadaisical mood. Although I acted pretty serene, I wasn’t. I wanted to extricate his mouth from his face in a brusque way, so he could stop talking so much crap. This was one electrifying night with Holden

Book Review: Bud, not Buddy

Paulo Alfaro

Bud, not Buddy

By: Christopher Paul Curtis

This book, written in the first person point of view, is very funny and exciting, but at the same time very sad. Bud is a 10-year-old boy living in an orphanage in the 1930’s and he has nowhere to go. He just has one personal belonging: His suitcase his mother gave him full of interesting stuff right after she died, when he was a little boy. Inside the suitcase there are very important things for Bud. Things like his blanket, a photo of his mom, a flyer that he is not sure what it is, a pocket knife, and colorful rocks. Bud does not trust anybody and therefore he doesn’t give the suitcase to anyone. One day he took a look at the flyer in his suitcase and it had a name, and an address. From that day on he goes in search of him, thinking it’s his dad. The place he is looking for: Grand Rapids. (The city next to his town.) It will be a dangerous trip. Being a black kid and walking in the streets alone in the 1930’s isn’t very safe due to racism. He travels at night when no one can see him. He meets this very nice guy who is heading to Grand Rapids and is able to take him. He is taken to the exact same place the flyer says. And then he finally meets the mystery man: Herman E. Calloway. Is he his dad? Or is he a random person? Find out!

As I mention in the beginning, this book is funny. The main reason is because of Bud’s character. He had this very funny book he wrote that is all about lying in order to survive certain situations, and other rules he made up according to some strange beliefs he had. He hates to be called Buddy because he knows his name is Bud and his mom specifically warned him to not let anyone call him Buddy because it is a dog’s name. That’s why the book is called Bud, not Buddy; he succeeds because he will always fight for dignity. But it is also a sad story because he is an orphan, his mother died when he was very young, his dad left him when he was just a baby, he is very poor, he barely eats, and many other reasons.

I liked this book because it never got boring and it remained glued to my hands. Bud, not Buddy is one of those stories where the unexpected happens. When you are extremely sure something is going to occur, another thing happens. The protagonist and narrator, Bud, makes an incredible journey to another city alone and reaches his goal. This showed me that when you are searching for something important, not to let go, and never stop.

The Letter

Paulo A.

lucky 47 lane

September 2, 1947

Dear Pupus,

You are my brother man, and I loved you so much, you were the soul of our family's generation. But not any more you self centered crap bag. You encompassed my heart with fear and hate. I know what you did, we all know what you did (the family). I am going to get you hard. I will extricate this situation and be happy again. Just give me that money and everything will be just fine.

You won't escape this time. An anonymous person will soon come to your house. You will have no chance of escaping, because by the time you get this, you will be in jail.

Sincerely,

Mojo Pojo

I Remember

I remember the day my dad told me that we were moving for a couple of weeks, that he was going to remodel our house so it looked nicer. Yes, that was in the start of 2009. I believed it. Two month past and we were still in the temporary home. Dad told me that something went wrong and that it would take a little longer. But again, two month past and nothing.

I remember dad telling me again that soon the house will be finished. And those where the same thing that he told us until today. August of 2010! 1 and 3/4 years!

I realized that when people say something, it actually doesn't mean it is going to happen.

I See The Shinning Stars

Every Sunday

with my dad.

We go sundays only

at nine.

We sit and talk

laying on the garden

just staring at the

deep blue sky

No comets ever

fly by,

just stars,

glowing and glowing

and glowing

Sometimes we don't talk

we just hear the sound

of the wind blow through our body

It calms me down

when I'm worried

mad or

afraid

it's my mini sanctuary

The police point of veiw

The lights of the police station dim down. Only me and my partner remain there, eager to go. Suddenly somebody knocks brusquely on the door. What could it be? I wondered. I stand up and see this woman clad with some pajamas and a pair of flip flops. She had this gruesome grimace while she kept on knocking the door non-stop. I finally got to the door and let her in.

I surmised something had gone terribly wrong, but after hearing what she said about her neighbor, I knew she was one of those people that hate their neighbors. Or so I thought. She derived some more pieces of electrifying information, and that is when we drove to the suspects house thinking it would be a cursory case to solve.

When we finally got to the suspects house. Me and my partner started knocking loudly to wake up the man in case he was asleep. Which he was not because he attended immediately, as if he was waiting for us. The man simulated his smile and started saying.

"May I help you Officers?"

"Yes, we came to search the house. Someone reported hearing some awkward noises."

"Well that is weird! Come in then. Search all you want!" He slowly stepped aside to let us in. He showed us every room and corner in the house. We gingerly searched but found nothing out of place.

Finally after the search we were about to leave and the man offered us some drinks. We were dehydrated because in the station water wasn't available, so we accepted some glasses of water. As we drank with delight, the man was staring at us. He looked nervous. He looked guilty and started breathing deeply and loudly. And that is when he shouted something unexpected.

He screamed that he was guilty and that he killed the man. We immediately got in our car with him on the back seat and went to prison to lock him up for life. At last he actually collaborated with our job because they promoted us for finding the suspect.

Waking Up

I dream like no other. I just love to sleep and dream. But there is a bad ending to every good story. In this case, waking up. Those same three knock on my door my nanny always makes. I just hate it. I keep the anger to myself.

At first I just ignore it thinking it is a senseless part of my dream, but then those stupid annoying three knock again. Only difference, it is louder. Much louder. That is when I wake up and say:

"I'm up!!" With one eye opened and one eyed closed. That's my wake up routine for every day, well, the majority of them. Sometimes their is the bucket of doom day. It's when I don't wake up and my nanny bring this purple bucket and spills it in my face. And there are the days when she just puts the radio right next to my ear, full volume. Welcome to my wake up life. 

As you can see, I hate waking up. And I will probably will never like waking up. That is just me.

Computer..and the suitcase

 

Last year my English teacher (Mrs. Meadows) always used to tell me the same thing each day: "Paulo, you need a protective cover for that computer. "

I took her advice but forgot immediately. Now guess what?  I  didn't have a protective cover until now,  just after the tragic injury of my computer.  Yes, I was horrified.  And each time I remember about the accident when my computer fell and I had to take it to Mac store and knowing that technicians are still trying to fix it after 2 and a half weeks, I remember Mrs Meadows telling me to buy a protective cover.

I realized that being lazy to get something that is really necessary will take you nowhere. Next time Mrs. Meadows gives me an advice, I will consider it very seriously.

This Year I Hope...

The opponents pass right by us.

Scoring basket after basket,

Our lungs beg for rest

After few minutes of play

We have no team 

We have no soul

Most of us

dont even try. 

Effortless practices 

Effortless games

We are the spiders 

That cant catch  fly

We are the planes

That cant reach the sky

My body filled 

With regret and hate.

I knew I was making a 

Big mistake 

should of been

Better 

Faster 

Smarter 

And stronger

Ive waited

For a second chance,

A chance 

To show my team

we can

Win.

 

This year I hope to win the leauge with my basketball team.

Confession Tuesday

Pain, everybody feels pain. Yes, even me, but this time I was in real pain, pain no human been has ever encountered.

I came to school all bruised and sore from the tough, hard hitting game the day before. I tried to straighten put my poor smashed legs, but just couldn't. The pain had captured my whole body. Everybody asked me: why are you limping? I thought of something quickly to say and responded: I am not limping and nothing is hurting, I am fine. Trust me.

Actually I think everybody knew my whole body was hurting, but well, I tried my best to disguise the truth. Finally, when I got home, I took a long shower and a long nap and tried to move as little as possible.

Should I have felt embarrassed at going to school all smashed up? I mean, we won the game the day before and we played as hard as we could. So yeah, I deserve a break.

Mean Coaches

Coaches, everybody looks at their bright side, the side that every one is winning games thanks to the coaches and everybody is learning. Yeah, it is not that bright after all. Practice, ugh, horrible, pain, sweat, they make your life miserable. It makes you want to miss practice. Coaches start insulting you and start hitting you in the helmet. While running what seems thousands and thousands of laps you turn your head and see the coaches laughing at you and suddenly they change their faces to a frown and get mad with you, without any one doing something. An example is this.

ex. "Man, I'm so tired, I can't even breath, we have been running the whole day!" I softly say those words to my friend that is running right next to me. As soon as my friend starts to speak, the coach magically hears it and says:

"Paulo, what did you just say?" Crossing his arms.

"N-Nothing coach."

"Give me twenty push ups, come on! 1........2.......3......4......5.....6.....7......8....9.....9.....9.....9 Do it correctly."

"Yes coach!" He counts as slow as possible and finally finishes.

I mean we are kids! We shouldn't be running THAT much. And we have to do it every single day! The day I suddenly stop feeling my body I will blame my torturous coaches.

Someday I if I will ever be a coach, I will never treat my players so badly.

The Diving Catch

"HUDDLE!!" I yelled. It was 4Th quarter, we were winning 30 t0 20, we needed a score to assure the win. Everybody grouped up and I called the play.

"Fake Jet right, sprint action right, jet 2, max protection. Ready!"

"Break," the other players in the huddle answered. We ran to the line of scrimmage and called the play.

"Down, set, move!" I screamed. I faked the jet, dropped three steps, looked at the receivers and found the perfect target, #85, Alejandro. I raised my left arm quickly with the ball, and let it go. The ball flew smoothly across the wind with a perfect spiral, seconds later it landed perfectly in front of Alejandro. He dived and stretched his long hands to the ball.

Suddenly the whole world paused. Was it a touchdown? Yes? No?

All of a sudden the Ref puts his hands up signaling TOUCHDOWN! We did it! Yes! I went running to Alejandro with excitement.

"We made it Alejandro, we made it," I said.

Childhood Notebook

Description In life, everybody has their past, their good times and bad times will always be remembered. Childhood is the most important part of your life, it's when most friends are born, and when you never stop laughing. All the memories are captured in just one word: CHILDHOOD.

Synopsis I'm going to show poems about childhood, and how important it is to someone. Poems: A Boy and His Dad- By: Edgar Guest At The Zoo- By: WIlliam Makepeace Daddy- By: Sylvia Plath How I am- By: Jason Shinder Sisters- By: Lucille Clifton Yesterday- By: W. S. Merwin

THE FIGHT

He is very mad

I am very mad, we fight

I throw a hard punch to start

He falls to the ground

I laugh and laugh in his face

Blood spills of his nose, he's dead

FOOTBALL

Face masks hitting aggressively against each other.

Over by the the sidelines coaches scream nervously to give directions.

Outrageous players run the ball as fast as the wind.

Today is our day, no fights, no insults, no nothing, just football.

Big tough guys in the line of scrimmage blocking.

All is down to this play. Just play

Like there is no tomorrow!

Live your passion, your dream, FOOTBALL.

BALBOA

Big hits go out on the football field, new stars are born, the players are strong, fast and prepared for whatever is on their way.

A tiny thought of fear passes through my brain, maybe there is going to be an injury, maybe not. I run and run, and never look back. A

Linebacker stands right in front of me, with fear all over my body I run directly to him like a rhino. We look at each other with hate in our eyes. We both

Bounce back as we hit. I knew the kid was also scared, i knew he didn't want to hit, I felt the same way.

Out of nowhere my hand start to hurt, red drops come out of my paralyzed hand. I feel dizzy. Paramedics come on the football field. It is

All gone, no more football, no more sports. A torn ligament. My passion, my hobby, my life. What do I do?