Teach
By Sanita Saengvilay
Searching for the words to
Fill in the blanks
In the sentences
You never said
I fall back
Into
My chair
Hoping you won’t notice
But our eyes meet
And I struggle to murmur
A cohesive line
Friday, January 23, 2009
Creative Writing Project cont.
Toilet Paper
By Sanita Saengvilay
You never appreciate anything until you lose it. I think that’s one of the lessons of life that everyone has to learn the hard way. I mean think about it, toilet paper. You usually buy that in a 50 pack sets at Meijers. Once you're half way through the first pack, Cottonelle goes on sale and you’re like “man what a deal! Screw diminishing margins. A 50 pack of T.P. for $7.99. You can’t beat that!”
So I wake up one morning, get ready for school use the last of the toilet paper but I don’t worry about it because why should I? I have a stash of it hidden under the sink.
Lies. All lies.
I come home from school thinking that at least someone will have the decency to refill the toilet paper by now. There is still an empty cardboard cylinder wrapped around that crazy spring load contraption. Check under the sink. Nothing. Okay I’ll just go downstairs and take the TP from there. Nothing. Okay now I’m a little worried let me check the closet under the stairs. Nothing. How can this happen?
I need someone to blame
“Eddie!?”
“What?”
“Why isn’t there ANY toilet paper in this house what so ever? You’ve been in this house all day and you couldn’t even go to the store to get some?”
“What. Use a paper towel or something.”
“WHAT! That’s barbaric. It’s the 21st century and you want me to use paper towels.”
“Well, when I was in Iraq we didn’t even have showers, so be grateful you spoiled brat.”
Quite frustrated and peeved that I can’t use the bathroom I started chanting, “This is not ‘nam, this is not ‘nam, this is not ‘nam!”
“WHAT?!”
At this point my brother proceeds to punched me in the arm for being ungrateful and insensitive to war vets. But what he didn’t’ know was that I was referencing The Big Lewbowski at a very inappropriate moment. My brother yelled at me for referencing obscure movies. The thing is that The Big Lewbowski was a movie from his collection. Eventually I drove to my friend’s house and went to the bathroom there.
Creative Writing Project cont.
Slacker vs. Worker
By Sanita Saengvilay
Your teacher announces that you will have a project. The class sighs and moans, but she has yet to announce that you will be working in groups. The worse part, you will be assigned accordingly. Now the classroom is filled with a mixture of celebrations and complaints. The class has unknowingly been divided in to a slacker versus worker zone.
School is a cutthroat environment and if you can’t keep up with the pace you will be left behind. Seriously, just ask a super senior. The worker untrusting of anyone other than themselves will do all the work assuming the worse out of everyone. The slacker will take advantage of the worker’s distrust and sit back and relax while getting an A on the project. When working in the group, the worker will complain to other workers about how they are doing all the work in their group. The slacker will laugh and say ‘sucks for you.’ I personally am a slacker of the group. Not by choice though, I willingly will put up the effort to do work but usually the worker will deem my work inadequate and redo it themselves. Now, come on, I worked a good 5 minutes before class to make that stuff up and you think your work is superior to mine.
I have no sympathy towards the worker. They assume that they are the only ones in the group who is willing to sacrifice. Numerous of times I have actually done my fair share of work but it usually gets an “Uhhh” and then a complaint to other workers.
‘How am I supposed to work with this?’
I’ll show you how you’re supposed to work this, [lots of explicits here]. I believe that there is no such thing as a slacker. The worker has just demolished the slacker’s confidence with their own insecurities. But teachers still continue to assign students in groups they don’t want to be in hoping to teach them a life lesson. ‘You can’t always choose who you work with in life.’ That is very true indeed, but for now I’ll just assume the slacker role. So have you finished with our poster yet?
By Sanita Saengvilay
Your teacher announces that you will have a project. The class sighs and moans, but she has yet to announce that you will be working in groups. The worse part, you will be assigned accordingly. Now the classroom is filled with a mixture of celebrations and complaints. The class has unknowingly been divided in to a slacker versus worker zone.
School is a cutthroat environment and if you can’t keep up with the pace you will be left behind. Seriously, just ask a super senior. The worker untrusting of anyone other than themselves will do all the work assuming the worse out of everyone. The slacker will take advantage of the worker’s distrust and sit back and relax while getting an A on the project. When working in the group, the worker will complain to other workers about how they are doing all the work in their group. The slacker will laugh and say ‘sucks for you.’ I personally am a slacker of the group. Not by choice though, I willingly will put up the effort to do work but usually the worker will deem my work inadequate and redo it themselves. Now, come on, I worked a good 5 minutes before class to make that stuff up and you think your work is superior to mine.
I have no sympathy towards the worker. They assume that they are the only ones in the group who is willing to sacrifice. Numerous of times I have actually done my fair share of work but it usually gets an “Uhhh” and then a complaint to other workers.
‘How am I supposed to work with this?’
I’ll show you how you’re supposed to work this, [lots of explicits here]. I believe that there is no such thing as a slacker. The worker has just demolished the slacker’s confidence with their own insecurities. But teachers still continue to assign students in groups they don’t want to be in hoping to teach them a life lesson. ‘You can’t always choose who you work with in life.’ That is very true indeed, but for now I’ll just assume the slacker role. So have you finished with our poster yet?
High School Senior Creative Writing Project cont.
Sexy Trucks
By Sanita Saengvilay
YOU'VE BEEN HIT BY THE
|^^^^^^^^^^^^|
|SEXY TRUCK | '|""";.., ___.
|_..._...______===|= _|__|..., ]|
"(@ )'(@ )""""*|(@ )(@ )*****(@
THIS IS A SEXY TRUCK IF U RECEIVE THIS IT MEANS UR [explicit] SEXY.... IF U GET THIS BACK UR EVEN SEXIER...SEND THIS TO 10 PEOPLE....
If there is one thing that annoys me the most about my generation is chain mail. It is a retarded message made by a person with no life claiming that you will die, or have good luck but the worse is the friendship chain mail. The “if you’re my friend you will send this to 558 more friends and me.” Ok, that’s not fair, if I don’t send it they will think I’m not their friend ( but I really shouldn’t be their friend if the only thing I need to do to prove my friendship is click reply.) See, if I don’t reply I’ll be party pooper and takes the internet way too seriously.
The place where I receive the most chain mails is wait for it...Myspace, the one thing that will, sadly represent my generation.
“Oh yeah, you grew up in the Myspace generation, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes I did, but I think you’re my friend and if you don’t reply to me in 0.03 seconds then you will die.”
So on my Myspace, I try to keep it as chain mail free as can be but one day in my comment section I find a “sexy truck.” Gasp. What in the world is that? “This person thinks you are sexy and you must send it to 10 other sexy people accompanied with a symbolic picture of a semi truck.” What?! WHO DID THIS?! WHO HAS SOILED MYSPACE? Annoyed and angry I proceed to seek out vengeance on this so called friend of mine. I altered the truck to a “skanky truck” accompanied by a threat which included the basics of “if you ever send me one of these things ever again, you will enter a world of pain” Yes, I know that I went a bit far, but that is how much I dislike chain mail. I clicked post, but it wasn’t showing up for an odd reason. Why is it not posting? So I went back and clicked the post link 3 more times. Now nothing is making any sense. I need to post this “skanky truck”! As I was trying for the 5th time to post my truck I received an instant message from my so called friend.
So called friend: I erased it
Me: what?
So called friend: your comments
Me: why?
So called friend: Why? b/c you called me a skank
Me: so
So called friend: I don’t like being called a skank
Me: I don’t like being called a “sexy truck” So?
So called friend: WE*
Me: haha but you are a skank!
So called friend: WE
I thought it was hilarious that my friend didn’t like receiving her chain mail letter back. So, instead I sent a bunch of fake chain mail letters with the truck but replacing sexy with stuff such as nerdy, ugly, and Mentos. Hopefully, I taught a lesson to my friend either don’t participate in chain mail letters or don’t mess with me.
* note: WE is an aim acronym standing for whatever
By Sanita Saengvilay
YOU'VE BEEN HIT BY THE
|^^^^^^^^^^^^|
|SEXY TRUCK | '|""";.., ___.
|_..._...______===|= _|__|..., ]|
"(@ )'(@ )""""*|(@ )(@ )*****(@
THIS IS A SEXY TRUCK IF U RECEIVE THIS IT MEANS UR [explicit] SEXY.... IF U GET THIS BACK UR EVEN SEXIER...SEND THIS TO 10 PEOPLE....
If there is one thing that annoys me the most about my generation is chain mail. It is a retarded message made by a person with no life claiming that you will die, or have good luck but the worse is the friendship chain mail. The “if you’re my friend you will send this to 558 more friends and me.” Ok, that’s not fair, if I don’t send it they will think I’m not their friend ( but I really shouldn’t be their friend if the only thing I need to do to prove my friendship is click reply.) See, if I don’t reply I’ll be party pooper and takes the internet way too seriously.
The place where I receive the most chain mails is wait for it...Myspace, the one thing that will, sadly represent my generation.
“Oh yeah, you grew up in the Myspace generation, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes I did, but I think you’re my friend and if you don’t reply to me in 0.03 seconds then you will die.”
So on my Myspace, I try to keep it as chain mail free as can be but one day in my comment section I find a “sexy truck.” Gasp. What in the world is that? “This person thinks you are sexy and you must send it to 10 other sexy people accompanied with a symbolic picture of a semi truck.” What?! WHO DID THIS?! WHO HAS SOILED MYSPACE? Annoyed and angry I proceed to seek out vengeance on this so called friend of mine. I altered the truck to a “skanky truck” accompanied by a threat which included the basics of “if you ever send me one of these things ever again, you will enter a world of pain” Yes, I know that I went a bit far, but that is how much I dislike chain mail. I clicked post, but it wasn’t showing up for an odd reason. Why is it not posting? So I went back and clicked the post link 3 more times. Now nothing is making any sense. I need to post this “skanky truck”! As I was trying for the 5th time to post my truck I received an instant message from my so called friend.
So called friend: I erased it
Me: what?
So called friend: your comments
Me: why?
So called friend: Why? b/c you called me a skank
Me: so
So called friend: I don’t like being called a skank
Me: I don’t like being called a “sexy truck” So?
So called friend: WE*
Me: haha but you are a skank!
So called friend: WE
I thought it was hilarious that my friend didn’t like receiving her chain mail letter back. So, instead I sent a bunch of fake chain mail letters with the truck but replacing sexy with stuff such as nerdy, ugly, and Mentos. Hopefully, I taught a lesson to my friend either don’t participate in chain mail letters or don’t mess with me.
* note: WE is an aim acronym standing for whatever
Thursday, January 22, 2009
High School Senior Creative Writing Project
The Art of Bench Warming (2006)
By Sanita Saengvilay
“This one is for all the marbles, “whispered my coach.
The gym is in a silent anticipation, well that, and girls’ volleyball doesn’t usually draw a crowd. The score is 24-23 and all we need is this serve to win it or lose it. But all the weight is not on my shoulders. I am the one on the sidelines. No, I am not one of those cheerleaders. I am the coveted bench warmer. My purpose is to cheer for my teammates and get them water occasionally. If one of them gets injured, I will be there to fill in the few seconds before we tragically win or lose the match. Unless I accidentally packed the wrong shoes and was unable to play which I did twice during the season.
So there I was yelling “WHOO! YOU GOT THIS! GO ELGIN MAROONS! EASTSIDE MAROON PRIDE! Uhhh...YEAH!” I have been doing this, cheering and warming the bench, since I was in the 7th grade. In fact, these cheers probably have lost all meaning and become robotic. My cheers have even been labeled as “Pidaisms”. “Pida”, my nickname, and “Pidaisms” is the art of rambling nonsensical cheers when on the bench. You’d be quite surprised at how many people commit “Pidaisms”. Its not that I am terrible at the sport because I am on the team, but it is just that there are more people that are better than me.
On the bench, I would usually strike up a casual conversation with my coach or another teammate. We would discuss what does the phrase “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” actually means. With sprinkled “Pidaisms” in between to keep up the motivation. During breaks of the games we’d discuss what our favorite Star Wars movies were and why. We’d play games and constantly quote movies we have seen. The bench was not a bad place to be.
But this last year, something was different. After the team huddle, closing with an “Eastside maroon pride!” I took my seat on the bench and watched my teammates. As I watched, I began to notice certain habits and patterns. I digested this information and used it to my advantage to perfect my game. I experienced an epiphany and finally understood the terms “stay on your toes”, “hustle”, and “cover”. So when my teammates weren’t playing up to par, I would be put in and know just what to do. I had to prove to myself, my coaches, and my teammates that I was more than a benchwarmer. The more I improved, the more playing time I got. Then soon enough, I was in the starting lineup and had my name butchered when announced.
All the pressure was on my shoulders now. Once again, the score was 24-23 and it was up to me to get this serve. I hear one of my teammates scream, “This is it Pida! It’s all up to you! Don’t miss your serve!” I make my serve, but my teammates are unable to return it and we eventually lose the match. While in other games, I hear my coaches rambling and committing “Pidaisms.”
“Good Job! Uhhh… Keep up the good work Pida…Go ELGIN!”
Then I hear the ramblings of my other teammates that have taken my coveted position of benchwarmer. “Whoo! GO ELGIN! EASTSIDE MAROON PRIDE! WHOO... ELGIN… WHAT!” They now will learn and see the job of a benchwarmer and the inevitability of rising to becoming the best player they can be. I have learned that the benchwarmer has a very important role on every team.
By Sanita Saengvilay
“This one is for all the marbles, “whispered my coach.
The gym is in a silent anticipation, well that, and girls’ volleyball doesn’t usually draw a crowd. The score is 24-23 and all we need is this serve to win it or lose it. But all the weight is not on my shoulders. I am the one on the sidelines. No, I am not one of those cheerleaders. I am the coveted bench warmer. My purpose is to cheer for my teammates and get them water occasionally. If one of them gets injured, I will be there to fill in the few seconds before we tragically win or lose the match. Unless I accidentally packed the wrong shoes and was unable to play which I did twice during the season.
So there I was yelling “WHOO! YOU GOT THIS! GO ELGIN MAROONS! EASTSIDE MAROON PRIDE! Uhhh...YEAH!” I have been doing this, cheering and warming the bench, since I was in the 7th grade. In fact, these cheers probably have lost all meaning and become robotic. My cheers have even been labeled as “Pidaisms”. “Pida”, my nickname, and “Pidaisms” is the art of rambling nonsensical cheers when on the bench. You’d be quite surprised at how many people commit “Pidaisms”. Its not that I am terrible at the sport because I am on the team, but it is just that there are more people that are better than me.
On the bench, I would usually strike up a casual conversation with my coach or another teammate. We would discuss what does the phrase “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” actually means. With sprinkled “Pidaisms” in between to keep up the motivation. During breaks of the games we’d discuss what our favorite Star Wars movies were and why. We’d play games and constantly quote movies we have seen. The bench was not a bad place to be.
But this last year, something was different. After the team huddle, closing with an “Eastside maroon pride!” I took my seat on the bench and watched my teammates. As I watched, I began to notice certain habits and patterns. I digested this information and used it to my advantage to perfect my game. I experienced an epiphany and finally understood the terms “stay on your toes”, “hustle”, and “cover”. So when my teammates weren’t playing up to par, I would be put in and know just what to do. I had to prove to myself, my coaches, and my teammates that I was more than a benchwarmer. The more I improved, the more playing time I got. Then soon enough, I was in the starting lineup and had my name butchered when announced.
All the pressure was on my shoulders now. Once again, the score was 24-23 and it was up to me to get this serve. I hear one of my teammates scream, “This is it Pida! It’s all up to you! Don’t miss your serve!” I make my serve, but my teammates are unable to return it and we eventually lose the match. While in other games, I hear my coaches rambling and committing “Pidaisms.”
“Good Job! Uhhh… Keep up the good work Pida…Go ELGIN!”
Then I hear the ramblings of my other teammates that have taken my coveted position of benchwarmer. “Whoo! GO ELGIN! EASTSIDE MAROON PRIDE! WHOO... ELGIN… WHAT!” They now will learn and see the job of a benchwarmer and the inevitability of rising to becoming the best player they can be. I have learned that the benchwarmer has a very important role on every team.
Well.
I said that I would give this thing up, but alas stressful times revert me back to old ways and procrastinating blogging is my fave. I'm going to be posting up my high school senior creative writing project in the next few weeks, but for now I'm posting this little write up that my friend Irene did about me for her project. I believe it is quite an accurate portrayal of me... well, when I was in high school.
You know those presentations the academies give trying to recruit middle schoolers? They work. Or at least in Sanita’s case. She says, “They sold it really well. I thought I’d apply. ‘Wow, that sounds really awesome. What am I going to lose? I’ll get denied. So what? I’ll cry. Whatever happens.’”
Mullets and pelvic thrusting turn her off, and smart people turn her on. She elaborates, “When they know their periodic elements, it blows my mind. Writers. I don’t know. Anything. I have low standards. I’m amazed by anything.”
She’s sometimes frustrated with how people perceive her. “People always think I’m joking and they never believe me. I’m like the kid that cries wolf. I think I’m going to die that way:
‘I think I have cancer.’
‘No, you don’t, Sanita.’
And then an hour later I’m on the floor. I wish people would take me seriously sometimes. But I guess it comes to my advantage sometimes.”
Never living in regret, Sanita dreams of being an inventor, a writer, a director, and a physical therapist. Sanita says, “I want to be all of those.” Hopefully she’ll take her own advice and seize the day.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Bottle Water
-You cannot understand my nonsensical banter
but it's worthwhile to listen to my chatter.
My verbal ramblings drips like a leaky faucet.
The edge of world or the edge of the map has a lost legend.
Is it a mistake to believe that stagnant water looks much safer in plastic?
Too natural and too natty for my taste.
but it's worthwhile to listen to my chatter.
My verbal ramblings drips like a leaky faucet.
The edge of world or the edge of the map has a lost legend.
Is it a mistake to believe that stagnant water looks much safer in plastic?
Too natural and too natty for my taste.
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