http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CLO7Beb9rsw
Group Members: Vanessa Guan, Nicolas Ivanov, Rando Gonzales, Wilfred Tam, Maranda Wilson
Group Members: Vanessa Guan, Nicolas Ivanov, Rando Gonzales, Wilfred Tam, Maranda Wilson
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Macbeth Movie Trailer!
We modernized Macbeth into a 1960's/ American Government/ John F. Kennedy inspired plot. Enjoy!
Friday, May 13, 2011
If Lady Macbeth was the one to murder Duncan...
Her skinny lips
Shall never tremble or be alive again
False face must hide the mortal thoughts like the innocent flower.
Infected be the air whereon they ride
And damn'd all those that trust them!
Shall never tremble or be alive again
False face must hide the mortal thoughts like the innocent flower.
Be the serpent
Plague the inventor
Spite the world
Perform what you command
Daggers ready.
Infected be the air whereon they ride
And damn'd all those that trust them!
Which in his death were perfect
The courage of my violent love.
We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it?
Didst thou not hear a noise?
Help me hence, ho!
His bloody stage, this bloody deed
So foul and fair
This even handed justice
Summons thee to heaven, or to hell.
This is a sorry sight.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Monologue
Mgbafo (The beaten wife)
I don't know why he does it. I know I am an unworthy wife. I should just get used to it, I mean it's been going on since the day we got married. I've tried, I really have, but I've suffered for the last nine years. I don't know how much more I can take. I begged and pleaded, even trying to appeal to his sense of compassion and love which apparently doesn't exist anymore. He has fooled me brother. At sixteen, he sought me. His words were soft, his touch even softer. Now his voice is just merely an echo in my memories, and his touch is filled with hate. Remember when he appeared that day with a bountiful supply of yams? Father ensured me he would provide me with a good life with strong and healthy children. I would have never imagined father lying to me. Everyday I fight for my life, even my unborn child had to fight. But one touch, and my child's battle was lost. I want to run and disappear past the village, but I can't take away his two children, or "property", as he views them. What am I saying? My words are crazy. Maybe he will stop? I can't leave, it will cause too much trouble. I'm being selfish. I know plenty of other wives who have gone through what I have. I don't believe you when you say my beatings are the worst in all of Umuofia. He can beat me once or twenty times, more and I won't feel anything. This is my life now. I'm fine, I really am... but keep this a secret between you and I my brother.
I don't know why he does it. I know I am an unworthy wife. I should just get used to it, I mean it's been going on since the day we got married. I've tried, I really have, but I've suffered for the last nine years. I don't know how much more I can take. I begged and pleaded, even trying to appeal to his sense of compassion and love which apparently doesn't exist anymore. He has fooled me brother. At sixteen, he sought me. His words were soft, his touch even softer. Now his voice is just merely an echo in my memories, and his touch is filled with hate. Remember when he appeared that day with a bountiful supply of yams? Father ensured me he would provide me with a good life with strong and healthy children. I would have never imagined father lying to me. Everyday I fight for my life, even my unborn child had to fight. But one touch, and my child's battle was lost. I want to run and disappear past the village, but I can't take away his two children, or "property", as he views them. What am I saying? My words are crazy. Maybe he will stop? I can't leave, it will cause too much trouble. I'm being selfish. I know plenty of other wives who have gone through what I have. I don't believe you when you say my beatings are the worst in all of Umuofia. He can beat me once or twenty times, more and I won't feel anything. This is my life now. I'm fine, I really am... but keep this a secret between you and I my brother.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Superman>Okonkwo
After getting back and looking over my essay on whether Okonkwo is a hero, I realized my opinion hasn't changed at all. Finishing the novel just gives me more evidence to support why I feel he is not a hero. Just for fun, I searched the definition of a hero and all the results were similar to the definition below:
A person of distinguished courage or ability, admired for brave deeds and noble qualities.
Even though Okonkwo does possess some of the qualities listed above, he uses tactics such as fear and violence in exchange for respect and power. A real hero would not demand and crave power like Okonkwo does, but instead earns it. Since Okonkwo was young, he fears becoming a failure like his father. To prevent this from happening, Okonkwo strives to be the best and control those below him. His wives are perfect examples of this because he beats them when they don't do as he pleases and they live in constant fear. Heroes should not strike fear to those who look up to them.
Courage is another trait I feel Okonkwo lacks. When the Christians started to push into the lives of the people of Umuofia, Okonkwo expresses many of the opinions others share with him, however, he never steps up and does anything about it. Even when he did decide to step up, he resorts to the only thing he knows which unfortunately is violence. I'm sure we were all told as children that violence does not solve anything. Okonkwo clearly never learned that. Slicing off a missionary's head, running away from the crime, and then taking the easy way out by killing yourself instead of dealing with the problem, does not make one heroic at all. I think it makes Okonkwo rather cowardly and selfish. He has only made the situation worse for those in his village and by killing himself, he runs away from the consequences... something a real hero would never do.
A person of distinguished courage or ability, admired for brave deeds and noble qualities.
Even though Okonkwo does possess some of the qualities listed above, he uses tactics such as fear and violence in exchange for respect and power. A real hero would not demand and crave power like Okonkwo does, but instead earns it. Since Okonkwo was young, he fears becoming a failure like his father. To prevent this from happening, Okonkwo strives to be the best and control those below him. His wives are perfect examples of this because he beats them when they don't do as he pleases and they live in constant fear. Heroes should not strike fear to those who look up to them.
Courage is another trait I feel Okonkwo lacks. When the Christians started to push into the lives of the people of Umuofia, Okonkwo expresses many of the opinions others share with him, however, he never steps up and does anything about it. Even when he did decide to step up, he resorts to the only thing he knows which unfortunately is violence. I'm sure we were all told as children that violence does not solve anything. Okonkwo clearly never learned that. Slicing off a missionary's head, running away from the crime, and then taking the easy way out by killing yourself instead of dealing with the problem, does not make one heroic at all. I think it makes Okonkwo rather cowardly and selfish. He has only made the situation worse for those in his village and by killing himself, he runs away from the consequences... something a real hero would never do.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Does Love Always Conquer All?
In Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, we watch the protagonist as she grows past her difficult childhood and into an independent young woman. Upon finishing her schooling at the very strict and proper Lowood school, she decides to accept a teaching position at the very school she spent eight years in. At first she is comfortable in her settings, however, she changes and starts to despise the very walls which has kept her confined from the outside world for all of her life. Being a strong minded and curious individual, Jane sets out to Thornfield for a new position as the governess for a young French child by the name of Adele. She is content her new life, until she meets the peculiar but alluring master of the house, Mr. Rochester. They enjoy each other's company and grow quite close, however, strange occurrences in the house and a dying aunt in need, forces Jane to return to her childhood home.
Though I am only beginning to see the main conflict and have yet to finish reading it completely, it is clear that Jane's main conflict is love. Her heart desires Mr. Rochester but her mind tells her otherwise. With the recently discovered, but previously unknown engagement of Mr. Rochester, Jane feels betrayed and attempts moving on. Jane faces a conflict within herself and the choices she needs to make.
I don't feel the need to give any specific examples due to the fact love is so cliched and examples of "the heart vs. the mind" can be found everywhere. Movies, books, and just people's lives are often built around this idea of following your heart or doing what is right. Endings follow a similar trend, with most solutions being to follow how you feel.
But, will love really conquer all at the end of this novel? I guess I will need to keep reading to find out!
Though I am only beginning to see the main conflict and have yet to finish reading it completely, it is clear that Jane's main conflict is love. Her heart desires Mr. Rochester but her mind tells her otherwise. With the recently discovered, but previously unknown engagement of Mr. Rochester, Jane feels betrayed and attempts moving on. Jane faces a conflict within herself and the choices she needs to make.
I don't feel the need to give any specific examples due to the fact love is so cliched and examples of "the heart vs. the mind" can be found everywhere. Movies, books, and just people's lives are often built around this idea of following your heart or doing what is right. Endings follow a similar trend, with most solutions being to follow how you feel.
But, will love really conquer all at the end of this novel? I guess I will need to keep reading to find out!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Don't mess with those who are friends with the President..
The dictionary definition of post-colonialism is "a set of theories or ideas found in philosophy, film, political sciences, and literature that deal with the cultural legacy of colonial rule".
However, post-colonialism is not limited only to the areas stated in the dictionary definition above. Post-colonialism can also be a belief, both consciously and subconsciously, amongst a person or even a view shared by society as a whole.
An example of post-colonialism can be found in an article from The Guardian UK. In the article, it describes a situation between the Cambridge police and a prominent Harvard Black History professor by the name of Henry Louis Gates Jr. After returning home from his trip to China to record his latest documentary, Gates came home to find his door tampered with. Having difficulty opening his door, he entered his home through the backdoor. Once inside, Gates and his taxi driver (also African American) attempted to repair the damaged front door. It was then a bystander (a Caucasian woman) witnessed the two men banging the door in an attempt to repair it. Yet, the woman did not see things the way they were. She immediately called the police who quickly, and without any questions, arrested Gates who made every effort to prove to the police this was in fact his home. News spread quickly to Gate's friends; which included icons such as Oprah Winfrey and Barack Obama, sparking a media uproar. Charges were eventually dropped and Gates was released.
This relates to the idea of "Black is bad, and White is good". Though the bystander's intentions were meant for good, subconsciously this idea made her feel alarmed. Even the police had the same view, despite Gate's pleas. Ironically, despite Gates being one of the most respected scholars of African-American history, he had been subjected to the very treatment that he had been researching over the years. This goes to show that, sadly, who you are as a person or your contributions to society can easily be overlooked because of race.
Full Article:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jul/21/henry-louis-gates-jr-arrest-harvard
However, post-colonialism is not limited only to the areas stated in the dictionary definition above. Post-colonialism can also be a belief, both consciously and subconsciously, amongst a person or even a view shared by society as a whole.
An example of post-colonialism can be found in an article from The Guardian UK. In the article, it describes a situation between the Cambridge police and a prominent Harvard Black History professor by the name of Henry Louis Gates Jr. After returning home from his trip to China to record his latest documentary, Gates came home to find his door tampered with. Having difficulty opening his door, he entered his home through the backdoor. Once inside, Gates and his taxi driver (also African American) attempted to repair the damaged front door. It was then a bystander (a Caucasian woman) witnessed the two men banging the door in an attempt to repair it. Yet, the woman did not see things the way they were. She immediately called the police who quickly, and without any questions, arrested Gates who made every effort to prove to the police this was in fact his home. News spread quickly to Gate's friends; which included icons such as Oprah Winfrey and Barack Obama, sparking a media uproar. Charges were eventually dropped and Gates was released.
This relates to the idea of "Black is bad, and White is good". Though the bystander's intentions were meant for good, subconsciously this idea made her feel alarmed. Even the police had the same view, despite Gate's pleas. Ironically, despite Gates being one of the most respected scholars of African-American history, he had been subjected to the very treatment that he had been researching over the years. This goes to show that, sadly, who you are as a person or your contributions to society can easily be overlooked because of race.
Full Article:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jul/21/henry-louis-gates-jr-arrest-harvard
Thursday, March 10, 2011
How to Make a Sandwich
In honour of International Women's Week, here's a step by step guide on how to make the perfect sandwich. Women can skip ahead because sandwich making is a skill they are all naturally born with.
Step One:
Gather Ingredients.
You will need: Bread, Ham, Cheese, Lettuce, Mayonnaise, Tomatoes, Mustard, and Butter. However, these are only suggestions. Sandwiches are like socks because you mix and match them and easily change it up.
Step 2:
Butter.
Slather on a generous amount of butter on two slices of bread. The more butter the better. Paula Deen would approve.
Step 3:
Condiments.
Spread the mayonnaise and mustard on either or both slices of bread.
Did you know in a recent poll of American teens, only 40% liked mustard in their sandwiches? It's a shame American teens are so accustomed to the garbage served in fast food joints that their palettes are unable to appreciate different flavours.
Step 4:
Preparing the Fixings.
Chop the lettuce and tomatoes with a sharp knife. Be careful not to cut yourself because if you do, you may accidentally cut your finger off. If you cut your finger off, you will proceed to bleed all over the counter and of course onto your sandwich. You will then run out of the kitchen screaming in pain and be rushed to the emergency room. An oblivious sibling will then walk into the empty kitchen and see your incomplete sandwich. They would then mistaken your blood for ketchup and finish making the sandwich. When finished, they will happily eat the sandwich and unknowingly die slowly from blood poisoning. Everything will be your fault. So take caution.
Step 5:
Assembling.
Personally, I like to arrange my fixings in the order of the colours of the rainbow. Old folks like my Grandmother, like to layer the vegetables throughout the sandwich. However, the elderly are outdated and their sandwich making methods, along with their sweaters, are from the Sixties. We are now in the 21st century; an era of the double rainbow and hoodies. Follow my method; you don't want to be like my grandmother do you?
Step 6:
Eat!
Place your finished sandwich on a plate, cut it diagonally, and pour yourself a nice cold beverage. I like orange juice because it's my favourite.
Kick back and enjoy your sandwich!
Step One:
Gather Ingredients.
You will need: Bread, Ham, Cheese, Lettuce, Mayonnaise, Tomatoes, Mustard, and Butter. However, these are only suggestions. Sandwiches are like socks because you mix and match them and easily change it up.
Step 2:
Butter.
Slather on a generous amount of butter on two slices of bread. The more butter the better. Paula Deen would approve.
Step 3:
Condiments.
Spread the mayonnaise and mustard on either or both slices of bread.
Did you know in a recent poll of American teens, only 40% liked mustard in their sandwiches? It's a shame American teens are so accustomed to the garbage served in fast food joints that their palettes are unable to appreciate different flavours.
Step 4:
Preparing the Fixings.
Chop the lettuce and tomatoes with a sharp knife. Be careful not to cut yourself because if you do, you may accidentally cut your finger off. If you cut your finger off, you will proceed to bleed all over the counter and of course onto your sandwich. You will then run out of the kitchen screaming in pain and be rushed to the emergency room. An oblivious sibling will then walk into the empty kitchen and see your incomplete sandwich. They would then mistaken your blood for ketchup and finish making the sandwich. When finished, they will happily eat the sandwich and unknowingly die slowly from blood poisoning. Everything will be your fault. So take caution.
Step 5:
Assembling.
Personally, I like to arrange my fixings in the order of the colours of the rainbow. Old folks like my Grandmother, like to layer the vegetables throughout the sandwich. However, the elderly are outdated and their sandwich making methods, along with their sweaters, are from the Sixties. We are now in the 21st century; an era of the double rainbow and hoodies. Follow my method; you don't want to be like my grandmother do you?
Step 6:
Eat!
Place your finished sandwich on a plate, cut it diagonally, and pour yourself a nice cold beverage. I like orange juice because it's my favourite.
Kick back and enjoy your sandwich!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Jane Eyre vs Harry Potter
In the novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, we are taken through the life of the young protagonist, as well as narrator, Jane Eyre. To help my classmates gain a better understand as well as make this blog post more interesting, I will compare Jane Eyre to Harry Potter; a character I am sure many of you are quite familiar with. Since the beginning of the novel, I have found both these two characters share many of the same struggles during their childhoods. Jane Eyre lost both her parents to typhus and was sent to live with her uncle. Harry Potter also lost his parents and was sent to live with his aunt, however, I wouldn't consider his parents deaths as...natural. Yet, only a few years later did Jane's uncle pass away and her aunt, Sarah Reed, was bound to a promise to treat Jane as one of her own children. However, Ms. Reed only kept half of her promise. She continued to care for Jane, although she greatly despised her and kept her mainly in isolation. Harry Potter had the same dilemma because he was also treated quite poorly and was shunned from his aunt's family, who was also obligated to be his guardian. Their own cousins, Dudley from Harry Potter and John from Jane Eyre, take advantage of the fact they are outsiders to the family, and often cause trouble knowing they will always be taken as innocent. Both Harry and Jane display a strong sense of right and wrong; clearly knowing they're being treated unfairly. Efforts have been made to protest their treatments, however it always leads to punishment. Jane was locked up in the very much avoided "red room", because it was basically the death bed of her uncle, while Harry was locked up in a cupboard under the stairs. Leading very quiet and contained lives, they both bury themselves in books. Both protagonists are faced with a man vs. man conflict; their own family being the opposing force which stops them from achieving the escape and acceptance they both silently earn for. That is until one day a character appears in both novels and pulls the protagonists out from their suffering. In Harry Potter, Hagrid reveals to Harry that he is a wizard and he belongs at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, in Jane Eyre, Mr. Brocklehurst appears and suggests that Jane goes to boarding school. In Jane Eyre however, Ms. Reed makes it clear to Mr. Brocklehurst that Jane is a delinquent (in her eyes). Harry Potter in that sense is the opposite due to the fact Hagrid used his magic to turn Dudley into a pig, which was shocking enough to leave his parent's speechless. Both initially hesitant, eventually they see it as their chance at a better life away from their unloving homes. Personally, I believe Jane is a hard character to relate to. Her life is filled with misfortune and struggles, while on the other hand my life, as well as many others, is the opposite. I understand not everybody comes from a loving home, however, Jane Eyre's situation is an example of an extreme case. Thus, I believe she is not a very plausible character in this day and age and in the society I live in.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A Valentine's Day Haiku
This is a multi stanza haiku about my Valentine.
I know it is extremely random, but haikus never make sense anyways.
Enjoy!
It's Valentine's Day
Yet, I doubt you remembered
But I forgive you.
No bouquet I bet
Not even one lone flower
But I forgive you.
I don't expect much
Stay with me for an hour?
Let's walk; you like that
Can you stay by me?
Please don't run ahead today
Since it's Valentine's
After you may nap
On my bed? You're typical
But I forgive you.
Can I watch you sleep
And twirl your blonde, curly hair?
I hope you don't care
As you slowly wake
Your round eyes will look at me
Lovely expression.
Wet kisses. Yucky
I know you really love me
But face I still wipe
You are awake now
Recharged and ready to go
Now you will leave me
That is expected
That is what you always do
Stop stealing my shoes
No goodbye from you
Hey, my shoes are still missing
Out the door you go
Sad. Wait, not really.
That is what you always do
But I forgive you.
You come running back
Hooray, you bring in my shoes
Leaping in my arms
Though my shoes are wrecked
Thirty seconds we embrace
I guess it is true...
When the people say
A dog is a man's best friend
I love you Clifford...
But please stop stealing my shoes.
I know it is extremely random, but haikus never make sense anyways.
Enjoy!
It's Valentine's Day
Yet, I doubt you remembered
But I forgive you.
No bouquet I bet
Not even one lone flower
But I forgive you.
I don't expect much
Stay with me for an hour?
Let's walk; you like that
Can you stay by me?
Please don't run ahead today
Since it's Valentine's
After you may nap
On my bed? You're typical
But I forgive you.
Can I watch you sleep
And twirl your blonde, curly hair?
I hope you don't care
As you slowly wake
Your round eyes will look at me
Lovely expression.
Wet kisses. Yucky
I know you really love me
But face I still wipe
You are awake now
Recharged and ready to go
Now you will leave me
That is expected
That is what you always do
Stop stealing my shoes
No goodbye from you
Hey, my shoes are still missing
Out the door you go
Sad. Wait, not really.
That is what you always do
But I forgive you.
You come running back
Hooray, you bring in my shoes
Leaping in my arms
Though my shoes are wrecked
Thirty seconds we embrace
I guess it is true...
When the people say
A dog is a man's best friend
I love you Clifford...
But please stop stealing my shoes.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Mean Girls ©
High school; a place where it matters who your friends are. A place where the bigger your group of friends, the more accepted you feel amongst your peers. I used to think this way, and falsely believed being a part of a large group gave me confidence. Nothing could possibly go wrong because I had my "true friends" by my side. Occasionally, warning signs would appear telling me to step back and think about whether or not my relationship with the girls was healthy and worth keeping, but those thoughts were always brushed aside. We had fun and I needed them, that was until I realized I needed to learn to let go. Sometimes in life, the greatest challenge we face are with ourselves.
The beginning. Everything in life always seems so simple and carefree in the beginning. Forming friendships between the girls seemed effortless. My phone inbox always buzzed with a new text message and my weekends were successively booked; I felt accepted. There was never a worry during the breaks or lunchtime, because I knew exactly where to go. I had my spot and upon arrival, there would always be gossip flying across the table and warm, welcoming greetings from the girls. This was an usual day for me, actually, more like a good day. Times were not always so ideal. Other times, cold stares would flash from their lacquered eyelashes as I unsurely shuffled over. Whispers softly circled as I slowly and cautiously tried to squeeze myself a spot onto to the already crowded bench. No one smiled and nobody dared to make eye contact. The thought of rejection filled my head more than the curiosity of knowing what I had done to make them react so insolently. Yet, things were always better by the end of the day and I brushed off their actions. It's normal; I knew petty fights between girls were inevitable. Frankly, I wasn't exactly innocent myself when it came to the past "victims". After all, they were my true friends... right?
I woke up to my phone buzzing by my bedside. "Time to party birthday girl!" my friend squealed. It was finally the day of my sweet sixteenth and all the girls were invited. After weeks of preparations, everything was ready and set to go. The party was held at my father's new condominium downtown and all the girls assured me I picked a worthy location. However, there was only one problem; My friends were party girls. My father was quick to set the ground rules, but my friends thought of it as more of a gentle suggestion. Originally, the plan was to swim but the girls all whined and groaned about the dilemma of wet hair. One by one they slowly tip toed into the hot tub, making sure absolutely no water were to touch any area above their shoulders. They hastily secured their hair into neat buns on the tops of their heads as they grimaced at the boys who proceeded to cannonball into the pool. "Chicken fight!" the boys exclaimed as they yanked on my arm, throwing my body in with a splash. Looking back over at the girls, it was evident they were not very amused. "We'll start preparing some food upstairs" suggested one of the girls, and with that they disappeared.
I thought little of it until my best friend went upstairs for a towel, only to come back down confused. "Where did everybody go; the room was empty" she said with a questioning look. Hopping out of the pool, I went to go investigate. She was right. The room was left in a state of disaster, filthy and reeking of a pungent odour. Food was missing from the fridge, half empty drinks sat opened on the counter, and my friend's were clearly nowhere in sight. Did my "true friends" really just leave my birthday party only after an hour? Feeling hurt and lost, the emotions I felt started to overwhelm me as I barely held in the tears. Warm, reassuring hugs came from the remaining guests which consisted of four boys and my best friend. I started to blame myself. Maybe my party wasn't cool enough? Why didn't I follow them upstairs? In a failed attempt to isolate myself, I rudely left my guests. They however, continued to follow me and stayed by my side. "You don't need friends like that when you have us!" They said as I was sucked into a suffocating bear hug.
Though it took time, I slowly realized who my true friends really were. They were not the girls I originally thought, but instead the ones who stuck by me, and even still do today. They were the ones who helped me realize I needed to learn to be happy without them. Even though it was extremely painful losing them, I believe my birthday was an eye opening life lesson. Without this conflict, I would most likely still be a part of the clique of girls who, sadly, would pick a good time over their friends. Although I have since cut all ties between the girls, hearing about all that is said behind my back is never an easy thing to accept. Yet, I have learned and overcame one of the biggest obstacles of all; not with the girls but with myself.
The beginning. Everything in life always seems so simple and carefree in the beginning. Forming friendships between the girls seemed effortless. My phone inbox always buzzed with a new text message and my weekends were successively booked; I felt accepted. There was never a worry during the breaks or lunchtime, because I knew exactly where to go. I had my spot and upon arrival, there would always be gossip flying across the table and warm, welcoming greetings from the girls. This was an usual day for me, actually, more like a good day. Times were not always so ideal. Other times, cold stares would flash from their lacquered eyelashes as I unsurely shuffled over. Whispers softly circled as I slowly and cautiously tried to squeeze myself a spot onto to the already crowded bench. No one smiled and nobody dared to make eye contact. The thought of rejection filled my head more than the curiosity of knowing what I had done to make them react so insolently. Yet, things were always better by the end of the day and I brushed off their actions. It's normal; I knew petty fights between girls were inevitable. Frankly, I wasn't exactly innocent myself when it came to the past "victims". After all, they were my true friends... right?
I woke up to my phone buzzing by my bedside. "Time to party birthday girl!" my friend squealed. It was finally the day of my sweet sixteenth and all the girls were invited. After weeks of preparations, everything was ready and set to go. The party was held at my father's new condominium downtown and all the girls assured me I picked a worthy location. However, there was only one problem; My friends were party girls. My father was quick to set the ground rules, but my friends thought of it as more of a gentle suggestion. Originally, the plan was to swim but the girls all whined and groaned about the dilemma of wet hair. One by one they slowly tip toed into the hot tub, making sure absolutely no water were to touch any area above their shoulders. They hastily secured their hair into neat buns on the tops of their heads as they grimaced at the boys who proceeded to cannonball into the pool. "Chicken fight!" the boys exclaimed as they yanked on my arm, throwing my body in with a splash. Looking back over at the girls, it was evident they were not very amused. "We'll start preparing some food upstairs" suggested one of the girls, and with that they disappeared.
I thought little of it until my best friend went upstairs for a towel, only to come back down confused. "Where did everybody go; the room was empty" she said with a questioning look. Hopping out of the pool, I went to go investigate. She was right. The room was left in a state of disaster, filthy and reeking of a pungent odour. Food was missing from the fridge, half empty drinks sat opened on the counter, and my friend's were clearly nowhere in sight. Did my "true friends" really just leave my birthday party only after an hour? Feeling hurt and lost, the emotions I felt started to overwhelm me as I barely held in the tears. Warm, reassuring hugs came from the remaining guests which consisted of four boys and my best friend. I started to blame myself. Maybe my party wasn't cool enough? Why didn't I follow them upstairs? In a failed attempt to isolate myself, I rudely left my guests. They however, continued to follow me and stayed by my side. "You don't need friends like that when you have us!" They said as I was sucked into a suffocating bear hug.
Though it took time, I slowly realized who my true friends really were. They were not the girls I originally thought, but instead the ones who stuck by me, and even still do today. They were the ones who helped me realize I needed to learn to be happy without them. Even though it was extremely painful losing them, I believe my birthday was an eye opening life lesson. Without this conflict, I would most likely still be a part of the clique of girls who, sadly, would pick a good time over their friends. Although I have since cut all ties between the girls, hearing about all that is said behind my back is never an easy thing to accept. Yet, I have learned and overcame one of the biggest obstacles of all; not with the girls but with myself.
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