Penguin Problem

This is a memoir I wrote last summer at CTY...I took the "Crafting the Essay" course.

Penguin Problem

The Penguin Game was in third grade, when my friends would all pretend to be penguins. Named penguins. Blue Penguin, Awesome Penguin, Tiny Penguin. They’d all sit on top of the moon ladder, an orange-reddish ladder shaped like a semi-circle with a half-twist in it, or hang up-side down beneath it, or stand below it on the wood chips. One kid, Andrew, was the Naughty Cat, who would jump and try to catch my friends’ fingers or chase them up the moon ladder. Except me. I wasn’t involved.
I had been spending the past almost-week with some other friends. I suppose they didn’t want to interrupt our frolicking and therefore didn’t ask me to play. I was still hurt, though.

When I caught them playing it during recess one day, and asked to join, they couldn’t say no. We spent recess the next day picking out a penguin name for me. The process was long, tedious, and cumbersome. After sticking out my tongue to pretend to lick my friend’s arm (it was part of the game we played to try and find me a name), they thought of Tongue Penguin, but I quickly dismissed it. Too stupid. They suggested Smart Penguin, but I rejected that one too. Too conceited. What I really wanted was Pink Penguin, as it was my favorite color at that time. Unfortunately, Blue Penguin wanted all the colors to herself. We couldn’t think of anything else that would fit. We finally went inside for lunch, defeated by the arduous task. A whole recess period, wasted. At least that’s what we thought.

After they couldn’t think of a name for me, and I ultimately decided that I “didn’t want to play anyway,” I would spend recess with other friends. Sarika, Ashita…plenty of choices. We had fun too. We had the whole playground, not just the moon ladder the Penguin Game players were confined to (not by rule; by choice). Swinging on swings, having races, playing on the monkey bars. We sometimes played a game they made up, called the Burglar Game. One person was the burglar, another the victim, yet another the police officer, and the rest of us were citizens. After a somewhat complicated procedure, we’d all run after the burglar and try to catch her before she could cross from the soccer field to the playground area. One sunny day, when the burglar was Ashita, she got away. Every other time we would all fall down, laughing, into the daisies and dandelions. Whenever we got together, fun was guaranteed. All this, while my best friend and other friends were playing the Penguin Game.

I kept telling myself that the Penguin Game was stupid and pointless but I knew deep down inside that I was jealous of the kids who played it. My best friend was liked by a lot of people and back then I was jealous of anyone she played with, especially if she chose them over me.

Of course we made up―we always did. Especially when it wasn’t even a real problem we “fought” over. I just didn’t play the Penguin Game with them. I wanted to―oh, how I wanted to―but I didn’t.

Part of it was that I didn’t want to seem weak. I wanted to probe that I could survive without them. I could have always gone back and they would have let me rejoin. But my pride was too big. I wanted to be more independent. And it wasn’t too big of a deal…I only just thought of it every second of the day, that’s all. No biggie.

In fourth and fifth grade, we were more separated. In mostly different classes, it was harder to get together. The teachers were also stricter and it was more work than play, contrary to before. I learned to be more on my own and less dependent on my friends. In sixth grade, two of my friends and I were redistricted and therefore completely separated from the others, including my very best friend. Since we had gone to a different elementary school for Kindergarten and lived in different areas than the others, we had to go to Crossroads North Middle School rather than Crossroads South. I made tons of new friends; I daresay maybe more than the other two did. However, a part of me still didn’t want to let go of them.

My independence grew even more in Seventh Grade. I started to learn what it really meant to be alone. In entirely different units and halls, the three of us barely saw each other, save for orchestra. I soon made even more new friends, or strengthened bonds. I even found a long-lost friend from Kindergarten whom had stayed in Monmouth Junction Elementary School while I was redistricted to Indian Fields Elementary School. Opposed to the later years of Elementary school, when I played with my friends once or twice a week, I barely hung out with them anymore.

The two friends who were redistricted along with me live right across the street from each other and were always closer to each other than anyone else. Although we all live in the same neighborhood, and were supposedly “best friends,” they began doing things together and leaving me out, like growing strawberry plants. I gradually grew away from them and learned to cope wholly on my own. I realized that recess period back in third grade wasn’t wasted after all. But nothing could prepare me for the decision I had to make for over the summer.

Both one of my friends and I signed up for CTY camp. I could have easily signed up for the same course as her, so I wouldn’t be alone, but I didn’t. I didn’t want her to think I needed her. We’re in completely different courses and sites, she in Franklin and Marshall College and I in Dickinson College. I didn’t take the easy path; I turned my back and began up the steep rocky mountain face. Here I am and here I stay, in Dickinson, with lots of new friends and having fun. The Penguin Game spurred a revolution, one that won me both independence and the freedom to do what I want, without the influence of my friends. Thank you, Penguin Game!

By the way, I exaggerated a lot of stuff so I would get a good grade on it :).

Why Twilight Sucks.

LOL. That's all I have to say.
http://bookstove.com/fantasy/why-i-hate-twilight/
Btw, I'm not hating on the twilight series. I just thought that this was funny. Because i don't like Edward. Or Bella. Number 65 is my favorite.

Top Ten Things a Crazed Harry Potter Fan Should Do

10. Take the quizzes online to find out what house you’d be in.

9. Run to the mailbox every day until you’re twelve, hoping to get a letter telling you that you’ve been accepted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

8. If you never received a letter, try and put yourself in slightly death-threatening situations to see if your magic will kick in.

7. Buy robes and wear them all the time. Buy a quill pen and start using that for your homework assignments and any other time you write.

6. Start referring to Lord Voldemort as “You-Know-Who” or “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”.

5. Talk in a British accent all the time.

4. Find objects that are similar to the Hallows. Or make replicas.

3. Attempt to make wands with various materials found outdoors.

2. Try all the spells in the books with your “wand”. After, of course, attempting to list all of them by memory.

1. Go to London and try and get through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, then scream with frustration when it doesn’t work.

Extra (# 11): Tell Twilight fans that Harry Potter is so much better and that Twilight is a bunch of rubbish. Werewolves can only be created when bitten by a werewolf, not through genetics! Then they'd just become irritable around full moon, and like their meat slightly undercooked. Also, vampires aren't sparkly.

Quill Pen

Yours truly is going to attempt to create a quill pen and ink this summer. Wish me luck, because I'm going to need it. And because I'm going to fail, I'm going to just buy one. From Barnes&Noble or something.