Step-by-step instructions on how to brush your teeth.
1. Find toothpaste and toothbrush.
2. Hold toothbrush horizontally with left hand with the bristles up.
3. Hold the toothpaste vertically with your right hand. Have opening about 1/4 of an inch above the bristles.
4. Push around the middle until you have about a centimeter of toothpaste on top of the toothbrush's bristles.
5. Put the toothbrush in your mouth.
6. Rub the right half of your teeth getting the front, back, and top of both your bottom and your top teeth. Go from the back of your mouth to the middle.
7. When you get to the middle switch the left hand to the right hand and do #6 on the left hand to the right hand and do #6 on the left half.
8. Repeat steps #6-7 until two minutes are up.
9. Remove the toothbrush.
10. Turn on water and run your toothbrush under it.
11. Wipe off your mouth with a towel.
12. Put toothbrush and toothpaste away.
Apr 26, 2010
The Strange Kids
Gee. I skipped a lot of important words in this story. I'll just have to guess.
The red, cold apple landed softly on the others as I reached for another one. Something caught my eye as a passing cart went by. In the back there was two girls, one was wearing a green dress and had curly brown hair, the other had a lavender dress and straight pale blond hair. They were accompanied by a boy who had brown hair and was wearing a green shirt. In the front was a boy with the same color of the hair as the girl with the lavender dress, who was driving the cart. They couldn't be older then 14, yet they rode all alone. The brunette girl was holding something that she put down and grabbed a green bag instead. They stopped the cart and the blond boy joined them in the back and grabbed the green bag. The girls leaned forward and back covering their mouths. I couldn't tell what they were doing but it looked like they were smiling. The blond girl seemed to be mouthing the words, "What are we going to do with you, Pete?" I didn't know for sure because I couldn't hear them. The kid named Pete opened his mouth showing them what ever he was eating. I felt my nose fold up at the top. The girls weren't covering their mouth any more, and I realized they were laughing. Pete handed the brunette boy the bag, who pulled out a loaf of bread. He handed it to the girls who pulled out some bread too.
The red, cold apple landed softly on the others as I reached for another one. Something caught my eye as a passing cart went by. In the back there was two girls, one was wearing a green dress and had curly brown hair, the other had a lavender dress and straight pale blond hair. They were accompanied by a boy who had brown hair and was wearing a green shirt. In the front was a boy with the same color of the hair as the girl with the lavender dress, who was driving the cart. They couldn't be older then 14, yet they rode all alone. The brunette girl was holding something that she put down and grabbed a green bag instead. They stopped the cart and the blond boy joined them in the back and grabbed the green bag. The girls leaned forward and back covering their mouths. I couldn't tell what they were doing but it looked like they were smiling. The blond girl seemed to be mouthing the words, "What are we going to do with you, Pete?" I didn't know for sure because I couldn't hear them. The kid named Pete opened his mouth showing them what ever he was eating. I felt my nose fold up at the top. The girls weren't covering their mouth any more, and I realized they were laughing. Pete handed the brunette boy the bag, who pulled out a loaf of bread. He handed it to the girls who pulled out some bread too.
Another Place, Another Time
"If there was an answer he find it there."
The Harlins took the orphan boy on the cart. The train tracks spread across the deep blue waves creating a bridge. There was nothing to see for miles, except crystal water calmly playing against the tracks. The Harlin parents were driving the cart, their little boy stood by the orphan, "Why do you want to go to Sandandy?" he asked knowing the odd orphan boy wouldn't talk to him. He didn't. But he silently answered to himself,
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"If there was an answer he would find it there."
The Harlins took the orphan boy on the cart. The train tracks spread across the deep blue waves creating a bridge. There was nothing to see for miles, except crystal water calmly playing against the tracks. The Harlin parents were driving the cart, their little boy stood by the orphan, "Why do you want to go to Sandandy?" he asked knowing the odd orphan boy wouldn't talk to him. He didn't. But he silently answered to himself,
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"If there was an answer he would find it there."
Apr 25, 2010
Show Not Tell
We were learning about show not tell and I decided to make it into a game show. I'm sure Wales Cardiff has some story behind it . . .
Game Show Host: Welcome to Show-not-Tell. You've heard of show-and-tell but this is Show-not-Tell. I'm your host, Wales Cardiff. Now let's play Show-not-Tell. But first let's meet the contestants: Emily, drama teacher from LA; Eric, small time engineer from New Jersey; and last but not least, Amy, stay-at-home mom from Virginia. Welcome, guys, are you ready to play Show-not-Tell? Okay, let's play. Your first sentence is "I know this isn't a good idea." You have thirty seconds to write a sentence.
(Contestants scribble down answers.)
Wales: Okay, let's see what you wrote. Emily?
Emily: My head screams at me as I take a step forward, "What in the world do you think you're doing!"
Wales: Good job. Eric?
Eric: My hand glides over the cold, silver banister as my conscience begs me to not do this.
Wales: Fabulous. Amy?
Amy: Incomplete.
Wales: Oh. Too bad. Judges?
(Eric's buzzer lights up.)
Wales: Looks like Eric is the winner of this round. Wow! Let's take a quick commercial break.
Game Show Host: Welcome to Show-not-Tell. You've heard of show-and-tell but this is Show-not-Tell. I'm your host, Wales Cardiff. Now let's play Show-not-Tell. But first let's meet the contestants: Emily, drama teacher from LA; Eric, small time engineer from New Jersey; and last but not least, Amy, stay-at-home mom from Virginia. Welcome, guys, are you ready to play Show-not-Tell? Okay, let's play. Your first sentence is "I know this isn't a good idea." You have thirty seconds to write a sentence.
(Contestants scribble down answers.)
Wales: Okay, let's see what you wrote. Emily?
Emily: My head screams at me as I take a step forward, "What in the world do you think you're doing!"
Wales: Good job. Eric?
Eric: My hand glides over the cold, silver banister as my conscience begs me to not do this.
Wales: Fabulous. Amy?
Amy: Incomplete.
Wales: Oh. Too bad. Judges?
(Eric's buzzer lights up.)
Wales: Looks like Eric is the winner of this round. Wow! Let's take a quick commercial break.
Vikings!
This is the first one were I ended in the middle of a sentence.
I walked through the halls voices bubbling in my ears. My shoes not making a sound as they hit the white tiled floor. I hold my binder close to me as I travel through a wave of people. On my left and on my right, signs cover the hallways. Lockers are covered with signs representing teams. There are signs representing socials you can go to. There are quotes, who's purpose is to promote respect and good values. The signs want me to show spirit to the Vikings, and I do. I walk up the stairs, boys and girls all heading in the direction making two-way traffic. I step the royal blue tile remembering what it represents. I stare
I walked through the halls voices bubbling in my ears. My shoes not making a sound as they hit the white tiled floor. I hold my binder close to me as I travel through a wave of people. On my left and on my right, signs cover the hallways. Lockers are covered with signs representing teams. There are signs representing socials you can go to. There are quotes, who's purpose is to promote respect and good values. The signs want me to show spirit to the Vikings, and I do. I walk up the stairs, boys and girls all heading in the direction making two-way traffic. I step the royal blue tile remembering what it represents. I stare
Captain Tory
I decided to skip "Goal Timeline" because it's just a dumb time line.
"He swung his lantern three times and the scooner appeared."
Captain Tory held the hand of the small boy. "Don't worry, the scooner will come back for you," he assured. He swung his lantern three times and the scooner slowly appeared.
"What is it Cap'en?" a man said coming out, "I don't have all day, you know, I have to get the passengers across. What's the emergency?"
"This boy was supposed to get on your boat," Captain Tory said holding up the boy.
"Do you have a ticket?" the man asked.
"My mom has it," the boy explained.
"Where's your mom?"
"On your boat."
"She left you behind?"
"No, I got on the boat and then my hat blew off and I had to get it."
"No ticket, then you can't get on."
"He swung his lantern three times and the scooner appeared."
Captain Tory held the hand of the small boy. "Don't worry, the scooner will come back for you," he assured. He swung his lantern three times and the scooner slowly appeared.
"What is it Cap'en?" a man said coming out, "I don't have all day, you know, I have to get the passengers across. What's the emergency?"
"This boy was supposed to get on your boat," Captain Tory said holding up the boy.
"Do you have a ticket?" the man asked.
"My mom has it," the boy explained.
"Where's your mom?"
"On your boat."
"She left you behind?"
"No, I got on the boat and then my hat blew off and I had to get it."
"No ticket, then you can't get on."
Fourth-Year Hike
Have you ever thought you were less capable of what you really were? You would never know unless you tried. Let me tell you of an experience where I thought I was incapable of doing something.
At Girls Camp, we had to go on a fourth-year hike. There was three reasons why I didn't want to go: I was way out of shape, I don't like hiking, and we were bing forced to carry backpacks.
When we started on the trail I stood by my friends. And as soon as we got to the first hill I realized they had not chosen an easy hike for us to do. The hill was extremely steep. We had to stop a lot because some of the girls were falling behind. I rarely got exhausted because of this.
Then there was the fact that I thought hiking was incredibly boring.
At Girls Camp, we had to go on a fourth-year hike. There was three reasons why I didn't want to go: I was way out of shape, I don't like hiking, and we were bing forced to carry backpacks.
When we started on the trail I stood by my friends. And as soon as we got to the first hill I realized they had not chosen an easy hike for us to do. The hill was extremely steep. We had to stop a lot because some of the girls were falling behind. I rarely got exhausted because of this.
Then there was the fact that I thought hiking was incredibly boring.
"Two weeks passed and it happened again."
Mr. Henry sat on the couch reading the newspaper. He heard the soft hum of the furnace, the rustle of the newspaper, and his breath. But besides that it was dead silent. Then he heard a chatter and tiny feet. Two weeks passed and it had happened again. He looked around for the culprit. The he noticed the bump under the rug.
"Get out!" he yelled grabbing a chair. He hit the table and the lamp crashed on the floor. He tried hitting the bump but it was moving and he hit the floor instead, causing a dent in the wood.
"Get out!" he yelled again, one again hitting the wood and not the object he was aiming for.
"Get out!" he once again yelled hitting the floor. Crack. The chair broke. He threw it on the floor infuriated.
Mr. Henry sat on the couch reading the newspaper. He heard the soft hum of the furnace, the rustle of the newspaper, and his breath. But besides that it was dead silent. Then he heard a chatter and tiny feet. Two weeks passed and it had happened again. He looked around for the culprit. The he noticed the bump under the rug.
"Get out!" he yelled grabbing a chair. He hit the table and the lamp crashed on the floor. He tried hitting the bump but it was moving and he hit the floor instead, causing a dent in the wood.
"Get out!" he yelled again, one again hitting the wood and not the object he was aiming for.
"Get out!" he once again yelled hitting the floor. Crack. The chair broke. He threw it on the floor infuriated.
Nine-Eleven
I skipped "Oz Series" because:
A. It's makes no sense.
B. It's clearly a time waster.
C. It wasn't made to be read.
Also something interesting background information about 9/11 and me is that I didn't know it had happened until my sixth grade year. This is what this poem is about. I proves that ignorance is not bliss.
Can I help it
If I don't know anything?
Not even a little bit.
I can't stand it being,
More like a moment in history.
Was the note sent home my fault?
Should I have ignored the pleadings
My teacher sent to not tell us of the crime?
Should I have thought about it?
Reflected on my own?
What I do now can not change the past.
What I do now can not alter my knowledge,
I'll have to live in agony of
Knowing I was alive when it happened.
Not actually ever knowing what really happened.
And not finding out until two years later.
This passage in history is history.
This dilemma seems so old.
This mind of mine is confused
By the victims of the crash
Why can't I be like everyone else.
A. It's makes no sense.
B. It's clearly a time waster.
C. It wasn't made to be read.
Also something interesting background information about 9/11 and me is that I didn't know it had happened until my sixth grade year. This is what this poem is about. I proves that ignorance is not bliss.
Can I help it
If I don't know anything?
Not even a little bit.
I can't stand it being,
More like a moment in history.
Was the note sent home my fault?
Should I have ignored the pleadings
My teacher sent to not tell us of the crime?
Should I have thought about it?
Reflected on my own?
What I do now can not change the past.
What I do now can not alter my knowledge,
I'll have to live in agony of
Knowing I was alive when it happened.
Not actually ever knowing what really happened.
And not finding out until two years later.
This passage in history is history.
This dilemma seems so old.
This mind of mine is confused
By the victims of the crash
Why can't I be like everyone else.
This Morning
I woke up, my annoying alarm ringing right next to my ear. The song was better then the normal annoying alarm that sat on my dresser. The bed feels soft and the blanket lying on top of me is warm. I'm still half asleep when I pick up my glasses observing the damage from my knee (that's what I get when I forgot that I laid my glasses on my bed.) It isn't bad just a little bent. The mettle feels hard under my fingers as I try to bend it back. I stare at my white alarm clock's red numbers against the black background. They tell me that it's 6:38. I laugh silently when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was already wearing glasses and I wasn't even dressed. Sleepily I arise out of my bed and stare at my messy room, I'm surprised I can find anything. Then I taste it, morning taste mixed with some kind of juice. I catch a glimpse of my dream, no wonder I had a dream about drinking juice.
Red Rocks
As I walk through my grandmother's backyard
I step on the red stones hidden within her grass
Noticing the shape of each one
They're all different.
Some are big, you can plant both feet on one.
Some are so small, only the balls of your feet will fit.
Some are loose and hard to walk on.
Most are linked with cotton, sticks, leaves, and grass.
Some are more oval shaped then others.
There is one that is sticking up above the ground.
The biggest one has a white line down the middle.
One is cracked right down the middle.
All of them different.
All of them lead to the same place.
Nobody cares what the rocks look like
As they follow the designated path.
These rocks should be like our friends.
We shouldn't care what our friends look like.
We should only care if they lead us in the right direction.
Let our friends be like the red rocks
Hidden in the grass.
In my Grandmother's backyard.
I step on the red stones hidden within her grass
Noticing the shape of each one
They're all different.
Some are big, you can plant both feet on one.
Some are so small, only the balls of your feet will fit.
Some are loose and hard to walk on.
Most are linked with cotton, sticks, leaves, and grass.
Some are more oval shaped then others.
There is one that is sticking up above the ground.
The biggest one has a white line down the middle.
One is cracked right down the middle.
All of them different.
All of them lead to the same place.
Nobody cares what the rocks look like
As they follow the designated path.
These rocks should be like our friends.
We shouldn't care what our friends look like.
We should only care if they lead us in the right direction.
Let our friends be like the red rocks
Hidden in the grass.
In my Grandmother's backyard.
In the Past
I skipped "Loosing Them," because I could even read it without crying. If you think that "Night" was bad you'd hate "Loosing Them." This one is better.
"Where am I?" I said looking around the purple room. It was hard considering the ceiling was only a few feet over my head. Looking over the banister type thing I saw that I was on the top bunk of a bunk bed. Not just any bunk bed: my bunk bed. I jumped down the ladder and stared at my younger sister at the bottom bunk. Confused I wandered out of the bed room and straight for the bathroom, surprised when I knew where it was. Staring into the mirror, my mouth popped open. "How is this even possible?" I whispered to myself touching my younger face. How old was I? I knew that I had to be older then 8 and younger then 11, but where did that put me? And how did I, somehow, go back in time and turn young again. I wandered back into the bedroom revealing a much younger version of my sister while pulling back her blankets. "Emily, Emily, wake up," I said shaking her a little bit.
"Where am I?" I said looking around the purple room. It was hard considering the ceiling was only a few feet over my head. Looking over the banister type thing I saw that I was on the top bunk of a bunk bed. Not just any bunk bed: my bunk bed. I jumped down the ladder and stared at my younger sister at the bottom bunk. Confused I wandered out of the bed room and straight for the bathroom, surprised when I knew where it was. Staring into the mirror, my mouth popped open. "How is this even possible?" I whispered to myself touching my younger face. How old was I? I knew that I had to be older then 8 and younger then 11, but where did that put me? And how did I, somehow, go back in time and turn young again. I wandered back into the bedroom revealing a much younger version of my sister while pulling back her blankets. "Emily, Emily, wake up," I said shaking her a little bit.
Night
Sorry guys, I didn't realize I was so morbid. This entry is not for the weak of heart.
Night fell on Lilly like a load of bricks. "One more hour, give me one more hour," she thought as she watched the last ray of light disappear. He was coming and he was going to take her. "No one believe he's coming. They think it's just a story, a story that I made up," she said to herself stating the obvious, "It's too late for anyone to help. And I don't think -no I'm sure I need . . ." She sat on her bed. She knew no matter where she went, he would find her. She stared at the floor, tears coming out of her eyes and wetting her face. She felt as if she had come to the end but there was nothing she could do. She had tried for a week but as an orphan no one cared. She stood up and stared into the black. She could see his silver thing coming closer. She didn't know what it was going to be like when he came. Would he kill her? Would he torture her?
Night fell on Lilly like a load of bricks. "One more hour, give me one more hour," she thought as she watched the last ray of light disappear. He was coming and he was going to take her. "No one believe he's coming. They think it's just a story, a story that I made up," she said to herself stating the obvious, "It's too late for anyone to help. And I don't think -no I'm sure I need . . ." She sat on her bed. She knew no matter where she went, he would find her. She stared at the floor, tears coming out of her eyes and wetting her face. She felt as if she had come to the end but there was nothing she could do. She had tried for a week but as an orphan no one cared. She stood up and stared into the black. She could see his silver thing coming closer. She didn't know what it was going to be like when he came. Would he kill her? Would he torture her?
Unwritten
This was when I was still confused about what a Writer's Notebook was. You'll get that, though, from the entry. We had to listen to a song "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield and then write about it.
I don't have a biography. Sometimes I don't tell people how I feel and act like I'm happy. Though most of the time I really am happy. But when ever I go to my grandma's house I always fake it. Because I'm never happy to go to my Grandma's house. It's not that fun to watch my younger siblings and cousins. I'm actually still not sure what my life unwritten means. Does it mean like what the future has in store for you and how you never know and you have to write your own book? I really don't know. Most of this entry is just guessing what unwritten means. Writing this entry would be a whole lot easier if someone explained it to me.
I don't have a biography. Sometimes I don't tell people how I feel and act like I'm happy. Though most of the time I really am happy. But when ever I go to my grandma's house I always fake it. Because I'm never happy to go to my Grandma's house. It's not that fun to watch my younger siblings and cousins. I'm actually still not sure what my life unwritten means. Does it mean like what the future has in store for you and how you never know and you have to write your own book? I really don't know. Most of this entry is just guessing what unwritten means. Writing this entry would be a whole lot easier if someone explained it to me.
Once on This Island Review
Last week I saw "Once on This Island". I didn't like that play the last time I saw it. I thought it was boring. I was not bored during this production.
My favorite song was "We Dance." The choreography was amazing. It was fun, energetic, and got it's point across. When they sang "While we are dancing just to stay alive," it gave me chills, literally. It was a great hook.
I thought Ti Moune (Amy) did great. I didn't know she could dance like that until I saw the show.
Everyone did an amazing job. I loved it. I kinda wish I had done it, but then I remembered I had Pneumonia on Audition Day.
My favorite song was "We Dance." The choreography was amazing. It was fun, energetic, and got it's point across. When they sang "While we are dancing just to stay alive," it gave me chills, literally. It was a great hook.
I thought Ti Moune (Amy) did great. I didn't know she could dance like that until I saw the show.
Everyone did an amazing job. I loved it. I kinda wish I had done it, but then I remembered I had Pneumonia on Audition Day.
Genres
This is some list . . . not actually sure what it's purpose is. I think it was a reference on what format or genre you could write your entry.
Persuasive
Haiku
Poems
Novel
List
Letters
Lyrics
Graffiti
Texting
Menu
Postcard
Email
Advertising
Blog
Notes
Hieroglyphs
Calligraphy
Brainstorming
Biography
Note Cards
Play
Alphabet
Journals
Instruction Manuals
Tattoo
Sonnet
Sign Language
Music
Binary
Brail
Time
Morse Code
Fractions
Equations
Persuasive
Haiku
Poems
Novel
List
Letters
Lyrics
Graffiti
Texting
Menu
Postcard
Advertising
Blog
Notes
Hieroglyphs
Calligraphy
Brainstorming
Biography
Note Cards
Play
Alphabet
Journals
Instruction Manuals
Tattoo
Sonnet
Sign Language
Music
Binary
Brail
Time
Morse Code
Fractions
Equations
Writer's Notebook Cover
This was a required project. All of these were magazine clippings so sorry if it makes no sense at all. Only so much you can do with magazine phrases.
If you can't read it, it says:
What skin needs
to comfort it
don't use on your face
It's like a whole other country
officially been signed.
It will blow you away
if kids could vote
is for you
Fine design
It's for me
(The picture is an awesome car in a swimming pool the ad read: "We'll laugh about this later, but only if we have car insurance. It's random, but I thought it was cool.)
it's too late
To order
women in business
Rise and shine
&
Break glass
If you can't read it, it says:
What skin needs
to comfort it
don't use on your face
It's like a whole other country
officially been signed.
It will blow you away
if kids could vote
is for you
Fine design
It's for me
(The picture is an awesome car in a swimming pool the ad read: "We'll laugh about this later, but only if we have car insurance. It's random, but I thought it was cool.)
it's too late
To order
women in business
Rise and shine
&
Break glass
Before Blogging
Before there was blogging there was a Writer's Notebook. Both were required for English, Writer's Notebook for 10th and blogging for 11th. Loved them both, but prefer blogging because it's typing. (Writing hurts my hands because I never learned how to hold a pencil right.) Anyway, yesterday I found my writer's notebook right where I left it, under my dresser. I rescued it and then decided to type all of my entries in my blog just in case I ever lost my writer's notebook, let's say when I decide to actually clean my room. (I'm the queen of misplacing things.)
So the point is for the next few days, or weeks, or months I'm going to be typing up all of my writer notebook entries and putting them into my blog. You must understand that I'm going to keep them in their unedited forms. Besides like accidentally missed words and misspellings, I'll fix those. A few things that might be nice to know is a lot of them don't make sense, some stop at transition sentences or even in the middle of sentences, and most of them aren't finished. I apologize for this, ten minutes to write every day, one page, not enough topics didn't really mix well together. If I do decide to finish them or edit them or fix them their will be a line like this:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All it means is that this is after I wrote it or how I think it should go.
If you have any questions please feel free to leave them in my comments.
So the point is for the next few days, or weeks, or months I'm going to be typing up all of my writer notebook entries and putting them into my blog. You must understand that I'm going to keep them in their unedited forms. Besides like accidentally missed words and misspellings, I'll fix those. A few things that might be nice to know is a lot of them don't make sense, some stop at transition sentences or even in the middle of sentences, and most of them aren't finished. I apologize for this, ten minutes to write every day, one page, not enough topics didn't really mix well together. If I do decide to finish them or edit them or fix them their will be a line like this:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All it means is that this is after I wrote it or how I think it should go.
If you have any questions please feel free to leave them in my comments.
Apr 14, 2010
A Mistake to Avoid While Getting Revenge
Last night I had a dream where a few of my cousins and I were fighting with a few of my other cousins. They insulted us and to get revenge we decided to vandalize the place we had been meeting every day. They were the "Blue Team" and we were the "Red Team." So to get them back we wrote things such as "Blue Team Rules," so they would be held responsible. The only problem is: We took them with them. That's right, we took the Blue Team with us, so they knew exactly who had done it. Anyway, we ended up both getting in trouble and both teams had to clean up the mess. Soon after I turned to my other cousins and said, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
So, anyway, I just thought it was a funny dream, and I enjoyed it.
So, anyway, I just thought it was a funny dream, and I enjoyed it.
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