“Where is my sock?”
“Isn’t it over there with your shirt and pants?”
“No, and I looked through the blankets and under the comforters on the floor too. I found one but the other is still lost.”
“I’ll clean this afternoon. Maybe it will turn up then. Hopefully we find it before the dogs do!”
“If we come home and my sock is shredded all over the living room I am going to be extremely upset.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed then. You can check in the pile by the laundry while I make breakfast if you want. How do you want your eggs this morning?”
“Over easy with toast. I am NOT digging through that mountain of laundry. If my sock is in there, it can rest in peace.”
“If you want, you can borrow a pair of mine. I’ll try to find something masculine for you to rock with those fly kicks!”
“Maybe we can let the little dog in here. I’m sure he’ll find the sock in a split second. If we watch him, he might find it for us.”
“Truth! I’ll go downstairs and find him while I work on those eggs. You should throw some shoes on so we can go out for a cigarette too, I don’t want to stand out there alone!”
“Sure thing baby, have you seen my shoes?”
Sunday, March 28, 2010
non-fiction story FINAL
Stars collided in my vision as my natural instinct to breathe halted from the extreme pain in my side. A hot sautering iron split the skin over my ribs and precious air hissed out of my deflating lungs. Paralyzed, I struggled to fill my lungs as the pain eased for a moment-
“I feel like I should be giving you dollar bills, you’re dancing all over my table so much!” Paul laughed, taking a break to refill the ink in his tattoo gun. I weakly laughed along, light-headed from lack of oxygen to my brain. Rolling off the table, I floated to the mirror across from where I was getting my first tattoo. A rose was inked into my right side from mid-ribs to hip bone with one solitary petal blowing away, “SDH” etched in its delicate surface.
Shawn David Huq.
I blinked away tears that had nothing to do with the pain caused by Paul’s tattoo gun.
December 12, 2007.
My phone rang at 10:00 am the morning I found out. My dad was calling, which struck me as odd since he should have been at work.
“Good morning.” I greeted him sleepily.
“Shawn passed away last night. He was in a car accident.” Dad always cut straight to the chase, “We haven’t told Jarrod yet. You should come home after your finals today.”
My skin prickled, emotions threatening to explode through every pore. I went temporarily blind as my mouth flapped open and shut like a fish drowning in too much air.
“Are you going to be ok?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’ll see you this evening.” Dad knows me best; he knew I needed time to process that blow.
Gone? How could he be gone?
I closed my eyes and saw two five year olds slinging mud at each other on a construction site. I remembered running through the orange soupy ground to meet up with my little brother and his best friend, grinning as I took a flying leap into a hole dug for the basement of a house.
December 7, 2003. Sherful, Shawn’s father, suffered an aneurism while Jarrod and Shawn were playing in the living room of their home. The boys called my dad for help, but he did not get there in time to save Shawn’s dad.
I heard Shawn and Jarrod’s devious laughter as they played pranks on each other and members of my family.
Shawn’s laughing face is in almost every major memory from my childhood.
Gone?
When Shawn was 14, his mom moved to Michigan and took him with her. The separation was hard on Jarrod and Shawn, who were like one soul in two bodies. Our parents and Jane, Shawn’s mother, discussed their sons’ depressions and decided to split the holidays.
Winter break was starting early in Michigan that year. Shawn was supposed to be with us until after New Years, and everyone was antsy with anticipation for his arrival. Shawn’s room was ready and that weekend he was supposed to fly into Dulles airport.
Gone?
He had gone to a party, one last hurrah before flying to Virginia for a month. He drank too much. Chad, his step-brother, decided to drive Shawn and two other friends home. He also drank too much. Chad drank so much, in fact, that he didn’t see the 18-wheeler driving down the road when he crossed over the highway on his way home.
Gone.
Paramedics told Jane that Shawn was killed on impact; his BAC (blood alcohol content) was so high he probably never even woke up.
Gone.
In that same accident, Chad also killed his best friend and his little brother’s wrestling team mate. His BAC was two and a half times the Michigan legal limit that night, a stunning 0.2. In addition to the massive amount of alcohol 19-year-old Chad consumed that night, he also smoked pot. This coupled with the alcohol made him even more incapable of operating a vehicle. Why did their friends let them leave the party? Why didn’t anyone try to stop them? I had so many questions, but the answers didn’t really matter because none of them would bring Shawn back.
Chad received a 15 year prison sentence, due to the deaths he caused. He is eligible for release after seven years if he maintains good behavior. He is required to go to intensive therapy to cope with the guilt and depression he feels. When Chad gets out, he will not have a home to return to since his mother is too sick to handle him and Jane refuses to let him back into her house. In court, he said that every time he closes his eyes he sees their faces. He doesn’t know why he survived when they died, but he does know he’ll never be able to live down the decision he made that night.
After the accident that stole their children, the mothers of Shawn and his friends lobbied the Michigan government to impose stricter penalties on establishments that sell alcohol to minors. Michigan Law 436.1701, section 2 states the punishment for selling alcohol to minors. The 7-11 that sold the underage boys beer temporarily lost their alcohol license, but they got it back after paying a fine and waiting a 30-day suspension period. In Michigan, selling alcohol to a minor is only a misdemeanor. The clerk that sold the alcohol to Chad and Terry (both 19) received six months in jail while two other clerks that repeatedly sold alcohol to minors received two weekends of jail time each. Though the mothers have been working for the past two years to make the consequences more punitive, they have yet to get the charge raised to a felony. State Representative Mary Valentine and prosecutor Randy Kostrezwa have been incredibly helpful throughout their fight. Jayne hopes that stricter penalties will discourage many people from committing such a dangerous mistake, and prevent parents from having to go through the hell of burying a child killed because of a drunk driver.
This story is not a unique case in Michigan. The year Shawn and his friends lost their lives, 736 other DUI-related deaths occurred on Michigan’s highways. The victims could fill 15 school busses that year. This outrageous number can be compared to Georgia's 441, taken the same year. The last two weeks of August 2007 alone, there were 18,000 alcohol-related arrests on the highways of Michigan. Clearly, the laws and consequences regarding driving under the influence in Michigan are not harsh enough to discourage people from making that potentially fatal decision.
For someone caught on their first DUI offense in Michigan, the penalties for the guilty party include losing their driver's license for up to six months, but the driver is eligible for a restricted license after only 30 days. Jail time is possible, but not mandatory. The guilty driver may have to pay a fine from $100-$500.
The state of Georgia has a population nearly equal to Michigan’s, and their DUI fatality in 2007 was significantly less, at 441. When a resident of Georgia is arrested for their first DUI, they must serve ten days to one year in jail, lose their license for up to one year, and serve a minimum of 40 hours of community service. A first offense DUI charge will cost them between $300-$1,000. In order to get their license back, the offender must pay a $210 re-instatement fee.
None of the monetary amounts include court costs, lawyer fees, missed work time, or the cost for alternative transportation. They are solely the fine attached to the charge.
As the offenses repeat, the penalties become more severe. When written next to each other, the differences between the penalties are astounding. Michigan’s relaxed penalties become more obvious, and erase any doubt as to why their death toll is so much higher than other states’. Until the state accepts responsibility for their lax laws and takes steps to protect their citizens, there is no change in sight to the staggering death toll.
My tattoo turned out beautifully. My brother and the three other boys in our tight-knit group of friends got inked for Shawn as well. December 12, 2007 changed us all forever. In one phone call we grew up, we faced the brutal reality of mortality. We lost a friend and brother, but we gained a passion for fighting to prevent this from happening to anyone else. Jayne speaks in schools now about her only son and his friends. Every time she re-lives that night it tears her heart to pieces, but she tells us, “If it saves even one life it is worth it.” People laugh when I collect keys before a party at my house, but my close friends always give me a glance of support. I know they will back me up if anyone ever refuses to wait until they are sober to leave.
“I feel like I should be giving you dollar bills, you’re dancing all over my table so much!” Paul laughed, taking a break to refill the ink in his tattoo gun. I weakly laughed along, light-headed from lack of oxygen to my brain. Rolling off the table, I floated to the mirror across from where I was getting my first tattoo. A rose was inked into my right side from mid-ribs to hip bone with one solitary petal blowing away, “SDH” etched in its delicate surface.
Shawn David Huq.
I blinked away tears that had nothing to do with the pain caused by Paul’s tattoo gun.
December 12, 2007.
My phone rang at 10:00 am the morning I found out. My dad was calling, which struck me as odd since he should have been at work.
“Good morning.” I greeted him sleepily.
“Shawn passed away last night. He was in a car accident.” Dad always cut straight to the chase, “We haven’t told Jarrod yet. You should come home after your finals today.”
My skin prickled, emotions threatening to explode through every pore. I went temporarily blind as my mouth flapped open and shut like a fish drowning in too much air.
“Are you going to be ok?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’ll see you this evening.” Dad knows me best; he knew I needed time to process that blow.
Gone? How could he be gone?
I closed my eyes and saw two five year olds slinging mud at each other on a construction site. I remembered running through the orange soupy ground to meet up with my little brother and his best friend, grinning as I took a flying leap into a hole dug for the basement of a house.
December 7, 2003. Sherful, Shawn’s father, suffered an aneurism while Jarrod and Shawn were playing in the living room of their home. The boys called my dad for help, but he did not get there in time to save Shawn’s dad.
I heard Shawn and Jarrod’s devious laughter as they played pranks on each other and members of my family.
Shawn’s laughing face is in almost every major memory from my childhood.
Gone?
When Shawn was 14, his mom moved to Michigan and took him with her. The separation was hard on Jarrod and Shawn, who were like one soul in two bodies. Our parents and Jane, Shawn’s mother, discussed their sons’ depressions and decided to split the holidays.
Winter break was starting early in Michigan that year. Shawn was supposed to be with us until after New Years, and everyone was antsy with anticipation for his arrival. Shawn’s room was ready and that weekend he was supposed to fly into Dulles airport.
Gone?
He had gone to a party, one last hurrah before flying to Virginia for a month. He drank too much. Chad, his step-brother, decided to drive Shawn and two other friends home. He also drank too much. Chad drank so much, in fact, that he didn’t see the 18-wheeler driving down the road when he crossed over the highway on his way home.
Gone.
Paramedics told Jane that Shawn was killed on impact; his BAC (blood alcohol content) was so high he probably never even woke up.
Gone.
In that same accident, Chad also killed his best friend and his little brother’s wrestling team mate. His BAC was two and a half times the Michigan legal limit that night, a stunning 0.2. In addition to the massive amount of alcohol 19-year-old Chad consumed that night, he also smoked pot. This coupled with the alcohol made him even more incapable of operating a vehicle. Why did their friends let them leave the party? Why didn’t anyone try to stop them? I had so many questions, but the answers didn’t really matter because none of them would bring Shawn back.
Chad received a 15 year prison sentence, due to the deaths he caused. He is eligible for release after seven years if he maintains good behavior. He is required to go to intensive therapy to cope with the guilt and depression he feels. When Chad gets out, he will not have a home to return to since his mother is too sick to handle him and Jane refuses to let him back into her house. In court, he said that every time he closes his eyes he sees their faces. He doesn’t know why he survived when they died, but he does know he’ll never be able to live down the decision he made that night.
After the accident that stole their children, the mothers of Shawn and his friends lobbied the Michigan government to impose stricter penalties on establishments that sell alcohol to minors. Michigan Law 436.1701, section 2 states the punishment for selling alcohol to minors. The 7-11 that sold the underage boys beer temporarily lost their alcohol license, but they got it back after paying a fine and waiting a 30-day suspension period. In Michigan, selling alcohol to a minor is only a misdemeanor. The clerk that sold the alcohol to Chad and Terry (both 19) received six months in jail while two other clerks that repeatedly sold alcohol to minors received two weekends of jail time each. Though the mothers have been working for the past two years to make the consequences more punitive, they have yet to get the charge raised to a felony. State Representative Mary Valentine and prosecutor Randy Kostrezwa have been incredibly helpful throughout their fight. Jayne hopes that stricter penalties will discourage many people from committing such a dangerous mistake, and prevent parents from having to go through the hell of burying a child killed because of a drunk driver.
This story is not a unique case in Michigan. The year Shawn and his friends lost their lives, 736 other DUI-related deaths occurred on Michigan’s highways. The victims could fill 15 school busses that year. This outrageous number can be compared to Georgia's 441, taken the same year. The last two weeks of August 2007 alone, there were 18,000 alcohol-related arrests on the highways of Michigan. Clearly, the laws and consequences regarding driving under the influence in Michigan are not harsh enough to discourage people from making that potentially fatal decision.
For someone caught on their first DUI offense in Michigan, the penalties for the guilty party include losing their driver's license for up to six months, but the driver is eligible for a restricted license after only 30 days. Jail time is possible, but not mandatory. The guilty driver may have to pay a fine from $100-$500.
The state of Georgia has a population nearly equal to Michigan’s, and their DUI fatality in 2007 was significantly less, at 441. When a resident of Georgia is arrested for their first DUI, they must serve ten days to one year in jail, lose their license for up to one year, and serve a minimum of 40 hours of community service. A first offense DUI charge will cost them between $300-$1,000. In order to get their license back, the offender must pay a $210 re-instatement fee.
None of the monetary amounts include court costs, lawyer fees, missed work time, or the cost for alternative transportation. They are solely the fine attached to the charge.
As the offenses repeat, the penalties become more severe. When written next to each other, the differences between the penalties are astounding. Michigan’s relaxed penalties become more obvious, and erase any doubt as to why their death toll is so much higher than other states’. Until the state accepts responsibility for their lax laws and takes steps to protect their citizens, there is no change in sight to the staggering death toll.
My tattoo turned out beautifully. My brother and the three other boys in our tight-knit group of friends got inked for Shawn as well. December 12, 2007 changed us all forever. In one phone call we grew up, we faced the brutal reality of mortality. We lost a friend and brother, but we gained a passion for fighting to prevent this from happening to anyone else. Jayne speaks in schools now about her only son and his friends. Every time she re-lives that night it tears her heart to pieces, but she tells us, “If it saves even one life it is worth it.” People laugh when I collect keys before a party at my house, but my close friends always give me a glance of support. I know they will back me up if anyone ever refuses to wait until they are sober to leave.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Profile of a person
Catherine groaned as she drained another mug of coffee. “These things have holes in the bottom of them…” She grumbled as she stood up to brew another batch. Her short curly hair was going wild, evidence of a dreaded all-nighter. I scooted some Japanese and Russian assignments aside to make room for my Cheerios at the kitchen table.
“Rough night?” I asked my roommate, squinting at the foreign letters she has written into notebooks and on loose-leaf. A layer of homework covered the entire table, and none of it was in English. I felt the throb of a headache just looking at the immense pile of work yet to be finished. “Yea, but my Japanese portfolio is almost done and my speech for Russian isn’t as bad as it was last night.” Catherine rubbed her eyes as she downed another cup of coffee and turned to pour another. Where would students be without the glorious gift of caffeine?
Her untamed hair and sleepy eyes may have given her the impression of someone who neglected their work until the last minute, but I knew better. My roommate is one of the most responsible people I know, and her all-nighters are due to the insane class load she takes while working full-time to pay off the car she bought a year ago. There aren’t many people that can handle a double minor in Japanese AND Russian while still holding an office job. I knew I couldn’t.
As the clock changed to 9:00AM, Catherine yawned and went downstairs to her room. Twenty minutes later, a sophisticated business woman emerged, hair perfectly curled and heels clicking on the hardwood. With her make-up, she looked as if she had gotten the sleep of a baby. “See you this evening!” Catherine called as she poured herself another cup of coffee and headed out to work.
“Rough night?” I asked my roommate, squinting at the foreign letters she has written into notebooks and on loose-leaf. A layer of homework covered the entire table, and none of it was in English. I felt the throb of a headache just looking at the immense pile of work yet to be finished. “Yea, but my Japanese portfolio is almost done and my speech for Russian isn’t as bad as it was last night.” Catherine rubbed her eyes as she downed another cup of coffee and turned to pour another. Where would students be without the glorious gift of caffeine?
Her untamed hair and sleepy eyes may have given her the impression of someone who neglected their work until the last minute, but I knew better. My roommate is one of the most responsible people I know, and her all-nighters are due to the insane class load she takes while working full-time to pay off the car she bought a year ago. There aren’t many people that can handle a double minor in Japanese AND Russian while still holding an office job. I knew I couldn’t.
As the clock changed to 9:00AM, Catherine yawned and went downstairs to her room. Twenty minutes later, a sophisticated business woman emerged, hair perfectly curled and heels clicking on the hardwood. With her make-up, she looked as if she had gotten the sleep of a baby. “See you this evening!” Catherine called as she poured herself another cup of coffee and headed out to work.
Friday, March 12, 2010
NEW movie review
The Little Rascals is a classic. Or at least it will be, once it has been around long enough! It warms the heart of children and adults alike. The movie follows a group of small children through their adventures. It deals with the boys vs. girls mentality of that age, and shows what happens when one of the boys, Alfalfa, falls in love with a girl. The boys have a club called the 'He-man Womun Haters Club' that is dedicated to hating all girls. They have a set of rules that says none of the boys can talk to or be friends with a girl, or else. Alfalfa tries to win over Darla, his Juliet, without his friends catching on. This has the expected disastrous results, and the boys' clubhouse burns down. After this first crisis, it is one hilarious stunt after another. There are bullies, a rich competitor for Darla's affections, and cooties galore as the kids try to raise money for a new clubhouse and win a go-cart race. Eventually everything turns out as it should and the movie has a happy ending.
Given the young age of the actors, between four and nine, their performances are very good. The audience is taken in and believes in the lovable characters, rooting for them to succeed against the bullies. Whoopi Goldberg, Reba McEntire, and Mel Brooks make special appearances, but do not steal the show from the main focus- the kids. Definitely a recommended film if you're in the mood for something adorable and laughter inducing!
Given the young age of the actors, between four and nine, their performances are very good. The audience is taken in and believes in the lovable characters, rooting for them to succeed against the bullies. Whoopi Goldberg, Reba McEntire, and Mel Brooks make special appearances, but do not steal the show from the main focus- the kids. Definitely a recommended film if you're in the mood for something adorable and laughter inducing!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Description of an Activity
Cleopatra, my two-year-old Boxer/Pitt stretched across the couch as I finished my reading for one class and picked up the book for another. As I stood, she heaved a heavy sigh and I swear she rolled her eyes. "Hey Cleo... Wanna go OUTSIDE???" The reaction was immediate. She flew off the couch and tap danced next to the front door as I pulled out her collar and leash while getting my coat on.
“Clink.” The leash hit the ground as Cleopatra took off into the empty field, dirt clumps flying into the air behind her. She zigged and zagged, her ears pinned against her head from the wind. I laughed as she jumped into the air and spun a complete 360 before hitting earth and barreling across the ground opening up in front of her.
“Cleo!” She froze, skidding a little because of her speed. I loved how in tune she was to the sound of my voice, despite her ecstasy at being out of the house. Every muscle stood out as she posed, lifting her nose into the air and sniffing for something interesting. Her black tipped ears stood straight up as she looked at me, almost grinning before taking off again. Muscles rippled like an ocean under her short sandy hair as my dog ran laps around the field by our house. She was beautiful in action.
Suddenly, Cleo changed directions mid-stride and came straight at me. I crouched down low, challenging her. Her chestnut eyes glinted as she focused in on her target. Yea, she was going to try to take me out. I jumped to the left a little, her body leaning slightly as she changed course. I jumped to the right a few feet, but it didn’t faze her. A cloud of dust and grass swirled behind her as Cleo’s muscular legs devoured the ground like the athletic beast that she was. I dropped into a football crouch, one hand lightly on the ground as Cleo picked up speed. She was so close now that I could hear her happy panting as the energy that had been cooped inside her all day exploded in her fierce race against nothing. As her front paws left the ground to pin me, I spun to the side as the two of us pirouetted past each other in the air. The instant her paws were back on the ground, she spun toward me, catching me off guard and knocking me flat onto the grass. I laughed as she covered my face in wet kisses, her entire body wagged as her tail whipped the air. We lived for moments like this.
“Clink.” The leash hit the ground as Cleopatra took off into the empty field, dirt clumps flying into the air behind her. She zigged and zagged, her ears pinned against her head from the wind. I laughed as she jumped into the air and spun a complete 360 before hitting earth and barreling across the ground opening up in front of her.
“Cleo!” She froze, skidding a little because of her speed. I loved how in tune she was to the sound of my voice, despite her ecstasy at being out of the house. Every muscle stood out as she posed, lifting her nose into the air and sniffing for something interesting. Her black tipped ears stood straight up as she looked at me, almost grinning before taking off again. Muscles rippled like an ocean under her short sandy hair as my dog ran laps around the field by our house. She was beautiful in action.
Suddenly, Cleo changed directions mid-stride and came straight at me. I crouched down low, challenging her. Her chestnut eyes glinted as she focused in on her target. Yea, she was going to try to take me out. I jumped to the left a little, her body leaning slightly as she changed course. I jumped to the right a few feet, but it didn’t faze her. A cloud of dust and grass swirled behind her as Cleo’s muscular legs devoured the ground like the athletic beast that she was. I dropped into a football crouch, one hand lightly on the ground as Cleo picked up speed. She was so close now that I could hear her happy panting as the energy that had been cooped inside her all day exploded in her fierce race against nothing. As her front paws left the ground to pin me, I spun to the side as the two of us pirouetted past each other in the air. The instant her paws were back on the ground, she spun toward me, catching me off guard and knocking me flat onto the grass. I laughed as she covered my face in wet kisses, her entire body wagged as her tail whipped the air. We lived for moments like this.
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