Hazen Union High School

There are plenty of great things to live for, to enjoy, to savor. Art, music, literature, nature; beauty in all its forms. However, one must be ready to pursue happiness in order to accept and appreciate beauty. Humanity’s greatest struggle and highest calling is the pursuit of happiness and personal development, and that journey starts with the decision to begin it. The struggle towards personal acceptance and love,  the challenge of expressing and responding to emotion and desire, and the adversity brought forth by yourself and others is a result of the freedom with which we are blessed.

The freedom to engage in one’s development of his own volition, and success in spite of adversity is the very essence of beauty. Greater than this is the choice to pursue this struggle. However, this choice cannot exist without the freedom to make it; life would be a dreary slog towards a forgone conclusion, lacking involvement, trial, and fear of failure. Read more »

Seamus

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I Believe

I believe you will always be there for us

Although you might no longer be here in body,

You will always be here in mind Read more »

I believe...

I believe in Santa.

I believe in childhood.

I believe in the Easter Bunny.

I believe in the magic of belief. Read more »

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I want to grow defiant and be rid of you.

I want to run away with you.

I want to never come back.

I want you in spades, so hard

it hurts.

I want you to come see me.

I want you to look at me

(the things your eyes say and only I can hear them).

My heart is a drum beating

It leaps

Into my throat when I recall

the sound of your skin, your hair

the texture of your sounds, the shudders

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By the time she reached age eleven she had read anything Shakespeare had ever written, and so learned how to make an impression on people.

She knew how to say things: shocking things, succinct and brusque, that took most aback, and impressed everyone, especially those damn adults. She was hugely competent and could riff on a phrase, on-the-spot. She had uncovered the greatest American truth: truly bright, truly brilliant people, are few and far between, and they are almost a luxury, to be cherished and nurtured at all costs (an excerpt from her journal: Most of these dullards, these ignoramus clotpoles, these dunces and dolts, these Americans, just aren't interesting. The General Public is not something to admire or in any way emulate. She wrote this at the tender young age of twelve). Read more »

Enter Hero and Claudio, in their bedchamber. At rise, Hero is
facing her mirror, brushing out her hair. Claudio is drawing the
curtains and lighting the lamps.

HERO So, dear, about the whole adultery thing …

CLAUDIO Let us dwell not on the past. O great night! (He walks
over, placing his hands on her shoulders)

And to break our fast in the morn, waffles.

Ah, yes, was there ever a better plan?

HERO (Shrugging off his hands) What was going through thy
head, Claudio?

CLAUDIO Sweet, thou knowest that a woman of build

Similar to thine was embracing a

Man that was not myself – at a rather Read more »

A deadline has been set and already the clock is ticking like mad. I
have a bit less than two (2) double-spaced pages with which I will
endeavor to win over your hearts and, quite frankly, knock your socks
off. Never fear, though to the best of my knowledge, there are
several of you and just one of me, I am confident I am able to do it.
Ah, forgive me, as a wise soul once put it nicely, “do not postpone
joy”, so I will quit postponing yours and get right to the meat of
it.

Reading has always been a huge strength of mine. Ever since I learned to
read, it has been a major part of my life. In first grade I had a
book that I re-read every day in order to gain new meaning from it.
This love of all things written has transferred across the lines to
my younger brother. My brother and I spend a lot of time together,
and I have been helping him learn to read as well. Patience is
obviously a virtue in this case, of which I seem to have abundance.
Sometimes, if it is a particularly trying day, tempers can flare and
frustration arises, but I remind myself of his young age and
vulnerability and always manage to control the situation. Read more »

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Pounding. My heart is pounding through my chest. If it keeps up at this rate, it will flop bloodily onto the frozen road. Beating grotesquely and melting the white fluffy snow around it into a mushy scarlet mess.

I challenge you to find something better than running at night. I challenge you to find something that will make you feel so hopeful.

Recently I’ve been throwing on the layers. I put on my headphones and step out into a world frozen with all kinds of mind blowing possibilities. I decide, first, what I want to listen to. It really does not matter which artist I select. Either way, my run will be unmatched by anything else, step by step, for sheer brilliance. Read more »

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Young Warrior was browsing gleefully through Lenny’s selection of shoes. He held up a brown leather Swiss army sneaker. Rugged, strong.

“They’re probably ladies’ shoes,” he mentioned, in a rather self-deprecating manner, turning it over to take a gander at the
shoe’s underside. Read more »

Mounted proudly and prominently on the late Woody Guthrie’s guitar, the sticker (This Machine Kills Fascists) exemplifies one of his most fervent and passionate beliefs. Guthrie was all for killing fascists (contrarily enough, he was also a firm believer in keeping the peace). However, as I'm sure Mr. Guthrie would agree, sometimes selective violence could be for the greater good. For example, if Mussolini had been killed, that one act would have prevented many, many more acts of unparalleled cruelty and horror. This example is not unique to only fascism, but other forms of abuse, as well); he also stood in favor of equality, abolition of racism, and communism. Guthrie believed each person was capable of amazing feats, saying, “Let me be known as just the man that told you something you already knew” (woodyguthrie.org). The development of Guthrie’s talent through his unique life experiences helped to shape the American view of a “traditional” folk artist. Read more »

gypsy girl, swinging round in

brightly colored skirts

beads and necklaces twinkling

scarves of silk

draped

the swarthy, beautiful face –

lips of crimson, &

eyes delicate like the Leek-Green sea

You are the face behind the gun
You were the man on the grassy knoll
You are the one who cuts short all fun
Lord have mercy on your soul

You held the knife on the ides of March
Your fault are the names not called on the roll
The body found beneath the arch
Lord have mercy on your soul

The reason behind the Amber Alert
You are to blame when one hears the bell toll
The cause behind a world of hurt
Lord have mercy on your soul

You are the devil on everyone’s shoulder
You are the voice with the heart of a troll
The reason for the death of each soldier Read more »

Your whole life you have lived in the small town in a small state like Vermont. You go to school five days a week and occasionally on the weekends you will go to the movies or hang out with some friends. You receive a letter in the mail. You think, “Since when do I get mail, I hardly know 1000 people.” You rip the letter open and begin to read. Your school has started this program, in which you and another student from a European country switch homes for a summer. Read more »

Your whole life you have lived in the small town in a small state like Vermont. You go to school five days a week and occasionally on the weekends you will go to the movies or hang out with some friends. You receive a letter in the mail. You think, “Since when do I get mail, I hardly know 1000 people.” You rip the letter open and begin to read. Your school has started this program, in which you and another student from a European country switch homes for a summer. Read more »

Scarlet Read more »

The crowd’s cheering, now as the whistle is blown you could hear a pin drop. They’re all waiting, watching as the fate of the game will be determined by you. After two grueling forty minute wars followed by two short fifteen minute battles and almost two full rounds of penalty kicks everyone’s waiting to see what the outcome will be. It’s your senior year and you know this is your year to go all the way; you want it so bad. You’ve worked so hard, beaten teams you never thought you could, and as you stand there with everyone watching you take a look around. Read more »

In winter every year,
My hopes are raised
For soon I am hoping
The snow will fall

The sled is ready
Tuned up to go
All it needs is a rider
And a lot of snow

Once the snow hits,
The trails are full
Of people like me
Going for a ride

The feeling is great
The wind bites my face
As I rocket around
On the fresh coat of snow

The rush is like no other
When you pin the gas
And the sled takes off,
Ripping at your arms

All of the year,
I hope for this time
(And snow, of course)
So I can go snowmobiling.

I am good at many things. I am also bad at many things. One of these things is writing. I may be in Honors English, but that choice wasn’t made by me. My parents expect me to get the best education offered at my small school. A month ago when I was assigned the task of writing and submitting a piece to Young Writers Project I quickly forgot about it. Now on the eve of its due date, I am finally sitting down to write it. I go through my procrastination ritual, check Facebook after every word typed, and then deleting what I had written after rethinking it. Read more »

My Closet
(To the tune of the Twelve days of Christmas)

On the first shelf of my closet,
here’s what I see,
Snowball scratching his fleas.

On the second shelf of my closet,
here’s what I see,
Two turtlenecks,
And Snowball scratching his fleas.

On the third shelf of my closet,
here’s what I see,
Three cd’s,
Two turtlenecks,
And Snowball scratching his fleas.

On the fourth shelf of my closet,
here’s what I see,
Four lit candles,
Three cd’s,
Two turtlenecks,
And snowball scratching his fleas.

On the fifth shelf of my closet,
here’s what I see,
Five fairy wings, Read more »

A Trip down Memory Closet Read more »

When I open my closet I find clutter all around. Up top I find old books that have just sat up there. I notice little toys or collectibles from when I was younger floating among magazines and sweatshirts. There is even an old video player crammed up in the top corner. As my eyes wander lower I find many colors. It is as if I just opened up a door to the rainbow. All of the mixed bright and dark colors that take up the majority of my closet, all hang together on one rod on separate hangers. Some bright colored shirts catch my eye as I gaze through all of my clothes. Read more »

When I open my closet I find clutter all around. Up top I find old books that have just sat up there. I notice little toys or collectibles from when I was younger floating among magazines and sweatshirts. There is even an old video player crammed up in the top corner. As my eyes wander lower I find many colors. It is as if I just opened up a door to the rainbow. All of the mixed bright and dark colors that take up the majority of my closet, all hang together on one rod on separate hangers. Some bright colored shirts catch my eye as I gaze through all of my clothes. Read more »

Pounding. My heart is going to pound through my chest and flop bloodily onto the frozen road. Beating grotesquely and melting the white fluffy snow around it into a mushy scarlet mess.
I challenge you to find something better than running at night.
I challenge you to find something that will make you feel so beautiful.
So damn hopeful.
Recently I’ve been throwing on two pairs of paints, several shirts, a hat, and a bright blue neck warmer.
I put on my headphones and step out into a world frozen with all kinds of possibilities. Read more »

I open the door to cluttered precision. An organized mess hangs in front of me. Shirts hang lazily from hangers, dresses in their own place, and sweaters in theirs. The prettiest tops are in the front, to be the first to look at. Pants are stuffed into a “closet organizer” that in reality only takes up the majority of the condensed space and doesn’t hold all of my jeans. The bar that holds all of these hangers sags in the middle, threatening to give way whenever I look at it. Belts dangle from the bar, placed just right so they don’t slip off. Read more »

I walk into my room and look around. The room is filled with two beds each covering a fourth of the room. A wardrobe is pressed up against the wall holding daily clothes that my brother and I wear. Right next to the wardrobe is a cabinet that holds all of my values. The items range from basketball cards, to San Antonio Spurs items, all the way to pens that I have gotten around the world. Beside the cabinet is the mysterious closet that is only opened for certain occasions. I step up to the closet and pull the two white doors apart from each other. Read more »