Tag Archives: writing

I See Him Across the Hall

I see him across the hall.

He doesn’t see me.

Or maybe he does but doesn’t care.

Actually, he probably does.

Yeah, he probably does see me, but doesn’t want to.

I casually try to arrange it so that I walk down the same side of the hallway as him. I purposely don’t look at him so that he thinks I don’t notice him.

Just as I’m proud of myself for managing not to look at him, I look up and see that he’s gone.

Just left.

He’s already halfway down the hallway.

Doesn’t care that I just went out of my way to walk by him and not look at him.

Does he know what he’s doing to me?

Does he know how I feel about him?

He does. But he doesn’t care. He just keeps on walking, getting smaller and smaller.

Millions of things happen at every moment. People being born, people falling in love, earthquakes and sunsets, rainfalls and death.

So why couldn’t he just look at me?

#IWroteThisin9thGrade #TeenAngst

Dear Animals, We’re Sorry. Sincerely, The Human Race

Photo by Kevin J. Czarzasty © http://www.flickr.com/people/kczarzasty
Photo by Kevin J. Czarzasty © http://www.flickr.com/people/kczarzasty

Dear Animals,

We’re sorry we hurt you.

We’re sorry we torture you.

We’re  sorry we burn you for fun.

We’re  sorry we poke you.

We’re  sorry we prod you.

We’re  sorry we subject you to a lifetime of pain so we can eat you.

We’re  sorry we kick you just to feel better about ourselves.

We’re  sorry we rip the skin off your bones while you’re still alive.

We’re  sorry we sell you in pet shops and then abandon you when we’ve had enough.

We’re  sorry we leave you in garbage cans.

We’re  sorry we shove hormones down your throat.

We’re  sorry we steal your babies from you.

We’re  sorry we throw you off of bridges.

We’re  sorry we chain you up all day and all night.

We’re  sorry we drown you.

We’re  sorry we force you to do unnatural tricks for our entertainment.

We’re sorry we forget to feed you or give you water.

We’re  sorry our disgruntled slaughterhouse workers take out all their aggression on you.

We’re  sorry we force you to fight each other.

We’re sorry we force you to fight us.

We’re  sorry we use you for transportation.

We’re  sorry we sacrifice your life so we can have another leather couch, car seat, belt or pair of shoes.

We’re  sorry we make you scream in pain and then put a picture of a smiling chicken on the box.

We’re  sorry we make you feel like you are part of the family and then forget about you when the baby comes.

We’re  sorry we drag you behind our cars.

We’re  sorry we keep you in dark, crowded, horrid living conditions.

We’re  sorry we force feed you to make you fatter.

We’re sorry we burn your front paws in order to make you stand on two feet so our children can laugh.

We’re sorry we sexually abuse you for our fetishes.

We’re sorry we trap you.

We’re sorry we hunt you.

We’re sorry our shelters still use inhumane methods of killing.

We’re sorry we subject you to a lifetime of terrorizing experiments so we can have yet another shampoo.

We’re sorry we don’t report our neighbors who are mistreating you to the authorities.

We’re sorry we poison you in the middle of the night.

We’re sorry we humiliate you.

We’re sorry we keep you alone indoors all day long and then get too lazy to take you for walks.

We’re sorry we choke you and suffocate you.

We’re sorry we yell at you.

We’re sorry we leave you out in the cold rain and in the hot sun.

We’re sorry we forget you in boiling hot cars with no open windows.

We’re sorry we intimidate you to feel powerful.

We’re sorry we dump you when you’re old and sick.

We’re sorry we sacrifice you for our beliefs and religions.

We’re sorry we starve you as a form of “art”.

We’re sorry we expose you to explosions and gunshots so we can film another movie.

We’re sorry we trap you in zoos so we can watch you suffer.

We’re sorry we treat you like objects that can be exploited for our own selfish purposes.

And most of all: We’re sorry we don’t recognize you for the amazing, intelligent, glorious, magnificent creatures that you are.

Sincerely,

The Human Race

Written by Shira Tamir © 2010

The Ones That Leave a Mark

I was up the other night, thinking about my life, my writing and what was holding me back.. when all of a sudden I stumbled across an old book report I had written back in high school on the Catcher in the Rye, graded by the most influential teacher I ever had in my life: Mr. George R. Blouin.

While looking over the paper, I instantly remembered our English class reading through The Catcher in the Rye together, and how Mr. Blouin he had pushed and pushed us to understand J.D. Salinger’s brilliant and touching interpretation of what it was really like growing up in today’s world.

Mr. Blouin spoke about the story with passion, challenging us lost kids to face our own phoniness and sarcasm through the eyes of the controversial protagonist, Holden. He would write on the board so fast, and with so much intensity, that usually I could barely make out most of his handwriting.

But it didn’t matter – he was getting the message across.

And when the smart-asses in the class didn’t quite ‘get it’, Mr. Blouin would climb on top of his desk to avoid “all the bullshit that was filling up the room”.

That was Mr. Blouin for you. He was just one of those teachers that was so respected, by so many students, over so many years, that he could pretty much get away with anything and no one would ever say a word. It was an unspoken law.

He was a man that told us the truth and pushed us to think for ourselves. He was the kind of teacher that would literally get furious with you if he felt you were not living up to your potential. He was a man that truly cared about his students’ lives, and it didn’t matter to him that he’d given those same exact speeches and introductions to generations of kids before us. He did it again and with the same passion.

So you can imagine why his comments and advice always meant the world to me.

And that night, in the midst of my writer’s block, Mr. Blouin had returned, through this lost and forgotten book report, to offer his words of wisdom once again.

I understand that I came across his words for a reason. I understand that it was meant to be.

What I still don’t understand, ironically enough, is his handwriting:

George Blouin - Catcher in the Rye