My name is Ryan Oakley(I like to go by Render) and I hope to become someone who Speaks out to people or a leader. I love public speaking and Radio and leading people down the true path. I hope to maybe be a Radio Talk show Host.I am the second eldest in a Christian family of 7 no 8 : Mom and Dad Robby, Reece, Russell, Madilyn and Rowan.
I want a hat with fire on the side A tangerine flutist and a breath-mint of pride. I want a yodel that reached for the stars, A masterful snail that raced, much like cars.
I want a mirror that reflects itself, A magical, mystery, amazing bookshelf. I want a horn as quite as a mouse, A house as a car and a car as a house.
I want a crystal that emanates pie, A short little man that can brush with the sky. I want a camera that takes memories, I want a glass that’s full as the seas.
I want a high-five I could not give away, A golden trophy too big to display. I want a broken down escalator with cars driving down it, A guitar that is good enough to be called a bonnet.
I want a book I can read with my nose, I want a daisy that smells like a rose.
I felt my stomach twist into knots as the van rushed its way toward its destination. My eyes were red as tomatoes from staying up late the night prior; my head was a dizzy hurricane; and above all, I was unprepared for what was about to happen that morning. As we pulled into the parking lot, my fingers began to sweat. My legs went numb like they did not want to leave the car. I wish it was the day before so I could have a second chance, but as much as I wished there was nothing I could possibly do.
Some would say mathematics is the hardest subject, and some would say science, maybe even spelling—all of these, perhaps, but Spanish was mine. Over that school-year, I had developed some strange dyslexia for Spanish. I couldn’t conjugate verbs to save my grandmother, nor could I memorize any vocabulary. I was a hopeless mess. The words and the spelling, the accents and the grammar—all of it was jumbled disarray in my head. I do blame a lot of my unpreparedness to my lack of Spanish savvy; however, at the end of that year, I had developed into a diehard procrastinator. I had also lost a lot of interest in the Spanish language, and on many occasions said it was the stupidest language on earth.
It was cold in that classroom, or perhaps my fear was influencing me otherwise. It smelled like fresh coffee (my teacher obviously could never get enough). The resonance of pencils scratching on pallid paper surrounded me. No one else was shivering, and that is something I probably never understood. How was every other student managing this class better than I? And I could not help but wonder if anyone else was unprepared; yet, as much as it puzzled me, it was irrelevant.
The first thing I needed was a pencil. To my avail, I had none. I borrowed someone else’s, but snapped its tip at the first touch to paper. Hurriedly, I sharpened it in the corner of the room and returned accordingly to my desk. Reading through the text, I noticed questions one through five were effortless to answer—it was everything subsequent that made me hopeless. Over and over, I guessed through the whole test, but an obscure entity locked far into the deepest recesses of my mind was telling me I was doing well. Of course, I did not believe this. My face and ears were hot with anger and embarrassment; after all, none of these questions made sense to me as much did my haphazard confidence.
Before I knew it, the class had finished the exam. I, on the other hand, sat miserably on the third-to-last question. As much as the test was hard, none of it was compared to the essay. It required me to write, in Spanish, about my favorite Spanish word. I chose the word loco which means crazy pertaining to how crazy the test was. Something about the essay, regardless of its intimidation, struck me with refined buoyancy. Perhaps I did not do poorly after all.
The next two days were gruesome. I experienced one of the most nerve-wracking weekends of my life. I could not for the life of me stop thinking what my parents were going to think of my final grade. Though, as much as I was sure I failed, I was sincerely surprised to find out that I had made an 87 percent grade. I could not believe the report card I was reading. I felt that surely I made at the least a 20, but an 87? True, it made me feel good about myself, but I was still reminded of how legitimately unprepared I was that morning. Never do I want to experience anything similar to it, and that is what good came out of this experience—it showed me how painful it can be to be unprepared.
Umm, you see it everyday you go to Wall-Mart. You see it every time you turn on the TV, I mean. Some countries are worried about the whole "overpopulation" epidemic. In the Philippines it went from 6 children max in the 1960's to half that number 40 years later. This only increases the poverty level because there are no new people to work. I for one believe the whole overpopulated ordeal is a huge hoax that is killing the family. Chinese people are only aloud 2 children. This causes a problem: there isn't any growth whatsoever in the population number. I find it a bummer when two children were born under two parents who die later. 2 + 2 = 4 - 2 = 2. . . There is no up or down. Some people in China only have one child: 2 + 1 = 3 - 2 = 1. Then we lose a number in our population! AND THEN THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO DON'T EVEN HAVE CHILDREN! 2 + 0 = 2 - 2 = 0 Ok, now remember these figures, for, believe it or not, it posses yet another threat. The television community has communicated in secret that it is appropriate only to have three children max. Have ya ever gone in a McDonald's and got frowned at cuz your family had 6 kids!?!?! You see, people have been brainwashed to denounce and shun big families. People have been taught that having more than three kids is absolutely insane! Now here is the climax of this little story: while we Americans are having three children per couple, Islamic people are having twelve. . . and on top of that, these Islamic men have more than one wife!!!!! One guy with 6 wives each one having twelve kids what do ya get? An army for Alah! *passes out* AND ON TOP OF THAT, WE HAVE PEOPLE SPAMMING AND ABUSING THEIR ABORTION RIGHTS!!! *Dies*
