(no subject)
Today I actually did stuff. Ha. It was nice to do absolutely nothing for awhile, but I was getting restless.
I am back to tutoring Brenton twice a week after a break of several weeks... He read a National Geographic article on leopards and he let me help him write a summary. I was pleased. His reading fluency is sooo much better than it used to be. But really, I don't have as much to do with that as I might have... He generally works hard and has a great attitude. I'm glad it's paying off.
I also registered for my GED. My Brit Lit I classmate was working at the Testing Center; she is the sole nice person on the staff, so I didn't even have to calm my nerves afterward. I'm scheduled for the mornings of June 9th and June 16th if you'd like to think good thoughts.
The new tutoring agency sent me a contract. So I have a new semi-job! :D I have to get a fingerprint card, which is kinda expensive and a pain, but if I get a few steady clients it won't matter because undergraduate tutors make $10-15 an hour. So that's good, because I can always use mo' money! Mwahaha.
And finally, the college literary magazine came out today. My semi-stepmom's photography submission made the cover. I'm so proud. ^_^ The poem I sent in is there, on the last page, which is a freaking weird way to end the book if you ask me. It's still kind of cool to see something of mine in print, not that it says anything about my skill...
Bread
It was born from heat and a stranglehold.
No wonder it yearns to cut
through its plastic, leap from the toaster
onto your neck; it wants to feel
your teeth, be brutally consumed.
Consider its components:
the sterile confines of a metal bowl,
the yeast that chitters in a tepid bath,
engulfing its honey, the flour
descends and muddies the water.
The mixture, jumbled and disturbed,
is left to grow thick-skinned in isolation.
Do not imagine the baker's hands:
all fingers clench the dough equally,
puncture its center, searching for the bones.
Do not taste the dirt, sweat,
skin cells lost in the wheat.
These things have always nourished you; instead,
run your tongue along the intruders,
the roughness of barley or raisin seeds.
Bread desires to conquer your bloodstream.
Remember how its smell invades a house--
warm milk, alcohol, and soil.
It disintegrates with a gentle touch
to join old crumbs gritting under your feet.
Go ahead, slice it carefully
against the grain, be fooled
by its sweet and slippery disguises.
Let it devour you.
All contributors were required to send in biographical paragraphs with their work. Mine is the shortest. It says, "Rachel is an English major at Cochise College. She writes to shock other people and herself."
I am back to tutoring Brenton twice a week after a break of several weeks... He read a National Geographic article on leopards and he let me help him write a summary. I was pleased. His reading fluency is sooo much better than it used to be. But really, I don't have as much to do with that as I might have... He generally works hard and has a great attitude. I'm glad it's paying off.
I also registered for my GED. My Brit Lit I classmate was working at the Testing Center; she is the sole nice person on the staff, so I didn't even have to calm my nerves afterward. I'm scheduled for the mornings of June 9th and June 16th if you'd like to think good thoughts.
The new tutoring agency sent me a contract. So I have a new semi-job! :D I have to get a fingerprint card, which is kinda expensive and a pain, but if I get a few steady clients it won't matter because undergraduate tutors make $10-15 an hour. So that's good, because I can always use mo' money! Mwahaha.
And finally, the college literary magazine came out today. My semi-stepmom's photography submission made the cover. I'm so proud. ^_^ The poem I sent in is there, on the last page, which is a freaking weird way to end the book if you ask me. It's still kind of cool to see something of mine in print, not that it says anything about my skill...
Bread
It was born from heat and a stranglehold.
No wonder it yearns to cut
through its plastic, leap from the toaster
onto your neck; it wants to feel
your teeth, be brutally consumed.
Consider its components:
the sterile confines of a metal bowl,
the yeast that chitters in a tepid bath,
engulfing its honey, the flour
descends and muddies the water.
The mixture, jumbled and disturbed,
is left to grow thick-skinned in isolation.
Do not imagine the baker's hands:
all fingers clench the dough equally,
puncture its center, searching for the bones.
Do not taste the dirt, sweat,
skin cells lost in the wheat.
These things have always nourished you; instead,
run your tongue along the intruders,
the roughness of barley or raisin seeds.
Bread desires to conquer your bloodstream.
Remember how its smell invades a house--
warm milk, alcohol, and soil.
It disintegrates with a gentle touch
to join old crumbs gritting under your feet.
Go ahead, slice it carefully
against the grain, be fooled
by its sweet and slippery disguises.
Let it devour you.
All contributors were required to send in biographical paragraphs with their work. Mine is the shortest. It says, "Rachel is an English major at Cochise College. She writes to shock other people and herself."