If You Rode The Bus- Song

New Lyrics

Riding the lonely bus, every single day
Steppin' on, lookin round with nothing much to say
I'm looking down the isle, and there's not a seat for me
Sit on the stairs so at least I can try, to watch, and see

If you rode the bus you'd see how it is (x4)

We sit or stand there in ungrateful despair
If the A.C is working, I freeze in the cold air
There I stand, looking around, staring outside,
Public transportation; I sit here forced to abide

Crazy people sit around me on all sides
They entertain on the rides
Talking to themselves or counting away,
"You WIN Mr. Bus Driver!" one did say.

if you rode the bus you'd see how it is (x4)

You can't possibly know what I go through
Every weekday home from schoo'l
Until you smell the man next to me
Then most likely you'd take pity on me





Reflection:
Throughout the process of writing, recording, and presenting my song, I learned a lot. First of all, I had no idea at all how to work Garage Band or iMovie. That was an adventure on its own. It was very annoying, because my computer is old and breaking, so it took twice the effort to click on anything while using my laptop. Recording it was a difficult process as well. My friend Lexi and I spent hours, on the bus itself, outside of the Kailua library, (we were locked out,) and at our houses trying to get the singing right. Obviously, it didn't come out as wonderfully sang as we would have liked, but it was a pretty good product for a freshman English project...

I had to rewrite the music on garage band many times; each time something went wrong. I first had a whole melody before realizing my lyrics couldn't fit with what I had. It was due on a friday, and I couldn't work on wednesday, and on tuesday night I realized that I was at a point without any prospect of a melody, and my lyrics were tampered with and confused. I was in so much trouble! But with a little focus, and a little bit of help from my sister and more help from Lexi, my song steadily improved. Jing worked pretty well for me. Pretty soon my song and video were complete! Horrah!

Song-Story/Analysis

I'm sitting at the bus stop on Wilder, but I'm wishing I wasn't. It's that time of day when the sun shines so brightly between the Honolulu buildings, that you can see the dust floating in the air and the light blinds your line of sight.

Urghh, I thought to myself as I looked down at the speckled cement. The bus was late, again, like every other day in this entire school year that I had taken the bus. Seriously, I think it may have come on time on one wonderful day out of a hundred. At least today, Calla, Eimile, Tori and Veronica were all on my bus today. That could reduce the level of boredom to come, possibly.

In the distance, I saw a blue and rainbow streaked bus with a proud number four flashing from the screen above the windshield. Was it a mirage?
Veronica said, "There's the bus," confirming my state of not-insanity. We all pulled ourselves up from the block of stone they called a bus stop, and ambled over to where the bus loaded, right by the smelly trashcan. Yummmmy.

Usually, if we can claim a bunch of seats together, we're not tired from our long day of school, and the teachers haven't gone insane and assigned a million hours of homework, we'll have a pretty okay bus ride. We can just talk and be our normal, loud selves. But when there are no seats left for us? Then we stand, looking out the window in a defeated mood. If Tori is taking the bus with us, she tries her hardest to look tall and hold onto the more sturdy handles that hang down from the top, instead of the poles that are right next to where people are sitting.

Today was not a lucky day. As I stepped on to hear the bus's recorded welcome, I paid my dollar through the dollar-sucking slot and saw that elderly people were scattered throughout the long bus, leaving my friends and I with no seats. I sighed and trudged down the cheaply tiled isle right behind Veronica. Most of the bus cliques were there. The nurses that usually sit on the right side were all situated, dressed in brightly patterned scrubs, that didn't match the expressions on their faces. The Saint Louis junior boys, along with the Saint Francis sophomore girls who thought they were all that, were surprisingly not on this particular bus. That was a good thing; they prove themselves as troublemakers. They have pelted my friends and I with too many paper airplanes, spitballs, and the occasional condom if we're lucky to count in the past year to earn my trust.

In their normal two-seater sat the "Sleeping Couple." These two college students rarely are conscious on the bus. Assuming based on the little information that I have about them, they sleep away their entire lives. Actually, recently they've gotten more dedicated to their hourly nap at 4:05; they've started packing a small pillow or blanket in each of their backpacks daily.
There are also 'the two Chinese ladies' on the bus today. They sit in the same two-seater every day with their reading glasses on and read a Chinese newspaper. Wouldn't that get to be a boring daily commute?

At the next stop, Calla pulled the buzzer, pully-stoppy thing. (We usually just say, 'pull the thing,' because we frankly don't know what it's supposed to be called.) This was our transfer station, the YMCA somewhere in Honolulu. There were two benches, but they don't smell to great so we usually just sit on the stairs outside of the building.

"Those people way down there look a tad sketchy," Tori commented. I followed where she was looking and I saw them, and immediately agreed. One of the people had hair down to his butt, nappy and dreaded by pure neglect. His shirt was painted with an image of a huge marijuana leaf. The woman he was walking and talking with had similar features, except possibly a bit more feminine. She walked with her roller type backpack, taking bounding, yet low down steps. They were coming right towards us. The backpack was bobbing up and down, up and down, at the same intervals as her animated head was.

The bus has trained me well, in the way that usually I don't feel fear while noticing a person who doesn't look too socially, economically, or actually in any category, stable. But still, these people looked a tad bit more unstable that the normally unstable. Everything about their appearances added up to the reputation of a people whom I wouldn't want talking to me. We sat there in silence, on our claimed YMCA steps, while watching them pass. We looked solemn, until the woman's back was towards us, and we spotted the most peculiar, doubling as hilarious thing, in the entire world. The woman, who had her neon roller backpack, was also carting her pet cat. It was leashed to the handle, and was curled up on top, chilling and bobbing its head peacefully just as the woman and the man were doing while walking. A trio of head-bobbers, walking barefoot against the strong sunlight. Maybe it was one of those "you had to have been there" moments, but I can't even tell you how much I laughed and how much more this particular incident made me like riding the bus.

Other than the sporadic events that I wouldn’t experience anywhere else than the Hawaii public transportation services, the bus gets to be pretty boring. I take it so often, that it is just a routine now; I barely think about my awful bus fate. Next year, when I get my license, my friends' lives and mine are going to improve a whole lot. It's definitely something to look forward to during my high school life.

Sonnet/Analysis-Final Draft

Aly Thibault
Shigemitsu 12:30
Sonnet and Analysis
The Bus

I'm here, on the bus with books on my knee
People sitting, so weird, it makes me pause
Tons and tons of people that bother me
Persons so strange it makes me clench my jaws

Once rode a woman, taking her sweet time
The driver assumed she finally stepped off
The doors closed, squishing the woman mid-climb
"I have a disability," she scoffed

Then there was one lady; couldn't sit still
She elbowed me while using her cell phone
She moved and just was annoying as hell
It was so bothersome it made me groan

I have seen weird happenings on the bus
But saving the environment and gas is plus



For most normal teenage girls and boys, taking the bus is a dreaded yet unavoidable way of transportation. We are forced to pay with our four quarters and wait at the non-shaded bus stops for most of our sad no-driver's-licenses, awkward, going-independent lives. A lot happens on the bus; discussions about who gets the last open seat and who gets the honor of standing, drama, gossip or scandal, practically toppling over at every stop light when you unfortunately don't score a seat, and a lottttttttt of sitting at the bus stop because the bus is always late. It's pretty much a fact that the bus is never on time. I take the bus at least six times a week, every day home from school and also maybe once or twice on weekends to get from place to place. The bus is such a big influence on my life, sort of, so I decided to write my sonnet for English class about it.
My first line, " I'm here, on the bus with books on my knee," was my introduction to the topic of the public transportation system. If I am lucky enough to score a seat on the bus, I sit with my book-bag, full of heavy schoolbooks, on my lap. I snag a seat for approximately only one quarter of the rides I take. The bus is always halfway frigid, so my bag acts as a blanket. Another reason I always sit with my bag on my knee is that it makes me feel a little bit protected. The bus is a safe environment, but exactly like my second line says, "People sitting so weird, it makes me pause." I don't know what it is between insane people and the Hawaii bus system, but there has got to be some sort of correlation. Although most of the people are harmless, they do seem to make me "clench my jaws" if they are pretty nearby. Some of them also have a case of B.O as well, which doesn't help any matters.
For the rest of my sonnet, I decided to write about some of my experiences on the bus. "Once there was a woman, taking her time/The driver assumed she finally stepped off/The doors closed, squishing the woman mid-climb/'I have a disability,' she scoffed." This was an actual happening that made me laugh quite a bit. While sitting across from this lady during the ride, I noticed that her eyes were jumpy and spastic. She looked everywhere in a short amount of time. When she pulled the stop-requested-line to get off at her stop, she shakily stood up. It took her for-freaking-ever to get to the stairs that were located about four feet away from where she was sitting. She was taking about three minutes on each step, (that is an exaggeration, but it was for a long time.) The entire group of bus riders seemed to be groaning in their minds. When she was on the last step, the bus driver must have thought that she had stepped off, and so he closed the folding doors, hitting her jelloid arms, right on. She turned around to face the surprised bus driver, and with a perfectly even monotone voice, announced to the whole bus, "I have a disability, you know. I really don't need my back to be squished by a crazy bus driver's doors." And with that, she stomped off, much more quickly than a person with a disability should have been walking. The incident ended by me cracking up at the lady's antics.
Another tale I have of an adventure on the bus is described in my third stanza. " Then there was one lady; couldn't sit still/She elbowed me while using her cell phone/She moved and just was annoying as hell/It was so bothersome it made me groan." When I boarded the bus, I found a seat next to a 'nice old grandmotherly lady,' or so I thought. The second I got comfy with my iPod out, she started fidgeting. At first it was okay to handle, just a little twitching of her knee and fingers. But it got worse. And when I say it got worse, it got worse! Her cell phone needed to be taken out and put away almost every minute. And when it was out, it needed to be moved around so that she could view the screen without glare. After about five minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I moved across the bus to the other open seat and then after I moved, she glared at me. Jeez!
Although the bus does have many negatives, there are also a few positives. The major one of course is that its good for the environment. Cramming more people on the bus means less usage of cars, which means less usage of gasoline and fossil fuels. By taking it almost every day, I am helping to save our planet. "I have seen weird happenings on The Bus/But saving the island and gas is plus." Although it takes a long time for the bus to get from place to place, it is also saving time and resources for the earth. Although some people can be extremely strange and creepy, they provide entertainment for my friends and I, so it's not actually all that bad for the whole time. My sonnet acts as a storyteller; a summarizer for all of the long hours I have spent on the bus.

TheBus Sonnet & Analysis

Aly Thibault
Shigemitsu 12:30
Sonnet and Analysis
TheBus
I'm here, on the bus with books on my knee
There are people so weird, it makes me pause
Tons and tons of people that bother me
Persons so strange it makes me clench my jaws

Once there was a woman, taking her time
The driver assumed she fine-lly stepped off
The doors closed, squishing the woman mid-climb
"I have a disability," she scoffed

Then there was one lady; couldn't sit still
She elbowed me while using her cell phone
She moved and just was annoying as hell
It was so bothersome it made me groan

I have seen weird happenings on TheBus
But saving the island and gas is plus



For most normal teenage girls and boys, taking the bus is a dreaded yet unavoidable way of transportation. We are forced to pay with our four quarters and wait at the non-shaded bus stops for most of our sad no-driver's-licenses, awkward, going-independent lives. A lot happens on the bus; discussions about who gets the last open seat on the bus and who gets the honor of standing, drama, gossip or scandal, practically toppling over at every stop light when you unfortunately don't score a seat, and a lottttttttt of sitting at the bus stop because the bus is always late. It's pretty much a fact that the bus is never on time. I take the bus at least six times a week, every day home from school and also maybe once or twice on weekends to get from place to place. So because the bus is such a big influence on my life, (sort of,) I decided to write my sonnet for English class about it.
My first line, " I'm here, on the bus with books on my knee," was my introduction to the topic. If I am lucky enough to score a seat on the bus, I sit with my book-bag, full of heavy schoolbooks, on my lap. I snag a seat for usually only about one quarter of the rides I take. The bus is always cold, so my bag acts as a blanket. Another reason I always sit with my bag on my knee is that it makes me feel a little bit protected. The bus is a safe environment, but exactly like my second line says, "There are people so weird, it makes me pause." This is totally true! I don't know what it is between insane people and the Hawaii bus system, but there has got to be some sort of correlation, which is why I wrote "Tons and tons of people that bother me/Persons so strange it makes me clench my jaws." Although most of the people are harmless, they do seem to make me clench my jaws if they get too close. Some of them also have a case of B.O as well, which doesn't help any matters.
For the rest of my sonnet, I decided to write about some of my experiences on the bus. My next stanza, " Once there was a woman, taking her time/The driver assumed she fine-lly stepped off/The doors closed, squishing the woman mid-climb/"I have a disability," she scoffed." This was an actual happening that made me laugh quite a bit. While sitting across from this lady during the ride, I noticed that her eyes were jumpy and spastic. She looked everywhere in a short amount of time. When she pulled the stop-requested-line to get off at her stop, she shakily stood up. It took her for-freaking-ever to get to the stairs that were located maybe four feet away from where she was sitting. She was taking about three minutes on each step, (that is an exaggeration, but it was for a long time.) The entire group of bus riders seemed to be groaning in their minds. When she was on the last step, the bus driver must have thought that she had stepped off, and so he closed the folding doors, hitting her jelloid arms, right on. She turned around to face the surprised bus driver, and with a perfectly even monotone voice, announced to the whole bus, "I have a disability, you know. I really don't need my back to be squished by a crazy bus driver's doors." And with that, she stomped off, much more quickly than a person with a disability should have been walking. The incident ended by me cracking up at the lady's antics.
Another tale I have of an adventure on the bus is described in my third stanza. " Then there was one lady; couldn't sit still/She elbowed me while using her cell phone/She moved and just was annoying as hell/It was so bothersome it made me groan." When I boarded the bus, I found a seat next to a 'nice old grandmotherly lady,' or so I thought. The second I got comfy with my iPod out, she started fidgeting. At first it was okay to handle, just a little twitching of her knee and fingers. But it got worse. And when I say it got worse, it got worse! Her cell phone needed to be taken out and put away every minute practically. And when it was out, it needed to be moved around so that she could view the screen without glare. After about five minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I moved across the bus to the other open seat and then after I moved, she glared at me. Jeez!
Although the bus does have many negatives, there are also a few positives. The major one of course is that its good for the environment. Cramming more people on the bus means less usage of cars, which means less usage of gasoline and fossil fuels. By taking it almost every day, I am helping to save our planet. "I have seen weird happenings on TheBus/But saving the 'aina and gas is plus." Although it takes a long time for the bus to get from place to place, it is also saving time and resources for the earth. Also, although the people can be extremely strange and creepy, they provide entertainment for my friends and I.

Paper #2: Continuation of "Catcher"

Aly Thibault


26th of February, 2008
Paper #2
Chapter One
I was sitting there, on the Highway 180 and all, with my thumb up, hoping someone would drive by and let me hitch my way up Northern California, where there weren't as many people, phony people, as down here. I had just been visiting my older brother D.B. in Hollywood. We weren't actually together all that much because he was in the process of writing another one of those goddamn movies. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies.
In fifteen minutes, I was sitting in the passenger seat of a beat-up red car. That's another thing I hate. Cars. They're so noisy and they remind me of New York, a lot. Why not just ride around horses? If I still had any more dough by the time I am situated I will buy a horse. But definitely not a car.
"Hello," the owner of the truck, a guy who looked to be about fifty, with a profound grey beard grunted. "Where 'ya headed?" He had a trucker type hat and a plaid flannel shirt on. He looked like a trucker, but he wasn't. He had a car. Why pretend to be a trucker if you don't drive a truck?
"Up north," I said. I didn't really feel like talking to him. I was pretty tired and all, from catching rides across the country and visiting D.B. I hadn't slept that well through it all. For some reason, I kept on thinking of my dead brother Allie whenever I tried to sleep. Maybe it had something to do with me seeing one of my brothers, but not Allie. Anyway, it kept me awake most of the time.
"I'm going up and towards Nevada. I'll take you as close to near there as I can."
"Thanks."
"Where 'ya from?"
"New York area. "
The "trucker" responded with another grunt type sound and we didn't talk much more after that.
Next, I got my kid sister Phoebe on the brain. I never gave her back her Christmas dough before I split towards California. I felt pretty bad about it, but she wouldn't take it, if you want to know the truth. The world out here in the western U.S. is very different than New York. I never really liked it there; I never belonged in such a big city. I thought I was stuck with the "New York situation;" going through the processes of enrolling and then getting the axe from various boarding schools throughout the East. Then one day it came to me; I would hitch hike out to California, and live by myself in a cabin in the woods. I'd be self-sustainable, and only let my family into my house. D.B. would only be allowed without a movie script in hand. It would be a complete phony-free environment, just the way I wanted it.
So here I was, sitting in the car with a stranger. I didn't even know his goddamn name.
"Hey, what's your name?"
"Craig," said Craig. A thought popped into my head right then. I don't know why it did.
" Ever been to New York, Craig? Central Park?" I'd never found out what happened to those ducks, the ducks that live in Central Park. What happened to them in the winter always bothered me.
"Yeah, way back when."
"Well do you know what happens to the ducks?"
"The what?"
"The ducks. Never mind." This was the second time I had asked a driver and not gotten an answer. Those goddamn ducks.
Soon enough, Craig pulled over and let me out of his car after I had thanked him. At first the door stuck and I had to kick it a few times before it opened. Stupid cars. Always acting up like that.
I was thinking that I would only have to get about one more hour's worth of rides until I ended up where I wanted to be, Northern California. While I was sitting, I started thinking about Jane Gallagher, my best friend from a few summers ago. I hadn't talked to her since then, since before school started. I thought about her a lot, honestly. I hadn't even heard about old Jane Gallagher lately, except for when my ex-dorm mate, Stradlater, took her out and quite possibly 'gave her the time.' If you want to know the truth, Stradlater thought he could give any girl that he wanted to, 'the time,' and I really hope he didn't want old Jane for that purpose. It just made me feel weird thinking about it.
All of a sudden, I change my mind. I changed my mind about hitch hiking up more North, and making a cabin with no one near me at all, and starting over, this time without phonies and school. I wanted to meet Jane again. I wanted to talk to her, and in all true honesty, I didn't know what else I wanted. Just like that, I crossed the highway and put my thumb up. Ten minutes later I was headed back to New York City.
Chapter Two
I was back in New York within the week. I had gone all that way, and back, and now it was time to give old Jane a buzz. In the phone booth, I started getting real nervous. I even started to sweat like a bastard and all. I managed to dial the numbers correctly and press the button to start the call.
It rang once and I hung up. I don't exactly know why I was nervous, but if you want to know the truth, I was. After waiting for a few long minutes, I redialed, and this time I stayed on the line.
"Hello?" It was Jane, the Jane, of my childhood. The girl I quite possibly was in love with, whether I liked it or not.
"Hey, hello Jane." I stuttered. I hadn't really thought of what I would say exactly. I probably sounded just like one of those pervert-weirdo's. They kill me.
"Who is this?" She sounded really different than the voice I remember from two or three years ago.
"This is Holden. Holden Caulfield. We were friends back in Maine."
"Holden! It's been so long since I've talked to you! How are you! Where are you? Do you still go to that boarding school? How are your brothers? And Phoebe? " She started asking a lot of questions but I only felt like answering the first two.
"I'm fine, thanks," I already told you before; I'm a natural at lying. "Hey listen, would you want to meet up for a drink sometime? I'll take you out. We can catch up."
"That'd be… great!" I thought for a second that she was going to reply with the word grand. One thing I liked about Jane was that she never used phony words as such.
We made arrangements to meet at a place downtown, the Lavender Room, that night. I had gone there a few times before. It wasn't all that great but it was the only place I could think of to take Jane out when I was on the phone and all.
Chapter Three
I was sitting there at the Lavender Room real fidgety. I should have asked if we could meet somewhere else, but my goddamn brain. It was 8:07. Girls always try to be "fashionably late." It doesn't make sense to me, and it sure as hell doesn't seem so fashionable to me. If you tell someone you are going to meet at eight o' clock, why not actually show up at eight o' clock like you said you would?
While I was thinking about all of this, Jane showed up. I could tell she didn't recognize me right away; she scanned the room a couple times with her bright blue eyes before she finally noticed me sitting at a small table on the notorious vomity-looking seats. As she sort of skipped over to the table, I decided I loved her. It seems like a big decision, that you actually love someone, but it seemed simple at the time.
I could tell that Jane was Jane right away because of her eyes. They were aqua blue, with green around the edges. They were big and always happy-looking. Her hair was also the same as before, long, chocolate-colored, and golden brown at the ends.
"Holden!" She practically screamed. I guess she was pretty excited.
"Jane! You look wonderful! And different!" I think I can be quite suave when I want to be.
"And you, too! How are you!?"
"I'm really well, thanks. I just got back from visiting D.B. in California a week or so ago."
"Really! How was that? And how is Allie, and Phoebe, and your mother and dad?" She really can speak fast when she wants to.
"Well, they're all pretty good. Except for Allie. He died of leukemia last summer. D.B-"
"What!"
"Oh, right. Yeah. No lie. But I don't really like talking about it that much."
"Okay, yeah."
It was a little bit awkward then. I didn't know what to say, and I had forgotten what we were talking about before that. Dead end.
"And how is Phoebe doing?"
The conversation went on like that, just talking about the changes that had occurred since my most memorable summer ever. She no longer owned the Doberman Pincer, the one that used to relieve itself in my family's Maine yard, and now had a poodle named Gary. Jane got bored fo checkers but she's interested in chess now. She couldn't play tennis anymore, because she sprained her ankle pretty badly a year ago. The facts went on and on and on, but none were especially interesting except for one.
"You're getting married?" My face flushed as I looked over and noticed the large diamond sitting on her ring finger. It was quite flashy if you want to know the truth.
"Yes! Isn't it wonderful? I met him not that long ago, but I really think it’s the right thing to do, for both of us. He's amazing."
My hands, which were under the table, started shaking. It wasn't so bad, but I could definitely feel them shaking. If you were in my situation I bet your hands would shake too. I didn't want to be there at all at that point, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn't just leave old Jane in the Lavender Room.
"Oh. I see. Yeah, that sounds great!"
Old Jane Gallagher went on and on excitedly talking. She was so stoked that she didn't even notice the sickly color that was creeping up my neck. I couldn't believe that I was too late for Jane and me, and that depressed the hell out of me.
"By next month I'll be Mrs. Jane Stradlater." She beamed. I gaped.
"Did you say.. Mrs. Jane… Stradlater? As in Ward Stradlater? Who goes to Pencey Prep in Pennsylvania? That Stradlater?"
"Yes! Oh Holden, you know him? Perhaps you can be in the wedding then!"
I couldn't take it anymore. I hastily made up a lie about how it was Allie's birthday and I had to visit him at a graveyard, and she soaked it up like a sponge. After she apologized like mad, and I ensured her that it was okay, I stumbled out the door. I was a tad bit drunk from the coke and rum that I had at the bar, but that wasn't really the reason that I was staggering. It was because I had wasted my entire life over Jane, the love of my life, and the person she fell for was a phony, irritating guy who was more handsome than myself. Stupid girls will always fall for guys like Stradlater. All they care for is looks, not brains or anything. Well its not like I have any of those either. I'm an ugly, high school drop out times four. I have grey hairs on half of my head. Grey hairs! What the hell! I would never get a girl as great as Jane. The only girls that I could get are the ones that have scraggle teeth and say things like grand. No one loved me. Allie was dead. D.B. had sold out. I didn't have any place to go or live. I was completely out of money. What was the purpose of living? I wasn't going to get anywhere in life. Like Mr. Antollini, and Mr. Spencer, I was heading towards a dead end in life.
I hailed a taxi. One came pretty fast, but before I got in I asked the driver what happened to the ducks in Central Park.
"What are you talking about? Get in, you moron!" The driver yelled something out the window but I stepped away, back onto the curb, and called another one.
"What happens to the ducks in Central Park in the winter, sir?"
"I think they migrate down south. Probably to Florida or something. Now are you getting in or wasting more of my time?"
I got in. "Empire State Building please." During the drive there I pictured the ducks migrating away. They had an escape, with a family and place to go home to where they felt where they belonged. I didn't, which was why I was on my way to the Empire State Building. I was also thinking about James Castle during the drive. He pulled some crazy sort of stunt. He was pushed or something out of his window. Whatever happened, he didn't deserve it. Did I deserve to live?
I paid the taxi driver and without looking up or around, anywhere, I entered into the large marble lobby, blindly ran into the staircase, and began my journey up the eighty-something stories, skipping every other step. I could take the elevator, but I didn't want to be questioned by the elevator guy. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, anywhere. All I could think about was Jane and Stradlater, necking after some awful, phony priest, made them say "I do" and all. It was the most horrible image I'd ever conjured in my mind. And because of this, I was standing on the railing of the top of the Empire State Building. I had nothing going for me in life; there was no hope. I half wished someone would come out and stop me, and all, but no one did. So I jumped.

ComicLife Project

Shadowing Holden Essay

If you really want to hear about it, I'll tell you the whole, entire story. It all started one night with my dad arriving home from work and dumping a big, fat, phonebook-sized book on my desk, where I was contentedly finishing up some homework.
I looked up at the big sound and asked, "What is thattttt?" He said that, "if I was serious about getting into Punahou, I would have to study diligently." I hadn't thought about that. I just had sort of assumed I'd just show up for an interview and get in and all.
What actually did happen was that I studied, hard, almost every night. When I wasn't studying, I was picturing my "new life" that would begin once I attended Punahou. Punahou. Even the name sounded so… intelligent and respected! Getting into Punahou was the major goal of my life. I had told everyone I was applying, friends, teachers, and my coaches. The topic even came up during a doctor appointment.
"You know, Alyson," started the doctor. That killed me. My full name is Alyson. However, I prefer Aly. Actually, its not that I prefer Aly, it's more that I hate being called Alyson. For some reason I don't think of myself as Alyson. I think of 'Alyson' as a prim, proper, and depressing English lady. So, when the doctor began a talk by calling me Alyson, I instantly chose to disregard what she would say.
It continued. "It's not a big deal if you don't get accepted in to Punahou." Pause! Huh? Of course it was! But because I didn't exactly want to start a fight with the doctor, I nodded politely with a serene smile on my face. "My kids say that all of the Punahou kids are snooty." At this point, she had me a little big angry. What did she know? Her kids were wrong. It certainly was a dirty trick, saying that all Punahou kids were snooty because she thought I would need consoling. But of course I wouldn't; I was going to get into Punahou!
The doctor continued, "So if you don't get in, don't worry about it. Then you won't have to make the commute over the hill." That killed me more than when the silly lady called me Alyson. Someone didn't share my excitement?
"That's just so weird," I remember thinking. "Punahou is the best school on the island, hands down! There are no negatives!"
My excited apprehensiveness filled my thoughts until the day that I discovered three large envelopes in the mailbox. One was addressed to Bailey, my 3rd grade sister, one to my brother Jack in 6th grade, and one to me. And the best part was, the return addresses all read 'Punahou School.' After ripping it open, and reading the first line, I was officially accepted to the Punahou School, class of 2011. Woooo! I had reached my goal. I didn't officially accept the letter right then because I had also tried out for other schools, and my parents wanted to wait and see if I got into those schools also.
Later that week, while watching eight players prepare for a big tournament, one of my closest friends Monica and I were sitting on the steps, and she was trying to convince me that Punahou was not a good place.
"You know, you're going to have to wake up at like, 5:30 every morning to go to school!" she said.
"I know," I answered, "but the schedules there are super cool! I'll probably be able to get out at like, 12 or something every day!" I was getting a little bit impatient with this bash-Punahou talk.
"I know. But I can't believe you're ditching us next year!" Silly Monica.
"I'm sorrrrrrry! I'll still get to see you and all a lot." While I was talking, I noticed a little light switch behind me.
"I know. But not as much! Do you think you're really going to-" She was cut off as the court lights instantly turned off and blackness covered the two courts.
"OH MY GOD!" I whisper-yelled.
"What did you do!" she whisper-yelled back.
"I accidentally turned off the lights! I didn't realize what the switch would do!"
Monica didn’t respond because my dad was angrily storming over and asking what happened to the lights. The players were so angry at me, because the big tennis court lights take about ten to fifteen minutes to turn on. I blamed my major embarrassment on Punahou. If I hadn't gotten in, this wouldn't have happened!
Although I was angry at Punahou for distracting me and making me switch the lights, I still wanted to go there a tiny bit. Monica wasn't the only one telling me that Punahou might not have been such a great choice. Maybe they were jealous, or maybe they just didn't want to see me leave. Either way, all of a sudden I felt crushed and confused. What if they were right! What if I go to Punahou and regret it! I wasn't sure of what I wanted and all. Instead of logically deciding whether or not I would attend, I completely avoided the topic. I never talked about it with anyone. Whenever my parents tried to confront me about my choice in schools, I just would say that I'd decide later. This continued until two days before the acceptance letter was due. Then I realized that I had to make my decision, and I had to make it fast.
The night before we had to re send in the letter, my parents and I all sat down at the table and made a list of all of the pros and cons about Punahou.
"One good thing about going to LJA is that all of your friends live close to you!" My mom pointed out.
"Yes, but a lot of people from Punahou live near us anyway… So I don't think that's such a big deal," I responded.
"Are you sure your willing to make the commute every day?"
"Yes, Dad."
It went on and on and on, but finally, I decided to suck up my worries and go to Punahou after all. Once I put it all into perspective, I realized that I shouldn't let friend's tell me what I want and don't want. Going to Punahou was, like I expected, a really wonderful decision. I love it there and am so glad that I listened to what I wanted, and not someone else.