D;< Will

Well, I will soon die from too much homework, so here's my will! I trust all you fine people to find the people in it and give them what they deserve!

These are the last and final request of myself, Savannah Heavenly Carr. Since I know for sure that I'm going to die of exhaustion and too much work within the next 48 hours, I would just like to say a few things and tell you what goes to who, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and all that junk.
So first off, I would like to say that I will haunt all of my teachers for giving me so much homework, not to mention I will also be hoping to go somewhere where there is no homework, and if there is, maybe I can upgrade my package? I also hope that all my friends know they love me, no matter what I do and do not give them. So....let's skip all the gushy stuff and move on to touchable items.
To Jenna:
You get first call on any of my possessions. Just because I said so, and I know you actually like the stuff in my room. Plus, on my nightstand there's a journal. Read it. It's for you anyway. (Oh and my mom has my friendship ring, so feel free to steal that.)
To Beca:
You can have all of my bowling ball, I'm sure you'd like more of those! Plus, there's a whole bunch and odds-n-ends from our various adventures in Vegas and the likes. You get second dibs.
To...
......
.....
ummmm.....
To Everyone Else:
Do you guys really want any of my stuff? I mean there's just a bunch of junk.
hahaha I'm already tired of my will
Just take whatever.

Signed,
Savannah C

AIMS: The Memior of a Student Who Really Didn't Want to Do It.... (Expressive Piece)

I correct myself, it's not a Memior it's just my opinion. Same thing right? .... Well, no, but Memior sounded better than Complaints of a Students!

I'm tired - exhausted really.  They say some people come out of experiences years wiser and “changed.”  Aims wasn't one of those experiences, however.  Instead, it unnecessarily stressed me out and made me miss classes that have left the rest of my week, and now my weekend, hectic.

I’ve barely slept the past few nights. Teachers packed work on us because of the horrid timing of AIMS; with midterms next week, just for missing one day of school, our teachers poured on the work.  I have a midterm project due on Monday that I stayed up until midnight doing; I'm still not finished.  I have pages of math work, and even English, and I know that within the coming week or so until math AIMS, it will get even worse.

Not only the side effects of the testing were horrible either; the test itself was grueling.  You had to go over your essay over and over and over again; if you make one grammar or spelling mistake say good-bye to that six you want; say good-bye to that free ride to college; say good-bye to the tile up on the wall and your name being always remembered. I’m sure you can understand why it’s so stressful, to think of losing all you had hoped to get from the testing - gone in the blind of an eye. Not only that, but why do they keep us in the room after testing? They never tell us why we have to be there, they just keep you there and if you don’t have a book you’re stuck there staring at the ceiling and wishing that ceiling lights didn’t make that annoying buzzing sound that makes you think of the blue caged lights they use to kill mosquitoes.
              AIMs in my opinion has no point, but to stress students unnecessarily. The prep for it does make you better at certain things, but that could easily be done without having to pressure us so much.  Why do we have to stress?  Lose sleep for nothing?

21 Little Poetry Projects (from the Class webite) [Expressive Poetry to show a different format of writing]

* Imaged not owned by me

The hard door was velvet under my finger tips,

Its key hold spoke to me, its metal moving curiously, as if it was talking to a friend,

“I smell something precious. It’s bit musty and rake, much like rooting word, I suppose.”

My nose caught sight of it, in that moments, making my face scrunch up in disgust.

I was too timorous of Frank’s feelings to tell him it was him,

The smell was magically beautiful if you thought about it.

Frank was in the middle of nowhere.

Somethin’ like a blank slant, not exactly off the hinges.

Every door had a bad day; it was Frank’s bad day.

“That’s as cool as a dog in circus outfit.”

The velvet door of knowledge told me that.

He was soft like a pillow, that door.

He walked with the confidence and swagger of a top cat.

Savannah was all impressed.

The door would walk down that road and never come back.

Obscene Frank walked the alley with pride.

It amazingly true how he stood, with no accessories to cover his hard polished wood, his polished knocker and walking he stood.

I think the French call it demarche.

“Why are you still here, my dear?”

The door stood on the corner of Hershey Street and Main,

It had not been opened in years,

And it longed for affection.

Bellwork: February 1st (Writing to the Picture)

A piece of shrivled up nothing; hopeless, pitiful, and full of mournful thoughts. Reachig for something, anything, to grab hold of, to pull myself out. My fingers clutch nothing, only thin air, and slowly I see the clouds layer more, get darker and lower than I've ever seen. I start to feel myself pull away, deeper within myself, where I swore I wouldn't go again. Old habits die hard, though, and I just sink lower into this hole. This hole of misery and pain  few other experience, yet I can't do anything about it. I have to be strong, bottle up those fears and feelings, be strong for those around me. I paste on asmile, act as if nothing is going wrong and when others need me, I'm there. The hug, the smile, the everlasting strong place to hold onto. I can't find anything to hold onto though, like everyone else is finding in me. Maybe it's just pride, or fear, or a need not to share. I'm never totally sure.
My fingers clutch at thin air, while I'm the strong one for others. Reaching for something, anything to grab hold of, to pull myself out; yet everything feels like it's pushing me down.

(I don't feel this way constantly, but there have been so tough times in my life. Who hasn't had them?)

I dare you to be more random...

This is all of my "orinigal examples" from the vocab:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I’m having a bad day,

How about you?

The Madder the Hatter,

The more the fun.

I’m so hungry,

I could eat a 10 lb. chicken.

She wore a bright red dress,

But the color was gray in her eyes.

We all need to find ourselves,

Loss everything else.

The fries’ grease and smell,

Floated through the air.

To love,

To hate.

Love is amazing too.

To find love is…

She sits alone,

in her own little world.

Dialogue

            “Hey, twin,” I mumbled softly under my breath, daring not to look my best friend in the eyes.

            “Hey! Oh my god I’m so excited! You know how much I’ve always wanted to go out of the country and I’ll have to bring my camera of course,” Jenna said, barely breathing and moving her hands with extreme vigor.  “We’ll have to go see some of the lakes. I wonder if you can hug pandas in Japan?! That would be so cool! I mean I know China definitely does, but that’s only if you pay a lot. I’m sure I can use my Asian persuasion to let us in, though-”

            “Twin, the thing is…,” I mumbled again, hoping she would hear me, but realizing she wouldn’t when she talked right over my words like road kill.

            “- but does Asian persuasion ever work on other Asians? I wonder, it’s something I will have to add to our bucket list to find out. This is so exciting! I can’t believe you’re parents are letting us go! Ahhhh,” she shrilled, something she didn’t do often, jumping up and down. “This. Is. The. Coolest. Thing. EVER!”

            “Twin,” I said louder and with a no nonsense tone in my voice this time.

            She stopped and blinked at me before tilting her head slightly to the side. “Yessss?”

            “I feel horrible to say this, but you aren’t going,” I said, biting my cheek as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

            “What?! Why,” Jenna said, her once excited voice becoming quiet and I felt like crying. She looked like a vulnerable little 6 year-old.

            “I’m taking Beca,” I grumbled, my voice turning into a soft, almost inaudible and incomprehensible, jumble of words that half the time only she could understand. “She’s leaving me, twin, I have to spend more time with her before she leaves me for all her college buddies and ceases to remember me.”

            “Savannah Heavenly…,” she trailed off and hit me extremely hard in my shoulder with her thick math binder. Then taking a deep breath she said, “Fine.”

            “You’re mad aren’t you,” I asked, feeling even worse than before. I hated when people were mad at me.

            “Of course I am,” she said giving me that look that Hannah gave Blake every time he said something stupid. “However, you’re my twin, so I have to forgive you or else Twinworld would fall apart, hell would rein on Earth – not that we would have issues with that of course – and I would die of loneliness, so I demand that you Skype me every day, and taking pictures and video of everything and if you don’t, you can just go crawl into your emo corner and cry.”

            I chuckled and questioned, “And you plan to do what with that time?”

            “Curse you and make fun of the fact that you love to use words like horrid, of course.”

            “First off, horrid is not a weird word, and I don’t see how it could be. I mean-”

            “Who says horrid, Twin? People with fake British accents? It has to be one of the least commonly used words in the English language next to conundrum!”

            “No, it is not…wait, what’s a conundrum,” I asked suddenly confused.

            “Exactly!”

Second Poster For Friends of Maiti Nepal