Call Out - 10EAD Memoir

If I fail Electronics this semester it's because of Mrs Nua. I wouldn't be missing out on the valued information that is Electronics if it wasn't for the "subtle" pressure to post something. But anyway, this is a memoir we were assigned to write for English Ad. (Language may slightly offend. But probably not. So this very sentence is wasting your time. Okay go read now.)

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He stood there.  Watching.  I stood there.  About to crap my lavalava. "They probably locked him up," she says. "Dad will be outside" she says.  I didn't dare to even gulp, let alone move.  There was no way I was risking anything, especially with him. 'Pleeeeaaaaaaaase Lord.  I'll do it another time. Please, just not now,' I internally cried. 'So this is it.  This is how it ends.  A church carpark. Alone.' I allowed myself one shaky breath out.  'Lord please don't let me die like this." As if hearing my pathetic plead, the malicious bastard practically galloped towards me.  'Why thank you Universe!'

Stupid tears begin to blur my vision, ruining my staunch appearance.  I tightened my buttocks in a weak attempt to stop crying.  'Why did I have to walk down? I'm a girl, I'm not meant to even be walking around at this time.'  While I stood there feeling sorry for my self, Mr. I'mMeantToBeLockedUp encircled my pathetic excuse of a defensive stance.  I contemplated calling for help, but if anyone was to hear the faintest of my plea, it would be the minister.  Then again he would probably be so engrossed in the new X Factor episode to hear.  

Sniffing the air, the fat lump of hair's attention recabrilated to a corner of the carpark, where some small rodent crashed about.  I don't think I'd ever been so thankful for rats before.  Hope now present, but still miniscule.  With his back now turned to me, I took this opportunity to attempt a sprint back home. Back to those ghastly two people.  Feeding me false information, practically endangering my life. My mum and brother.  I dared to step backwards, the heel of my jandal slapping against the cold rubble. 'No one will even see you,' she says, 'just wear the jandals' she says.  The sound echoed through the carpark, not really helping my case.  At all.

Any form of hope diminished the milli-second his ears perked up.  He whirled around charging full speed at me. Barking, teeth bared, eyes burning - the works. I screamed pathetically when I realised I was basically going to die.  I hadn't even been in a school production yet.  I heard him whimper but didn't bother to stop, he was probably just trying to trick me. Another whimper and I dared to glance over my shoulder, out of breath.  I was shocked really.  No, not that Caesar had now sat watching me intently, and not trying to kill me. Someone had stopped him.  The world no longer had the possibility of suffering the grief aspect of my amazingness being absent.

My minister called out, smiling and patting the dog,

"Call out next time!"

Where I Am From

Where I Am From from SchoolTV on Vimeo.

Recently in my Social Studies class, we've been focusing on migrants and immigration regarding New Zealand.  Our task was to create a project showing where you/ your ancestors have come from, why they've come etc. regarding immigration in any medium.

I chose to create a movie based on my grandparents, (you know seeing as I'm all techy and stuff...)

I particularly enjoyed creating this movie as it actually gave me a better understanding of why/how my grandparents got to Auckland/NZ. It has certainly given me an even higher of the respect I already have for my grandparents, simply hearing about all the issues that happened along the way.

Huge credit to my grandparents for making the decision to move for their children, let alone agreeing to be interviewed for this.
Thank you, I literally wouldn't be here without you.❤

Glen Innes.

In English we have been reading Karlo Mira's poem : Octopus Auckland. The poem recognises the daily antics of each suburb in Auckland and her feelings towards it. Our job, was to create our own 'tentacle' to what we see in our suburb.

In Glen Innes

The road is littered with awkward sized ‘islands’

Decorated by the green taro leaves

The paint faded people movers run them over

The elderly ladies run out of their state houses yelling at the passer-byers

The T.C students laugh too loud at the sight

On their way to the library

The walk staunchly

Scaring off the other schools

Passing their friends aunty

In her woollen socks and grandson’s nike sandals

She sips from her dollar 'Starz' drink

And hums the familiar Tongan tune

Sang at the church on the corner, that was meant to be a house

We pass it every Sunday

The kids yell out things in Tongan

I see them sometimes when I walk to the train station
At the bakery
The same one my Papa used to buy potato tops from
The same one we go to after school.
My friends ask where my church is.
The one on the corner, I tell them.
The blue one.