Monthly Archives: March 2012

“It looks like a Noodle”

           I remember a life without pain or suffering, just a routine schedule of video games, television and education. Content with each day, excitement for friends’ fun and toys, I could live life carefree. Everyone reminisces about the days where responsibility doesn’t haunt their every action with results of consequences and difficult decisions. “Ask your mother”, a common phrase that provided all answers and gave guidance to how far I would stray from the safety of a sheltered life. My invulnerability was conceived from lack of life experiences and distraught with my 10th birthday with a gift I valued dearly. The most prized present I had ever received exposed the naive outlook with adversity from events that were soon to follow.

          I followed my parental figures to the backyard with anticipation for my 10th year celebration of life. The anticipation came not from the celebration, but from the presents I would expect like every birth year that had passed. My parents knew exactly what I loved, but this year they had really outdone themselves with something I could not even put to a numerical value. My jaw had dropped as I ran my hands over the smooth, unscathed rubber of the tires. I loved White and blue color with fiberglass plating hovering over each of the two tires, and a fresh paint job. It was the same feeling from when I received my first car. My parents awarded me the bike of my dreams which even the wealthy neighborhood children could not rival. I couldn’t have been more satisfied with this day as I escorted my “hot ride” to the curb to boost my short statue to clear the seat. The leather pressed against my bottom as if a middle aged man installed to his new Lazy Boy recliner. I rushed to show all my friends with excitement for the jealousy that would gleam through their eyes. Xavier, a dear friend of mine, excitedly would race with me up and down Plattsvile’s dead end street side by side with joy for the cool wind that rushed against our face. The adrenaline rush after reaching high speeds came to a halt after I noticed a loose end to my untied lace. Pulling to the nearest curb like a good driver, I laid my bike down as a tied my shoe to continue my active day in safety. Nothing could wipe this smile off my face I thought, but minutes later I would suffer the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my life. Propelling myself from the curve, I watched Xavier, with the speed of the Greek god Hermes, spurting in my direction with a smile on his face. As I overshot mounting my oversized vehicle, I had fallen as quickly as escaladed, just like the smile on my face as I noticed Xavier run a collision course with no hopes of a brake. All I could hear is the booming echo of my cry as Xavier given me a “break”, but far from the kind I had wished.

            My arm had be crushed without my realization, until I had taken the focus off my cries and focused on a limp arm which I could not lift. Tears rushed from my eyes without recollection of this horrid agony for never had I felt such pain. The neighborhood rushed to the street with response to Xavier’s plea for help, I could see the demeanor on his face, as filled with the guilt for what he had done. This is the first time in my life that I felt utterly vulnerable, scared and pregnable. With no control over my senses, sound had been barred by the loud siren’s I heard approaching. Even with paramedics on site, my bawling would not halt until the face of my protectors had appeared on the scene. As I looked in my mother’s eyes, trying to hold back the tears, I waited for words of comfort telling me everything would be ok. Soon I would see a smile molding on her face, as she chuckled and alerted me, “You’re arm looks like a noodle”. How could the person that has loved and cared for me throughout my whole life laugh at such a situation. Overcome with pain I couldn’t express nor comprehend the anguish left from such a phrase during this calamity. After preparation from paramedics I was rushed to the hospital, where a doctor laid me on my back, with my arm in his lap as we converse about my studies and hobbies. I was grateful for him giving me something other than pain to think about, comforted as I would have thought a parent would endow upon their child. My appreciation soon faded as my physician, without warning, grasped my arm and he brutally slammed it against it knee, cracking the bone back in place. Returned to the state of agony that I had left on my dead end street, the words “Why did you do that?” screeched from my mouth as I had felt betrayed for the second time in the same day that played out as the worst day of my life. Months later, with a casted arm full of friendly names who sympathized, I had recovered from what I had thought as abuse and betrayal.

            Two years after the event had passed I had finally conjured the courage to ride my bike again, for fear was stopping me from enjoying exploration with my peers. Trying to avoid any incident like that again, I awarded caution to every aspect of my life to only realize it’s depressing. This incident gave me the first experience of a hardship while unmasking the harsh realization that I am not invincible. I am able to look back and laugh at such an event because it is funny. This tragedy, for me, turned into a life lesson which I will never forget. Instead of living in fear, I compare the unbecoming events in life to the immune system. After sickness, if you survive, the body learns to be prepared next time the same event should occur. Breaking my arm didn’t kill me and now I have a better understanding of a horrible situation, and the knowledge to try to avoid falling off my bike. Revealing weakness provides you an opportunity to realize your faults and better situate yourself in the future. One can only learn from your mistakes and misfortunes when you take insight into a situation. Whenever I feel like my world is cascading I release a deep breath and gaze at my arm and realize it no longer looks like a noodle.


Failed in China

Failed in China

Staring at my clock, with the persistence that it lacks.

The digital had died so with a rotate I checked the back.

The plug leads to an outlet while a battery compartment shells nothing but a tag.

Just 3 words show, “Made in China.”

This repair I won’t pursue, you can’t fix china or the poor craftsmanship they spew.

Passing by my futon, a second glance becomes a stare.

To notice another tag attached accompanied by an obnoxious tear.

Just 3 words show, “Made in China”.

The wife comes walking in, her iPod leaves a braid.

Unexpected pixels from bottom to top and never will they fade.

Apple can be tricky, the 3 words they did change.

“Manufactured in China”.

Manufacturing is making, this sleazy Chinese stain.

On many of my purchases, unknowingly, these manufacturers I blame.

Their workers worse than hookers, the greed gives birth to disease.

For every jobless American, caused by factories overseas.

Not paying American taxes, is this how you support the troops?

I say we ban these productions, abusing loop-holes and forming flukes.

If we got rid of the greedy, everyone would be content.

Companies acting like the needy, so the CEO’s can afford a Benz.

These “Made in China’s” will not work, they kill the “American dream.”

Creating the loss of unity, protected by legality, these Americans are trading teams.