Gacekblog

Sunday, March 17, 2019

"The Fairy Tale Insane Asylum," by Ian S.

In the Insane Asylum for Fairy Tale Characters.

It’s the only place I’ve got to call home.

My only friend is Geppetto, if I can even call him a friend. I don’t even know if I can trust him, but he’s better than the other people here. He plays with marionettes, and calls them his children. We all know that they are fake, but we don’t tell that to the old hag.

If there is one person that you want to stay away from in here, that person has got to be Cinderella. She always insists that all of her clothes are made by her little rodent friends. She says that a “Fairy Godmother” came to turn all of her pumpkins into carriages, and her rags into beautiful gowns.

She’s a psychopath; but aren’t we all.

Another person (or animal) that you want to stay away from is The Cow. I believe he hallucinates every night about going to the moon and back. No cow has ever done it, and no cow will ever. Well, that’s what I thought, until the day Buzz Aldrin ate a McDouble on the moon.

But who am I?

My name is Paul Bunyan. I carry around an axe everywhere I go, and ride on a big blue ox. I’m either color blind, or crazy. But I’m in here, so the answer is pretty obvious. I wear overalls and chop down trees for fun. So far, I’ve set hundreds of forest fires, and chopped down thousands of trees. But right now, I’m stuck here.

It’s the only place I’ve got to call home.

In the Insane Asylum for Fairy Tale Characters.

"The Starbucks Coffee Effect," by Ren.m

She finally let go of the hot coffee cup, if it could be called that. Ouch, she thought. Starbucks coffee effect. One would think that the people responsible for creating a whole moon base runnable by one person, for creating space suits that kept you warm out on the surface, for creating effective radiation blockers, would be able to make a passable sleeve. She caught it before it hit the ground, the low gravity giving her plenty of time to make a grab. It wasn’t a proper cup—it was a special one, designed with a lid and an automatic seal to keep astronauts from splashing themselves in different gravity—and it wasn’t Starbucks, but the analogy held its meaning, even 250,000 miles away. Tomorrow, she would be the farthest from Earth as she’d ever be, at 252,088 miles.

She continued down the hallway, the monochrome white and grey palate broken up with bright neon lights imbedded in the floor leading to various different rooms. She followed pink, coming into the control room at last. Setting down her coffee on a touch sensitive control panel that should’ve been far above being used as a coaster, she looked at the image on the main screen. Clear as a window, there was Earth, spinning majestically away from her, a green and blue sphere. Only halfway out of the dark, she could see the lights of civilization.

They must look up and think of the universe. They must envy me; hoping for adventure and seeking greener pastures even here, where there’s no green but what we bring.

They don’t know what it’s like to be on the moon alone, to be the only human around for a quarter of a million miles. They don’t know that I look down and think the same things. Wonder the same things.

They don’t know how much I envy them.

She sighed slightly and sipped her coffee. She would be home in a year. One year--and then real Starbucks.

You can visit Ren's book review blog here.

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

"A Day in the Life of Death," by Alexandra R.

The familiar sound of winter comes, and follows me, like it always does around this time of year. The snowflakes pass through me as I pile souls in the snow. I almost feel watched, but I know that is impossible. The mortals on this world and all like it can’t see me. And never will. I send the pile drifting off into the wondrous fuchsia sky from the snow. The souls that had a right to live. Unlike me.

A small fact

I am death.

Do not be alarmed. I will know when it is your time, and I will carry your soul away just as carefully as I sent this batch.

A reassurance

I am not the scary

brown or black-cloaked demon

with a scythe that kills for

Pleasure. It’s just my job.

I have nowhere to live, mainly because I don’t live at all. I float in the between of life and death, the thing between happiness and anger, trickery and honesty.

I don’t belong here, in this world. Not like those I carry away. I am envious, even of the smallest flea. It is well known that humans think of me as a murderer, or as war’s best friend, but this is not true. I find war like the kind of friend no one wants to have, they make you work and give you nothing in return, and when you complete one impossible task, they keep on pushing for you to take on an even bigger one.

I never wanted this kind of existence, but the world of being in between life and nothingness, is a difficult way to be. I sometimes wish that I were dead, for then I could belong somewhere. Even I do not know what it is like to live in my realm, but I know that it must be more pleasant than this awful existence. I try to stay on the bright side, I really do, but It’s difficult when all you have to entertain yourself, are the colors of the sky.

I often think about colors. It is strange how they work. For example, blue. To some people blue is the color of sadness and cold, but to many others it is perceived as trust, loyalty, sincerity, wisdom, and confidence. This is how I entertain myself, gobbling up useless facts to pass time. How else would I know that hippo sweat is red? Or that the next full moon on Halloween will be in 2020? I’ve spent my life with information floating around in my head. With no one to tell it to or to share it with. Of course, humans can’t notice me, otherwise how would I manage to do my job? People aren’t good listeners anyway, but I would live with the world's worst listener if it meant that I could be seen.

“I picked that quote because it really explains what the book is about,” I said during my book talk. “I hope that you decide to read “a Day in the Life of Death by Alexandra Romano” and with that, I walked back to my desk and took a seat.

Theme Inspired by The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Travelogues

Ainslie: St. Paul, with Dan Feehan (MN-01)
Alex: Phoenix, with Krysten Synema (AZ-Sen)
Aoi: San Diego, with Katie Hill (CA-25)
Austin: Huntington, with Carol Miller (WV-03)
Ava B.: Atlanta, with Stacey Abrams (GA-Gov)
Ava O.: Louisville, with Amy McGrath (KY-06)
Ben: Hartford, with Ned Lamont (CT-Gov)
Catherine: Detroit, with Elissa Slotkin (MI-08)
Corbin: Des Moines with David Young (IA-03)
Cyrus: Fargo, with Heidi Heitkamp (ND-Sen)
Danni: Madison, with Scott Walker (WI-Gov)
Eva: Las Vegas with Jacky Rosen (NV-Sen)
Gabe: Taos, with Xochitl Torres Small (NM-02)
Harper: Indianapolis, with Joe Donnelly (IN-Sen)
Josh: Kansas City, with Josh Hawley (MO-Sen)
Jules: El Paso, with Beto O'Rourke (TX-Sen)
Kevin: Richmond, with Abigail Spanberger (VA-07)
Leo: Cleveland, with Richard Cordray (OH-Gov)
Liam: Jackson with Mike Espy (MS-Sen)
Logan: Charlotte, with Dan McCready (NC-09)
Maggie: Ocean City, with Ben Jealous (MD-Gov)
Owen: Houston, with Lizzie Pannill Fletcher (TX-07)
Paige: Scranton, with Scott Wallace (PA-01)
Rayhan: Albany, with Anthony Delgado (NY-19)
Sadie: Chicago, with Sean Casten (IL-06)
Sammy H.: Billings, with Jon Tester (MT-Sen)
Sammy S. Memphis, with Phil Bredesen (TN-Sen)
Sophia: St. Petersburg with Bill Nelson (FL-Sen)
Troy: Wichita with Sharice Davids (KS-03)
Wynter: Charleston, with Joe Cunningham (SC-01)
Yoon-Soo: Bangor, with Jared Golden (ME-02)
Zoe: Orlando, with Andrew Gillum (FL-Gov)

Monday, March 4, 2019

"Seconds," by Stuart W.

Seconds

by Stuart W.

They say that at the end of your life, you regret the things you didn’t do more than the things that you did do. I didn’t know about that. Less than a second ago, in real time, the Formula 1 car that I was in had been tagged in the rear, and now was several feet off the ground, upside down. I was staring directly up, or down, so I could see the driver below me. They were jammed up against the wall, sparks flying from the car that was being shredded. When you're watching the Indy 500, you don’t think of all the dangers, especially the wall. The wall is your worst enemy, hitting it could spell certain death. At this point in time, which seemed to move at a snail's speed, I began to think. About my life.

For the few years leading up to this crash, my life had been spectacular. I had been hired be Team Penske, the nations, and quite possibly, the world's best racing team. I had signed a contract for 5 years, and when that expired, they had asked me to come back for another 5 years. The race I was in was the Indy 500, the race that I loved the most. Not only had I been lucky enough to participate in the Indy 500, but for the last 2 years, I had won the Indy 500. This crash had ruined my 3-year streak. I felt myself wondering I was mad for this, because it would only matter for a few more, hopefully painless seconds.

Another exceptionally lucky thing that had happened to me is my job.I had a nearly $25M salary for the past eight years, and I had burned through almost all of it. When I had first started, I knew that I would be needing a garage for the cars that I was going to buy, so I bought a 2,000 sq. Ft. Garage, along with a small mansion on top of t. Nothing fancy. Only 12,000 sq. Ft. I would then go on to constantly upgrade my house and my car collection. After my third year, I had accumulated almost 70 cars, consisting of exotics, classics, custom and muscle cars. Every day, rain or shine, I would spend about an hour admiring and choosing wat car I was going to drive. One day, the Maclaren P1 GTR, another day, the Bugatti Chiron, another a Lamborghini Centenario. Gosh, I loved my cars. I think I had spent a total of 85% of my revenue on cars.

Regret. I remember once, about last year when I had gotten a phone call from a homeless shelter and had quite promptly hung up the phone. I should have taken the time to give. It would have not hurt me and could’ve only benefited others.

I regret making a schedule. And why I was thinking this also confused me. I know that I liked to have things planned out, but when on vacation, my kids would often see things that they wanted to do, for example, a museum, a playground, or a restaurant, but I would say,

“Kids, we have to stick to the schedule.”

I thought I was teaching time management, but I was really stripping away what would have been fun for them. I regret not taking more risks, enjoying life, having experiences.

Regret. At this time, I knew what was going to happen. They would red flag the race, and a few drivers would “Miraculously survive.” The safety systems in these cars worked amazing, but not when you were wedged against a wall upside down. Time was slowly speeding up, and I was getting closer to the ground. The driver below me would be ok. That was my last thought, before I collided with the pavement at 200 mph. Time fully sped up, and everything went dark. All in a second.

Sunday, March 3, 2019

"Envy," by Estelle M.

Envy
by Estelle M.

Green. The color of envy. The color of the sweater I'm wearing.

Pink. The color that She wears. The color of the cheetah print dress She says is her favorite. The color of her lips that are so big and pink it looks like a plastic surgery gone wrong and she used a truck load of lipstick to cover it up.
Yellow. The color of her stupidly fake blonde hair, the color of the sun that I draw in my pictures every day. The sun that is supposed to be the thing that tans people, but it looks like She had fake tanned so much, it would rub off if I pressed a paper against it.

I stare at her blonde hair, blue eyes, smile that reads, I own this place, and just by looking at you, I can tell you are a loser, compared to me.

Look at me, aren’t I beautiful, aren’t I better then you? I’m a princess and you’re just dirty peasants, her posture says.

I look away. I look down at my chubby baby hands. Her slim fingers mock me. Her waist might as well be just as thin, making her look like a stupid hourglass. But it looks like time hasn’t touched her. Looks like she’ll be young forever.

Her heels almost as big as her head look like they could be used as a weapon in a street fight. A street fight where Princess wouldn’t be caught dead watching.

She stares at me. Right into my soul. Through her obviously fake eyelashes, past her dress that was much too short for a woman of her height.

She has the perfect hair, the perfect body, anyone who would try and replicate Her would have to go through a colossal plastic surgery, and everyone would be surprised you didn’t die.

I throw my Barbie across the room.

She’s too pretty for me.

Saturday, March 2, 2019

Australia & Oceania

Australia Quiz: States & Territories and Capitals (printables)
Oceania Quiz: Countries and Territories (printables)

Friday, March 1, 2019

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind

The non-fiction book read by Sadie and Cyrus has been adapted into a feature film and it is now available on Netflix! The film is directed by the Nigerian-British actor Chiwetel Ejiofor, who also wrote the screenplay. The film is based on the memoir of the same name, written by William Kamkwamba. As a boy, William taught himself how to build a wind turbine to provide his small village in Malawi with electricity.

Here is Michael Phillips' review of the film in The Chicago Tribune.

Here is an NPR interview with Ejiofor on the making of the film.

Here is a TED talk with William about his wind turbine project.

If you watch the film please record your thoughts in the comments. Also, if you're looking for a good non-fiction book to read, consider reading William's book!