Love in Casablanca

When Rick met Ilsa at Casablanca, although Ilsa was still as beautiful as she was in Paris, she was not free any more. There's a guy standing beside her all the time, which is her husband, Victor. Rick couldn't move his eyes from Ilsa, but his mind was filled with anger and confusions. Later he found out that Ilsa didn't show up in the train station because her husband was found out alive and sick. Rick finally forgave Ilsa when he realized that she's still madly in love with him. At the end of the movie Rick could just put his name on the visa letter and fly to America with Ilsa, but he didn't. Instead he transfered the opportunity to Victor under the danger of sacrificing himself, only because he thought that was the best for Ilsa.

The presence of Victor to some extent generates dislikes since Rick and Ilsa looked so happy in Paris. However, Under the background of war, Victor was thrown into the Concentration camp and disappeared for a year. It was during his absence when his wife fell in love with Rick. Nobody can blame him if he chose to be bitter, but he didn't. He chose to believe Ilsa and didn't ask her any questions about Rick. This is his way to love Ilsa.

Most war movies are so tragic, however Casablanca is definitely not one of them. People are so small facing a war, but they still can manage their lives by making the right choices as what Rick and Victor did.

Memory as Story

A horn blares, tires screech, children scream and onlookers gasp. This is how I spent one fateful lunch period of my elementary school years. Attending St. Peters elementary growing up had its positives and negatives just like any other school. Positives being good teachers and lots of friends; negatives being uniforms and having to walk three downtown city blocks to the cafeteria located not a hundred yards away. We were more excited than usual for lunch that afternoon, being that it was Friday; pizza day. The last bastion of hope for a disillusioned third grader. As we jostled each other to make it to the front of the line behind our teacher, Ms. Millie, she abruptly stopped us at the curb and waited on the light to change so that we might cross the street to the cafeteria. Being extra hungry that day I had managed to make it to the front of the line with my friend Seth. Both of us waiting in agonizing anticipation for the signal to go; like two thoroughbreds’s anticipating the gunshot that would set them free. Jumping the gun Seth darted out a split second before the light changed and was rudely introduced to the front fender of an old cutlass. A screech and a thud and it was all over, and me with a front row seat; and to think, pizza day was supposed to be the best day of the week.

Running Scared

For the first time in his life, Danny was in a state of fear. He had been startled, frightened and scared, but never before had he felt like this. It was a week before the most important basketball game of his high school career, and he was bout to throw it all away. Grant, a fellow classmate who lived across the neighborhood was having a party, and as all high school parties do, it was busted. Knowing the consequence would involve being suspended from the game he loved, he took off through the back door.

Three strides out the door he heard two cops yelling for him to stop, however do to the lack of light behind the house, he knew if he were to escape it would be unlikely he was identified. As he ran through the neighborhood his adrenaline increased greatly, he could hear the footsteps of the cops chasing him down. He then turned on his final gear and separated himself from the officers, as the sound of the footsteps faded, Danny knew, he had gotten away.

Writing Assignment One

One of the advantages of a having a sister is that I always had a playmate around. We played many games together, and acted out many scenarios. One of our favorite “make-believe” games was playing restaurant. Our mother would allow us to use real crackers and water in our play dishes.

On one particular day, Susie was the waitress and my friend Sheri and I were the customers. We were out of crackers, so Mom let us use potato chips instead. In those days, potato chips came in a big can, very similar to the gourmet popcorn cans you see at Christmas. The can was big enough that a child could sit comfortably on the can.

That cold and sunny winter afternoon, we set up our restaurant in the living room. Sheri and I were sitting at our table, enjoying our meal of potato chips and water. Our waitress (Susie) pulled the can of chips over near our table to sit down. She must have forgotten that the lid was off, and her bottom slid into the can and made a funny sound. We laughed and yelled “You farted in the chips!” Susie denied it vehemently and blamed the sound on the can flexing as she fell in. Sheri and I were laughing so hard it was difficult to say a word. When I managed to catch my breath, I jokingly told Susie she was not a waitress but a “fartress”.

To this day, 40 years later, we still share the joke of the worst waitress in the world. We laugh just as hard as we did that day, and I cherish every moment with my sister, the Fartress.

A destined meeting

The evening was approaching, and all I could think about was getting to that a houses. At that house was a stoop and a backyard stoop of the apartments in which we spent our after school hours. I had just finished what felt like hours of homework, when a light of hope rose like the sun. "Son, you can go over Derrick's and play for a little bit". Those magnificent words turned wheels in my head and turned off the obedient school boy who constantly got in my way. The sun was setting, but not for me. My red huffy bicycle could not move fast enough for me to catch up to were my mind already was. A big tin bowl in between my hand and the handle bar and a backpack with instruments of our awaiting enjoyment.
I roll past the school yard, headed straight for Derrick’s house. A boy my age stops shooting basket ball and calls my attention. He looked immediately familiar and in seconds I realized he was one of my past class mates, who had changed schools last year. “Hey, what is that for?” he asks, pointing at my tin bowl right after we exchange greetings. “This is for Beyblading” I reply assuming that every kid on the block had to be familiar with the battling spinning tops imported from Japan. It even had an amazing cartoon to go along with it.
His face lit up in a way that only someone with a similar understanding of boyish and nerdy expression could understand. He either new exactly what I was talking about and played with Beyblades, or had yet to do get one himself. Suddenly, Derrick’s house had become miles away, as my past classmate Tevin said “I have one too! You should come over my house, so we can play!” From that moment on, the friendship of two mighty Beyblades had slowly began to form. Derrick was to later join us in an unstoppable force. This pivotal moment in my childhood was a fertile ground that bred the greater aspirations of what I am today. A gladiator.

My Big Blue Couch

The time has come to move into my own place. I loaded up the truck with everything frome clothes to bed, TVs to refrigerator. But most importantly my big blue couch, I love my big blue couch, it served many perposes. A place where all of my friends could sit, no matter how many there were. Or as simple as a bed for when I feel asleep watching TV on the weekends.
I had finally made it to my new home. I unloaded all of my belongings and it seemed as though everything was in place. Now I only had one more thing, my big blue couch. It was meant for a room upstairs and would make my house perfect. However, the darn thing wouldn't fit. So I had to come up with some way of getting it upstairs. I tried pushing and pulling, I even tried the window, but it just wouldn't fit. So I decided to unstaple the cloth, and take it a part. It finally made it upstairs. The only thing now was it wasn't as couch it was a pile of wood with a big blue piece of cloth.

The Meatball

It was the Lunar New Year again. Mom and Dad invited auntie Wang and her families over for dinner. Auntie Wang has a daughter and a son. Ying, the son, was five years old. Although I was six years older than him, I was never able to tame him.

Mom spent the whole morning in the kitchen preparing for food for the guests. My mouth was filled with saliva when Mom set the jumbo pork meatballs in front me. After Dad give a simple New Year’s toast, everybody started grabbing food by chopsticks except Ying. Instead he was looking at his mom and waiting for the food. My eyes were locked by a juicy meatball. I reached out my chopsticks and tried to pick it up. Unluckily it slipped from my chopsticks since it was huge. The second time I stuck my chopsticks into the meatball. Right before I pulled it up, Ying started yelling at me, “It’s mine. It’s mine.” My hand froze in the air for a second, then I heard Mom’s voice, “Guang, you’re the big sister. Give that meatball to your cousin.” “Ma,” I insisted, “There’re so many in the plate. Why does he just want mine?” Mom stood up, walked over to me. She snatched the chopsticks from my hands and dropped the meatball in Ying’s bowl. Ying smiled at me with his little slanted eyes. Although auntie Wang then picked the biggest meatball for me, my appetite was totally gone.