FC: Paul Kim/2nd Block/10-22-10 | Portfolio
1: Table of Contents | My Mother's Kitchen--Page 2 Where I'm From--------Page 6 Self Respect ------------Page 10 Language Arts---------Page 12
2: My Mother's Kitchen | Tck, tck, ding!!!! Oven door open. Aroma of the roasted beast wafting through the air. The delicacy is steadily smokin’ And the slight breeze from the window is sifting the scent through my mother’s hair. The redolence quickly draws the attention Of the family members into my mother’s humble sanctuary The first to arrive is my sister along with her cocky pretension And soon the rest make their unprecedented entry.
3: The sudden crowd disorientates my mother Who loses track of the state of her gradually incinerating beans. Slowly but surely, the light viridian hue of the beans turns to a pile of burnt sienna. In spite of our klutzy confusion, my mother quickly regains her momentum and continues to work with what she has left.
4: She works swiftly yet cautiously, but there is no denying the confidence in my mother’s experienced, tender arms. Cutting, peeling, stirring with ease, As if the natural talent had come to her like swimming does for fish. The others offer their help only to get in the way of the masterpiece waiting to be born on this seemingly normal Sunday.
5: Things are tossed up and caught, Flipped this way and turned another. Soon the food become a decorum that would bring shame to anyone who would alter its magnificence Yet alone eat the exemplary piece of art that was created from my mother’s hands And in the place filled with so much magic and possibilities, my mother’s kitchen.
6: Where I'm From | I am from prehistoric digitalized screens, The endless hours spent playing Pokemon on the Gameboy Advance. I am from Saturday cartoons, Fun of watching animated violence ‘till the chastisement would initiate. I am from battle wounds inflicted by pugnacious aggression of merciless boys, During the dangerous games of war we had. I am from the blistering cold of winter, The enjoyment of snuggling into the quilts of snow only to jump out with the frostbites nipping at your feet. I am from the warmth of spring, The gift of new life that flourishes infinitely throughout my front lawn as I trim the grass after the deep slumber of winter.
7: I am from the intensity of summer, The scorching heat of the sun beating upon my coat of sunscreen on my refreshing day at the pool. I am from the serenity of autumn, The ceaseless showers of leaves that delicately balance on the gentle breezes of cold’s first coming. I am from the discordant balance of study and play, The countless hours spent outside or watching television, And spending only a fraction of the time doing my dreaded homework. I am from the impossible algebra problems, That refuse to give me the key to finding their solution. I am from the errands of my elders, Who seem to never let me rest.
8: I am from the exuberance of teenagers, On their annual retreat that does wonders for their spiritual being. I am from the constant support of my family and friends, Who are always there when I am in need like a bird for her fledglings. I am from the unprecedented compliments from my church seniors, Who find beauty in me as a person for who I am. I am from the house of God, The place where my soul, spirit, and salvation solicits my coming.
9: I am from the mask of success and opportunity, Which was given to me by the wonderful school that is my key to having a more pleasurable life than I would have had had I not attended. I am from the constant pressure of my wavering grades, Which both bolsters my efforts as well as slackening it into a flaccid form of intangibility. I am from the south of a divided nation, That I hope to visit someday soon after it has found tranquility in each other’s existence.
10: Self-Respect | I falter at times in moments of nervousness and anxiety, From all the wandering, piercing eyes Waiting to judge me based on my faults. But they can’t break me with their icy gazes. Their misconstrued perception of beauty doesn’t have any effect on how I decide to live my life. I’ll trip over the smallest of objects, Making a fool of myself in public. They can laugh, mock, and disparage me all they want but it won’t hinder me from doing the things that defines who I am.
11: Sure at times I feel embarrassed from the constant pressure of having to execute every task without flaw, And much of the time, my soul is moribund from the incessant torture from society. Nevertheless, I bear the burden on my shoulders and take the weighted step towards the light of freedom with ever increasing levity. Life’s paparazzi is a merciless beast, Crouching silently for the perfect moment to strike and bring pain upon another. Its efforts are as futile as a lion trying to slash at a the wind, Because I don’t allow it (criticism) to control measure of self-worth. I never permit the negativity of another to breach more than the flesh of my being; It’s not worth the trouble to contemplate on something someone said to you out of their blinded sight. I define who I am with the things I do, And I take full responsibility in all of my actions.
12: Given into the study that lies ahead I don’t know what I would do without a night’s sleep on my bed. The curriculum challenging, demanding of me There’s nothing but work for you and me. But not all the work is as drab as you say Sometimes it’s quite fun and I follow along and play. The teacher does give you work, don’t get me wrong However, it’s the way she teaches us, that allows interaction to prolong. You want to put in your effort and your better foot forward | Language Arts
13: Because not only is the success in this class what you’re looking toward. When you accomplish all the tasks that lie up front, There’s nothing else in life that you’ll be afraid to confront. This class has a lot more inside it as you can see. Not only is it good for you, but also for me. Language arts is a gift from God up in heaven, And when I rate it from one to six, I’d give it a seven!