The Easy Way Out

This is intended for everyone who texts using their cell phones, especially those who break up with their girlfriend/boyfriend using text messages. Its purpose is to show that humanity is starting to take the easier way out, and that might not be a good thing.




Wenonah Milan was seen typing away at her cell phone after school hours on Wednesday 11th, March 2009. Her thumbs were merely a blur as they shot this way and that, devising a long text that was soon to be mailed to a friend of hers.

"I could go faster than this." Wenonah comments, her eyes still trained to her phone but flickering back and forth between the bright screen of her cell and the reporter. "But I only ever do that when it's a really important text." When asked about what would classify as "an important text", Wenonah replies it would be something along the lines of really exciting news, or vice versa.

Cell phones are a very recent invention, and were originally created as portable telephones. But technology has advanced so much, and these tiny devices are now able to not only dial and receive calls, but also exchange "text messages" back and forth at an alarmingly fast rate. Teenagers have now taken to "texting" instead of simply dialing a phone number.

"It's a lot easier to text when it comes to devastating news." Psychologist Artemis Troy states in an interview. "The person would not have obstacles preventing him or her from delivering the news besides the reaction of the person receiving the news, as it is simply a cluster of letters and a simple 'send' button."

Many teenagers have now taken to "breaking up" with their significant others over text messages, and often the victims are female in gender. When asking an interviewee about breaking up over a text message, they had this to say:

"It's cowardly." Accompanying this is a shrug of the shoulders from Nilda Otto. "But unfortunately that's where our society is headed. Instead of facing our fears head on, we fall into the role of coward and send a letter. And it isn't restricted to text messaging. Everything else applies."

Is Ms. Otto right? Is humankind heading to a path of cowardice? The outcome is skeptical, but the future is not that far away.

An (Almost) Ignored Deadline

This is intended for everyone who procrastinates until the last minute on anything. Its purpose is to show them that putting things off isn't a good choice, and can lead to lots of stress.




After school, furiously typing away at her computer on a Tuesday night is Finella Reint. She is finishing up a project for school that she has neglected to do only a few days before it is due.

After asking the anxious girl why she has bothered to procrastinate, Finella answers, "I was lazy and didn't want to work. But that's kind of backfired on me now." She accompanies this with a sheepish laugh, going back to editing her project before she prints it out.

When asking Finella's mother, Mrs. Reint, what she thinks of her daughters procrastination, she replies, "I hope it teaches her to plan things out and actually do what she has been assigned to do." At hearing this, Finella embarrassingly slams her head on the kitchen table and covers her head with her hands. She then vows to her mother that something like that will not happen again... at least not on major projects.

An interview with her brother, Scott Reint, says otherwise. "She'll do it again, and when she does she'll be stressing majorly. I hate that, because then she gets cranky and it gets on my nerves, and pretty soon the entire family won't talk to each other until it blows over."

But as Finella's teacher recieves her completed project the next day, the two can be nothing but smiles.

Dolling Up And Dressing Down - What's The Difference?

This is intended for all students in East York. Its purpose is to show that we obsess too much about hating the uniform when it is simply another pebble in the path called life.




Right after school at around 3:30 on Monday, March the 9th, 2009, Scarlett Roy was seen standing in front of her closet, tirelessly sifting through clothing as she stood in her frumpy East York uniform.

"Lettie hates her uniform," says Scarlett's mother, Mrs. Gwen Roy. "Everyday after I pick her up from school, she goes straight to her room and looks through her piles of clothing until she finds an outfit she likes and changes into it."

Mrs. Roy also describes how her young daughter will take hours in front of the white sliding doors of her closet putting things on and throwing them off after realizing they "didn't go". It wouldn't be long until shirt after shirt littered the floor, covering the nice blue carpet Mrs. Roy has just vacuumed.

"I swear she goes through at least five shirts before she finally decides on one, only to change it once she realizes the bottoms she wants to wear with it don't match." Scarlett's older brother, Donal Roy, states. "It's a good thing she's a neat freak, or else it'll look like a bomb went off in her closet."

To that, Scarlett Roy sends her brother a withering glare before going back to straightening the shirt she has just put on. The remains of her school uniform have been thrown haphazardly into the laundry basket where they will remain until the next morning.

When asked about why she goes through such a tiring routine day after school day, Scarlett replies, "I dress so sloppily in school that when I get home, I need to feel pretty again. So I always try my best to dress nice once I don't have to wear my uniform anymore. It's like... a release, y'know?"

For many of the therapists in the city of Toronto, whatever keeps you out of their office is a win-win situation.

Red String

This is intended for all ages. It is to show that even though something might not happen to you in this life, it will eventually happen in one of your next lives.



Red String

Under a tree at dawn,
Under the willowy branches
They sit and talk,
Their feathers dancing.

Sweet nothings whispered to and fro;
The melodious calls of the ivory doves.
Cocooned in the warm wool blanket;
Heads nestled in the wings of the other.

A scandalous love affair, forbidden by many;
The sweet coupling of the doves, happy and merry.
Arms torn from the other, voices shouting all night;
Soft coos as the watchers observed the sweet sight.

Separated and never to be seen again;
Joined and always in the others sight.
A love exchanged with aching hearts and souls;
A love fluttering with glistening feathers.

No matter the distance,
No matter the obstacles.
Be it humans,
Be it birds.

We are bound to always meet again,
By the red string that ties our souls.

To See And Not See

This is intended for all ages. Its purpose is to show that even though blind people can't "see" like us, they can still see in their own way. Its other purpose is also to show that though you might lose something, you will always gain something else.




To See And Not See

I see, yet I don't.

I see the rippling cold ocean lapping at my feet,
I see the call of the seagulls above.
Yet I don't see the orange glow of the sunset,
I don't see the pinkish colours splaying across the sky.

I don't see, yet I do.

I don't see the smiles or hand gestures,
I don't see the beautiful clothes.
Yet I see the chatter and laughter,
I see the beauty of the soul.

Yes, I do see.

I see the whispers of the strangers who pity me,
I see the guiding hands that lead me across the street.
I see the teacher's never-ending lecture,
I see the braille on the sheet.

But I also don't see.

I don't see the pitied looks of the crowd,
I don't see the cars that speed down the road.
I don't see the chalk and the blackboard,
I don't see the letters on the page.

But you can see, and also can't.

You can see every twitch, every smile, every gesture;
You can see all the stylish garments and bright colours.
But you can't see past the dazzling physique,
You can't see the heart that lies within.

So don't sympathize with me,
Don't commiserate.
Just as you have the gift of sight,
I have the gift of it as well.

Because I see, yet I don't.

Just One Moment

This is intended for teenagers and maybe even young adults. Its purpose is to influence them to spend more time with their parents, or do something nice for them because while the child will never think much of it, it will mean the world to his or her parent.




Just One Moment

Crunch, crunch, crunch,
Is how the leaves go
Swish, swish, swish,
Is how the river flows.

Join my journey to the top of the cliffs
And see wonders rightfully called the great God's gifts.

Up, up, up the mountain we go,
'Til we stand at the edge of the breathtaking world.

Pause dear child, in your celeritous goodbye,
And gaze out into the blue, blue sky.
Feel the whispers of wind on your cheeks;
Let the bird's call lull you to sleep.

Haste makes waste, babe of my belly;
Lie down and look up,
To heaven without the telly.

Share with me this one moment in time,
So that forever it will be engraved in my mind.

A Dream Within A Dream

This is intended for people no younger than a teenager. Its purpose is to show that sometimes your dreams will not come true. That some things are not meant to be.




A Dream Within A Dream

It shines like a beacon of light,
Glows as a tiny star.
Never gives up the fight,
And sets the difficulty at 'hard'.

The chase is its life,
Its love,
Its blood.
But it scorns the dull,
Weak, and
Void life afterwards.

So on and on it runs, always out of reach.
Baiting,
Taunting,
Tempting,
The ever foolish me.

"Come back, come back!" to the star I would cry.
"Catch me, catch me!" it would always reply.
It twinkled and sparkled, and even slowed down,
And for a second my hopes would rise again.

The star would get brighter,
And brighter,
And brighter!
Until I could feel the burning heat,
Like a lighter.

But then the warmth would disappear;
The star would zoom out of sight,
And I would left standing with no more light.

Then shadowed faces would appear,
Each with a sinister smile.
Voices would begin to speak,
Until I felt in my throat the rising of bile

"There's nothing to fear."
They would tell me,
"Just keep going!"
But now I know better,
I know the story.

People would tell me to reach for the stars,
Shout, "Persevere, persevere!"
Except they decide not to mention,
That none of it is real.

I wake in my bed, hair plastered to my skin,
Shakily clutching the covers in panic.
Dreams are just dreams,
And reality is just reality.
And so the star gleams,
With a daunting finality.