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On this page, I'll show off some of my own work. For example, I might include a short story I've written, or an essay I did for a class that I'm especially proud of.
If I do visual arts such as painting or drawing, I might include some pictures of my work on this page. For example, if I'm a photographer, I might include a photograph I've taken:
Wesley's Elegie
Soon, my good friend Wesley (who introduced me to Mozilla among other things) will be leaving our town for New Hampshire, so I wrote this essay (of my own free will) about our friendship.
The word friend has become cliché in this world, Im afraid. It seems that everywhere you turn you find friends just being able to stand being in the presence of someone for more than five minutes signifies a friend.
Someone once told me of a proverb: Friends should be few but good, and frankly I agree. We can have as many friendly acquaintances as we like, but in reality, out of all those people that you can stand for five minutes, therell be only a few that you can stand for more than an hour. And one of these true friends of mine that I love (yes you can laugh all you want, but its true, and you should stop being so immature) and admire is Wesley C.
Ive got to hand it to him if theres anything you can count on, its Wesleys conversational ability: he never fails to bring up some incredulous fact, technical detail, outrageous opinion, or lousy musician joke to stir up the dialogue. He leaves you amazed at how he can store so much memory in his hard drive with witticisms and knowledge. But hes nothing like a computer belching out random facts just to get the creative juices flowing; on the contrary, his engaging (if somewhat peculiar) personality amuses and fascinates us all (I'll bet even you , David).
Wesley and I grew up together. We attended the same elementary school; although I dont recall being in the same class often throughout the six years at Pennekamp, during those childhood years, pretty much all of our grade recognized each other and played jailbreak, tag, four square, or whatnot together at some point or another during the countless recesses of our elementary school careers (the opposite of the heavily classified and divided social caste system of adolescent life). Ill admit we werent really the best of friends back then, but at least we werent arch-nemeses.
At middle school, we became better friends. In sixth grade, Wesley and I were in the same humanities class (which includes social studies and English), and despite some discrepancies about who deserved the blame for some punishment now long put aside and forgotten (I still say it was your fault), we shared in the satisfaction of joking about Ms. Stinson and the pain of the utter realization of our sudden transition to more mature lifestyles. I began realizing how much we had in common: we both like classical music, we both play violin and piano, were both interested in science and proficient at - although not quite as interested in - mathematics, the list goes on and on. But I also noticed how unique and exceptional Wesley is. His interesting style (I still dont understand why he likes bow ties so much!), uncanny perfectionism (which can be a blessing or a curse, the latter when you have to work with him), unusual and characteristic cackling laugh (now much subdued), and his former haircut (once popular in the third grade, but much less so in middle school) that earned him the nickname mushroom paint a picture of a distinctive and matchless personality that I grew to love. Cue seventh grade - we stuck together more than ever before. While other old friends drifted away and new friends entered the scene, Wesley and I remained loyal allies in the fray of the ever-changing social landscape of adolescence. Every day, at lunchtime, we sat together and ate pizzas, subs, and Teppan Americana together with an exclusive group of friends. We cracked lame jokes, complained about our homework, and laughed at each others odd idiosyncrasies in the warm noontime sun at the same table, our table, every day.
Just this year, we were in the long coveted position we were eighth graders, the leaders of the pack, the experienced ones, the kings of the school (in name only, unfortunately). It was probably the most eventful year in our fourteen-year-long lives. We shared six out of eight periods together (seven periods for part of the year) overexposure? Maybe, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I enjoyed having my best friend with me for all of the numerous important and unique experiences that we underwent during that year. When our first ever math team went to the charter (regional) competition, Wesley was there (we eventually got eighth place in the most competitive state in the state round). When I was in journalism writing for the school newspaper, Wesley was the editor. I remember when we first heard the news that our school orchestra was planning on traveling to Washington, D.C. to perform at the steps of famous national monuments and memorials, and how we eagerly jumped at the opportunity to help fundraise for the event at the Hometown Fair, a car wash, and other events. I remember visiting fancy mansions with him and our string quartet to perform at dinner parties for money; the disappointment at finding out that after all that hard work, we might not be able to go to D.C. because of the horrible sniper attacks; and the joy and excitement that we felt that after all those obstacles we were actually able to go to D.C. with all of our friends to do what we love. Wesley and I have gone through so many things together that it is hard for me to imagine what life would be like without him accompanying me along the way.
This year I am forced to do so, for Wesley is traveling to New Hampshire at the end of this summer (which went by way too fast) to go to one of the most prestigious private boarding schools in the nation. Wesley has sheared his characteristic haircut and is moving on to a new and promising chapter in his life. However, although we will be physically separated Im sure we can and will maintain our relationship better than Wesley maintained his haircut.
Guess what? Axelodo Music is DEAD! I'm totally deleting it soon. Why, you ask? I don't have enough disk space from tripod to support my music files. But don't fret. My music has found a new home. Wesley's Wonderful Website (featured near the bottom of the Links page)! So go to Axelodo's page to hear my music as well as (soon)some entertaining sound files that I wish to share with the world!
Here is an ode I wrote about my computer:
Ode to My Computer
Your soft hum greets me when I get back,
And though you may not be the sharpest tool in the Radio Shack,
You bring me assistance in ludicrous speed,
You're the only thing I really need.
You have a sleek design and a bland gray hue,
Speakerphones and a printer, too
You look like a piece of modern art
It really makes me want to fart
Your seventeen-inch-face stares back at me,
A better friend I'll never see,
Like an attentive listener who needs no restraint,
You listen always without complaint.
Your knowledge astounds me; I consult you for advice
The minds of many men in a single device
You're a swift spider on an ever-growing Net,
Your connection lets me learn things from people I've never met.
We've gone through many troubles, too
From simple freezing to complete reboot,
But through it all, when there was doubt,
You pulled me though and helped me out.
Computer, computer I love you so,
You're the greatest friend I'll ever know,
Unless of course I buy another,
Then I'll give you to my mother!
Here is something I wrote for an essay class:
"You say Wesley, and I say mushroom; you say Michael, and I say homo; Wesley - mushroom, Michael - homo, let's call the whole thing off," sang Alex B. in the familiar tune while my friends and I laughed hysterically. We were all sitting at our usual table during lunch and Alex had just stopped by to borrow money for lunch and probably not intending to pay it back. When we all either refused or told him that we had no money, he said, "I'll sing for money" and broke off into several hilarious parodies as well as a number of impromptu songs in French. Even Wesley was laughing, and Alex was teasing him about his bowl-shaped haircut that made his head look like a big mushroom.
But, as we like to say, "that's typical Alex," and we're pretty much right. I've known Alex B. for even before I can remember - we went to preschool together and I think I was in his class when I was two years old, and we've been friends ever since. I don't remember much about my pre-kindergarten life, but I do remember that Alex, David, Matt, and I always stuck together through all of the "difficult" classes of Mrs. Rose, and we always stayed together during naptime.
Alex is a brown-haired, gregarious, somewhat eccentric teenager who has a knack for making people laugh. I would say he's very intelligent, seeing that he's been in honor roll every trimester, but he's also very talkative and easygoing. In fact, he received several detentions last year just for talking too much in class.
In elementary school, we miraculously were almost always had the same teacher, so we did almost everything together, and besides that, we both went to CDC (Child Development Center, or as we liked to say, Center for Disturbed Children), which was a day care center that started right after school and ended at five o'clock, so we spent almost all of our waking hours together. For the first couple of years, we were content to just play tag and climb monkey bars with our other best friend Malcolm, but then we became more creative. At CDC, I remember when we saw the movie Jurassic Park 2 Alex thought we should make our own adventure on Isle Nebular, and we created Jurassic Park 3: Raptors Revenge. We drew a detailed map of the new island, complete with raptor cages, a lab, and electric company - I did most of the drawing while he came up with most of the ideas. Right after "homework time", we raced outside to pretend that we were on the island, trying to escape from the dinosaurs, and closely following our map to see where we should go next. We weren't just content with JP3 however, because when we finally escaped from the island, we drew up another map for JP4: Something has Survived, which, of course, had a modernized trailer and communications center of Alex's design (it had better graphics as well). I still have those maps in my room, and whenever I look at them, I remember vividly running around in the cool, breezy playground dodging imaginary dinosaurs, and how I'd love to go back to those fun, carefree days.
In our later elementary years, we still both went to CDC, but we grew tired of the role-playing game, and instead, we played sports. Alex never lost his sense of humor, though. He became obsessed with baseball and he joined the local little league along with many other kids from CDC. I didn't like baseball very much, so I didn't enter the league, but soon he always talked to some of our other friends about their baseball league, so I felt somewhat left out. But that didn't matter very much since we all played football, kickball, and pickle together and I was quite good at those sports. We also all went to CDC for the summer, so we saw each other almost every day. We went on a profusion of field trips - although every year we went to basically the same places, and did the same things. Alex used to always complain about the harsh, despotic teachers, the same old field trips, the bad food, etc. But I knew he really loved spending time with all his friends, playing the sports he loved, and doing fun activities like car washes and parties, although I didn't disagree about having some fiendish supervisors. It is also "typical Alex" to over-exaggerate or to downright lie about something.
Just as miraculously as Alex and I being in the same class almost every year in elementary school, we have shared absolutely no classes every since we've been in middle school. Perhaps it's even more miraculous, since there are so many classes every year so that the chances of having the same class should be higher. I also stopped going to CDC because my mom stopped working to stay at home, so I don't see him nearly as much as before. Alex is still his hilarious, charismatic self, though, as he proved in his seventh grade drama production class, in which he played Stephano, the drunkard, in Shakespeare's The Tempest. He hiccupped and swaggered onto the stage to the audience's delight. It's no surprise he wants to become an actor when he grows up. Everyone likes to have him around to talk with - clever, comical phrases seem to roll off his tongue. For instance, when he and another of my friends were exchanging blank threats to each other to the amusement of the rest of us he said, "I'll pull you're eyes out, and stick them in your back pocket so you can watch me kick your butt!" Of course, that didn't really happen, and he didn't really mean anything, but it was funny nonetheless. He walks around doing outrageous things (like singing parodies) to get lunch money. He's also a very talented singer - he just got accepted into the National Honor Choir.
When we actually do go to each other's house or meet each other at lunch, we always have a great time. During lunch he performs skits for me worthy of "Saturday Night Live" or "Whose Line is it Anyway?" At his house, we watch funny Mel Brooks movies like "Young Frankenstein" in which we know all of the punch lines and say them beforehand, but still love to watch them. We sing "unique versions" of some Broadway songs on my parents' karaoke machine at my house. Somehow, he actually finds that more entertaining than playing some video or computer game like all of my other friends. Well actually, I think I do too.
Here's another essay I wrote for the same class:
When I first step into my house after a long, tedious day at school, I see in my comfortable living room something that reminds me of the wonderful vacation I had two summers ago. It sits atop a white end table next to my favorite couch and stares me in the face like an old friend who accompanied me on the trip.
I am describing a charming silk double embroidery of three multicolored goldfish contently swimming among slender stalks of elodea. On a background of translucent cloth, the bodies of the fish are neatly embroidered in curves to appear realistically bulged and three-dimensional. Reds, whites, blues, yellows, greens, and blacks blend together naturally to form the fishes' scales. Single strands of colored silk are dexterously embroidered to spread apart like a fan - resembling the thin veil of skin that forms the fins of real goldfish. The fabric is pressed between circular glass plates that bulge out slightly - making the embroidery look like a real fishbowl with goldfish floating happily inside. A deep red mahogany that is carved in an elegant Chinese design frames it. The base on which the frame rests is also made of mahogany and has a similar design. Although this decorative item is just another cheap product that was "Made in China", the beautiful, strong mahogany base and intricate design reflect the elegance and panache of the far off world of the Chinese dynasties.
I bought this souvenir during my first and only trip to China, and although it was two years ago, I still remember clearly what happened on that vacation. We took an eight-day tour of cities in eastern China and spent two more days on our own in Shanghai. We spent at least a day in each city looking at many monasteries, palaces, and gardens that were built thousands of years ago.
First, we flew to Beijing, where in the midst of the skyscrapers of modern China, the Forbidden City stands alone. I walked in this humongous palace where the emperors once walked; where people were once executed for trying to penetrate the gates. I walked on the bridge in the courtyard that only the emperor could walk on and saw the seat where only the emperor could sit. I looked with awe at the buildings that have withstood centuries of wear and tear, and, unchanged, have witnessed revolutions all around them. And yet I felt nothing. I spent an afternoon relaxing in the Summer Palace - a huge garden where the emperors strolled lazily and spent summers with their families. And yet I never realized that I was doing just what the emperor did so many years before. I even climbed to the top of one part of the Great Wall of China. I remember I was so happy when my dad and I were able to conquer a structure that can be seen from outer space - I felt so proud of myself. I felt like I could do anything and was in such a state of bliss that I didn't remember that it cost the lives of thousands of innocent farmers to build the gargantuan 1,500 mile-long wall in ancient China. After a very busy and picturesque three days visiting all the famous tourist attractions in Beijing, we drove to Shanghai.
Shanghai is the city in which I bought my beautiful embroidery. In a small, crowded gift shop at the memorial of a famous Chinese statesman we found a large assortment double embroideries. There were embroideries of horses, cranes, people, trees, fish, and many other objects in nature. Before I go on, I have to tell you that my father is obsessed with planning a good vacation. He had read countless travel books to see what we absolutely must do in China, and one of the things that we absolutely had to buy was a double embroidery. It just so happened that this store sold them for the cheapest price so far, and there was one that we all really liked. Sometimes his constant scheduling annoyed me, but I was unaware that this souvenir that my father absolutely had to have would be the one thing that kept my memories. After touring Shanghai, we went to a several other smaller towns to see some unique attractions in each town. We returned to Shanghai for a few days after the tour was over to shop in the vast malls with very low prices, and then flew back home.
This myriad of memories from my first vacation overseas comes from just this one small souvenir. So even though it's just a decoration, my Chinese embroidery is very valuable to me because it "stores" all of my memories from that trip. The experience seems so far off now; it's almost as if I wasn't really there. And yet when I see the three goldfish swimming around in a fishbowl, I am reminded that I was actually there - in the Forbidden City that is in my social studies textbook. While I was in China, everything didn't seem like such a big deal; maybe it was because there were so many other tourists there with me, but somehow I failed to realize that I was standing in a place with thousands of years of history. I felt like it was just another normal day in a different setting.
But I was wrong, and now that I only have my embroidery to remind me of those days in my father land, I only wish I could have savored every single moment I had in those unique landmarks even more. Now that I comprehend how extraordinary those places in China are, I am overwhelmed with emotions and questions. How could Qin Shihuangdi be so cruel and force so many people to work on his wall? It must have been so arduous to build a wall that is larger any modern structure without modern building techniques! How did the emperor spend his time in the Forbidden City? The palace was so large! Did the emperor ever fear getting lost in his own dwelling or summer residence? But alas, it is too late - I cannot find the answers to my questions until my next visit to China. I guess the old saying is true - you never appreciate what you have in life until it is taken away. Luckily, my memories of that vacation will not be completely taken away as long as I have my double embroidery.
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