If I ever get an F on an English assignment, I will say that reading is knowledge, knowledge is power, and power corrupts.
While I was carelessly surfing the web at school, I happened to be selected to participate in a stupid survey. It said that I was eligible to win $70 or more. I took it and gave a positive review, and all that they offered was skin enhancers, neural enhancers, and testosterone pills. Darn. I should have chosen the neural enhancers for Grandma.
This story is about a racist bigot who loves to play cards, a middle aged lady who habitually tells lies, and an all- around excellent man.
I went to Costa Rica for spring break (March 28, 2016). When the plane landed, we landed at this shabby looking airport in Liberia. The town looked like a grassland with some houses, and large parts of that grassland were burnt down. After we had spent a night at a cheap motel called the Rincon, we visited Tamarindo, a pristine beach town. Tamarindo was apparently a very wealthy town, because the town had beautiful houses, no trash in sight, a shell- covered beach, and supreme restaurants. After a very long car ride, we arrived at a jungle/ cloud forest called Monteverde. The citizens of Monteverde must have actually cared about their town, because the whole town looked pretty good for Costa Rica standards. The town was also full of fun activities, like ziplining and horseback riding.
Then we ventured on to volcano Arenal. After two hours of being tortured by the wait of riding in a 4×4 Toyota sedan on a very bumpy road, we arrived at a good-looking hotel called Brisas Arenal. The rooms smelled like ginger, there was a small pool you could swim in, and a rainforest bordered the whole hotel. (And yes, the featured image is what our hotel looked like.) We swam near a 210 foot tall waterfall, and that was fun, but the most notable thing that we did was to climb to the top of a five-mile-high inactive volcano called Cerro Chato. Cerro Chato was basically a pile of mud, mud, and more mud, tropical mountain plants… and then some rocks. Oh, and did I mention that some of the many slopes were 45-degree angles? As soon as we started the climb, I was thinking something along the lines of “Let’s do this!”, but about a couple miles into the climb, I was thinking,”Holy #@@$, I’m going to die of hunger/ thirst, HELP!” After a lot of cursing, screaming and crying, I climbed to the top and gazed down at the pristine crater lake. You can be sure that I slept like a log that night. But my troubles with Costa Rica weren’t over yet.
The morning we ventured on towards Liberia, my stomach started to feel a bit weird. So we pulled over to the only facility with public restrooms… a German bakery. As soon as we did that, a tour bus pulled over and my dad and grandpa were thinking, ” Oh my God, no!” The lines to the outhouses with flush toilets were easily fifteen people deep, but I was quickly given access to a vacant outhouse because I was in a hurry to get rid of my current stomach troubles. The plane ride home was okay. Even though I had a great time overall, I was very happy to be home. As soon as I got home, I hugged my mom.
It’s very hard changing pools, especially if your original one has closed down. The Plunge, the pool in Belmont park, was very beautiful for a pool. It had kick boards, floaties, and even pool noodles. Another plus: it was heated. Then the city decided it wasn’t earthquake safe and tore it down. But the construction workers were INCOMPETENT. It took about a week to tear it down, but then I guess they all quit, or the holidays are really long, or they’re still trying to rebuild it. Imagine a lanky 8-year-old running to the giant indoor pool, and then gawking in disbelief as he sees construction equipment tearing the place down. Today, I got a taste of the life ordinary Joes live as I went into the Claramont YMCA pool.
Here’s how last week was weird, kind of crazy, and altogether pathetic.
First, we had a “dissection” classroom presentation from the San Diego Zoo. This man who did the presentation called himself “Dr. Zoolittle”. He had us analyze the “stomach content” that was supposed to be an animal’s vomit. He had us put on these gloves to up the gross effect. After the presentation, I was willing to bet anything, even money, that this guy’s name wasn’t even remotely close to “Zoolittle”.
On Tuesday, we had PE so relentless I jumped for joy when the coaches called a water break. At the end of that same day, we had this assembly about climate change complete with second graders in labcoats. And then it got even more terrible as Brazilian dancers came onstage and started singing and playing their instruments. There’s only so much of one type of music I can handle (unless if it’s Irish punk rock), and this was especially true as the Brazilian dancers banged on their drums, shook their tamborines, and sang their potentially deadly children’s songs. After that vile assembly, I celebrated.
Wednesday was the most pleasant day of the week, and Thursday was kind of boring, and I don’t really have time to tell you about Friday. I know I’m paranoid about using memory, but this is the end.
Hello, I am Max Busboom, and I have a blog. I am a pre-teen. Yes, you might be thinking that pre-teens can’t write blogs, but in that case, you are wrong. I am usually writing at school.(Hence the domain name.) I don’t know why my crazy system administrator even indirectly allowed me to write this blog.(If you ever get a new computer, register yourself as the administrator. Trust me, you won’t regret it.) And that’s all I have to say for my first post.
I ride on a boat.
The sea widens up as I pass.
Meteors travel at hypersonic speeds across the night.
I land on a sandy isle.
I walk my first five miles into the jungle.
I am in Hawaii.
I look up at the cosmos.
The cosmos reflects in my dreams.
I am falling through space
Without any idea where I will go.