Wednesday, May 28, 2008

a funny noodle story

i'm not sure if you will find this funny, but i find i hysterical. you'll understand if you know kenzie/noodle. no critism needed, i know that it isn't good literature, but i'm sharing an anecdote.

okay, so two weeks ago, i had this tennis clinic at the fairfield woods tennis courts. i went there nervous because i didn't know anybody. anyhoo, i met three nice people that were in my group. Erin, Stephanie, and Harry Carpenter. we spent the whole 2 hours together and became best friends, talking of course about friends, schools, and other random pointless things. So I was talking to Harry, and he told me that he is in 7th grade at Fairfield Woods. So i asked him if he knew kenzie diamond. he said he did. so i had him go up to her and say "Heyyyyyy Noodle." apparently he did, and i was so happy. when i later talked to noodle, she told me that not only did he go up to her and say hi, apparently, after he called her noodle, everyone in her school, including teachers has started to call her that. So now, and forever more, Mackenzie Diamond will be called NOODLE!!!!!!!!

night essay- Madeleine

this is mine


Night a book by Elie Wiesel about the Holocaust is about many different things. Death is everywhere in this book and event, but I have chosen to write about three occurrences, the hanging of 4 people, the death of children and babies, and the death march. While some seem so obvious and not too horrible, the impact of all of this on Elie is important, and these occurrences make the Holocaust sound a little worse than just 6 million Jews dead.

“‘In the name of Himmler… prisoner Number… stole during the alert… According to the law… paragraph… prisoner Number… is condemned to death. May this be a warning and an example to all prisoners.’” Many people died from being hanged, some fairly old and few really young. They were hanged for commiting a “crime”, and would be hanged in front of them all as an example.This example was to be a warning, a little reminder that they are “lucky” to be alive, to be served that food. “I remember that I found the soup excellent that evening.…” But sometimes, the hangings made them feel sick, all of them because it just didn’t seem justified. “I witnessed their hangings. I never saw a single one of them weep… Except once. The Oberkapo of the fifty-second cable… He had a young boy under him, a pipel as they were called- a child with a refined and beautiful face, unheard of in this camp…. The Dutchman’s little servant was loved by all. He had the face of a sad angel.”

New Beginnings

all is forgiven
that made my day
i feel a lot better
things won't stay the same.

i thank you so much
i felt so heart-broken
you became a missing piece
that is now getting fixed

things may not be perfect
we will both be so careful
i love you so much
i hope that i'll deserve it.

night essay- lauren m

hey, it's Madeleine. My friend and I have essays due Monday and need harsh critism..... Lauren is gonna log onto mine to check her comments....... we love you guys sooooooooooooooo much..... cu at cwp

this is Lauren's.......

“The race toward death had begun.” (page 8) That’s where Elie’s story begins, living a life that he enjoyed until they came. The Germans came, crammed them into ghettos then took them away. Night, by Elie Wiesel, is the story of a young boy who witnesses and survives the Holocaust. One of the major themes of this book is death. Death by fire, combat, and starvation and exhaustion are three examples of this theme.

“In the air that smell of burning flesh.” (page 26) Death by fire. As they walked off the train, leaving behind a life they knew to a life of terror and fear. The first thing that they noticed was the smell of burning flesh from the crematories. How they could burn innocent people is beyond me. Elie saw kids and babies getting thrown into the fire without a second glance. Where was humanity? And he could do nothing if he wanted to live. He saw bodies turn into smoke and ashes, life being destroyed. It stayed with him forever. Humanity only saw what it wanted to see, looking through rose colored glasses. When they took them off, what they saw shocked them.

“The audience stared at these skeletons of the men, fighting one another to the death for a mouthful.” (page 95) The Holocaust victims were giving very little to eat. They were starved. When they were going on the train to Buchenwald, they were giving no food. Of course, the Germans had plenty, but the victims, in their eyes, didn’t deserve food, they would die eventually. They were treated like animals. At one stop, a passer by threw bread into the cattle car they were on, a fight for the crumbs of bread, broke out. A battle of savages. The Germans watched on like it was an interesting sport. But the danger and starvation was real. He saw a son attack the father but in vain for others attacked the son. Both died, lying next to each other. Turned against one another when they should have been sticking together. This is the evil that the Holocaust inflicted upon families, upon friends, upon individuals.

“Only those who could still stand were able to get out.” (page 98) When the cattle cars reached Buchenwald, those who could stand left the transport cars. About 100 got into Elie’s cattle car, only a dozen came out alive. They was no proper buriel. They just left them, not caring about anything except about what happened to them. They were given no food which led to starvation and they were exhausted. Some just went to sleep and never woke up. It made grown men cry in rage, fear, and hopelessness. No one deserves to starve. Not to be fed because they thought you weren’t good enough. Plus the fact that they were beaten, treated ill and had to work, that is not a good combination. No one cared for the sick. Every time a new person needed in, someone else died. The weakest link, always the weakest.

In the camps they threw people into the fires. They pitted people against each other by letting them kill each other over food. They starved and exhausted them till their death, not many survived. Elie was liberated form Buchenwald. Inside him were memories of these horrible times. His parents, siblings, and most of his friends were dead. He wrote the book to preserve the memories of those dead, and to show the world that the Holocaust really did exist. In this amazing book, he captures the raw emotion of feelings he had to hide inside a teenager during this terrifying account in history. “‘You don’t understand,’ he said in despair. ‘You can’t understand.” (page 5) And we don’t.

Saturday, May 24, 2008


Hi everyone,
Just letting you know that I now have my
own blog with all of my past writing and more!!!
Be sure to stop by...I miss you guys!!! Everyone is
invited!!! The URL is:

Please come and see me!!! And I won't stop writing on
this blog either!!!
Don't forget to put your heart on paper,

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Bleeding Heart

One sole droplet
from the fragile pink shape.
It hangs there,
never to hit ground.

It hangs there,
taunting those who watch.
Held captive inside the heart,
never to be let go.

the flower hangs there,
while prying,
eyes are set upon it.
Then it endures more pain
than before.

Torn off of the stem,
the bleeding heart is crushed
with one close of the hand.

Maybe ripped down the middle,
so that inside shows through.
Not as pretty on the inside
Unless pain is understood.

No longer thought of as perfect,
No longer thought of as superior.

Others watch from their bush,
all hanging from one stem.
It is their common link,
it is what holds them together.

Now the bleeding heart
is off of them stem,
forgotten on the ground.
No common link
is shared anymore.
Left there to stay until found,
when it can be ripped apart again.

Pick Your Flowers

Each person asks
at least once in a lifetime,
what flower am I?

Am I the tulip?
Opening up just enough to show
my inner beauty
to all?

Am I the rose?
Growing among many others
but still beautiful,
still special,
in my own way?

Am I the daisy?
Is it that no one knows my true being?
Do my white petals only hide
who I truly am?
Is it my sun inside,
that is really me?

Am I the bearded iris?
Manly enough on the outside,
yet still beautiful and sensitive
on the inside?

We are more than one flower,
but not every single one.
We are all a bouquet of
We are all flowers,
each one special
and unique.
But what is in your bouquet?
Each one is different...
pick your flowers.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008


You hide in fear,
what will I think of you?
A coward?
A fiend?

Why try to tell me,
And remove your feelings?
Insecurity is a blessing on my behalf,
but on yours it is a curse.

I am no longer afraid,
Never again will I be.
Your pathetic excuses
are no longer my burden.

Your manipulative ways
will never again
pull me down to your level

Monday, May 19, 2008

Leave Me Here, Don't Look Back

Hey there you.
I'm back again...
Are you ready to open up
to me?

Hey there you.
I see you trembling in fear.
You see me coming near you and you
don't know what to do.

"Well what's happen to us, now?
Has this affected anything?", you ask.

Just open you're eyes.
This is just the beginning.

Don't look back
on whatever you'll find.
Don't look me in the eye.

I know that there's a way...
to get you to tell me.

What have you done?
There must be something you're hiding.
Has it just begun,
or did I not see it?

Hey there you.
I see you...
looking all smug.

Hey there you.
You think you've gotten away with

Hey there you.
Do you think this is all over?
Not even close.

"Well what's happen to us, now?
Has this affected anything?", you ask.

Just open you're eyes.
This is just the beginning.

Don't look back
on whatever you'll find.
Don't look me in the eye.

I know that there's a way...
to get you to tell me.

What have you done?
There must be something you are hiding.
Has it just begun,
or did I not see it?

What has happened here?
How did you get this way?
Why didn't I see this coming?...
Everyone did but me.

Hey there, former friend.
Why did you have to change
and leave me broken hearted?

Don't look back
on whatever you'll find.
Don't look me in the eye.

I know that there's a way...
to get you to tell me.

What have you done?
There must be something you are hiding.
Has it just begun,
or did I not see it?

"Well what's happen to us, now?
Has this affected anything?", you ask.

"Just open you're eyes." I say.
"This will never end."

Sunday, May 18, 2008

You're Mine, I'm Yours

Tell me you love me,
that you're not scared
to open your arms
and let your fears go.

Tell me there's a chance,
that no matter what
you'll care.

Tell me I'm safe,
that you're my haven
and you'll be here for me.

Tell me you love me,
that no matter what,
you're mine and
I'm yours.


this is a holocaust poem

All in lines
heading out
looking behind them
at their forgotten homes
filing out
being called dogs
hoping internally
that they’ll come back home.

All their stories
so hard to speak of
people start crying
when they hear of that place.

The Holocaust was cruel
it can’t go forgotten
so remember their lives before
their home’s memories before then.

I Am So Sorry

I knew that i was treading water
feeling things that made me sadder
i knew that what i said was mean
i was angry, not meaning a thing.

i was wrong and i couldn't realize it
saying things despite real feelings
i knew that this should've stopped
i didn't apologize till it was too late.

i cry and cry, all day long
missing things, way past gone
i may never regain her trust
but i will also never say things out of betrayingness

i didn't realize that i was wrong
until i lost her
she's way past gone
she'll never talk to me again
and this makes me hate me now and then

i never really filtered thoughts
just wrote stuff down out of frustrationess
she was the bigger person
i teared her down
and can't get her back.

I apologized
cause i'm so so sorry
i miss her now
and can't be without her.

i didn't know that i needed her
she hates me
and it seems all over

i lost my best friend today
i hate it so much
and i'll just cry
i hope to see her again
have her talk
even if it's mean
i'd rather have her slap my face
than lose her now
when i need her most.

Friday, May 16, 2008

a half an hour in a life of a girl

The simple rectangular ad in The New York Times was enough to reinstill that sense of wanderlust, unquenchable while remaining in Connecticut. On the page advertizing summer camps, the small ad ran under the heading of "Travel". "The Experiment in International Living" it read in stark black capitals. Underneath, in smaller italics: Changing the world one friendship at a time. The ad offered "Challenging programs for high school students in"-it then listed locations in boldface print- "Europe, The Americas, Africa, Asia, and Oceania." Below that, in small italics, was its claim to having been providing "Excellence in International Education since 1932." Following that was a phone number (1-800-345-2929) and a web address ( As she wrote and contemplated, all the while acutely aware of her own metacognition, her dramatic background soundtrack was provided by occasional outbursts of windblown rain outside and the musical ramblings and tangents of her sister playing the piano, playing what the girl thought was quite loud and a bit annoying considering the time. She had sort of been trying to sleep for the past half-hour or so, and with ther sister miraculously having been spontaneously energized, it looked like she would be trying for a while now.

The whole day a growing resentment of these near-weekly family parties was creeping over her. Nost of that stemmed from petty and rather selfish reasons, she supposed. It was just that, even with the spending of four hours in the car and nearly three hours with relatives, it just didn't seem to matter that much. Of course, it was her cousin's first birthday, how exciting, how nice, but she somehow got the feeling that she wasn't particularly hyped to see any of her relatives, and they weren't particularly excited to see her. The conversation was far from stimulating and the pizza crust was too sweet. It was so cute, though, to see how her little cousin would instantly react to a camera by splitting his face into a huge smile. Good little celebrity- or, should one say- prince.

Finally her sister let the last chord fade away. FINALLY she could go to sleep...