#EQUALITY4PENCILS

My life as a pencil is not poor. Well, sometimes it can be. There are always those kids who think I am some sort of chew toy, the ones who press down so hard that my tip breaks, or since I’m getting older and shorter, the ones who forget about me, and do not use me for months at a time. I am thankful though because I had a friend who was used so frequently that she died from being so small. Even though there is a plenty of hardship in my life, it is all worth it when I see a child write his or her name for the first time. My skinny heart glows when I see amazing writing pieces, art, and doodles all thanks to my owner, and my lead tips.

One thing that really makes me want to scribble angrily, though, is when kids grow up, go to college or work, and start using fancy pens. They leave behind their childhood with us, for obnoxious, stuck-up pens.  Is it fair that we as community are not considered important after high school, when pens are used for a lifetime? Is it fair that different types and colors of pens are being developed everyday and all we get is cheap drawing pencils? Does it make sense to create an erasable pen when pencils are freely available to do the job? Why is it that when grading papers, teachers always use pens? I am here to denounce this as discrimination towards pencils. By the end of this essay, you will be convinced to join me, and other pencils around the world in a internet campaign called #EQUALITY4PENCILS.

Since kindergarten, we have been an important building block for solid writing. So is it fair when an impudent child snaps a pencil in half on purpose that it is thrown away and no court ruling is held, but when he or she touches the fancy fountain pen, a lecture is given about the pen’s value and importance? These are horrid values being taught to our children each and every day.

As a respected pencil in the community, I find it offensive to see how pens are given the upper hand automatically with no justification. Pens apparently, have the god-given right to sign marriage contracts, drivers’ licenses, credit cards, and legal documents. Apparently, pencil’s rights are to write shopping lists, it seems.

Although sharpening us can be a pain for both the human and the pencil, one positive factor is that our life span is at least 2-3 years, whereas pens finish within 2-3 months with no warning. When I say we last 2-3 years, I mean used halfway down, given up on, and thrown into a draw for retirement. Also, when using a pencil, you see its life decreasing with every sharpening and you become prepared to buy a new one. Pens unfortunately, stop working abruptly and you are left scratching the paper. Afterwards, the hunt around the house to find a working pen begins.

The burial process of pens and pencils is also unequal. Pens are left around the house after death as memorials and humans stupidly grab at them when pen hunting, to see if they still work. Us pencils on the other hand, are thrown away immediately if cracked or broken.

Time after time pencils are treated as second-class writing utensils when we are obviously better than pens. I hope you will join us on our #EQUALITY4PENCILS campaign on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

-mariam

Lol this is just another thing that isn’t fair about the world, I hope you find it funny. I love this piece so much though because it’s so me. 🙂

Why I Can’t Turn My Essay In

DISCLAIMER: EVERYTHING IN THIS POEM IS A JOKE. PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT LITERALLY. I FEEL LIKE I’M SHOUTING WHEN I USE CAPS LOCK. AM I SHOUTING?!!!

I left it at home.
My mom threw it away.
My mom made me do chores.
I had to go overseas.
It gave me anxiety
And my doctor said it was unhealthy for me to write.
My bookshelf was unorganized.
I was rereading the entire Harry Potter series.
Dumbledore died
And I was grieving.
You didn’t say what it was about.
It was too hard.
I got stressed out
And watched movies all night instead.
You said it was optional.
I’ll do it if you buy me lunch.
I got angry
And broke my keyboard in half.
I don’t believe in essays,
They’re against my religion.

-mariam

The Struggle

“On the count of three!” mom said. “No wait, after the blue car.”

It is always a struggle to cross the street. I wish for crosswalks, but the Egyptians cross the bustling streets fine with no worries or fear. Here, the people are one with the cars. In America, we are one with the sidewalk.

Before, on a narrower street, crowded with butcher shops and fruit markets, there was a foot between the meat hung outside the butcher and the road. Many times I had to choose between walking into the meat and being run-over.

“Cow head or car?” mom would say.

One time, lost in thought, I didn’t notice a car coming from behind me. A lady pushed me out of the way, scolding me for being reckless. But it’s not like the drivers are cruel. There is just a different standard between pedestrians and drivers. One that I’m not used to. This little difference in culture, somehow, is the hardest to become accustomed to.
I used to watch in awe at how effortlessly my cousins crossed. Only with them, I would feel a mix of exhilaration and fear walking in front of a car so close. On my own I wouldn’t dare.

“One, two, three, NOW!” mom said dragging me across.
She finally found a gap in the on-going traffic.
Halfway there, I freeze. I am a deer in the headlights unable to look away or move away from the car coming. Mom yanks at my arm, but I am not fazed. Horns blare, and mom yells at me not to hesitate in the middle of the street. She yanks me again, and I snap out of it. We run to the sidewalk laughing with relief and cheering at our meaningless feat.
I turned around looking to congratulate my older brother, and I see him. He is still on the other side of the road.

-mariam

 

I wrote this about crossing the street in Egypt. I’m so pleased with this piece because it made my dad laugh and thats a hard thing to do. 🙂

 

World Cup

Can we take a moment and reflect on how utterly hilarious it is when someone is legit bawling there eyes out because their team lost, but then they realize they’re on the T.V. screen in the stadium and they start screaming and laughing as if they won the lottery.

It’s.So.Freaking.Priceless.

WOAH YES! FRANCE JUST SCORED!

Haha France is my favorite team this year. They haven’t lost any games yet.

The World Cup in general is such great thing. So many people and cultures come together to celebrate a sport. The happiness and joy of it all is amazing. You see how different and similiar people are. It’s crazy because this is just a small portion of the countries on the globe. It’s just a taste of the beauty we live in. I love it. I love it all.

-mariam

I thought too much about this title

I was sitting there thinking the other day, and I thought about writing something to post. It was a very good idea. The problem is I do not remember the idea at all. Zero, zilch, none of it. I had planned it all out where–OH MY GOD I JUST REMEMBERED! PRAISE THE LORD!

I am so mad right now.

This day is just not working.

I just deleted everything I wrote.

I have to rewrite it now.

 

I was sitting there thinking. Over thinking. I legit had to tell my brain to stop. I had to literally feel it within me so hard, for my brain to just stop (this is a really good method for getting rid of headaches by the way). Afterwards, I thought, again. I said damn this is such a good idea. I thought about writing a post where I explain how my brain over functions and how I over thought about this post. How I thought about over thinking about this post. How I thought about thinking about thinking about thinking about over thinking about this post. I thought about this until I had to tell my brain to stop again. I even thought about what you think when read about how I think about thinking about thinking about over thinking about this post.

Do you get the point?

Probably not.

I over thought about that too.

I need to stop.

-mariam

Holy Cow

Couple years ago, we were on way to the Cairo Airport (from Alexandria) and I was sound asleep sitting by the window. Suddenly a truck packed with cows comes into the lane next to our van. My mom thought it would be hilarious for me to wake up to a cow in my face. My most traumatizing experience ever. I swear I’m scrarred (I still haven’t figured out how). After I calmed down, I captured the memory. The truck switched lanes by then. I look back at this and laugh on how natural Egypt is. At least you know you’re actually eating meat.

-mariam