soul log

Update: 203 Ways to Skip Class is going to be a book! Because of this, I will not publish the rest. Thanks, Lulu, for making my dream true.

Fifth grader Robert Ethersten is a natural genius at inventing. Having to go to the very important Invention Convention of Massachusetts, he tries to earn money to go by writing a book on how to skip, or miss, class. But will he succeed?

I started writing 203 Ways to Skip Class about three years ago, and I forgot about it after a length of over two years. As I was sifting through my folder, I came across this and decided to finish it.

Apparently I ran out of time to finish it before my self-made deadline of January 1st, so I decided to go ahead and publish the first five chapters of it. When I am finished, I will probably make it a PDF or something. Until then, enjoy.

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A few days ago, on my trip to Colorado, I was almost devastated to hear that two of my dad’s friends had been hurt and airlifted to Denver for treatment!

To compensate, I decided to write an essay-like literature on the dangers of skiing and how important helmets are.

I’ve finished it today (it’s my first day back from skiing in Winter Park), so here it is.

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In my school, there is a system where we earn fake cash for doing good stuff, and when we do something bad, we write checks. It’s all in all a really interesting system, but even someone really dumb could figure out that this is a useless system because there is nothing to gain, only points or “cash”.

That’s why there is a auction every half a year, where students bring in stuff to auction off to other students. In turn, they get to buy stuff from fellow classmates.

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I wrote this poem today while on a bed, thinking. And Christmas Star just shot out of no-where. I tried to style it on Robert Frost’s Stopping in the Snowy Woods on an Evening.

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Since the last birthday party for Rocky, I had been waiting for another chance to go to his house and have some fun.

Since the store had sold out on flash drives, I got him twenty bucks and stuffed it in my letter.

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Bubump.

My dad had not apparently realized that I was almost scared to death sitting in the back of our rented SUV.

It was Day Three of our long trip to Big Bend National Park. On Sunday (Day Two), my dad had gone to the Visitor Center and asked for good places.

The ranger there told us several beautiful spots: Ernst Tinaja, Grapevine Springs, and the Santa Elena (we were going river rafting there).

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