soul log

The carefully written content:

Loving Love

Recently my mother left for a business trip in China. She flew away one evening and that was when I found my dad and I were alone. Suddenly, instead of coming home each day from school with my mom grinning at me through the glass, I found myself fumbling for the keys.

The house was hot and musty as if no one had lived in it for days. I would set down my things and get to work doing homework and all the other things that were important. My dad came home early each day to pick me up to swimming practice. He would pick me back up and we would eat dinner.

Each day seemed incredibly boring. I found myself almost nodding off into sleep in many times. I reminded myself that my mom was coming back soon, and I eagerly waited for that day.

The day my mother’s airplane landed was yesterday. I eagerly waited for this day, a reminder of all the happy things we had done together. I was furious when I discovered it was a late flight. Technically this counted as landing the next day, I told myself. Read More »

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The Wrinkles were Gone

What I do when I arrive from school is almost scheduled: I get home, I put my bike into its place in the garage, I come upstairs, and then I settle down and begin checking email, reading random things, and (finally) doing homework.

Yet one very special Thursday, I found that this was not what had happened on that fateful afternoon I set down my backpack, laid back into my chair, and pressed the power switch on my computer.

Because the thing was, up to that point, nothing had changed. I was expecting a normal day, another one with homework and schoolwork and at least one annoying chain mail message, and all that good stuff.

Instead, I got none of that. Because when I pressed the power switch on my computer, absolutely nothing happened.

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The Grandest of Them All

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“Don’t get any closer,” my dad warned me as I peered over a rock. Underneath, the ground seemed like it was giving away. The trees at the very bottom of this huge crack in the world seemed so far away from me, as if they had to be viewed under a microscope.

A few rocks tumbled down the steep slope, unstopped by the few small grasses growing on the sheer surface. Jagged cliffs jutted out at random angles and lumps of rock and dirt were thrust out in strange places.

Watching the rocks click and clack against each other before finally rolling over a small bump and flying into nothingness, I reminded myself that here at the Grand Canyon National Park, it wasn’t a place to mess around at. With an accident, I could fall more easily than those rocks.

I unzipped my camera bag, taking out my camera. The vivid sunset in the distance silhouetted the layers and layers of rock, each cascading below the other. Lifting my head, I looked up at the clouds, each one a fire red color, and the utterly flat horizon beyond it.

This morning, I had hiked the South Kaibab Trail, a trail on the eastern portion of the South Rim. It was a trail that many had recommended us to hike, and so, on the crisp Tuesday morning of our trip, we descended into the Grand Canyon.

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A Jet-ski Dilemma

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The water lapped at my feet. It was an amazing place to be: the sun was about to set, just hanging over the hills in the distance. A cool breeze blew past, a great ending to a very hot day.

Once I dove into the water, the outside world disappeared. It was just me and the waters of Lake Powell, Utah. Swimming around, I felt the crisp cold but not freezing water swish around my body. It was a splendid feeling, as if the weights and stresses of the world had vanished.

A motorboat drove past in the distance, casting a wake that disturbed the calm waters. The wake slowly peeled apart, spreading into the ends of the lake. When the wake had passed and the water calmed again, the reflection of the sun was once again revealed.

I dipped my head under the surface of the water, closing my eyes. The water drenched my hair, and as I stood up straight again, it started dripping in long thin lines down to the water. I lifted my head so it would dribble into my mouth.

“All right,” I said to my dad as I swallowed the water, so clean and pollution-free. “The water isn’t very cold,” I said, beckoning him in.

My dad slowly stepped into the water. He lathered the water over his body, and then dove in. Standing beside me, we watched as the vivid sunset reflected in the water.

A cool breeze rushed over the surface, and it rippled the surface as if someone had distorted a mirror. The almost-perfect reflections of the mountains broke into thousands of pieces.

As I swam around in our own corner of this large and stunning lake, I was reminded of what had happened in the afternoon: my quest to jet-ski on Lake Powell.

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The Beams From Heaven [revised]

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Revised (again) on August 13, 2009.

“Hold on!” my dad yelled at me, grabbing me by the lapel just as the truck bounced upwards. I flew up, my head dangerously close to the metal support strut, and all I could do was hold onto my camera bag.

“I am holding on!” I roared back at my dad, and I fell down from where I had been floating just as the truck bounced into a small dip in the dirt road.

The seat caught me hard and I grabbed onto the railing on the side to keep from flying again. This railing held up a large blue tarp, and holding on, my teeth rattled with each jump.

At the beginning of this car ride, I thought the only purpose of the tarp was to protect from the sun. But now, the sun was nothing: it was such a small matter that I was confused that I had even worried about it.

This truck was heading on a dusty dirt road, descending into a small valley. Of course, to say it was a “road” would be a very sick joke. Nowhere would describe the unpaved place we were driving through much better.

“We gonna get there yet?” a man asked. I turned around, looking between the twelve people sitting with us.

“I dunno,” someone else answered.

On both sides, dirt rose up to around ten meters high. Trucks had driven on this path many times, and dips and humps had been made where cars had driven by in the past. No one had thought to build a road.

But this was the way it was to be, I thought, to experience nature. I squinted my eyes, trying to keep out the dust. Over twelve degrees warmer than the body temperature, I felt like I was sitting in a sauna.

The truck suddenly stopped, and I looked around. The valley had ended and the truck was surrounded on three sides by small walls of dirt and rock. Other trucks were parked nearby, the vehicles for other tours coming here.

How long we had to walk to get there, I did not know. I took a second look around, and that was when I saw it: a slim opening only a few feet wide had been revealed.

At that moment, I knew. It was the entrance to Antelope Canyon, Arizona.

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The Water Like Thunder [revised]

IMG_6409-editedFrom the moment I set my eyes on the saturated colors and vivid patterns of the Narrows trail in Zion National Park, I knew that this hike was worth it.

Covering both sides of the canyon were enormous waves, each washed into the Navajo sandstone by the forces of the Virgin River. I pulled my hand along the side of the wall, feeling the incredible power of nature.

This is a trail directly inside a slot canyon, a thin gorge into an otherwise flat plain. The trail winds through the narrow canyon and sometimes requires you to cross through the river itself.

In some places the canyon is only 20 feet and in some cases, the height of the sides? Two thousand feet. It’s a favorite place for photographers, but this time I wasn’t just looking at the pretty pictures other people took.

This time, I was standing inside of the canyon itself, in sheer awe of the immense slot canyon. I was eying the walls, the nooks, and the water with admiration.

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The Climb Was Worth It [revised]

image[This article has been revised as of July 30, 2009.]

The sun, having finally lowered itself from its high perch in the sky on its way home, peeks through mountain tops, as if wanting to say a last good-bye. Shining through the trees, the fire-red star sneaks last glances at hikers now making their way down from the canyons of Zion National Park.

It is now five o’clock in the afternoon. I stand in my hotel room viewing the distant cliffs. Bright rays of sunlight shine their last few minutes before finally disappearing, giving the high throne to the moon.

The room is comfortable. Having just taken a bath, my body carries a distinct scent of lavender and vanilla. The sweat acquired from the day hike is now washed off, but my sneakers show the true story.

Because the thing is, with every bit of dust covering the once shiny black finish on my Nike running shoes, it proves that I climbed the Angel’s Landing trail.

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The Aquarium: Rainforest [Video]

Moody Gardens in Galveston, TX, has three pyramids: one aquarium, one rainforest, and one discovery. I loved the aquarium and rainforest, with their exotic animals and beautiful sights. Here’s what I saw in the rainforest.

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I Do Not Like Braces

Around one year ago, I realized that I had to wear glasses. My vision had begun to get fuzzier, and although I could still see without glasses, I realized that the smaller words my teachers wrote on the blackboards became small fuzzes, as if someone had smudged the world.

So I transitioned from wearing glasses sparsely at school to full-time. Then I realized how annoying it was to have something on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Every morning, I would go to school, and then… whoops! Guess I left my glasses at home.

Or maybe it was… ding! Glasses are still at home, Mom! Can you drive me back? I know we’re already on the freeway. Please?

My mom was frequently not very happy after I began to wear glasses.

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The Pyramid: Aquarium [Video]

If there is something that is interesting, it is aquariums: creatures swimming in the depths, jellyfish gently pulsing, the excitement and fun is simply amazing. Check it out.

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Is There Really a Need?

The other day, I was on a walk with my mom and dad, and my dad told us his colleague’s son was taking PE over the summer, every day in the heat, with only one other person.

“Why would you want to take PE in the summer?” I asked, thinking of the heat and how a game of, well, anything wouldn’t be much fun with just one person.

“So he can take the time slot and take another class with it.”

The conversation gradually drifted away to other topics, but I cocked my head as I thought about it. Would I take PE in the summer just to take classes? Was there really a need for such? It would be awfully lonely and definitely hot, especially in the Houston air.

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  • the journey of writing

    soul log is the writing playground of fourteen year old Brandon Wang, a student and self-crowned web designer, living in the Houston, Texas area. He has been writing soul log for over four years. This is his journey.
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