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thorn bird

every day is special,enjoying。。。。。





2016-04-14 21:12:49|  分类: Zachary的文章 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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                                                                                                                                Zachary Gao Sun

‘Hey, look at you! You’re soon gonna be so Americana! You have no accent, and isn’t that amazing?!’,exclaimed Karen, my mom’s former ESL teacher while we were in Los Angeles back in 2007. ‘How time flies! You are six feet tall, a big boy now! The memories of those days were still crystal clear upon my mind!’ continued the Blonde.

        She was right, in a blink of an eye, it has already been nine years. Conservatively speaking, that is one eighth of one’s lifespan. In nine years, everything can be changed, but I will never forget the time I spent in L.A., those golden hours I spent in the Sun playing with classmates, and the time I encountered and immersed into L.A. culture. Those memories are like iron marks that carved deeply into my heart and soul to shape me into what I am today.

        ‘Dad, mom and I are already here at the airport.’ I finished up the call which my mom probably used up all her vocabularies in English to get the exchange for. I was being way too immature to understand how hard it was for her to take care of me, a nine-year-old kid who had only learned couple unpractical conversational sentences in school, under the situation of herself being unable to speak English very well in addition to four huge suitcases as physical burdens. It is even exhausting to even think about it. Anyhow, we managed to meet my dad, who had arrived here a month earlier than us to work at UCLA. As soon as we arrived at the place we were meant to live for the next month, the first meal we had was McDonald’s. I had ten pieces of McNuggets as usual, but the taste was just ten times more delicious, and I did not know why. Everything was new, exciting, fresh, golden, except unable to be understood.

Soon the ‘good time’ had run out. There was one thing I could not avoid, school. The impression of the first day of my school in L.A. was still incredibly fresh, at the same time, vague. ‘Hello, my name is Zach…’ My new classmates started murmuring about my terrible pronunciation on the word ‘hello’, ‘did he say haaaalo’, ‘no, he said hah low’, right after that was the spontaneous laughter in a mocking tone. The classroom was just one step away comparing to hell. Too bad the floor was made of cement, there were no flaws for me to dive into.

        As the ring bell went off, I officially finished my first class which I literally learned nothing.  However, this was not the most awful part, as soon as the bell rang, half of  the classmates gathered towards me as if I were the kind of species that was about to extinct. Unexpectedly, someone came out, ‘would you guys leave him alone? Hi, I’m Raul, I can be your friend.’ I was surprised that there was actually someone who would like to be my friend. That day I did not talk much with him, but I remember that the Sun was bright. Silhouettes of those schoolmates were running one after another into those of their parents, the first day of school had come to a period.

After several days of nervousness, I got along quite well with several ‘buddies’: Mexicans, passionate, cool, liked making fun of me, but at the same time willing to help me. Every morning as soon as my mom dropped me, I would always stick together with those ‘bros’. Chocolate milk and Bu?uelo for breakfast, Quesadilla or Burrito for lunch, and if sometimes we had ice-cream in the afterschool program, then the day was fulfilled. We played soccer every day during lunch recess, they taught me some Mexican Spanish, and oftentimes we would go and pick the Morning Glories and see if there were bees searching for honey. Then we would grab the flower, close the opening, and suck the juice of the stem from behind, abandoned the bee inside, and threw it at someone. This might cause trouble, but who cares, this is L.A., where people love being free and pranking on others. We climbed the tree which had over 50 years’ history to get its fruits, had water balloon fight with groups of people, and crouched under the stairs to play PSP in order to avoid the criticism of school managers. I started loving the style of being humorous, direct, and free. I could feel the warmth of the sunshine covering my cheek, and the gentleness of the whiff mothering my face.

        The sun was lazily yawning, the birds did not even give it a try to fly. Everything was just too cozy and comfortable to make a change, and this was L.A.’s afternoon. Purely enjoying, all three of us were meandering on the 3rd street. Shopping? Yeah, you can say that, but not really, however, what was more real was that the comfort of the sunshine, and the softness of the gentle wind. From the street, one side was the Pacific Ocean, (I am pretty sure now it still is), and the other side was the city full of traffic gases. A combination of nature and civilization. Sometimes we would sit in the street café, drinking, listening, enjoying, and relaxing. For me, I knew the lemonade was delicious (I do not give a shit to coffees, they are gross). Buskers were playing their handy music, at the same time edifying themselves. Metal, Country, Rock, Pop, Alternative, you name it. I just love the style, the casualness, the informality, as if everything comes out spontaneously. I love writing about it, the style somehow formed me to be a casual writer when writing proses or poetries, and I still believe in this way my instinct for word-picking and creativity will be perfectly combined and co-assist each other, and with a little bit of humor added into it. Oh, do not forget about mysteriousness. I love eating Mcnuggets, I just love it no matter where I am.

Sunshine, beach, and seagulls that once stole my sugar stick. Getty Center, Malibu, 3rd street. Freedom, wildness, and hotness of girls. L.A., my unforgettable golden home.

McNuggets - Thorn bird - thorn bird
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