亲奈的弟弟和妹妹
我真的不是笑话你们
我是真的OTZ
脑残体确实不是繁体字
這個才叫做繁體字……
3--Boys & GirlsThe boys and the girls live in saparate worlds.
The boys in their universe and we in ours.
My brothers for example.
They've got plenty to say to me and Nenny inside the house.
But outside they can't be seen talking to girls.
Carlos and Kiki are each other's best friend... not ours.
Nenny is too young to be my friend.
She's just my sister and that was not my fault.
You don't pick your sisters, you just get them, and sometimes they come like Nenny.
She can't play with those Vargas kids or she'll turn out just like them.
And since she comes right me, she is my responsibility.
Someday I will have a bestfriend all my own.
One I can tell my secrets to.
One who will understand my jokes without my having to explan them.
Until then I am a red balloon, an balloon tied to an anchor.
今天收到的噩耗：
本周五2月29日下午1:30分,请各位毕业组同学到C206集中开会!!请勿缺席!!!请相互通知!!!!!!!
汇报内容:毕业设计课题(具体到物),个人的时间进程表
以及，我的白色漆皮花瓣鞋没有了
my stylist 的每日占卜真的很准，今天真的很不怎么样
继续连载THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET
2--HairsEverybody in our family has different hair.
My Papa's hair is like a broom, all up in the air.
And me, my hair is lazy.
It never obeys barrettes or bands.
Carlos' hair is thick and straight.
He doesn't need to comb it.
Nenny's hair is slippery--slides out of your hand.
And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur.
But my mother's hair, my mother's hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty beacuse she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring the snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread.
小榕树独自扛过雪灾竟然么有冻死在能冻死人的宿舍
可是今天仔细一看发现土表面密密麻麻全是小两毫米小白条
啥米呢？
盯视一分钟后发现一条动了～！
YAY鸡皮疙瘩掉一地YAY
拿出去狂喷一通“全无敌”
阿们！
多种穿戴方式的内衣～
连载开始～！THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET by Sandra Cisneros
真实目的是每天看英文…=A=
1--The House on Mango StreetWe didn't always live on Mango Street.
Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor,and before that we lived on Keeler.Before Keeler it was Paulina,and before that I can't remember.
But what I remember most is moving a lot.
Each time it seemed there'd be one more of us.
By the time we got on Mongo Street we were six -- Mama,Papa,Carlos,Kiki,my sister Nenny and me.
The house on Mango Street is ours,and we don't have to pay rent to anybody,or share the yard with people downstairs,or be careful not to make too much noise,and there isn't a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom.
But even so,it's not the house we'd thought we'd get.
We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick.
The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old.
We had to leave fast.
We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons.
That's why Mama and Papa looked for a house,and that's why we moved into the house on Mongo Street,far away,on the other side of town.
They always told us that one day we would move into a house , a real house that would be ours for always so we wouldn't have to move each year.
And our house would have running water and pipes that worked.
And inside it would have real stairs,not hallway stairs,but the stairs inside like the houses on TV.
And we'd have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn't have to tell everybody.
Our house would be white with trees around it,a great big yard and grass growing without a fence.
This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticker and this was the house Mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.
But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all.
It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath.
Bricks are crumbling in places,and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in.
There is no front yard,only four little elms the city planted by the curb.
Our back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two bildings on either side.
There're stairs in our house,but they're ordinary hallway stairs,and the house has only one washroom.
Everybody has to share a bedroom--Mama and Papa ,Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.
Once when we were living on Loomis,a nun from my school passed by and saw me playing out front.
The laundromat downstairs had been boraded up because it had been robbed two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE'RE OPEN so as not to lose business.
Where do you live?She asked.
There, I said pointing up to the third floor.
You live
there?
There.I had to looked to where she pointed--the third floor,the paint peeling,wooden bars Papa had nailed on the windows so we wouldn't fall out.
You live
there?
The way she said it made me feel like nothing.
There,I lived
there.
I nodded.
I knew then I had to have a house.
A real house.
One I could point to.
But this isn't it.
The house on Mango Street isn't it.
For the time being,Mama says.
Temporary,says Papa.
But I know how those things go.
昨日の夜は眠れなかったの
慌てて起きて 朝ごはん食べたの
だけどおめかしした このスカート
お姉ちゃんにだまって借りた
明日は晴れて 雲は高い 初めてのデートだったら
かわいいねと言われたいの 女の子なら思うわ
あなたもちょっと無理していたみたい
言葉づかいが いつもと違うの
二人少し背伸び でも一緒に
いつか大人になれるのかな
あなたの手が そっと触れる 初めてのデートだったら
勇気出して デートしてね 男の子でしょ
お願い お願い お願い 大好き
