letter of concern

Brielle Pichette

1804 Penticton ave.

Penticton, B.C.

 V2A 3W1

 

 December 16, 2013

 

 Jane Watchingu

 123 Main St

Penticton, B.C.

V2A 3W8

 

Ms. Watchingu:

                Hello, my name is Brielle; I am one of your employees at Student Pro Painters. I am writing you this letter because I have a few concerns about what is going on at work. I would be very grateful for you taking this to your attention. One of the painters, Joe talksalot, has been slacking off in a few ways; I understand we all have other very busy lives outside of work but it has been affecting my performance at work.

                Everyday I come to work 15 minutes early so I am ready to start on time and I have notice joe has been arriving late lately. As a fellow coworker I do my best to get him started by assisting him with cleaning his brushes. He usually does a half job at the cleaning of the brushes because of being late and the paint colors mix; leaving odd designs we end up having to paint over later. I understand he as well as I have busy lives before and after work but i would appreciate if you could confront him about being on time so my time can be well used painting. If it is getting a ride that is the problem I would be more than happy to carpool when our shifts line up.

                All workers at Student Pro Painters get a 30 minute lunch break, as in the law. It has come to my attention that joe has been taking several extra small smoke breaks. This has concerned me because he does not take the cigarette far enough away from the work site and we get wafts of the second hand smoke. The breaks he is taking also is taking away from time that could be spent painting. Joe also doesn’t work to the potential that I’ve seen him do before. I have tried to suggest pointers to help him work more efficiently but he firmly talks back in ways that have been offending me. The other workers do their best to back me up but it doesn’t make the situation any better.

We stop our painting at three pm unless we are not finished and stay for clean up until three thirty. I have seen joe slip out at three more than oce; before cleanup has taken place. i hope this is a matter you will take to your attention and confront his on the point I have given.

Sincerely,

               

                Brielle Pichette                

Molding Music

Brielle

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Like a drum. Like a metronome. Like my heart. The adrenaline warms my blood. Less than boiling but more than luke warm, comforting. The chatter halts. Down the hall lays the stage waiting for us. It’s time. Everyone takes their seats, but me. I stand, up front looking at silhouettes created by the white lights.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Gently the flowing of warmth rushes in. I rest. Ding. Ding. Ding. The notes ready at my fingertips waiting to be played. It’s time. Trills dance above the warmth, skimming the surface of it. To my left i hear the fullness of sound, skimming the bottom of it. I'm ready. Flying over the mass of the sound, is me. All eyes, on me. The warmth, behind me. The sound is us.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. I take my seat and the speed kicks in. The band, we are one now. drums march in solitary taking on the form of an African tribe. 1,2,3 and 4 and, counting each rest waiting with eager fingers to play again. It’s time. We come in with bullets of sound, triumphant and prideful. Each note builds the character of us and those watching. The boy who you could tell did not want to be there, is intrigued by the magnificent sounds of the bottom of the band. His eyes are glued to the stage with excitement. We went faster; his eyes got more locked in. With a bang and sitting at the edge of his seat, the boy almost slipped of in wonder. The bells dance while warmth sat under them. His eyes filled with a sudden contentment; his lips could not contain curving up. I stand up.

Once again I am above everything. Smoothing over all the hearts in the room as well as the sounds that were now behind us. I could almost see the tears in the eyes of the adjudicator. The last note of warmth spills over the stage into the room and the applause is a note of warmth to me. In unison we stand and bow with thanks and smiles and take our seats again. In the chaos of the aftermath i take a moment to think. Music makes us, molds us, and comforts us and we don't even know it. Right then and there music changed me, and that boy, he was changed aw well. I am sure of it. 

In a Waiting room

      Time is dragging out miles into a black hole of thoughts. There is an awkward silence fogging in the waiting room, well besides the faint heartbeat of that machine down the hall. Mom? Dad? Are you okay? The aroma of old people pools in my lungs. I'm all alone on this chair with smelly fabric so rough it makes me itch through my clothes. The ticking of the clocks drives my wonders to their breaking point. “Excuse me, can i see my parents now?” My heart beats like a bass drum in a marching band. The receptionist gives me that look, you know the bored death stare all the grumpy receptionists give, yeah that one. “Last name?” My lips quiver, struggling to get the words past. “Uh.. uhh... cooper.” Wow that came out well... She types in the information as if she had never met the learning requirements for grade one or something. “Room 120, down the left wing of emergency, right side of the hall; don't you have someone with you? You probably shouldn't see this alone kid.” What does that mean? “Um no.. I'm here alone.” “Well kid, good luck.” I start the walk. I watch myself walk down step after step, walking outside of my own body. People in white pass, the old people smell gets stronger. My heart beats like a cannon ball blasting then sinks to the bottom when i look in the room. White. That's all. That's all i see. I am white and so are they.

A Good Life Does Not Have to be Complex

 

Option 1: It is important to keep learning throughout life.

Canada is one of the most economically stable countries but yet, 30,000 Canadians live in poverty. Many of the people in poverty are always happy because a good life does not have to be complex. In this essay I will talk about how the children in Africa, that family on the TV series “Raising Hope” and one of my teachers don’t have the riches of the world but are always content with life.

        Many people never have to think about having absolutely nothing; neither do the kids in some countries because that’s their reality. Look at the kids in Africa compared to kids in Canada, Canada is one of the economically stable countries in the world but yet the kids mostly do nothing but whine about things they cannot have. Kids in Africa have nothing, yet they are some of the happiest kids you will ever meet.

         Another prime example of contentment without the world’s riches is the family for the TV series “raising hope”. The Chance family has very little but somehow manages to find joy in what they do have. Throughout the series Jimmy, the son, and his parents always try to see what it would be like to live the life of a “rich” person. In each situation they end up going behind each other’s back to try these things only to come short of what matters, family. They always come to realize riches come with many down sides, immodesty, and lack of humbleness as well as many others.

        A teacher in my school, who shall remain nameless, is a very good example of a good life does not have to be complex. My teacher grew up in a non-wealthy family. He lived in a trailer park for a period of time and learned to conserve the things he was given. He told us a story about when he was in the early years in school; his teacher had asked him to write a story about what he was going to do for Christmas holidays so in his mind to conserve he didn’t put a single space between his words. No one could figure out what his paper said besides himself. That is just a side note thought; as a kid he missed out on activities that other families did but yet he is one of the happiest people I’ve met. He is always smiling and laughing.  All my above examples have proven why a good life does not have to be complex. Having everything never gives you the chance to appreciate what you do have.

Letter for My Life

Brielle Pichette
352 BlogSpot ave.
Penticton, B.C.
V2A 3F2

October 1, 2013

Captain Van Camp
Commander
HMS Princess Margaret

O Captain, My Captain:

 
You'd be smart to save me over anyone else in this submarine; I mean it, I’m a keeper. For one, look at me I’m pretty good looking and that’s always a plus in the world. As I walk the halls at school I’m like a model down the runway. I am also so talented any talent agent would be dying to find me; and I mean dying literally, they should be the first to go. My talents could make big money in the future, maybe even BILLIONS. So that would be a bonus for you, think of the money I’d give you for saving me. Yes I know I’m bribing you but look what everyone else has to offer… NOTHING, I told you I am a keeper. As well as those attributes I took first aid and lifeguarding courses. For this period of tragedy I could save anyone here, even you if I must I suppose, you are using up my air… or am I using yours?      



 Sincerely,

Brielle 

1 2 3 and 4

 

1 2 3 and 4, the music starts dancing around the room. If anyone has a question about music Brielle is the one to ask. People refer to her as the Beethoven of the twenty first century because her world revolves around music. Her house is a music box. When the sound of music is heard the instruments come to life . Brielle is the dancer in the center of the box; she fills the box with quirky and ludicrous jokes. There are secret doors that take her to imaginary places such as Barbados and Nicaragua. While spending her time in the box she fantasizes about one day going into the music industry. The key has unwinded and the room is silenced. Life is like a music box and music is the path.