It all started when my brother first started getting sick. Being my one and only brother, he purposely coughed at my rice at dinner time. I am very prideful, so I couldn’t forgive his insulting actions. I stood in front of him when he coughed and took a big inhale. Next morning, I was coughing my brains out and I could feel the world spinning. Like I said, I asked for it.

Anyway, I decided to keep this cold, refusing to take any medicine, because I wanted to train my immune system. It wasn’t better than my brother’s, so that was reason enough. I had a stuffy nose, a dizzy head, and coughing for about three days before I sweated some of the illness off while I wrapped myself silly in two comforters. I was still coughing and had dizzy attacks after that, but it lessened. After a week of illness, the dizziness went away, but I was still coughing. It doesn’t matter, though, because I already considered myself cured. I already felt healthier than before, as I knew I would. A strong immune system equals and healthy body which also equals feeling great everyday.

If you have any ideas for immune system training, follow these guidelines:

• It must be done in school breaks or vacation weeks (you have to give yourself some time).
• You must refuse any medicine for at max four days (after that, go ahead and take the medicine if you’re too sick).
• Do not get discouraged, because you are doing this for your health and immune system!

Do not try to avoid sickness once in a while, your body needs them to get stronger. The stronger it is, the less you’ll get sick.

White suddenly replaces the darkness. Sylvia scans around: white everywhere but no Jensei. She waits a few minutes. Nothing changes. The sterile white is starting to get to Sylvia.

What to do, what to do, what to do, Sylvia repeated in her mind over and over again, pacing around, biting her thumb nail. What COULD I do? It is a question that Sylvia ponders. If she starts walking, she would not know where she is walking to. If she starts talking, she would not know who she is talking to. And just walking to nowhere and talking to yourself doesn’t seem very sane.

Wait! Sylvia pats her left fist on her right palm. That’s it! The only effective thing to do is keep sane. Sylvia then sits down and waits. But she realizes she has nothing to wait for. Then what? What will be her reason to keep sane? Reality struck her.

"How will I get food?"

Those seem like the magic words. The scenery changes from pure white into a laboratory of foreign machinery. Sylvia was in the middle of a glowing circle. Surrounding her is a glass dome. It is as if she is in a giant Christmas globe, without the snowflakes and cardboard display of course. She suddenly sees Jensei right outside, his pose slumping in awe. His mouth is moving. Either the glass is sound-proof or he can’t get his words to come out. Jensei then shakes his head ferociously and presses a button beside him. The glass dome seems to melt away, no longer forming a barrier.

Good.

Sylvia runs toward Jensei with such speed she surprises even herself. It did not, however, distract her from trying to punch the daylights out of him. He blocks the attack easily with his free hand. Sylvia starts to strike with her other hand but stops in midair when Jensei interrupts her train of thought.

"W-whoa! No need to get so energetic, Miss Sylvia. Save the energy for later training."

Sylvia blinks away her eyes of anger and says, "Wait a minute. Training?!"

Jensei nods ferociously and gives nervous glances at her fist in midair. Sylvia quickly recoils, blushing in embarrassment. She bows deeply.

"I am terribly sorry for trying to hurt you."

"I wouldn’t blame you." Jensei mutters.

She looks down at her clothes. They changed from her school uniform to a formal black velvet dress that went below her knees. Her eyes widen. The skirts are lined with beautiful white lace and embroidered on the dress stomach are two white flowing wings. She then studies the rest of her body to see her arms in long matching black gloves. The back palms also have the wings symbol. She slowly looks up at Jensei.

"What happened?"

"Congratulations!!" Jensei says, spreading his arms out wide. "You have officially entered training to defeat the wizard who created the Air Reality!"

"…"

"Sylvia? Did you hear what I said?" Jensei waves his hand in front of Sylvia’s blank expression.

"Oh is that all? Well I—what do you mean training?! ‘Is that all’ my butt! Can you PLEASE tell me what the heck is going on?! Like, the entire story, PLEASE!! I know until the part where our ancestors got sucked into this world by some wizard who created it."

"Okay, okay! Just calm down."

Jensei takes a deep breath. "Our ancestors soon arrived in the new world and all they could see was blue. Now, they wouldn’t be healers of the insane for nothing, but they only lasted maybe twelve hours until they started to lose their sanity in this world. You lasted for 2 minutes, ha ha, but you got out of that training dome pretty skillfully.

Anyway, the wizard was watching all along, and as soon as the slightest drop of sanity slipped their minds, they were cursed. The wizard wasn’t that bad, so he informed our ancestors about it.

‘Because you didn’t pass this test, you and your children’s souls will never rest in peace until they defeat me or my children after me. For exactly 13 years of your life, I will let you live in the real world only to deliver you back to this world of transparent reality with a gift. After their arrival, another will be born. Defeating me is the only way to shatter this world and free your souls, but I’ll let you have fun. You can create different places in this special world with your imagination, but only one per person. You will use your imagined place to battle me if you think you’re ready. Be aware, however, that this world contains none of the reality you once knew.’

With that he disappeared."

"Cool! So that’s why I had the same birthday as father. Wait a minute. Then why’s dad so old? He can’t be 13-years-old."

"Because he found out about the gift somehow and managed to avoid it in time. That didn’t stop the wizard’s curse though. He was soon in this world at exactly age forty, avoiding the curse for twenty-seven years. It’s a record!! He’s like a celebrity here. No one else managed to avoid it that long. Maybe three or four, but twenty-seven? But, for those like us who couldn’t avoid the curse the first time, well, here we are." Jensei’s eyes are painfully sad, so Sylvia tries to cheer him up.

"Don’t worry! Forget about that. I’ll train hard, defeat whoever and release everyone’s soul from this world! This’ll prove how 13-year-olds have power, too!!" Sylvia’s eyes are flaring with determination.

Jensei perks up a little. "You got it! Time for our next training course: combat-training!"

Sylvia gives a nervous expression. "Shoot! I sucked at P.E.," she thought. Giving a small sigh, she says, "When do we start?"

I feel like the plot is a little rocky because although Achebe describes the Ibo culture in this book quite excellently, at some times in the book he seems a little too absorbed in stating facts about Ibo religion and not enough on the major conclusion which was the destruction of Okonkwo and his culture due to missionaries.

The other parts of the story, however, are very well planned out because Achebe foreshadows the destruction of Ibo culture by missionaries many times in the book. Achebe slips in the mention of a white man when Okonkwo is helping to decide Obierika’s daughter’s marriage price. Being a special social occasion, the wedding was a perfect time to introduce the reader a glimpse of what the main climax was; it gives the reader a great sense of preparation. Along with many other social events, Achebe builds more and more on how missionaries slowly start to affect Okonkwo and the village around him, and I thought that was brilliant.

Achebe creates the characters very realistically, the story almost seemingly non-fiction. As he describes Okonkwo, the reactions Achebe gives him toward what was happening around him are realistic yet perfect for the story. Okonkwo responds to his father’s failure and his own shame with full-fledge determination of not being anything like that. Given the current situation of seeing his father’s uselessness and laziness turn into a horrible death, any person would receive a fear of dying that way, too, especially if that person they see is his/her father. Not only is this showing real human psychology, but it gives the image of Okonkwo’s personality a foundation. Although the main image for Okonkwo is strong, afraid, powerful, etc., Achebe shows a flawed emotion every human has, proving to the readers Okonkwo represents real people. This could also be evidence to emphasize the fact that he holds his life dearer than anything else, a reflection of his father’s worthless death.

Last but not least, Okonkwo suffers major depression over the invasion of the missionaries. After already killing Ikemefuna with his own hands, losing his first son to the missionaries, and experiencing pride-crushing torture of Christian trial, his heart was probably all prepared for such measures as suicide. The main cause of suicide even today is depression and what he has gone throughout his life more than makes up for it. After how dearly he held on to his life because of his father’s tragic end, he ends his life no better. It may be a little to the side of a sloppily fast way to end the book in my opinion, but the impact of it fits the story very excellently.

Things Fall Apart tells the story about both the life of an Ibo man and how his way of life is destroyed by Christian missionaries who tried to convert them into a "more humane religion." In my opinion, Achebe emphasizes a little too much on the details of the Ibo people. Although Things Fall Apart has a small glitch, it is well-described and highly informative.

Silence.

Thomas glances at Sylvia out of the corner of his eye before looking straight ahead.

Silence.

This is pointless, Sylvia thinks. “Hey, Tom, how about you tell me why I’m here in the first place.” Sylvia says this in an almost hostile voice. Gosh! She thinks. It’s like he doesn’t have a mouth–

“As long as it keeps you quiet.”

Sylvia’s entire body twitches in surprise for she did not expect an answer. She then narrows her eyes.

“So tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed.

“Long before you and I even existed, our ancestors were healers of the mad and insane. They did this in secret because their actions were forbidden at that time. One day, a local villager caught one of them in the act of ‘associating with an evil.’ However, he decided not to spread their secret if they passed a trial. He happened to be a sorcerer so he created another world where only the sanest people could survive. ‘If you all say you were only converting these so called insane people back to sanity, you must be the sanest of them all,’ he reasoned. Our ancestors were awestruck at just the sight of a sorcerer performing magic. Before they knew what was coming, they were launched into the other world…

Ah, we are here.”

Sylvia snaps her mind from the story as she realizes the swirls of colors are fading. They arrive at some sort of bizarre train station. The tracks are connected above the train and the train itself seems unreal and transparent. There is a boy who looks just about Sylvia’s age standing at the entrance as if he is guarding something. Once he sees the two figures approaching, he takes his glowing staff in a fighting position and says, “What is your busine– THOMAS?!?!?” He drops his weapon and his eyes sparkle and jaw drops at the same time.

Sylvia snaps her head up to her father to see his reaction.

“Good to see you, too, Jensei,” Thomas chuckled, “It’s been a while.”

“You bet, Tom!” His expression suddenly turns solemn. “So, is she the one?”

“Yes.”

Thomas’s face also turns serious, too. Sylvia listens with passivity.

“Take her to ‘it.’ I’ll be ready when you’ve finished.”

“Right.” Jensei says in an almost mutter sort of whisper. Suddenly, his expression cheers up. “Well! My name is Jensei and you are Miss…”

“Sylvia! My name is Sylvia. Eh heh, just Sylvia.” She felt great happiness to be finally part of the conversation but she is nervous and fidgety.

“Well, Miss Sylvia,” Jensei says, smiling warmly and holding out his hand. “Shall we get going?”

“Go? Go where?” She looks questioningly at Thomas. He merely nods his head and disappears into a newly opened vortex.

“Wait!! Where the heck are you go–”

“Come, Miss Sylvia, we need to go as soon as possible!” Jensei grabs her hand instead and runs toward the transparent train. Sylvia’s eyes widen as she sees angel wings emerging from his back. They both merge into the liquefied train and into the darkness.

Dust mites, or Dermatophagoides pteronyssinus, eat skin cells your body sheds off every second. What makes people allergic to them is their waste (shedded skin and feces), not their bodies themselves. Dust mite waste is not only an allergen for allergies, but they cause asthma attacks to the people who have them.

Dust mites live on your clothes, in your sofa, on your carpet, in your pillow, and even in your family tapestries hanging on your house walls! They are everywhere but unfortunately invisible to the naked eye. They live in dark, humid places, especially in your pillows because of the breathing and saliva you give off when you sleep. They mostly thrive in fabrics because they can seep into the fabric to avoid hazards such as vacuuming and come out to feed on the fallen skin cells.

To get rid of them, you need to clean regularly. To keep them from your mattress, you need to incase it in an air-proof plastic covering or vacuum it weekly. You can put a plastic covering on your pillow, too, but make sure you wash the pillow case. Wash your bed sheets and pillowcases at commercial laundries or wash them at 130 degrees Fahrenheit to kill remaining dust mites. Be careful, though, because at that degree, it can really burn the skin of children if they turned on the faucet by themselves. Try to keep the humidity to a minimum with your air conditioning and have more wooden or plastic furniture. Vacuum as commonly as possible and throw the bags out right after, because dust mites can escape the bag.

If you or a household member are allergic to dust mites and don’t know what to do or you just feel uncomfortable knowing they’re around, try these actions! Please, do not be afraid of washing a mere pillow case, have good cleaning habits, and start right now!

Her hands suddenly grips into a hard fist. I-I won’t let this get the best of me, she thought. I have got to find a way out! As she stresses the word "out," she immediately stands on her feet and starts walking. She doesn’t know where, but she feels she has to do something.

As she walks, it seems like she wasn’t going anywhere at all. Everything around her stays an endless sky blue, and she feels her sanity slipping away. It is hard for Sylvia to think this is not a dream; the past event of getting sucked into the light emanated from a gift given by her friend is still clearly etched in her mind.

"It is no use dear girl."

Sylvia stops with great immediacy and shoots her head up to the direction of the voice. She smiles a strange smile, happy to know she is not alone, and asks, "Hi, person who is in this strange place. What is your name?" Sylvia immediately clasps her mouth with her hands, her strange smile disappearing as she realizes how mentally unstable she sounded that second. She says nothing more, however, because she really wanted to know the answer to her question.

"If you are asking for friendship, do not seek it from me. If you are however, merely asking for my name, it is Thomas."

Being awfully vague about yourself, aren’t you? Sylvia says to herself. "Well, Thomas," Sylvia says to the voice. "This might be strange question to ask, but what is this world?"

"In this world, reality doesn’t exist. There is one way in, and no way to get out."

"Okaaay. So how did I get in this world? Why?"

"You know the answer to the first question. You came to this world because this is your ancestor’s home dimension."

"Um, can you give me a tiny bit more details?" Sylvia asks. "Thomas?" she adds, almost forgetting to mention his name.

As Sylvia spoke those words, a ball of light appeared in front of her. Sylvia’s jaw drops to the floor when she realizes her father is standing in front of her. He looks almost exactly like the photo on his grave stone. However, in the photo, he did not have angel wings. Without thinking, Sylvia ran to hug her father, her tears staining his ash blue suit.

"So you recognize me."

Sylvia nods between her sobs. She soaks in the feel of his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat when suddenly she feels two strong hands grabbing her shoulders and lifting her away.

"How can you be so loving? You’ve never met me before."

Sylvia hesitates at this statement. "I guess I have this feeling I’ve known you for the longest time by heart," she answers carefully. "This is the first time I’ve seen you in person."

The forty-year-old man puts his hands on his chin and mutters, "Yet another fact to know about this world."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Now," Thomas says, clapping his hands, "it is time for you to know the entire truth."

He then snaps his fingers and the glass floor seems to silently shatter. Thomas expands his mighty wings and grabs Sylvia by the arms to take flight in a vortex of swirling colors under them. Sylvia is so happy to see other colors than blue, she cries.

I’ve asked many people whether they have ever tried fried ice cream, and they basically all said “no.” They would definitely try some, they all said, because it was something different. Being a consumer of fried ice cream two times, I was surprised how uncommon it really was.

The first time I tried it at a Chinese restaurant in Richmond, I loved it. Not only was the crisp crust so chip-like and tasty, but the cold sweet vanilla inside was invigorating. The side of the dish even had fancy mini crackers that stood up thanks to the chocolate that acted as glue, not to mention the whipped cream on top. I ate this about a year ago.

The second time I ate fried ice cream was at another Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. I hated it this time. The crust was soggy from the ice cream inside and the ice cream in general was too sweet. Maybe it was just me. My brother loved it, however, because he was the one who ordered it. I tried the leftovers about five minutes later so that would explain the sogginess. I tried this about two weeks ago. However, I will forever try it again because my first experience with fried ice cream was heart-melting and unforgettable.

Fried ice cream is made by boiling a scoop of ice cream in hot oil lightning-fast for less than 50 seconds and rotating it constantly. After this quick process is done, it is immediately cooled. This would form the famous hot crunchy crust and the still-cold ice cream inside. Once you’ve eaten it, I don’t think you’ll be able to resist more!

It is an overly bright morning and Sylvia is waiting for her school bus to come. It is her 13^th birthday today. After receiving the usual "happy birthday" greeting from her mother, she had a sudden curiosity for realism and decided to talk about it.

"Why do you ask?" She replies, taking a noisy sip of coffee.

"I don’t know," Sylvia says, her hands on her chin. "I guess I’m curious."

Her mother nods tiredly, taking another large sip of coffee. She puts down her mug gently and places her hand on top of Sylvia.

"Honey, I think it’s time I told you how your father really died."

Sylvia looks at her mother in surprise. Her father, who died the exact same date when she was born, was said to have died in a car crash. Sylvia, having no idea how the matter of reality relates to her late-father, becomes attentive and alert. This is becoming serious.Suddenly, they both jump with an unevenly loud honk of a bus horn. They nod to each other signaling they will continue this conversation after school.

"Don’t forget your lunch." Sylvia’s mother said with a smile, lightening up the mood.

Sylvia smiles back warmly. "Thanks," she replies taking the paper bag held in front of her.

On the bus, Sylvia is greeted by her best friend, Daisy. "Happy Birthday, Sylvia!" She then thrusts a tiny package wrapped in gold foil and tied shut with a clear blue ribbon. Sylvia gasps in happiness. Daisy is the only person who ever gives Sylvia any presents. Her family has this strange custom of banning gifts. She takes the cute present and gives Daisy a bear hug.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!"

"Uuuwaaaaaagh!" Daisy gasps. "Don’t make me regret giving you that for your birthday. *choke*…"

Sylvia immediately lets go. "Sorry ’bout that, D. I’m just so happy!" Sylvia claps her hands while jumping up and down as she says this, proving her point.

She then gives Daisy the face. "Soo, what’d you get me?" Sylvia purrs, lips pouted and everything.

"Oh no. That may work for every freakin’ boy in the school, but it won’t work on me." Daisy says, hands already raised and backing away.

"Heck, I gave it a try." Sylvia says shrugging and sits on the bus seat next to Daisy.

As Sylvia arrives at her middle school, she feels something is different about what she sees around her. Somehow, everyone looks more distinct but almost unrecognizable at the same time. However, she rapidly assumes it must be some kind of fuzz in her eyes. Every now and then, she also becomes sleepy and is overcome by surprise and fear, as if a freezing cold bucket of acid was poured over her heart, for no reason. A daydream always comes with that feeling, but she forgets as soon as the reverie is over. Oy! I’m having daydreams before history class?! Something must be really wrong with me! Sylvia jokes to herself throughout the day.

When Sylvia finally arrives home, she decides to open Daisy’s Birthday gift, vowing to be extra-mean to the wrappings as revenge for the present’s taunting shuffling against the loose box in her backpack throughout the day. She slowly (so much for "extra-mean") unties the blue ribbon and—"Sylvia! Stop what you’re doing!

Sylvia darts her head to the direction of her red-faced mother. "Don’t move," Sylvia’s mother orders. "Put the box on the floor and back away."

"But isn’t that considered moving…"

"JUST PUT IT DOWN!" Sylvia’s mother shrieks with such hostility, Sylvia obeys immediately. She bends down and places the half open gift gently on the floor.

"What’s going on?" Sylvia manages to squeak out.

The church tower suddenly sounds, dong dong dong dong, each low ring vibrating through their ears with pomp and circumstance. The time is exactly four o’clock. Sylvia sees her mother’s eyes widen with fear.

"No!" her mother whispered hoarsely.

The package immediately gives off tremendous heat and a blinding white light bursts from it, engulfing Sylvia’s world. Shielding her eyes, Sylvia screams one final time, "WHAT’S GOING ON?!" before disappearing into the white light.

Poof.