Poem as a soldier.

I feel like it's ripping

Pulling

Killing

People all around me

On top of me

Like I can't breathe

Feeling nothing

Seeing less

After the golden army comes

They want nothing else

But our blood and terror

See it in my eyes

While I feel the pain of this barrier

The only thing remembered of foolishly brave soldiers

Is nothing but a golden disguise

Disgusting behavior

As I drown in my "saviors" blood

I have myself thinking

I would have rather drowned in a flood

It's like I'm being buried alive

Technically I am

Here's some famous last words

You will NEVER see the end.

Well, that is a poem i wrote two days ago but forgot to post on here. The poem I wrote is based on the third chapter in Guns, Germs, and Steel.

Peace.

Y

Last time I checked, NZ was a pretty peaceful place.....Maybe not so a couple thousand years ago?

What role did ‘geography’ play in the story of the Maori and the Moriori?

Well, this to me seems like the biggest factor in the brutal killings of the Moriori from the Maori. Why else would they want to kill these peaceful, innocent people? Well, the answer to me is because of their island. The chathams island was only inhabited by these Morioris, that didn't even know how to fight. They had a great life, an abundance of food and resources, and had pretty much everything they needed. Of course the Maori would get jealous and want this. Even I, as a student at High Tech High would love to just go and live somewhere like that. So the Maori sailed over from Zealand to the little island, and decided to brutally kill and eat the peaceful Morioris. Isn't that sweet of them? Oh yes, NOT. They were taken over by jealousy and a want of things they do not already have. Sometimes the only way to get what you want is to brutally eat the peaceful people that love life, ya know? This is an instance, to me, of a pure exhibition of pre-historic behavior. If this happens in modern times like today, then it only proves us to be similar to them. What a great lesson in Humanity. Let's try not to live off jealousy, world.

cro magnons versus neanderthals?

Today's (yesterday's) homework is to write about a question raised by the first chapter in Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond.



Why do I think the cro magnons caused neanderthals to die out? Well, in my eyes and using some of the evidence from the book, I believe it's because of the advanced abilities of the cro-magnons. The neanderthals, while they had a larger head capacity and brain, they were simple minded creatures. They had extremely crude tools and weapons, no more than a crappily carved rock that they used to cut things. They were only capable of killing non-harmless things like early forms of bunnies. Nothing that is dangerous, or an actual animal that is worthy of producing a sustainable food source like a buffalo. Yet these were the dominant species in the world. Why? This is because they were the only type of life form then capable of these things that seem so simple to us. Then, when the Cro-Magnons came to Europe where these neanderthals had previously roamed, they were out-numbered and out-matched. They just plainly weren't as developed as the newly evolved Cro Magnons.

Photoe.

This is my photooo for averse. See, my friend Tess here HATES having her picture taken. Quite a lot. Averse means to strongly dislike or oppose something. You can see in this picture that she was about to cover her face with her hands. But oh, I got the picture anyways. Because I'm like lightin baby! Ha. Kidding. But she makes this great uhhhhhhhhhhh noise when you take her picture, because she gets all mad. Which is why I chose this picture for averse.

This is my photoword for zealous. I took this picture of my two cousins Rhiannon and Sadie on Thanksgiving, because they were very zealous about meeting my baby kittens. They are two sweet little girls, and looooove kittens. They were just adoring the little kitties, and I think this is a perfect example of the word zealous. Just look at their faces!!!!!!

Here is a perfect example of aggravate. My sister plainly knows that this is a terrible angle of Rachel and I!!!!!!!!! Yet, she decides to aggravate me by taking a terrible picture when i have my retainers in, my hair is curly, and I'm in pajamas. Photo credits go to my *wonderful* sister.

This is my photoword for blatant. This is a picture Krista took in 8th grade of me being blatant, not caring that there is a warning sign above the handle of the science room shower. I knew it was there, but I didn't care and wanted to see if it would get the desk wet =]

Superkids?

Fly with me,
Fly away
Let's let go of what other people say.

We're still real,
They are all just fake,
My life and my feelings
Are not a mistake

Why should I be like everyone else?
I want to help others
I want to save a life
Instead of going back home to their mothers
They should join me tonight.

I'm going to fly,
I'm going to be free
Go wherever I please,
Do whatever I feel is right
For no one tells me how to live my life
Not tomorrow, not tonight.

I may seem weird
I may seem different
At least I am myself
And no one is to tell me that I am wrong
Because being myself is the only thing I can control,
To hear my heart, and live my soul.

This is a response to a picture that was an inspiration piece to write from. I love imagination, and this is such a great gallery from Jan Von Holleben (Dreams of Flying) janvonholleben.com.

Y

Dungeons and Dragons? Oh please.

(BTW: this face is for Beatrice)

http://www.adequacy.org/stories/2001.8.1.165438.1158.html

http://www.adequacy.org/stories/2001.8.1.165438.1158.html

This is a story by a woman named Beatrice, about her son Billy who apparently killed himself because of a role playing game called Dungeons and Dragons. Our assignment was to write a 300 word min. critical commentary on the article. Here is mine:

Wow. Dungeons and Dragons killing a boy? That's not the first time I've heard something like that. Beatrice, you really need to think about what you are saying. That kids who spend time with their friends inside are going to commit suicide? That they're in a cult? If they don't play "stickball" then they're "un-natural"?!?!?!? I never liked baseball, so I guess I'm down the drain then. What you're saying sounds like a silly, immature excuse for the loss of your son. I know what it's like to lose someone very close to you, and I could never realize what it's like for you to lose your son. I am very sorry on that loss, but saying these things is not going to help bring him back, or make you feel ANY better. There are people in this world that play these games for a living. While I don't partake in things like this, I'm pretty sure they don't appreciate some random woman telling them they're part of an "evil cult". Although some people do take it to a bit of an extremity, they love doing it. Stay out of other people's business, the world is not literally YOUR oyster, m'am. I think you're reaction to your son's death is appalling, and shows a lack of respect for other people. As well as saying false claims about your son. You say you knew all about your boy, but I would think twice about saying that. Two D&D books near the top of that stack DOES NOT mean that he killed himself because of it. Did you ever take in consideration what the top book could've been? He could've been depressed, ignored, etc. There could be millions of fallacies you could make up to account for "dear billy's death". How about he could've been hurt by the fact that you didn't care enough of his likes. If you could've taken the time to talk to your son, you might've not been in this situation today. You have shown the internet world that you are capable being a rude, inconsiderate woman to a lot of people you don't even know, including me. I don't even play those things!

Photooooooo.

This was an assignment to take 2 pictures in similar style of Jan Von Holleben (Dreams of Flying). The style is children laying down, with props so it appears to be something different and imaginitive. My first photo is with my friend Krista Mae, we used my closet curtain for a backdrop, and toy swords and toy shields, as well as towels and sheets as "togas". The second is a blanket and food, to be like a mess. I was "getting ready for cooking for a date". I love the photos, they were a lot of fun to take. I'm sure you will enjoy them somewhat too :)

Violinist???

If I was attached to.......Someone totally hot like Jim Sturgess! Ha. Kidding. Seriously, I wouldn't care who it was. One of my life aspirations (vocab word!) is to save a life. I would save pretty much anyone. There would be only a few people in this world I wouldn't save. Terrorists. Intentional murderers. People who emit cruelty to others. If someone is willing to voluntarily kill someone based on petty emotions like jealousy and anger with their own life, then they do not deserve a year in my life to save their own. If they offered me things afterwards, of course I would accept them. If they didn't offer them, so what? We weren't put on this Earth to be selfish or to need material items in return of helping save a life. If someone feels the need to use material things to repay my time spent saving their life, i would feel honored. But I would be just fine with a thank you and real respect. Plus, sleeping and eating and having people visit me for 9 months wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Especially if I would be safe. If mean, saving someone's life by being in a bed with tubes for 9 months? Fine with me. Pregnant women carry around a little baby in their bellies for 9 months, so I could have someone attached to me and be just fine. Some people can't even afford any of these material things people are so attached to. So staying in a bed to save a life seems like an open door for me. Imagine how good you would feel after that! That someone could live just because of you being in a bed! It's a small price to pay for a feeling that would last you your entire life. Regardless of age, gender, beliefs, orientation, i would definitely help a person in a time like that.



This is today's assignment from Mr.Ross, which is called an E:Prompt. This one happens to be a classical ethical dilemma. I enjoyed this piece of writing, because it really made me think about what I would do if I was in this situation:

One day, you wake up in hospital. In the nearby bed lies a world famous violinist who is connected to you with various tubes and machines.

To your horror, you discover that you have been kidnapped by the Music Appreciation Society. Aware of the maestro’s impending death, they hooked you up to the violinist.

If you stay in the hospital bed, connected to the violinist, he will be totally cured in nine months. You are unlikely to suffer harm. No one else can save him. Do you have an obligation to stay connected?

I encourage anyone who reads this to really think about it. You might discover some things about yourself, and your morality.
Y

Review of an amazing book.

I would highly recommend Joe Meno's novel, Hairstyles of the damned. This is the most honest and raw piece of writing I have had the pleasure of reading. It is a wonderful story on the topic so many people would love to understand: teenagers. This is not your typical teenage novel of gossip, drama, and young love. The story follows a young adult by the name of Brian Oswald, who is a smart-assed Guns N Roses fan that just wants to fit in. His story is seperated into years of his high school life, amidst the 80's metal and punk rock scene. This novel truly epicts individuality, and what it means. I would recommend it to a mature reader, for it involves quite a bit of sex and cussing. Every curse word adds to the reality of what us as teenagers really go through. Joe Meno beautifully shows the feelings of being alone, sexual frustration as a teenager, and many other issues. Stereotypes, music, and feelings are all things illustrated in his writing. This novel has showed me a new side to punk rock and stereotypes, one that should be applauded. The characters all show different struggles young adults share. Being a "misfit", sex, feelings, problems with family, being overweight, drugs, music, and life in general. If you want to read an honest and truthful book about teenagers, do yourself a favor and buy this book. I did.

This assignment was to write a book review on a recently read book. I absolutely adored this book, and jumped at the chance to write a review. Please enjoy.

Y

Beatbox baby.

Dreams. Dreams, dreams, dreams. What will become of us if all we do is dream, right? Wrong. I had a dream once. I wanted to be someone. Someone in that house somewhere, with that one girl in that one place? Not exactly. I wanted to be known, to be loved, to have a life. I wanted to fall asleep at night with a smile, knowing I was changing someone's life for the better. All my life since college has been stuck in a rut, a box if you will. This box is my mind and I just can't seem to kick the habit. Believe me, I've tried so hard. I went to school to be everything. I wanted to be a musician at one time. I loved that feeling I got when I heard a beat, the never changing pattern of fret after fret on a guitar's neck. I had passion, drive and ambition. At the time, I never realized that I was actually who I wanted to be all along. I loved life. Not bad looking, pretty talented. The thing is, I had spent so many years doing different things, different classes. I was so unsure of the future that I felt taking classes and constant working would make up for that empty part of me. The one day that is burned in my memories as the day I lost my individuality happened in art school, art college to be correct. I had spent weeks and weeks drawing, painting, and finalizing a magnificent red rose. I poured all my heart and soul into this rose. I loved roses. This was a lovely painting of mine, the rich red color, the way it feels like velvet, even the thorns. I had blended many colors into making this smooth, deep red. The rose was forever an imagination in my mind, that I finally had a chance to show. All my professor could do was shake his head. He told me it wasn't perfect enough. I told him that not everything needs to be perfect to be something. I got a big, fat laugh right in my face. He asked me why I was even at the school. That's when it happened. The few sentences that could make someone feel so cold. "Well, it is simply my dream". "Dreams? Dreams are stupid. Dreams are for young, ignorant children. Ha. You are pathetic, you can never amount to greatness with imagination. Dreams. Come on. That's just stupid, go home". Go home? That I did. I didn't leave home for weeks. All I did was mull over those words. Sure, I could've moved on. But that was my dream. My dream is now unimportant, and will never be what it once was. So now I'm stuck in this box, confined to my home for what one man said to me. The saying was sticks and stones, but his words were bullets ripping through my heart. I'm forever a nobody, never a somebody. My mind is blank, like a cloudy day. I am lost with all the other "nobodies", who were told to "go home". Like a rose is beautiful, life is too. It's all what you make of it. My life is nothing but a thorn. A nasty, ugly, thorn. All thanks to me, and letting time pass me by.

Today's assignment in Humanities was to write a story from the above picture. I had some challenges at first, trying to think of what to write. I thought of when Mr.Ross had told us of a little girl who was told that one flower in a field was the most beautiful, when she thought all were beautiful. If we just adapted this unknowingly brilliant little girl's words to everyday life, dreams would never be something unattainable. Dreams are amazing, and that's what they are. Dreams. They have no guidelines or rules. Dream freely.

Peace.

Y

Reflection, not in the mirror :)

This year has already been one of my best experiences in school. I've always gotten higher than B-'s, and have taken home straight A's more than once. I've never been a "bad" student. But I will tell you that I have had times where i haven't been the greatest learner. I was gifted and cursed with intelligence, that always led to high expectations and even higher anxiety. There were times where what was expected of me was so high, that I ended up doing worse for that reason. I came to this school thinking that I would be expected of even more, and was already stressing out. I can't think of an instance where I was more wrong! I have enjoyed my time so much here, in only two months I have found a place I actually belong.

I have fun in class, and learn. My teachers know my names. And I try so hard. It is in my nature. I have branched out to learn so many different things. I really enjoy my humanities class, and Spanish. Language is already something very intriguing to me, and Mr. Gaines's class is so entertaining. It has its boring times, but it IS school. There will always be times in life when I have to do things I don't want to. Mr. Ross's class is great. I have never enjoyed English or History this much. I feel like I am doing very well in the class, but beyond a letter grade, I love it. I love what I learn.

As a child, I was very inquisitive and absolutely adored reading and learning. Middle school had taught me to hide some of these things, and that you have to struggle and try to stand out in a class with 50 other people. In middle school, I stopped all reading for enjoyment. I didn't even completely read the required books. Sure, I'm a bit ashamed, but more sad. It felt like a part of me had crumbled, and school became something to dread and try to survive socially. I stopped asking questions. I stopped doing things I truly loved, and really started to wonder what I was even doing with my life. In Mr.Ross's class this year, I have read more books than I did all throughout middle school. Which would be 5 books. I ask questions. I feel content with my work. I truly love this school. I believe I have earned a 100/100. I'm not concieted, I'm not full of myself, and I don't think I'm a "teachers pet". I gave myself a 100 because I really try.

I love learning, and having fun while doing that. I mean, just in these two months, I have started to find myself even more. To talk, love, and laugh more. And it's school! How crazy is that! This school isn't all sunshine and flowers though, i will admit I am struggling in math. It isn't my grade that is struggling, I have a 92%. For past years in middle school, I have had a less than fun math experience. I didn't enjoy it much at all. I came thinking I would have a similar experience, and I was proven wrong. I am having troubles, though. I do not feel like I am fully utilizing my talents or abilities in math class. I am being taken advantage of by being the "smart person" in my group, and not getting much of either respect or work I can truly be proud of. I have been extremely tense and stressed out after this class, and have left multiple times crying. I shoudln't have to cry at school, it is un-necessary and embarassing to me. Overall, I am enjoying school quite alot. There are some things I would change if I could, but I feel like I give my 100% best every day and will continue to.

Y Katherine.

Subway, eat fresh!

Jan starts off her lovely day waking up in her bed, alone, and looks at the clock not only to find that she is late to work, but two hours late to be exact. Alarmed at the fact she was so lazy as to not set her alarm because last night she was writing on her blog (Who does that? Haha). For her luck to get even worse, all of her "cute" clothes were "dirty" Bum-mer. So she waltzes over to a mushy pile, and pulls out her favorite tan pants that bunch her stomach at the top. Noticing the bunch, she puts them on regardless. She grabs her favorite paisley purple top as well, to match with her stylish blue jacket. Thinking it might be chilly today, she grabs a blue overcoat to not only complete her stunning look, but for function too. Bravo Jan. Stumbling out the door with her black bag, she thinks she might be forgetting something but doesn't care. Why? Well, she is Jan. 5 minutes later, after catching a taxi that cost about ten bucks for all of two miles, she realizes that empty feeling she had. That empty feeling was that she forgot her monthly subway pass. Oh no! Her mind races wondering if she should just buy the ridiculously expensive day pass at the station, or go back home and suffer more grief from being late for work. She chooses the day pass, grimacing at the fact that she will have to dish out 5 bucks for just the way there. She speed walks to the station, and pays for her day pass. Her stomach started to gurgle and make noises which made her realize she forgot to eat as well. There's a coffee kiosk right by the subway, but she has to make it quick to avoid even more stress today. A small coffee of the day, typical Jan. Oh dear, the bland voice of the woman on the intercom says "5 minutes to pass the turnstile before the next subway departs". Which would be Jan's subway. In a hurried mess, she twitches as she tells the zitty teenager making minimum wage at the coffee kiosk to hurry up. She absent-mindedly tosses a fifty dollar bill to the boy instead of the 5 she intended, and runs to reach the turnstile. The first good thing in her day was reaching that on time. That is, until she realizes she dropped a fifty on her coffee that was the fifty she needed for lunch and a ride home. As much as it killed her to let that money go, she continued on her journey to work hoping to make it for the 12:30 meeting. She carried a pissed off expression throughout her entire day, even handing her day pass to the gentleman working the subway. Finally reaching her destination, about 3 and 1/2 hours late, she arrives just in time for what appears to be lunch break. "You'll never believe the day I've had!", she announces to her co-workers. After she tells her boringly long story of the awful morning to Mark and Sheila in the lounge, she takes a seat next to them. "So, good thing i made it in time for the 12:30 meeting, eh?", she says. Too bad nobody told her the boss rescheduled the meeting to be at 9:30 that morning, around the time poor old Jan woke up. As Jan starts muttering profanities under her breath, she collects herself doing so and says, "Someone must have set me up today. I don't know who would, but I have a feeling someone did." Now, who on Earth would do something like that? :)

www.3situations.com/BillSullivanWorks

Wow. That was one of the hardest things I've ever written. I'm not exactly fond of writing in 3rd person. But I deal. This time the thanks go to Bill Sullivan, and his subway project. It is so interesting seeing people portrayed in this fashion, the faces and feelings you can get from just a simple picture of someone getting off the subway. His photos really capture an essence of difference in people. Thanks again Mr. Eeeeeee. This was a slightly challenging assignment, but I still enjoyed it.

A joke I think is funnnnayyyyy

Today's assignment is to find a joke we think is funny. My joke is one that my friend took about ten minutes to finish telling me, about a year ago. This is my interpertation of it :)

An old sailor is standing around at the docks with a steering wheel in his pants, looking very pissed off. A boy asks him "Why do you have a steering wheel in your pants?" He answers, "Argh! It's driving me nuts!"


It may be the lamest thing ever,
but it's the funniest lamest thing ever.

Note the picture up top of me, showering with clothes on. Fun day.

Photowords # 2

"Eeeeeeeeew boys and girls in bed sleeping together". That's life guys, grow up. This is what i chose for repose. It is a very tasteful and nice shot. It shows a very peaceful situation, two people comforting each other, holding hands. They are seemingly calm, and resting. There is no disturbance or disruptions, just peaceful, calming rest.
This is my picture for renegade. This picture challenges the traditional way of things. Tornadoes are seen as something naturally horrible, similar to volcanoes or hurricanes in that sense. This picture shows two twisters forming the shape of a heart. While i know this is impossible, and most likely computer generated, it moves me regardless. It is a "rebellious" tornado, much like myself ;)
This is my choice for tranquility. I chose this photoword because it shows a sweet little turtle that has met it's fate. It is out of it's element, and will sadly die. You're probably thinking, "She must be smoking something, that is not tranquil". Beside this sweet little turtle, lies a flower. It is still alive, while the color begins to fade from the stem. Death is beautiful and tranquil, as it is sad and terrible. The tranquility in this photo leaps out to me in that form. Maybe it is just my opinion. Any thoughts? Credits to photobucket.
This is my photoword for stereotype. I chose this picture because it is an extremely well done epiction (in my opinion :D) of a stereotype that is truly affecting this world. Anorexia and bulimia are two very important issues, especially in the modeling and entertainment industry. I chose this photo because it represents the stereotype that all models are bulimic or anorexic. It is a very powerful photo to me, and the credits go to America's Next Top Model.

My ending of a short story.

In Humanities class today, there was an assignment to read a short story and then write our own ending to this vaguely ended story.
Here's mine:

Tom has lost all of his hope. He feels as though he will never make it across this river, so why try once more? As his breaths get farther and farther apart, his body feels weaker with each passing second. The water which had previously just reached Tom's wounded leg was creeping up higher and higher. His life felt like it was slipping away as he gave one last kick to the horse's flanks. He would be a forgotten soul, he thought, as he gripped tighter on the horse's neck. Tom muttered some last words to his horse, then slowly slipped out of conciousness. The water was reaching just to his neck, and gradually began to lower. As Tom's cold, still hands still gripped onto the horse's back, Carol approached wishing Tom could've made it like the horse did.

Library of dust assignment.

My containment.

My once lover.

~ October 22nd, 1967.

I always lived a small life. I was just a normal guy, not horrible looking. I was never famous, I didn't have a mansion, and I lived life without much controversy. I didn't make a hit single on the radio, and I never took more of anything than I should. I lived in a small house in Salem, Oregon. I spent my free time with friends, and dated some girls here and there. I painted in my free time, and had a small interest in photography. Despite all that, nothing ever mattered to me much. Just one thing.

~ October 25, 1967.

She had beautiful, brown hair and blue eyes that sparkled like nothing I've ever seen before. The moment I saw her, my entire body had this want. This want to run up to her and get down on one knee, and take her as mine for the rest of my life. I had never talked to her before, didn't know her name, and yet I already knew I would do anything for her; As well as anything to have her. It was April 2nd, earlier this year when we met. I saw her for the first time at my best friend's high school football game. She was walking around the campus with another brunette girl that looked a year or so older than her. That's when it happened. She caught my eye. She stopped where she was walking, as did I. I came over and introduced myself. We got to talking, and I talked her into letting me take her on a date the following Saturday. That date was the first time I really had a chance to look at her. She was so pretty, more than she probably knew.

~ October 27th, 1967.

Over the following months, we grew to fall in love. We would go out on evenings, and she looked at me every day with the same want I felt when we first met. I adore her. And she felt the same. Life seemed all too perfect. I finally had someone by my side. Sure, we fought occasionally, but that's what you get when you fall in love. She taught me things, as well as I did for her. No more boring routines in my life, no more same old-same old. It was perfect; it was heaven. I had begun to wonder if I should marry her. It seemed as though everything was perfect. In a few months, I had learned to love someone more than anything I’ve ever loved before. That is, until we started to fight more. About once a week, we would fight. I never hurt her. I always swore I would kill myself if I hurt her. If anything hurt her.

~ November 29th, 1967.

Remember when I told you about a month ago that everything was perfect? That I would never hurt her? I didn't mean to do it. We had a big fight on November 1st. A day I will never forget, the most morbid and haunting memory I will ever have. After we fought, she left the house to go get some air and calm down. Nothing out of the ordinary, seeing as how these past few months have been going similarly. This night was feeling more sad than usual. I made the choice to run after her, this time. I knew my words had hurt her more than before. I didn't like that. As I said, I would never hurt her. But I did. I came out of the house, in search of her. I found her. Oh, did I find her. In the middle of the road. Barely breathing. I called the ambulance, and they admitted her into this place called the Oregon State Hospital. They told me I would be allowed to visit her weekly, and she would be let out in about a month. I didn't realize they were lying.

~ December 30th, 1968.

The last day of the year. I can't sleep, I can't breathe, I can't eat. I have this mind numbing feeling all throughout my body, which is becoming weak and tired. I have this feeling all night and day. I hate it. I'm afraid of everything. Imagine the feeling of being scared to go to sleep at night, the feeling of blood dripping down your wrists, and not feeling happy for months. You have just imagined my life for the past year. Ever since she got admitted into that hell of a hospital, my life has been like this. She's dead. Dead. As in she'll never be back to me, and I'll never get to hold her again. I hear she got put into a can. They left her there, because they thought she was insane after the accident. She just got hit by a car! She was having some memory problems, but they locked her in that prison. It's an insane asylum; and it's my fault that she got there. I am a horrible person. That stupid, stupid fight. I never should've fought with her. She was my only happiness in life.
~ May 14th, 1969. I'm sorry to admit this is my last entry. I was admitted into the Oregon "State Hospital" which is really just hell. It's cold and dark here. I was admitted for something called depression, which they assume makes me a crazy freak. I can't stand living here. I have the haunting memory of my once happy life all around me. Love is a ghost. It once was alive, breathing and feeling. It had passion and togetherness, being tender and caring. Then all of a sudden, it dies. And the old memories of it haunt you for the rest of your life. So this is the end of mine. She always left a dent in my life. A dent that can’t and never will be fixed. So I leave you with no memory of me except razorblades on the floor, some Reader's Digest magazines, and my ghost. Once felt, no longer anymore.

http://www.davidmaisel.com/
My humanities teacher had us write a story on David Maisel's gallery, The Library Of dust. The gallery is on these copper canisters, that have cremated remains of bodies from the Oregon State Hospital, which was an insane asylum. People who were mentally ill, depressed, or even just a little out of the ordinary were seen as insane and locked away in this horrible place. The bodies were put in the copper cans, and just left there, unclaimed by families. Our assignment was to choose a can and write a story about who they were, 500 words minimum. The assignment was to write a story about one can, but I felt a strong instinct to write a love story between the two. I also included two images that really moved me in his
Asylum collection. I hope at least one person can read this story and realize that just because someone is different, or has a mental disability, that it does not mean they should be treated differently than another. Thank you to David Maisel and his moving photography, and Mr. Ross for assigning this project that I am incredibly interested in.

Y

Dear Mr.Legislature.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. or even Ms. Legislature,
I'm hoping the ladies of you are all misses. I don't know what man would want to marry a lying woman like that. Good luck on the wedding, guys. I feel ashamed that i am supposedly "represented" by these two-timing fools that are placing their own opinions in place of others. What kind of responsibility and morality do you have voting for other people?! Sounds like major bull to me. The worst part is, you're voting for OTHER PEOPLE on laws that could affect A WOMAN'S UNBORN CHILD! Or whether or not it is mandatory for us women to get INJECTIONS that we might not want to get! That's just madness!!! I am EMBARRASSED knowing this is what makes life changing laws happen. "We get no bathroom breaks or lunch or even sometimes dinner breaks". My best friend's 3 year old niece doesn't even complain like that. You poor freaking babies. Boo hoo. Try living a month in Africa, where you not only don't get lunch breaks. There, you wouldn't last a day. Imagine not having lunch, breakfast, OR dinner. Then we'll talk about 'hunger.' Or let's see how hard no bathroom breaks are at the recyling dumps where you "americans" send all of your trash to in China. Where children have no place to go to the bathroom, much less breaks to do so. While they are busy searching through toxic materials, drinking water infected with YOUR waste, YOU'RE sitting there COMPLAINING about bathroom breaks! Come on! You are not only unprofessional, but embarassing scams of people. If another person is not there, why would you vote for them on such important issues? Are you that selfish? Think about the people that could be affected by your choices. Makes you feel pretty damn small, doesn't it? Look at yourselves in the mirror. Is that the kind of person you think should lead us? You are being pigs, just as the sterotype fits it. If another fellow person is absent or missing, that does not give you liberty nor right to place your opinion as theirs. Put yourself in our shoes. What if we complained about going to school and working, so we just stopped? Who would pay your salary then, morons? I hope one of you actually reads this. Because i am fed up with not having a voice. We don't get a say in these important issues, yet are being represented by people who are voting 3 or 4 times in their own opinion.

Thanks aNOT,

Katherine.

Man/beast?

Man vs. beast. Well, i believe that humans take on animalistic and beast-esque qualities at times, but we are capable of so much more. We do beastly things sometimes. Murder, poverty, slavery, war. Those are all beastly. We take things from others, judge, haunt, and taunt others of our own kind. Everything we do can be beastly or not, it all depends on what we want with our lives and how we choose to live. When we choose to let our guard down, have our personalities naked and out there, that is when we discover the beasts or angels inside of us. Everyone has a purpose, some to be beastly, but all to love. We are all capable of loving and love. In my opinion, that is what makes us different than beasts. Some choose to be murderous, some choose to be sexists, some choose to be war like. But everyone feels love in one way or another. At least it's how i see it. The whole damn Earth should be aware of stuff like this. If they took the time to answer this question. This has really made me think about what i want in life. Thank you, mr. ross. I mean that, too.
Peace.

Microfiction.

"So mom, what time will dad be home for dinner?", she said as she held the purple heart pin in her left palm. "He'll be a few months late." Her mom forced out the words with tears rolling down her face, knowing the truth was just too much to handle.



By the way, i know it's sad.
And this is something i wrote that is very close to me, because i have family members who fought in war (grandpa) and a lot of very close friends of mine have military families. Bring some troops home, we miss them. :)

Vocab homework

Precipitous. Now, i had this picture in mind the second i heard the definition of this word. The Notebook is one of my favorite movies and books, and this picture illustrates both meanings of the word. It is a good unexpected change (kiss), and it is a rainy area. Kapeesh?


Incognito. This is a picture i chose mainly because it's not only fitting of the word, but really cute. This is my kitten Tubby (my twin Sammy named her, not me) was trying to be hidden from my other kitten Moose (I named moose), when in a few minutes she was back to playing. She was being incognito in the squash basket, while not really all that hidden. Because she's black. :)

Paradigm. This is a picture of me in my hometown of santa barbara, at my grandma's house. It shows how i see my world. I see calm with things all around me, yet focusing on the big picture. The ocean is very important to me, and i see it as a huge part of my world. I see tranquility in chaos, and peace in hate.

Empathy. In the movie Little Miss Sunshine, the boy in the picture (Duwayne) finds out he can't fly planes (his dream that he took a vow of silence for) because he finds he is color blind after his little sister (olive) does an eye test. The family tries to reason with him, while he curses and is so upset. Olive puts herself in his place and realizes that the only thing he needs is a supportive shoulder, and some love.