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.

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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.
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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.

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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.

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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.