A New Blog

Hey all,

I know I started a new photo blog and said this one would stay...and this one will stay up...just I'm not going to be posting on it anymore.
I like the layout and design of Wordpress better, its simpler to me, and since I already have 2 blogs on there to run, I want to just have my personal one over there too. That way I have everything in one place and its easier for me to keep track of it and hopefully keep it updated.
So, if you're a reader, or just passing through, head on over here to: Kay's of Sunshine because that's where I'll be writing out my life story from now on :)

Thanks for being awesome!

Kay

Finals

Finals suck...no, you know what...they don't. If I had actual finals to take, I might be okay. But instead I have final papers and I'm not enjoying them. I have 60 pages of criticism to read and both papers have to be like twelve pages. Yes mom, I realize that they are due on Monday at noon, so that should be "I HAD to read 60 pages" but no, I was working on my two other papers, my IDD final portfolio, and my fifteen journal entries! It's not really procrastination, it's I don't have enough time in this world to do final work for 5 classes.
I'm waiting desperately for the end of this upcoming week. Even just making it through Tuesday, then I'll be happy.
Then it will be christmas shopping time!
And time to clean my room.
And time to move my desk down here.
And paint a picture.
And do laundry.
And...break isn't going to be long enough is it...

Is It Your Turn Yet?

[Inspired by Andrew Peterson's lyric: "Let's go dancing in the minefields. Sailing in the storm".]

Is It Your Turn Yet?

I went dancing in the minefields,
Sailing through the toughest storms.
Now my shoes are blown apart,
And my sails are torn.
No longer strong enough,
No longer the one rescuing,
I need someone to rescue me.
Won't you come?
Come and lift me up?
Or will I be left alone,
Battered and bruised,
Always watching the light of hope,
As it passes me by.
Sitting stranded on my island,
As another ship sails past.
Won't you please stop,
Stop and see I'm not strong?
I'm broken and alone.
I was always there for you,
Is it your turn yet?

Sonnets by Kay

I take a Shakespeare class, we were reading sonnets, then had to write our own. A sonnet is a poem marked by the rhyme scheme of ababcdcdefefgg, that follows the measure of iambic pentameter which goes ba-bum ba-bum. There are usually 10 syllables per line and a total of 14 lines.

Here's two that I came up with...not perfect by any means, but I was proud of them. Shakespeare didn't name his sonnets, and for now...neither have I.

Sonnet 1

They say the heart grows fonder with distance,

But they all forget to mention the pain.

Yet my heart beats steady with persistence,

For it knows, greater than the loss is gain.

I cannot wait to see your face, for then,

The pleasure is just indescribable.

Compare you; I cannot, to other men,

And to forget you, I am unable.

Your voice is like sweet jingle bells ringing,

The written word cannot do it justice,

My heart threatens to stop when you’re singing.

My dear, it really is the best there is.

           I wait for you with baited breath my dove,

           I’m sure nothing is as strong as my love.

Sonnet 2 

I sit and watch the sunset from my roof,
Waiting for the moon, the one you share too.
I gaze at that sliver, sliver of proof,
Maybe you are that close, it could be true.
After all, we share the moon ev’ry night,
So we can’t really be that far away. 
Desperately I hope that I am right,
Or there will be tears where my head once lay.
I am holding out hope for you baby,
Praying to God for you to be closer.
The only answer I get is maybe,
So I dream about all that could occur.
         One day you’ll be mine, I am sure of it,
         But now it’s that, to you, I must admit.

Remembering 9/11

[My original article, before it was edited by QuadNews to only include Quinnipiac students or alumni because the others weren't "relevant". Not my decision, as I think everyone was connected by this tragedy and therefore an account from California is just as relevant as one from Hamden. But the editors are in charge, not me. So here's the original article since the one they decided to post is no where as good as it could have been. Thanks again for all your input.]

Kay Walker

 10 years later we remember that fateful day; where we were, what we were doing, and how we felt.

September 11^th, 2001 was a scary day for every American. Waking up, thinking they would have a day like any other, Americans suspected nothing was amiss. Then quickly news reports began to flow in, TV reporters were crying, radios blared out announcements. Elizabeth Owens, of Hamden CT, remembers turning on her radio on an outing with her sons to the firehouse, “There was no music at all, just news…I thought that was weird!”  American jaws dropped as they learned about what would soon be a horrible tragedy. Now ten years later, these moments are burned into their memories, never to be forgotten. The stark reality, the fear, the first reactions, those are what tell the real story of that fatal day ten years ago; a day to be remembered forever.

Rather than try to tell the story of what happened, as most every American already knows the gruesome and saddening details, I’ve compiled a collection of accounts from various people. Their initial shock and reactions will do the story telling. Whether having been woken up by the news, having heard it on the radio while at work, or being sheltered from it in school, everyone can recall that day with detail. Despite the fact it was ten years ago. As goose bumps rise up their arms while describing their memories, each person quiets in remembrance.

 The older generations recall more. Their accounts are vivid and gripping as they explain when the emotion first hit.

“A phone call from a friend woke me up…As an architect; I couldn't even grasp the concept of a building that large falling…It was unreal.” James Fullton.

“Thinking that it was just a small propeller plane, I prayed that somehow, no one in the WTC would be hurt. Later, I felt so very, very stupid and so very, very angry with my seemingly futile prayer that “everyone in the tower would be okay.” I remember the rumors – the Sears Towers was hit, a school in New Jersey was bombed, the Capitol had been hit.” Jen Pluznick

"It was a glorious day - the sky was so blue - the blue that can almost hurt your eyes… I was listening to the radio; I will never forget the gravity in the announcers’ voice. I pulled over to the side of the road to comprehend what I was hearing - it was too much to process. I looked up and all along the emergency lane, there were cars pulled over just like me. You didn't know what it was, but you knew it as bad, really bad and that life as we knew it would never be the same.” Susan Shields

Many people gathered around their families, seeing the loss of so many on television brought home the reality that it could have been them. It could have been a loved one that perished on the plane or in the fire trying to rescue those caught under pieces of wreckage. Their first thoughts flew to where they had relatives or friends, if anyone was in danger, and whether or not to involve their children.

“I just remember it feeling very surreal, like I was in a dream or having a out of body experience...I remember driving home thinking this can't be real, and at the time I listened to country, so that was the station I had on. The tears were just pouring down my face...once I got home I was glued to the T.V. I had to decide if I should get my daughter from school. Then I thought, the best place for her was there, I didn't want her to have to spend the day worrying with me…” Amy Lindsay

“Took my sons to the firehouse for an outing and on the way I turned on the radio! There was no music at all; just news...thought that was weird! Fireman told us what happened! I went directly to West Woods School and picked up my oldest son, Jimmy! The whole school was going crazy! Parents picking up kids...We all wanted our loved ones with us...” Elizabeth Owens

Those around my age, twenty, have a much different perspective. Many teachers were told to keep the kids calm and keep the news from them until their parents could explain it to them at home. Others experienced the teacher’s distress and just had no idea exactly what was going on. My 5^th grade teacher dragged us all in front of the television and said, “The principal told us not to tell you. But this is history in the making and you all need to see this!” So we watched the news as they replayed the footage and the towers got hit over and over again. My teacher answered all of our questions as best she could. Some kids were crying, others could have cared less. I couldn’t wait to get home and see my family. Although it didn’t affect us the same as it did our parents or older generations, we children still knew something was wrong.

“I remember hearing things about a plane crash on my way to art class. And all the adults were freaking out. I remember seeing things on TV about police and firefighters helping and that a lot of smoke was everywhere and that it was a big deal.” Brittany Stafford, freshman at Gateway Community College.

“When I first heard that the World Trade Centers were hit, I didn't believe it. Until our teacher turned on our TV...I just remember seeing the building collapse and the smoke covering the TV...I was young and didn't really understand the significance”. Nick Dellamura, junior at Quinnipiac University.

“I didn’t really understand what was happening at school. But I saw my mom and dad crying and watching TV, and then I saw what they were watching and I don’t know, I just knew it was bad and a lot of people were dead. I watched the news for days after that, and I cried too because I was scared for the people I knew that were down there.” Bryan Burtis, freshman at Southern Connecticut State University.

“I remember feeling like something was wrong the entire day...our elementary school didn't share the news with us, but there was obvious distress among the adults.  Getting home, my parents were glued to the TV but didn't want my siblings and I to watch.   It was definitely scary since there was so much uncertainty as to what was going to happen next.” Scott Earl, junior at George Washington University.

“I didn’t have school that day so I went to work with my mom at her bank. I had no idea what the ‘World Trade Center’ was, I only knew it as the twin towers, and still didn’t know what they were. But I sat in the back and watched the news on TV, updating everyone in the bank about what was happening while they worked”. Matt Narel, junior at Quinnipiac University.

“I was in 7^th grade. We went to the sanctuary where the principal and the pastor of the church that my school was attached to told us about the attacks. We joined together in a circle around our sanctuary and prayed for all of the families affected by the attacks. Starting that day my history teacher had us start a 9/11 memory book by collecting newspapers, magazines, and internet articles. We worked on the books for the rest of the school year and it is still something I have to this day.” Jennifer Rehberg, Gulf Coast Community College.

"I thought that one of the teacher's mothers had become sick or died; they weren't allowed to tell us what happened, and left it up to our parents when we got home. I remember my dad telling me straight-up what happened, and I remember crying and running to the back bedroom.” David Zeppieri, junior at Marist College.

“I could not grasp the concept of a plane flying into a building so extremely tall and all of NYC in chaos. Words can't even describe that day and the events that unfolded one after another. Part of me is grateful I was too young at the time to really understand it. If it were to happen now while I am 22 it would be a totally different story for me. I know too many things.” Nicole Gentile, graduate of Quinnipiac University.

“A teacher came into class and whispered something to my teacher…instantly the tears began to flow from her eyes.”When you go home tonight," she stuttered amidst sobs that were racking her body, "DO NOT turn on the TV!" I wasn’t aware of what the WTC were...or what had happened. But I knew I wanted to find out. So I did turn on the TV...it was like I was watching a movie. My mom was upset, and explained that terrorists had attacked our country. She said that whether I knew what WTC was or not, I should pray for the country because it was an attack on the USA not just a building. That is when I understood. And that is when I started to pray.” Amy Walker, Paier College of Art.

No matter where they were, or what they were doing, life stopped for all Americans. I’m sure you have some memory of that day etched in your mind. Everyone was affected, no matter how near or far they were. On that dreadful day many lives were lost and many people were scarred forever. Now, ten years later, we stop and reflect. Looking over the time that we united ourselves, showing support for all the families of the victims of this tragedy. Remembering, how even in a time of sorrow, we stood strong and came out of it together.

A Different Type of Ceremony

A bit over a month ago I was offered the opportunity to shoot my friends sisters Mehndi ceremony, and the next day of rituals. It was an amazing experience, and something I will be forever thankful for. It was quite a step out of my comfort zone. I was the only non-Indian on both days and that meant they were all speaking Indian around me. I of course, though pretty good at Italian, am mainly an English speaking girl, so I was completely surrounded by a foreign language. I loved it though. I could sit and listen to different languages all day, but enough of that. The chance to take pictures was awesome. I was a bit lost at first, as I didn't know what parts of any ritual was important (so we ended up with many pictures, just to be safe) but I got into it and quite enjoyed myself. I've compiled a few images from both days for your enjoyment!

The Undead Part 2

After the cemetery we ran over to my school. There is a huge pine tree forest and we shot some pictures there which turned out to be quite a few of my favorites.
Main one is on Flickr, click for larger

The Undead Part 1

As some of you may remember, back in October my siblings and I did a zombie photo-shoot. Actually on Halloween. Dressed up like zombies we took over the town all the whilst getting weird looks and odd stares. But hey, it was Halloween, you have license to dress up however you want.

I went through and edited some of these marvelous pictures last night, ones I had never gotten to, and I must say...it was tons of fun reliving the freezing October day when I got attacked by zombies ;)

This here Part 1 are pictures taken in the cemetery near my house (we were respectful, i promise)

*click to see larger images*

Fireworks 2011

Went to the Hamden Fireworks the other night, they were delightful. We missed them last year due to a trip to Norway so it was nice to pick up the tradition again :)
It was my first year with a DSLR at them, so I had some fun taking advantage of the long exposure setting and trying out my luck at capturing a few good shots. I believe I was successful, do you? Click on them to see 'em bigger!

I put one on my Flickr (the main one I liked) and these are a few extra I though you'd like to see. in case you're coming from Flickr and not my facebook :)

Have a lovely evening my friends. Nature shots shall be coming up soon!

This was a top ranked fave also

Firework Bokeh!

The Finale!

Atlas

The pressures. The expectations. They weigh down like the world upon Atlas’ shoulders. But I am not Atlas. I do not possess his strength. I let myself fall. The world of worry rolls down my arms, slides across my back. Picking up momentum it falls to the ground shattering with a crescendo of emotions. Pieces of it fly at me, piercing my skin. For that is all I am. Merely flesh and bones, nothing more. I plunge to the ground, crumpling into a heap besides my shattered world. How did Atlas do it, I wonder. How did he survive the weight of the world, of everyone bearing down on him? I figure my strength isn’t as impressive as his, but I like to think I had some. But even with what I did have, I failed. Pressures got to me and I gave in. Gave into the world. 

A Dream

[Im going to preface this by saying its straight out of my notebook. I wrote it in class. Basically while my teacher talked I took key sentences from what she was saying and made it into a poem of sorts. As she talked I wrote these lines. So it hasnt been edited, maybe it wont make sense to you, maybe it will. Idk. Then again its about dreams, and dreams are chock full of different meanings. So take it as you will.]

A dream is an image,

An insertion of the imaginary.

It is but a concept,

Whether or not it’s understood.

Your desires, pain, hunger,

Associated with visuals.

Psychoanalytical babble?

Or maybe scenes from the future.

No one really knows,

It’s all about perception.

An association between,

An image and a feeling.

Comfort, relief, pleasure,

Pain, anger, depression.

The unconscious,

Is the whole structure of language.

There is a system to language,

It gives meaning.

Meaning to the way we think,

The little reality we see.

One must pass at some point,

From imagination to reality.

But that world we leave behind,

Stays with us forever.

He was little, he was plump, and he was blue. If you were sad he could sing a song to you. If you were happy he could sing along with you. He was always there to put a smile on your face. Always there to give you some cheer. But no one ever asked about him. No one asked if the little blue bird needed a friend. Needed someone to smile for him. He was taken for granted. He was often forgotten. You wanted a new pool so you cut down some trees. You cut down his tree. His nest he’d worked so hard to perfect. But he was okay. He sang his tears away. He took his time and built an even better nest. But then you got a cat. A cat to make the kids happy. He no longer had a safe haven in the backyard. Constantly on patrol, the cat claimed her territory. She stalked his tree, his better nest he’d built, his birdbath. The fear became too much, he lost his will to sing. You didn’t notice. You carried on with your life. One day the little blue bird got up and flew away. Sad tears in his eyes, he left his beautiful nest and the yard he’d called home since birth. One day too late you noticed you no longer heard his songs. His cheerful tunes were gone. In changing your life you’d changed his. 

19 Notes

19 Notes

Kay Walker

EN300

                I don’t know when you’ll find this. I don’t know what the day is, how old you are, if you’ve entered high school yet, or if you’ve gotten your first kiss. Is your hair long or short now, have you grown into my old clothes? I’ll never know. And at times that may be the saddest thing in your life. At times you may feel you cannot go on, that you cannot live without me. But don’t think that. You are amazing, beautiful, and talented. And I know you will grow up and conquer this world. You will be become the best little sister I could have ever asked for. I may not be there in person to see this, but I promise I’ll be watching from up above.       

The tear-stained paper was clutched in her hands. Rainbow colored nails pressed the words close against her chest. As if she could press hard enough and they would be transferred straight through to her heart. Tears slipped out of the corner of her eyes and rolled gently down her cheek. Each breath she took came in with a slight shudder and her shoulders shook as she silently wept. Opening her eyes she looked down and reread the note again, committing it to memory. Then smoothing it out across her knee she placed it onto the page. Right under the last note she’d found:

                I love you, with all my heart. And I will never stop loving you. Never forget that. Remember that time we found the kitten and cared for it. We made a bed for it, fed it, and sang to it. I want you to know that I love you as much as we loved that little kitty that day. I want you to feel as warm and happy as he did lying in his bed with your stuffed Pooh. Remember the laughs we shared as he stretched his little paws and yawned? I want you to laugh like that again. Laugh like that every day. I’ll be laughing with you.

She taped it down, sharpied in the date, and shut the book. The cover simply said “I Love You Katelyn”. Katelyn smiled and wiped her tear-stained cheek. Flipping open the cover she read the first page that had already been memorized.

            Katelyn,

                                First of all. I love you my little katiebug. I love you for how strong you are, how beautiful you are, and that you’re my little sister. I love that you look up to me, that you ask me to braid your hair and paint your nails. I love that we’re closer than most sisters are. I could have never imagined my life without you in it. And now, I know, I’m asking you to do the impossible. You’re going to have to live without me. I never expected to have to say that, and I know how hard of a task that is to ask of you. I know some days you will falter, you will yell out at God saying “Why me!?” but keep strong Katelyn. I know you can. Stand tall and be a big girl for mommy and daddy. Give them hugs and kisses for me every day. They will miss me just as much as you. Live every moment to your fullest and don’t forget to take chances. Fall helplessly in love, break some boys’ hearts, and learn everything you can. Don’t let your life stop because mine has katiebug. Remember those stories we used to tell when we were young? Of going to faraway places and seeing palaces and princesses? Well I’d like you to still do that. And then when you get up here, you can tell me all about it. I’ll be waiting for you. I know losing your older sister when you’re 14 is heart breaking and the world just seems cruel, but I know you’ll be okay. You are my sister after all. And we stand tall. I’ve left 19 notes around the house for you to read when you need a pick me up. When you need a little extra love. I’m giving you this book to keep a sort of scrapbook of them all. I know you’re artistic and can only imagine you’ll make this as beautiful as you.  I love you Katelyn. Never lose faith.

                                                                                                                Love,

                                                                Isabella

A fresh wave of tears slid down Katelyn’s face as she flipped through the rest of the book. She’d found 18 of the notes and had each pasted to a page with the date she’d found them. She didn’t go out each day and look for the notes; rather she let them come to her. Ella had been creative in hiding them. She hid them in places that wouldn’t be obvious and Katelyn was thankful for that. Having these little notes popping up unsuspected over the past two years had been one of the greatest things Katelyn had looked forward to. One was hidden in her favorite book, another in the pocket of a pair of jeans, and this newest one she’d cleverly tucked into her teddy bears clothes. Now only one remained. It was almost bittersweet as Katelyn closed the scrapbook. After the last was found she’d have nothing left to look forward to. This was something Isabella had predicted and was why she’d given her the book to keep them all. Having them to look back at whenever she needed them would have to be enough consolation. Katelyn placed the book back in her nightstand drawer and curled up on her bed. Drawing the covers up to her chin she closed her eyes.

Isabella was 17 when she was diagnosed with a severe form of bone cancer. At 18 she was declared terminally ill and her health began to rapidly decline. Katelyn was only 13 but she remembered it vividly. The trips to the doctors, the loss of hair, the months of bed rest. Having to be gentle with Ella and quiet around the house because she slept all the time. When Ella turned 19 they gave her three months to live. Katelyn was overcome with anger, sadness, and fear. As a 14 year old she had never experienced death but she knew what it was. She knew Ella was dying and that she could do nothing to stop it. When everyone was asleep at night Katelyn would climb up into her older sister’s bed and they would cuddle together. Looking up through the skylight they would watch the stars in silence. Sometimes Katelyn would ask Isabella if she was scared. Ella always said yes, but that she knew she was going to heaven, and that made it better. She would reassure Katelyn and they’d fall asleep holding each other. Those were Katelyn’s best memories with Isabella. They formed a bond that not even death could break. She grew closer to her sister in those three months than she’d ever been before. She learned things about her, her wishes, dreams, and fears that she’d never known.

When Isabella died in August, Katelyn cried for days. She was inconsolable and used to climb back into the bed and stare at the stars just like they used to. She’d hug her sister’s pillow tight and dream of the days when Ella was healthy.  When they could run through the flowers, swim in the pool, and build igloos. She would remember their late night talks and run through them over and over in her head. Never would she have that older sister to run back to and tell all about her first date. She wouldn’t have an older sister to teach her how to put on makeup or bring her shopping for trendy clothes.

 It took Katelyn a month before she could go a day without bursting into tears. And it was on one of those days she found the first note. She was eating her cereal before school and finishing some last minute homework. While scribbling answers across the lines on the sheet her pen stopped working. Digging in the front pocket of her backpack she searched for another pen amongst all the markers. Then her hand brushed against something. It was hard, metal, and most definitely not a pen. Pulling it out she was surprised to see a heart shaped tin. Confused at how it’d gotten in her backpack Katelyn opened it up, and pulled out the first note. It read:

                You really need to organize this pocket; I don’t know how you find anything in here my love. Smile today. Smile at everyone you see, sometimes people need a little extra love. Like you. I know you’re probably hurting Katelyn. I miss you as I’m sure you miss me. But I love you and I’m smiling for you. You’re gorgeous girl; don’t let anyone tell you different.

The paper fell to the table as Katelyn began to sob. She’d been given the notebook by her parents after Isabella died but she’d never found a note and had forgotten about it. Running upstairs she threw books left and right trying to find it. She searched frantically under her bed, ripped clothing out of her drawers, until finally she found it in her pile of stuffed animals. And that’s when it all started. She pasted it in, dated it, and then cried; cried for her sister, for herself, for memories. After that the notes appeared randomly and the day she found one was the highlight of her week. Even though it brought tears, it brought joy. She once again held a piece of her sister. Something that only the two of them shared. It was special and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Katelyn got out of bed and walked down the hall. It was time to get back to her life. Finding the note today had been amazing. She had one note left to find, or one left to find her. She was excited and yet wasn’t going to rush it. The day she found it would be the end of something that she wasn’t sure she was ready to end yet. 19 notes, one for each year Isabella had been alive. She could wait for the 19^th one. The 18^th one couldn’t have come on a better day. She was now 16 and had her first date tonight. She knew her sister was looking down on her smiling. Standing under the skylight in Isabella’s old room she looked up and smiled back. Thank you Isabella, I love you too.

What is Literature

[Had to write this for class, we were asked what is literature, and just had to do a freewrite on it]

What is Literature?

                Literature is that which can be read, but is not what is known as “leisurely reading”. When one reads literature they can be taken on an adventure, they can be taught a lesson, they can learn, but really I believe it lies in the openness for interpretation. This is the main difference between what we call “literature” and any other writing. Literature speaks to us, it is universal, there is always something the author is trying to portray, some point they are getting across. Whether it is a universal message or a lesson, they teach the reader. It is a form of human expression, an art.

Take “The Death of Ivan Ilych” for example. Now compare that to say a romance novel you pick up on your way through the airport. Ivan Ilych is literature. Something taught in school, something with symbolism, and themes. Watching him waste away to his death we saw him brought to a revelation about himself. He realized that his actions in society did no good for anyone other than himself. It was shocking and yet gave him a peaceful ending. Walking away from reading that book you’re left pondering. You might think about reevaluating the way you live your life. You think and you don’t forget the book right away. The characters stay with you for a while, because they are easily relatable.  Then on the other side we have the romance novel at the airport coffee shop. It’s usually the clichéd romance; quick and easy leisurely reading, to be done on one plane ride. When you finish it nothing resonates in you, you haven’t come away with a better sense of the world or yourself. It’s what is called “genre fiction” and it’s nice while you read it, but you forget it once you’re done. The characters have no real substance. The plot flows, but has no real meaning. It’s not literature.

Its not just prose writing either. Literature can also be poetry. Like Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath. Who decided they would be literature, which person got to include them in the school curriculum, and why? Because their poems have a depth that not everyone can comprehend. They need to be read over and over again by scholars, students, and artists. There isn’t one meaning, one interpretation. It all depends on the reader. One may see it as dreadfully depressing; one may view it as a sad story with an uplifting ending. Either way these readers are finding meaning in the poem, they are connecting with it in ways that you just can’t possibly do with some other poetry. An angsty teen falls in and out of love, a person sees a red bird sitting on a tree, and someone else tries to find a rhyme with orange. These aren’t literature because their meaning just barely scrapes the surface. There is no deep connection, no human expression that the author deemed important enough to convey to their readers.

                Literature can be many things, and maybe it is all things. Who are we to decide what literature is unless we can get into the minds of all the writers in the world. I’m sure many of them sit down to write and have some theme or meaning they start with that might just not be apparent to us yet. But in the end, we are left reading what the scholars have called literature despite the fact there may be much more undiscovered “literature” out there.

Writers Block

I need someone to save me from myself.
Im the worst procrastinator in the world.
And for some reason I can not PHYSICALLY write this paper.
Dead serious. Like I can write this, and i wrote a 3 par long email.
But when i sit down to the paper...well lets just say I feel dumb, my mind goes blank.
I have one of six-eight pages done. And its not even good yet.
My gosh.
I despise my school habits.
They will change for this semester.
I promise, i've never actually promised that before.
Maybe it will work.
Its not like there is anything else to distract me anyways.
Im done with Facebook, and Flickr, and Twitter stuff.
I could go spam Matts Formspring, but i dont even have the motivation for that.
Gah.
Dude people, why are you here. Go look at my Flickr.
Unless you came from there, in which case go ask me questions on Formspring!
Im also sorry if i've been short with you, or rude, or ignored you.
Because I didnt mean it. Sometimes I get stressed.
I know right? Its rare you hear that.
But I do. And usually those near me feel it.
I <3 you all.

Regency and Ruched Knots

Today we went bridesmaid dress shopping!
It was exciting, and fun. After some disappointment at the first stop we soon were overjoyed to find that Davids Bridal had exactly what the bride was looking for.
For those of you more interested in the dress click here: http://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_Short-Spaghetti-Strap-Dress-with-Pleated-Bust-F14025_Bridal-Party-Bridesmaids-Short-Bridesmaid-Dresses
and click on the color "Regency" and thats the dress :)
The shoes are champagne colored, with a "ruched knot" to match the gathering in the dress.
Overall I think they will be a beautiful compliment to the stunning bride on her day!

Im also wearing my retainer right now. Idk why, i just decided to. Its really tight, and its amazing how much teeth can move. maybe I'll wear it til the big day (May 21st) and then have perfectly straight teeth for the pictures :)

Speaking of pictures. The photographer might be my friend wooooot. That would be extremely exciting. Im not going to tell you any more details yet. Because it might jinx it or something, but yes. That'd be cool :)

Have a nifty night. Keep smiling :D

Blown out of the Water...

You know how sometimes you sit down and for dinner say you'll have one thing then as soon as the waiter comes you make a split decision and order something else?
You know how you get up in the morning with plans to be healthy and go out and take a walk, but as soon as you open the door and feel the cold you turn around and sit in front of the fire instead?
You know how you have thoughts and ideas about a person and then something happens and all of that is blown out of the water?

Amazing really, how quickly your mind can change its mind ;) Im going to be taking a cognitive psych class in this up coming semester. I'm very intrigued by things like this. And last night one of those 3 happened to me. Guess and make it whichever you want. Because I'm not telling you :) Who knows who reads this. Oh did I give it away. No, haha. I could have lied to someone about one of those. You will never knowwww. Unless i already told you, and those people don't read this blog. Umm moving on...

Know whats great about the internet? Everyone can be connected. Know whats bad about the internet? Everyone is connected. I don't know who sees this, i don't know who sees my Flickr. All I know is who I am friends with on Facebook. So really you cant free your mind on the internet for fear of being exposed to everyone. For fear you may offend someone. Once upon a time my parents didn't read my Flickr. Now I know they do. So apparently do the parents of kids I babysit. And so does my neighbor. He took a day and read every single post I have ever written on here. Pretty unexpected, but surely welcome. Im putting it on the internet, anyone is welcome to read it. Not that I write anything people shouldn't see, but its good to know everyone does, so I can always remember to check myself.

I like being the kind of person who knows that she doesn't have to constantly check herself and remember who she is around though. The person you see when i'm at school, the person while babysitting, the person with friends or family. They are all the same person. I don't have to change how I act because the way I act is acceptable in every situation. Its nice knowing I can be myself without consequences.

So I started this blog post because I wanted to organize my thoughts and let out how I felt about something last night. But then ended up not even explaining it because I left it a secret and instead went into rambles about why I couldnt tell you. Okay, I'll tell you. It was number 3. And I thought I was doing well with my thoughts. With my perceptions of this person. Then it all changed, and any progress I had of going in one direction with my thoughts was completely blown out of the water. There. Have fun imagining the rest.

Im going to try and do this more. My mom writes little posts. So Im thinking if i didnt sit down to write so much, i could write simple thoughts, and inspirations, etc. Kind of like people use Tumblr. I dont want one of those. And twitter is only 140 characters. Maybe I should take my favorite tweets and share them lol. idk, it will be random. Story of my life, right? ;)

Have a great day! I hear there may be a luge ride in my future today.

Shards of Blue and Yellow

[Another Creative Writing Story, not perfectly edited]

The bottle shattered as glass met plaster. He screamed, the sound ricocheting off the low sloped ceiling. I crouched in the corner, heart beating three times its regular rate, completely terrified. I’d never seen such raw emotion in my nine years on this earth. I covered my ears with both hands, clenching my teeth, trying to shut out the ugly sound as best I could. Still the profanities pierced through my defenses. I was trembling in fear. A lamp exploded three feet to my right as he chucked the cordless phone across the room. I launched myself sideways to dodge the bullets of blue and yellow ceramic flowers. Then it stopped. As the last shard of the lamp fell to the ground, the room became silent. It was overwhelmingly still after the destruction it had just seen. The room was still. Nothing moved. It was almost as if it was holding its breath. I, sitting amongst the rubble, held my breath as well. Looking up from my crouch I glanced around the room. It was in shambles. In the middle, against the couch, lay the crumpled form of my father. His body was shaking, yet I could hear no sound. I inched closer, afraid of a sudden outburst. The closer I got the better I could hear him.  Faintly at first, then slowly growing in volume; my father was crying. Something I’d never seen him do before. He wasn’t just teary-eyed, he was full out sobbing into the cushions. Each sob tore through his body as he choked for breath. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down silently in the leather arm chair, staring at the torn paper clutched in his hands.

            If you knew me two months earlier, you would never recognize me now. I used to be an innocent little nine year old. I was living the glory days, or that’s how I saw them anyways. I watched cartoons in the morning with my dad, headed off to school, and then returned home to snacks with mom. Everything was wonderful. I had not a care in the world past what bedtime story I would read. Then, sometime around February, my mom started to leave home a lot more. I’d come home to a babysitter and a sticky note on the fridge saying “I owe you cookies”. I stopped waiting for the cookies long before the notes stopped. Her absence became a normal part of life, I got used to it. I was told she had extra work at the office. Occasionally I’d hear a fight or two between my mom and dad, but I didn’t think much of it. Until they caught me watching, then it became hushed whispers, often behind closed doors. I didn’t know what it was all about.

I learned I had to grow up, and grow up fast. I had to fade into the background, and learn to listen. I soon found out that my mom had a new friend. This guy named Carl. He sometimes came over when my dad was at work. I quickly learned my dad did not like Carl. He came home one day and saw them; then pretty much threw Carl out the door. I didn’t see much of Carl after that. Mom and dad stopped talking, I was silent, the house echoed with the quiet. I thought things might get better. There were no more fights, there was no more Carl, and I got cookies again. I thought we might get back to normal. That was, until my dad opened the mail today and I caught a glimpse of the one word that’d thrown him over the edge. Divorce.

Comfortably Numb

[This is an overly dramatized piece of fiction based on an event in my life, written for my creative writing class. The characters in no way represent me or anyone in my family though. I am not suicidal. I promise]

I don’t like him much. He’s staring at me. Can’t people get a little privacy around here? It’s not like I chose to share my grief with the whole world. They are making me sit out here. Sorry if my tears are ruining your perfect day. I can’t control them. Yeah, that’s right, look away. It should be unnerving watching a stranger cry. Took you long enough to figure that out. I hope the rest of your day sucks because mine will. I was having a great day, I bet you were too. Now it’s been ruined, all because…

“Are you ready to go honey? Its time.”

Oh no, here comes the waterfall. Open up the floodgates. Call in the coast guard. Someone’s about to drown in tears. Mom, grab the lifeboats. You’re going to need them.

“Down the hall to the end. Room three, on your right.”

It’s a journey into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean now. I’m no longer drowning. I am fully submerged. I am soaked. I am the water. It seems to be all I’m made of. The tears just don’t stop. Yeah avoid my eyes doctor. Don’t take responsibility for what you’re doing to me. I get it.

“I’m really sorry…it’s the best thing to do, really.”

Yeah right. You’re really sorry? You do this all the time. You have to be immune to the grief. You know…this is the third one, the second that we’ve brought to you. You and I aren’t exactly on good terms right now. So I don’t feel your sympathy. It’s falling on deaf ears.

“Say your goodbyes. Then we will bring her out to you.”

Goodbye? How do you say goodbye to a best friend, a loyal companion, a family member. How can I tell her everything is going to be all right when you’re about to MURDER her. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. Look at those eyes.  She’s terrified of this place. She won’t be able to die happy because she’s scared. Regardless, you don’t care, you just tell me it’s time to say goodbye. The decision has already been made. Goodbye my love. I hope you forgive us. No longer in pain you’ll be able to join Prince Caspian in cat heaven, go chase mice to your heart’s content. Oh I can’t handle it. I need to get away.

“I know its hard honey. But think about how happy she’ll be.”

I won’t know! She won’t know! She won’t FEEL! She’s dead. She’s gone. I was mean to her. I yelled at her for her constant meowing. And all this time she was trying to tell us how she felt. You may as well kill me with her. End both of our suffering. Since you keep saying it’s the “humane” thing to do, to end ones suffering.

“Here’s her collar. Keep it like your brother kept Caspian’s.”

Yes, so I can look at it EVERY day. I can then remember what I did to her. So I can cry myself to sleep when I see it before I go to bed. Okay, give it to me. One day I might be able to laugh, to remember the good times. But I have a feeling that’s far from now. I feel like there’s a hole in my heart and my tear ducts are broken. One would think you’d be out of tears by now. I feel empty…but they still fall.

“Would you like to pick the tree to plant over her?”

Would I like to? Yes. Can I? I don’t know. I can hardly see to walk. How will I pick a tree? I don’t even think you have a tree worthy of her burial mom. All these little saplings, representing life, as she lay dead beneath them. Don’t you get the irony of that? Am I the only one who sees it? You people are so insensitive, so calculated in your actions. Am I the only one who cares? Goodnight world. I cannot talk to anyone else.

“I understand what you are going through; do you need an extension on the paper?”

You understand? Then tell me YOUR sob story. Tell me exactly how it is you understand. I slept on it (barely), came to school, and I feel even worse now. An extension? Why. So I can sit and wallow in self pity for that much longer. So I have nothing that will distract me from the thoughts of her that plague my mind. No thank you, I don’t need your pity extension. I can get through this myself, as strong as I ever was.

“Do you need a hug? Is there anything I can do?”

Yes, I will take a hug. Because you’re my friend and you think you’re offering it out of kindness. But really, it’s only going to make YOU feel better. It makes you feel like you’ve done something to help. But really, what can you do. Nothing. You can’t bring her back; you couldn’t cure her of her cancer. You can’t fix the hole that now resides in my heart. I wish you could. But no, there is nothing for you to do. Once again, I’m all alone. I’m going to curl up in bed. Alone.

“Honey, are you awake?”

No, go away. I will lay here and pretend to sleep. Just so you leave me alone. Did you know she used to come in here? Every morning at 7am, without fail. She’d curl up with me in bed before I went to school. Now I’m left alone. I don’t have my snuggle buddy any longer. It will never be the same. She was here yesterday. In this exact spot. Warm, breathing, alive. We had no idea. Oh Black Beauty, I miss you. And I’m sorry. Amazing how in a span of less than 24 hours everything can change so drastically.

“Want to go to the movies? You need to do something.”

No I don’t want to go to the movies. But I will. It’s been a week. I haven’t seen my friends. I haven’t done anything social. Yeah I will come. No I will not enjoy myself. I will not laugh. I won’t even talk. It would have been better if you’d just left me to sulk in my room. I’m a killjoy in public. I was doing perfectly fine alone. I was happy. In a different sense of the word.

“Please talk to me. We’re here to help. Your parents are worried”

Hello doctor. My cat was murdered. I was an accessory to the crime. I don’t deserve to live. The end. Don’t make me step on that scale. We both know we won’t like what we see. I know I’m wasting away. I don’t care. I let Black Beauty waste away. Why should I be kept from understanding what she had to suffer through? Don’t even try to prescribe that medicine I see in your hands either. I need no sleeping pills. She got no pain killers. I will remove my option to avoid the pain for she had no such option. Besides, I’m beginning to enjoy the night. So much becomes clear when the world falls completely still.

“Honey, it’s not healthy! You can’t ignore everyone forever! We love you!”

Stop crying mom. You don’t care about what I’m feeling. You only care about my physical being. You can’t bear to lose me. You’re trying to prevent it. I couldn’t bear to lose Beauty, yet I couldn’t prevent it. I still don’t know why I’m alive. There’s nothing here I deserve.

“She’s coming around! Quick, get the nurse!”

Why are you yelling so loudly? Why am I in the hospital? Why didn’t you let death take me? He was right there. Grinning with those glowing evil eyes of his. I was attracted to it. I wanted to go. He was beautiful, he was an escape. I should have taken the final bottle of pills; I thought two would be enough. But you’re too fast mom. Too quick to keep yourself happy. You put yourself first. I would have been happy if you’d let me go. But you would have been sad. Now you will be happy and I’m back where I was. Unhappy. And alone.

“I’m Dr. Carol. We can work through this together, I promise.”

Oh boy. You’re not too good at this ma’am. If someone is at the point where they need a shrink, then they aren’t okay with trusting anyone, especially not strangers. So don’t make empty promises. I know you say that phrase to everyone. It’s been programmed into you. I know my story doesn’t really resonate in your heart. You went to school to learn how to sympathize with anyone who walks into your office. Coming here is useless. I’m useless. See, now I’m wasting my parents’ money. I’m a waste of space in this world. And you can’t help that, unless you let me go.

“Look honey, her name is Buttercup!”

Are you serious right now mom? You really went out and got me a kitten? And what were you thinking with that name! You can’t replace Black Beauty. Did you know I used to say “What’s up Buttercup” when she meowed at me. No? Well you should have been paying more attention I guess. Now I have another daily reminder, as if the collar wasn’t enough. There’s a new innocent kitten. An intrusion in my solitude. But I can’t blame her. Only myself, for not being able to accept her…I should really try harder for her sake.

“We are all happy to see you smile today!”

Yes Dr. Carol, I thought you’d say that. The path of least resistance, right? You’ll leave me alone if I smile, talk, make you think you’re doing your job. That’s what you want. So that’s what you will get. For now. Nothing like creating a semblance of peace. May as well make you happy. Then my parents will feel better too.

“I’m happy you came shopping with me today honey!”

Yes mother, I know you are. Why do you think I’m here? Like clothing can really make me feel better. Oh lets go get some new shoes, maybe some pretzel bites, yay! Not. Its more materialistic things. I get no joy out of it. Buy me what you want but you can’t buy me happiness.

“You coming out bowling with us, that makes me really happy”

I’m getting sick of that word. My shrink, my parents, now my friends. You’re all smothering me in your happiness. Like you think I will absorb some of it if it oozes off of you excessively. Well it’s not working. I don’t know if I can keep up this charade of happiness anymore when it’s the only thing you guys can focus on. You never give me a break from it. I thought it would work if you’d just let me pretend I was happy. But it’s not working for me anymore. I’m done with this. I can’t take it. I will never be myself again and you can’t fix that. Thanks for the effort. I do love you. But…

I HAVE BECOME COMFORTABLY NUMB

            I found this journal, this recording of her thoughts, three days after she died. We were cleaning her room when I discovered it. It was in the false bottom of her bookshelf. The one that only I knew about. I can’t help but think she left it there so I could find it. I am the one who found her too. She hung herself. It’s been two and a half months. I still can’t get the image of her cold lifeless body swinging from that rope. It’s etched in my mind. Her baby blue eyes now empty forever of the life and laughter they’d already been void of for the past few months. I try to look back, see what we missed. Many say we should have been more cautious after the first attempt. But she went to the psychiatrist. She was smiling. She was even letting Buttercup sleep in her bed.

I rake through my mind day after day. My thoughts are accompanied by that gruesome picture I’ve been left with of her. Maybe if we’d just asked, asked her to talk about it. Let her grieve, let her be angry. Maybe if more time had been spent on her feelings and less on making sure she was happy every minute of every day. Maybe then it could have been prevented. But some say, with suicide, it’s a fifty/fifty chance. Either they have completely set their mind on it, or they want you to stop them. Knowing my sister, it was the first. When she used to get her mind set on something she’d stick with it. The first failed attempt wouldn’t have meant anything to her. It was merely a hurdle that she could easily clear. And based on these journal entries, she had quickly devised a new plan without hesitation. I just wish there had been some way to convince her that she didn’t have to stick with her plan for once; some way to reassure her that we did care. We cared more than just on the surface like she thought.

I feel like I miss her more and more from one day to the next. The smallest things in life remind me of her. Walking past the old barn near our house reminds me of childhood games we played in it. Hide and seek, cowboys and robbers, duck duck goose, just to name a few. Entering Starbucks I see us sitting where we sat every day after school, for an entire semester, as she tutored me in math so I could pass my class. Watching the kid’s lace up at the ice rink, I envision the first time she brought me to skate. I fell down so many times I was a walking bruise. I whined and complained. But she always helped me up and we started again despite my complaints. I wake up for a midnight snack and sit alone at the counter these days, an empty stool besides me as I drink my hot chocolate in silence. I miss the heart to hearts we had. She was the best big sister anyone could ask for.

Time heals all wounds they say. But I know there will always be times that I search for her to tell her my latest big news. There will be the momentous events in my life where I will want her at my side. My children will never know their aunt, and they will never have cousins. A stocking will always hang empty at Christmas, a place setting never filled. The grief will follow me every day. But I am hoping that the day I can finally laugh at a memory of her, will come soon. I’m hoping, one day, the picture I see of her will be full of life, smiles, and love.