How do we define a word that encompasses so much?
Is it as simple as a quiet afternoon?
Does it mean finding harmony within?
The absence of hostility?
It is a mother looking into the eye's of her son?
Is it merely a state of tranquility?
How about the mind being cleared of unpleasant thoughts?
Is it the opposite of war?
Why does one word mean so much?
What price is it worth paying?
Is it more important than all justice?
Is it freedom?
Does it mean something different to everyone?
Or does it have a universal definition?
Has it changed over time?
Does it have a script to follow?
Is it the calm before the storm?
Does it come from understanding?
Is it a form of being silent and still?
What is peace?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
WA-3 Rough Draft
Is it as simple as a quiet afternoon?
How do we define a word that encompasses so much?
Does it mean finding harmony within yourself?
Can you call it the absence of hostility?
It is a mother looking into the eye’s of her son?
Is it merely a state of tranquility?
Or how about your mind being cleared of unpleasant thoughts?
Is it the opposite of war?
Why does one word mean so much?
Is it finding beauty in an object as small as a flower?
What price is it worth paying?
Is it more important than all justice?
Is it freedom?
Does it mean something different to each person?
Or does it have a universal definition?
Has it changed over time?
Does it have a script to follow?
Is it finding the calm before the storm?
Does it come from understanding?
Is it a form of being silent and still?
How do we define a word that encompasses so much?
Does it mean finding harmony within yourself?
Can you call it the absence of hostility?
It is a mother looking into the eye’s of her son?
Is it merely a state of tranquility?
Or how about your mind being cleared of unpleasant thoughts?
Is it the opposite of war?
Why does one word mean so much?
Is it finding beauty in an object as small as a flower?
What price is it worth paying?
Is it more important than all justice?
Is it freedom?
Does it mean something different to each person?
Or does it have a universal definition?
Has it changed over time?
Does it have a script to follow?
Is it finding the calm before the storm?
Does it come from understanding?
Is it a form of being silent and still?
What is peace?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
WA-2 Final Draft
He stepped from his doorway and was met with the warm feeling of morning sunshine. He bent over to adjust his shoelaces. He descended the front porch steps onto the cracked, dirtied but very familiar sidewalk. From above, the sun coming through the trees cast the light into tiles as if it were converting the sidewalk into his kitchen floor. A slight breeze tousled his hair and left a secret in his ear.
As he fell into a slow sauntering pace, the sound of squirrels munching on acorns came from unidentifiable places. He let his eyes wander for a second as he slowed, searching for the source of noise. When he retired his hope of finding it he saw the curled silvery gray hair of the old lady rocking in her southern style porch swing reading Anna Karenina. She looked up from her book and raised a hand to gesture a kind salutation, no different from any other morning. Her calm disposition and serene smile was a shroud to her failing memories.
The chap continued on his way, letting his feet carry him along. A small white pamphlet flittered across his shoe. He bent down to inspect the bleeding ink. It was a lost dog poster. The words on it read, "Small, brown, and affectionate. Have you seen her?" Then as the wind had brought it, it took it away, riding on the breeze that rumpled his hair. Whispered in his ear. He issued a sigh and rocketed a black walnut into the street with a sharp kick. It shattered in the road, opened, and spilled its contents onto the warming asphalt. "The temperature is now 76 degrees with a high coming midday of 89," said a passing car's radio. Simultaneously he wiped a forming bead of sweat from his brow.
To his right, lay a broken and battered shoddy recliner ready to be whisked away by a garbage truck. He pictured the size of the man that had created the trash out of what had once probably been a nice piece of furniture. For a spilt second he thought about testing out it's stability when a baby blue robin's egg caught the attention of his eye. It solitarily lay cracked and abandoned on the sidewalk. He gently scooped it up and it lay peacefully in the palm of his calloused hand. The moment lasted until it was tossed over his shoulder and further mangled when it landed back on the concrete.
About 9 paces ahead a mural came into view, the two presidential candidates faced each other. The wall was covered with meticulously painted graffiti covering the roughly textured chipped, red schoolhouse, bricks. The boy stopped, and let his blue eyes follow the flow of bricks that had stories painted all over them. Like everything around him, there are stories to tell while others are already being told. Scenarios being peeled away from their fixtures. He turned on his heel, took a right, and emerged from his canopy of trees, his street, his sidewalk, his story, onto the main road where lines were being written as he walked, where the paths were unfamiliar. He left the breeze behind as he continued on his way.
Monday, October 20, 2008
WA-2 2
He stepped from his doorway and was met with the warm feeling of morning sunshine. He bent over to adjust his shoelaces. He descended the front porch steps onto the cracked, dirtied but very familiar sidewalk. From above, the sun coming through the trees cast the light into tiles as if it were converting the sidewalk into his kitchen floor. A slight breeze tousled his hair and placed a soft whispered secret into his ear.
As he fell into a slow sauntering pace, the sound of squirrels munching on acorns came from unidentifiable places. He let his eyes wander for a second as he slowed, searching for the source of noise. When he retired his hope of finding it he saw the curled silvery gray hair of the old lady rocking in her southern style porch swing reading Anna Karenina. She looked up from her book and raised a wrinkled and blue-green veined hand to gesture a kind salutation, no different from any other morning. Her calm disposition and serene smile was a shroud to her failing memories.
The chap continued on his way, letting his feet carry him along. A small white pamphlet flittered across his shoe. He bent down to inspect the bleeding ink that composed a lost dog poster. The words on it read, “Small, brown, and affectionate. Have you seen her?” Then as the wind had brought it, it took it away, riding on the breeze that rumpled his hair. Whispered in his ear. He issued a sigh and rocketed a black walnut into the street with a sharp kick. It shattered in the road, opened, and spilled its contents onto the warming asphalt. “The temperature is now 76 degrees with a high coming midday of 89,” said a passing car’s radio. Simultaneously he wiped a forming bead of sweat from his brow.
To his right, lay a broken and battered shoddy recliner ready to be whisked away by a garbage truck. He pictured the size of the man that had created the trash out of what had once probably been a nice piece of furniture. For a spilt second he thought about testing out it’s stability when a baby blue robin’s egg caught the attention of his eye. It solitarily lay cracked and abandoned on the sidewalk. He gently scooped it up and it lay peacefully in the palm of his calloused hand. The moment lasted until it was tossed over his shoulder and further mangled when it landed back on the concrete.
About 9 paces ahead a mural came into view, the two presidential candidates faced each other, locked in a stare down. The wall was covered with meticulously painted graffiti covering the roughly textured chipped, red schoolhouse, bricks. The boy stopped, and let his blue eyes follow the flow of bricks that had stories painted all over them. Like everything around him, there are stories to tell while others are already being told. Scenarios being peeled away from their fixtures. He turned on his heel, took a right emerging from his canopy of trees, his street, his sidewalk, his story, onto the main road where lines were being written as he walked, where the paths were unfamiliar. He left the breeze behind as he continued on his way.
As he fell into a slow sauntering pace, the sound of squirrels munching on acorns came from unidentifiable places. He let his eyes wander for a second as he slowed, searching for the source of noise. When he retired his hope of finding it he saw the curled silvery gray hair of the old lady rocking in her southern style porch swing reading Anna Karenina. She looked up from her book and raised a wrinkled and blue-green veined hand to gesture a kind salutation, no different from any other morning. Her calm disposition and serene smile was a shroud to her failing memories.
The chap continued on his way, letting his feet carry him along. A small white pamphlet flittered across his shoe. He bent down to inspect the bleeding ink that composed a lost dog poster. The words on it read, “Small, brown, and affectionate. Have you seen her?” Then as the wind had brought it, it took it away, riding on the breeze that rumpled his hair. Whispered in his ear. He issued a sigh and rocketed a black walnut into the street with a sharp kick. It shattered in the road, opened, and spilled its contents onto the warming asphalt. “The temperature is now 76 degrees with a high coming midday of 89,” said a passing car’s radio. Simultaneously he wiped a forming bead of sweat from his brow.
To his right, lay a broken and battered shoddy recliner ready to be whisked away by a garbage truck. He pictured the size of the man that had created the trash out of what had once probably been a nice piece of furniture. For a spilt second he thought about testing out it’s stability when a baby blue robin’s egg caught the attention of his eye. It solitarily lay cracked and abandoned on the sidewalk. He gently scooped it up and it lay peacefully in the palm of his calloused hand. The moment lasted until it was tossed over his shoulder and further mangled when it landed back on the concrete.
About 9 paces ahead a mural came into view, the two presidential candidates faced each other, locked in a stare down. The wall was covered with meticulously painted graffiti covering the roughly textured chipped, red schoolhouse, bricks. The boy stopped, and let his blue eyes follow the flow of bricks that had stories painted all over them. Like everything around him, there are stories to tell while others are already being told. Scenarios being peeled away from their fixtures. He turned on his heel, took a right emerging from his canopy of trees, his street, his sidewalk, his story, onto the main road where lines were being written as he walked, where the paths were unfamiliar. He left the breeze behind as he continued on his way.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
WA-2 Rough Draft
He stepped from his doorway and was met with the warm feeling of morning sunshine. He bent over to adjust his shoelaces. He descended the front porch steps onto the cracked, dirtied but very familiar sidewalk. From above, the sun coming through the trees cast the light into tiles as if it were converting the sidewalk into his kitchen floor. A slight breeze tousled his hair and placed a soft whispered secret into his ear. As he fell into a slow sauntering pace, the sound of squirrels munching on acorns came from unidentifiable places. He let his eyes wander for a second as he slowed, searching for the source of noise. When he retired his hope of finding it he saw his favorite old lady sitting on her porch reading Anna Karenina. She looked up from her book and raised her hand to gesture a kind salutation, no different from any other morning. Her calm disposition and serene smile was a shroud to her failing memories. He continued on his way, letting his feet carry him along. A small white pamphlet flittered across his shoe. He bent down to inspect the bleeding ink that composed a lost dog poster. The words on it read, “Small, brown, and affectionate. Have you seen her?” Then as the wind had brought it, it took it away, riding on the breeze that rumpled his hair. Whispered in his ear. He issued a sigh and rocketed a black walnut into the street with a sharp kick. It shattered in the road, opened, and spilled its contents onto the warming asphalt. “The temperature is now 76 degress with a high coming midday of 89,” said a passing car’s radio. Simultaneously he wiped a forming bead of sweat from his brow. To his right, lay a broken and battered shoddy recliner ready to be whisked away by a garbage truck. He pictured the size of the man that had created the trash out of what had once probably been a nice piece of furniture. For a spilt second he thought about testing out it’s stability when a baby blue robin’s egg caught the attention of his eye. It solitarily lay cracked and abandoned on the sidewalk. He gently scooped it up and it lay peacefully in the palm of his calloused hand, he opened his pocket and gingerly placed it there. About 9 paces ahead a mural came into view, the two presidential candidates faced each other, locked in a stare down. The wall was covered with meticulously painted graffiti covering the roughly textured chipped, red schoolhouse, bricks. The boy stopped, and let his blue eyes follow the flow of bricks that had stories painted all over them. Like everything around him, there are stories to tell while others are already being told. Scenarios being peeled away from their fixtures. He turned on his heel, took a right emerging from his canopy of trees, his street, his sidewalk, his story, onto the main road where lines were being written as he walked, where the paths were unfamiliar. He left the breeze behind as he continued on his way.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
WA-3
This is not something that i can hide from anymore, its my life. For 2 years, 730 days, 104 weeks, and 52 switches later I’m done, absolutely and completely through. Packing and unpacking. Unpacking and then putting it all back into the same bag, like coming back home from too many vacations. The dread of unfolding, washing, and refolding everything. Hell, why not just live out of the bag? Your wrong to think I haven’t and don’t.
According to my mom, it all began a long time ago. She tried to shield my brother and I from it all but we were naive at the time so her job was well done. Of course things seemed a little odd but our questioning passed quickly. My mom slept on a bed with bear sheets while my brother moved to make his bed in my room. My dad stopped going to Memphis for family vacations with my maternal grandparents. Many clues kept popping up that became easier to decipher with time.
It was one night after dinner on September 7th of my eighth grade year that my parents sat us down and told us that they needed a break. My mom had rented a house about two minutes down the road where she would be living while my dad somehow had gotten to stay put. The deal, one week I would stay at my mom’s house and the next at my dad’s. Through all of this I never really expressed how I felt, I just kept living like nothing had ever changed, I didn't tell any of my friends, and I tried not to think about it. After the one year of mandatory separation (VA law) was complete, the divorce was filed. By then I didn't really care anymore, it was not necessarily a better lifestyle but it was more peaceful.
Fast forward to now. Tonight is probably one of the last nights that I will be sleeping in this bed, in my dad’s house, what was my childhood home. Not because this is necessarily what I want but because I cant stand living like this anymore. Once my mom moved out of this house I became the only female figure. Therefore, in my fathers opinion I assumed all womanly tasks: laundry, dishes, and cleaning all of which I was supposed to do while juggling school, sports, and a teenage life. I wanted to live with my mom full time but I also knew that I couldn't because of legal matters. Secondly, I knew that I would naturally miss my dad. Despite the fact that most of the time we are on completely different pages I still love him. Plus, my mom’s country store couldn’t support my brother and I financially full time.
It was however, at the beginning of the summer that I knew this would no longer work for me. My brother and I had headed out to Arkansas to visit family. The plane we traveled on was financed willingly by my mother. Her opinion on the matter was, god and family are all you have in this world. Everything she works and lives for follows that motto and that is how she always raised us. When we returned home with my cousins, it was supposed to be my week with my dad however, he refused to let my cousins come on the basis that they are my mother’s sisters’ kids. So, in turn I refused to go and it wasn't until the last week of summer that I spent with him and during that time I had to keep up a facade to keep the peace.
There is no way that you would know what I am talking about but it is a relationship that has too many issues for words. Some of the time I am with him I have a good time and there is a spark of hope that this good path will continue, but then in the blink of an eye it’s over and the demanding, tyrannical ways have returned. The reason that this is all looming now is because next week I will be 16 and that is the age that you are legally able to chose who you want full custody with. I am pretty sure I am going to stay with my mom but then I feel like I will be losing a whole part of my life, half of my self. I also know, that if I keep living like this I will eventually break down, I am human, I can only deal with so much. I wish I could explain everything and make it all make sense but life doesn't always make sense. That is why this verse has helped me get through a lot though and I thank God for the blessings he has given me.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
According to my mom, it all began a long time ago. She tried to shield my brother and I from it all but we were naive at the time so her job was well done. Of course things seemed a little odd but our questioning passed quickly. My mom slept on a bed with bear sheets while my brother moved to make his bed in my room. My dad stopped going to Memphis for family vacations with my maternal grandparents. Many clues kept popping up that became easier to decipher with time.
It was one night after dinner on September 7th of my eighth grade year that my parents sat us down and told us that they needed a break. My mom had rented a house about two minutes down the road where she would be living while my dad somehow had gotten to stay put. The deal, one week I would stay at my mom’s house and the next at my dad’s. Through all of this I never really expressed how I felt, I just kept living like nothing had ever changed, I didn't tell any of my friends, and I tried not to think about it. After the one year of mandatory separation (VA law) was complete, the divorce was filed. By then I didn't really care anymore, it was not necessarily a better lifestyle but it was more peaceful.
Fast forward to now. Tonight is probably one of the last nights that I will be sleeping in this bed, in my dad’s house, what was my childhood home. Not because this is necessarily what I want but because I cant stand living like this anymore. Once my mom moved out of this house I became the only female figure. Therefore, in my fathers opinion I assumed all womanly tasks: laundry, dishes, and cleaning all of which I was supposed to do while juggling school, sports, and a teenage life. I wanted to live with my mom full time but I also knew that I couldn't because of legal matters. Secondly, I knew that I would naturally miss my dad. Despite the fact that most of the time we are on completely different pages I still love him. Plus, my mom’s country store couldn’t support my brother and I financially full time.
It was however, at the beginning of the summer that I knew this would no longer work for me. My brother and I had headed out to Arkansas to visit family. The plane we traveled on was financed willingly by my mother. Her opinion on the matter was, god and family are all you have in this world. Everything she works and lives for follows that motto and that is how she always raised us. When we returned home with my cousins, it was supposed to be my week with my dad however, he refused to let my cousins come on the basis that they are my mother’s sisters’ kids. So, in turn I refused to go and it wasn't until the last week of summer that I spent with him and during that time I had to keep up a facade to keep the peace.
There is no way that you would know what I am talking about but it is a relationship that has too many issues for words. Some of the time I am with him I have a good time and there is a spark of hope that this good path will continue, but then in the blink of an eye it’s over and the demanding, tyrannical ways have returned. The reason that this is all looming now is because next week I will be 16 and that is the age that you are legally able to chose who you want full custody with. I am pretty sure I am going to stay with my mom but then I feel like I will be losing a whole part of my life, half of my self. I also know, that if I keep living like this I will eventually break down, I am human, I can only deal with so much. I wish I could explain everything and make it all make sense but life doesn't always make sense. That is why this verse has helped me get through a lot though and I thank God for the blessings he has given me.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
Sunday, September 21, 2008
WA-1 Draft 2
This is not something that i can hide from anymore, its my life. For 2 years, 730 days, 104 weeks, and 52 switches later I’m done, absolutely and completely through. Packing and unpacking. Unpacking and then putting it all back into the same bag, like coming back home from too many vacations with the dread of unfolding, washing, and refolding everything. Hell, why not just live out of the bag? Your wrong to think I haven’t and don’t.
According to my mom, it all began a long time ago. She tried to shield my brother and I from it all but we were naive at the time so her job was well done. Of course things seemed a little odd sometimes but our questioning passed quickly. My mom slept on a bed with bear sheets while my brother moved to made his bed in my room. My dad stopped going to Memphis for family vacations with my maternal grandparents. Many clues that became easier to decipher with time.
It was one night after dinner on September 7th of my eighth grade year that my parents sat us down and told us that they needed a break. My mom had rented a house about two minutes down the road where she would be living while my dad somehow had gotten to stay put. The deal, one week I would stay at my mom’s house and the next at my dad’s. Through all of this I never really expressed how I felt, I just kept living like nothing had ever changed, I didn't tell any of my friends and I tried not to think about it. After the one year of mandatory separation (VA law) was complete, the divorce was filed. By then I didn't really care anymore, it was not necessarily a better lifestyle but it was more peaceful.
Fast forward to now. Tonight is probably one of the last nights that I will be sleeping in this bed, in my dad’s house, what was my childhood home. Not because this is necessarily what I want but because I cant stand living like this anymore. Once my mom moved out of this house I became the only female figure. Therefore, in my fathers opinion I assumed all womanly tasks: laundry, dishes, and cleaning all of which I was supposed to do while juggling school, sports, and a teenage life. I wanted to live with my mom full time but I also knew that I couldn't because of legal matters. Also, I knew that I would naturally miss my dad. Despite the fact that most of the time we are on completely different pages I still love him. Plus, my mom’s country store couldn’t support my brother and I financially full time.
It was however, at the beginning of the summer that I knew this would no longer work for me. My brother and I had headed out to Arkansas to visit family. The plane we traveled on was financed willingly by my mother. Her opinion on the matter was, god and family are all you have in this world. Everything she works and lives for follows that motto and that is how she always raised us. When we returned home with my cousins, that also happen to be my best friends, it was supposed to be my week with my dad however, he refused to let my cousins come too on the basis that they are my mother’s sisters’ kids. So, in turn i refused to go and it wasn't until the last week of summer that I spent with him. That whole week I kept up a facade in order to keep the peace.
There is no way that you would know what i am talking about but it is a relationship that has too many issues for words. Some of the time I am with him I have a good time and there is a spark of hope that this good path will continue, but then in the blink of an eye it’s over and the demanding, tyrannical ways have returned. The reason that this is all looming now is because next week I will be 16 and that is the age that you are legally able to chose who you want full custody with. I am pretty sure I am going to stay with my mom but then I feel like I will be losing a whole part of my life, half of my self. I also know, that if I keep living like this I will eventually break down, I am human, I can only deal with so much. I wish I could explain everything and make it all make sense but life doesn't always make sense. That is why this verse has helped me get through a lot though and I thank God for the blessings he has given me.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
According to my mom, it all began a long time ago. She tried to shield my brother and I from it all but we were naive at the time so her job was well done. Of course things seemed a little odd sometimes but our questioning passed quickly. My mom slept on a bed with bear sheets while my brother moved to made his bed in my room. My dad stopped going to Memphis for family vacations with my maternal grandparents. Many clues that became easier to decipher with time.
It was one night after dinner on September 7th of my eighth grade year that my parents sat us down and told us that they needed a break. My mom had rented a house about two minutes down the road where she would be living while my dad somehow had gotten to stay put. The deal, one week I would stay at my mom’s house and the next at my dad’s. Through all of this I never really expressed how I felt, I just kept living like nothing had ever changed, I didn't tell any of my friends and I tried not to think about it. After the one year of mandatory separation (VA law) was complete, the divorce was filed. By then I didn't really care anymore, it was not necessarily a better lifestyle but it was more peaceful.
Fast forward to now. Tonight is probably one of the last nights that I will be sleeping in this bed, in my dad’s house, what was my childhood home. Not because this is necessarily what I want but because I cant stand living like this anymore. Once my mom moved out of this house I became the only female figure. Therefore, in my fathers opinion I assumed all womanly tasks: laundry, dishes, and cleaning all of which I was supposed to do while juggling school, sports, and a teenage life. I wanted to live with my mom full time but I also knew that I couldn't because of legal matters. Also, I knew that I would naturally miss my dad. Despite the fact that most of the time we are on completely different pages I still love him. Plus, my mom’s country store couldn’t support my brother and I financially full time.
It was however, at the beginning of the summer that I knew this would no longer work for me. My brother and I had headed out to Arkansas to visit family. The plane we traveled on was financed willingly by my mother. Her opinion on the matter was, god and family are all you have in this world. Everything she works and lives for follows that motto and that is how she always raised us. When we returned home with my cousins, that also happen to be my best friends, it was supposed to be my week with my dad however, he refused to let my cousins come too on the basis that they are my mother’s sisters’ kids. So, in turn i refused to go and it wasn't until the last week of summer that I spent with him. That whole week I kept up a facade in order to keep the peace.
There is no way that you would know what i am talking about but it is a relationship that has too many issues for words. Some of the time I am with him I have a good time and there is a spark of hope that this good path will continue, but then in the blink of an eye it’s over and the demanding, tyrannical ways have returned. The reason that this is all looming now is because next week I will be 16 and that is the age that you are legally able to chose who you want full custody with. I am pretty sure I am going to stay with my mom but then I feel like I will be losing a whole part of my life, half of my self. I also know, that if I keep living like this I will eventually break down, I am human, I can only deal with so much. I wish I could explain everything and make it all make sense but life doesn't always make sense. That is why this verse has helped me get through a lot though and I thank God for the blessings he has given me.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
Monday, September 15, 2008
Emotional Release
This is not going to be good by any means, I just had to let it out. So the first thing I wrote was a cop out, it was because i was too afraid to write about what is happening in my life right now. Because its not something that i can hide from anymore, its my life. according to my mom it all began a long time ago, but she tried to shield us from it for as long as possible. my brother and i were naive at the time so her job was well done. of course things seemed a little wrong sometimes but eventually passed over and so did our questioning. my mom slept up in my brothers room for years and she even went away for a week once but still it was something that i somehow overlooked. it was when i started my eighth grade year that my parents sat us down and told us that they needed a break. my mom was moving to a house about two minutes down the road. the deal was that one week i would be at my mom’s house and the next at my dad’s. i never really expressed how i felt, i just kept going on like nothing had ever changed, i didn't tell any of my friends about it and i tried not to think about it. after the year of separation was complete, the divorce was filed. by then i didn't really care anymore, it was not necessarily a better lifestyle but it was more peaceful. fast forward to now. this is probably one of the last nights that i will be sleeping in this bed, in my dad’s house, my childhood home. not because its necessarily what i want but because i cant stand it anymore. once my mom moved out of this house i became the only female figure, therefore in my fathers opinion i assumed all womanly tasks: laundry, dishes, and cleaning all of which i was supposed to do while juggling school, sports, and a teenage life. i wanted to live with my mom full time but i also knew that i couldn't because of legal matters but also i knew that i would miss my dad. even though we were on completely different pages most of the time i still loved him. plus, my mom’s country store couldn’t support my brother and i full time. it was at the beginning of the summer however that i knew this wouldn't work any longer. my brother and i headed out to arkansas to visit family on a plane financed willingly by my mother because in her opinion, god and family are all you have in this world. when we returned with my cousins who are also my best friends, it was supposed to be my week with him however, he refused to let my cousins come too on the basis that they are my mothers sisters kids. so in turn i refused to go. and it wasn't until the last week of summer that i spent with my dad. the whole time i kept up a facade in order to keep a little bit of peace. there is no way that you would know what i am talking about but it is a relationship that has too many issues for words. some of the time i am with him i have a good time and there is a spark of hope that this good path will continue but then in the blink of an eye its over and the demanding, tyrannical ways have returned. the reason that right now this is all looming is because next week i will be 16 and that is the age that you are legally able to say who you want full custody with. i am pretty sure i am going to stay with my mom but then i feel like i will be losing a whole part of my life, half of my self. but i also know that if i keep living like this i will eventually break down because i am human and i can only deal with so much. i wish i could explain everything and make it all make sense but life doesn't always make sense. this verse has helped me get through a lot though and i thank god for the blessings he has given me.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phillipians 4:13
Saturday, September 13, 2008
WA-1 Emotional Release
The sun was shining, and the air was heavy with a thickness only possible in Memphis, TN. Mary, Catherine, and I played peacefully in my backyard’s sandbox, which was made by my dad and I with wood from the lumber yard and sand from Ace Hardware. Afternoon upon afternoon was spent creating castles for our imaginations to run wild with. Mary, was not only my neighbor but my best friend. I was slightly older and probably used that to my advantage a little too often. After school every day she would come over and we would eat our snack and then go out to play. This afternoon, was no different than any other. Mary and Catherine, were using the brightly colored, made in China shovels while I was using my favorite, the red, five-pronged, metal rake. We each had our allotted spaces and hardly ever went past them. However, this time my magnificent creation needed more room. I thought up an idea and then proceeded to
say,
“Mary, move I need to use that space.” I said in what I thought was a very authoritative manner.
“No,” she replied “I was here first!”
“Yeah but this is my sandbox, if you don’t like it you can leave.”
“No, that's not fair.” she whined.
“ Well if you don’t move by the time I count to five then I will hit you with this rake.”
She looked at me and decided I must be kidding so I repeated myself once again. “Mary, I am not joking if you don't move on the count of five I will hit you over the head with this.” As I said this I lifted up my metal weapon for emphasis.
Nothing...
“One...Two...Three...Four...Five...”
Mary stood there expectantly, daring me to follow through on my threat. And so, without a moments hesitation I lifted the rake above my head and brought it down, striking her on the crown of her head. All was silent and still for a moment, Catherine looked upon us with a shocked expression. Then, the sobbing let loose. Mary wailed so loudly i would have covered my ears if I had not been holding the rake. Mary ran screaming to her house across the street and my mind finally began to process what had just happened, and when it clicked I sprinted into the house to find my mom hoping to explain it in a light that would get me in the least amount of trouble possible.
Soon, Suzannne, Mary’s mother, was over at our house and I was hiding up in my room. My mom called me downstairs and told me I needed to go over and apologize. I looked pleadingly at my mom and she gave a look that said, Olivia Eloise Levine, if you don’t go right now you will be in more trouble than you thought possible. As I looked at Mary and apologized, the remorse swelled up inside of me and I began to cry at the sight of pain that I had caused my friend. I had never wanted this to happen.
Our friendship went back to normal about a week later but that was an experience that I don’t really know the reason for its occurrence. If I could take back that afternoon I would but it did happen so I will remember that causing a friend pain is one of the worst possible things you can do.
say,
“Mary, move I need to use that space.” I said in what I thought was a very authoritative manner.
“No,” she replied “I was here first!”
“Yeah but this is my sandbox, if you don’t like it you can leave.”
“No, that's not fair.” she whined.
“ Well if you don’t move by the time I count to five then I will hit you with this rake.”
She looked at me and decided I must be kidding so I repeated myself once again. “Mary, I am not joking if you don't move on the count of five I will hit you over the head with this.” As I said this I lifted up my metal weapon for emphasis.
Nothing...
“One...Two...Three...Four...Five...”
Mary stood there expectantly, daring me to follow through on my threat. And so, without a moments hesitation I lifted the rake above my head and brought it down, striking her on the crown of her head. All was silent and still for a moment, Catherine looked upon us with a shocked expression. Then, the sobbing let loose. Mary wailed so loudly i would have covered my ears if I had not been holding the rake. Mary ran screaming to her house across the street and my mind finally began to process what had just happened, and when it clicked I sprinted into the house to find my mom hoping to explain it in a light that would get me in the least amount of trouble possible.
Soon, Suzannne, Mary’s mother, was over at our house and I was hiding up in my room. My mom called me downstairs and told me I needed to go over and apologize. I looked pleadingly at my mom and she gave a look that said, Olivia Eloise Levine, if you don’t go right now you will be in more trouble than you thought possible. As I looked at Mary and apologized, the remorse swelled up inside of me and I began to cry at the sight of pain that I had caused my friend. I had never wanted this to happen.
Our friendship went back to normal about a week later but that was an experience that I don’t really know the reason for its occurrence. If I could take back that afternoon I would but it did happen so I will remember that causing a friend pain is one of the worst possible things you can do.
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