Time may seem of the essence at this point in your life but I urge you to continue to appreciate life and what you have gotten from it thus far. Look back at what you have accomplished, the things you reached for and gained and some of the things you might have fallen short of. Recollect on the activities and simple pleasures that made you most happy. Once you have those things established it is easy to begin enjoying them once again.
A good idea stolen from a movie called, “The Bucket List” is to sit down by yourself or someone you really love and compile a list of all the things you would like to do before you “kick the bucket.” It is a time to really reflect and take control of your life. When someone is enjoying what they are doing, they have a better livelihood which in turn helps them live longer. My point of this is to keep you engaged in life and help you continue to live life to its fullest. It is a beautiful gift entrusted upon us where we mist seize what is given to us and take advantage of it’s benefits.
So I would like to give you some ideas to spark creativity. Those of you who might just be looking for relaxation should buy a plane ticket to Angola, Jamaica, the Bahamas, or Curacao, take one bag with one pair of shorts and a shirt, a small wad of cash, and a carefree attitude. Buy a one-way ticket and from there, go with the flow. What is better than kicking back, soaking up the sun and sticking your toes in the sand? Nothing.
However, relaxation might not be your forte, in that case, be adventurous. Let me recommend to you, the activity of skydiving. It is a fun and non strenuous activity that one can partake in. The thrill and adrenaline rush that comes from it will excite anyone and loosen them up. Flying high into the sky and then plunging back to the earth will give you many memories to cherish.
Thirdly, maybe you prefer to take up a hobby such as knitting or golf. These types of hobbies can keep one engaged for many hours at a time and produce great results. New sweaters and hats for the grandchildren or keep you active with the bonus of lower cholesterol.
So, once again I would just like to tell you that you have one life to live and there is no time like the present, “carpe diem.” Take some of the things that I have shared with you to heart and really consider what makes you happy, what makes you enjoy your life, and find out the steps necessary to achieve these things. Remember all that you have done in your life and remember to always be thankful, thankful for what you have and thankful for what you have to look forward to.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
WA-6 Final Snapshot
There have been many things in life that I thought, some were important and some not so much. When I set out to America to make my life better I thought that all of my previous problems would stay behind me. How was I to know that they could follow me over the vast expanse of the Pacific and into the big city of New York where the possibilities are endless?
Now, three years after my arrival here the city noise is a dull roar in my ears, my olfactory senses have grown accustomed to disregarding the sharp pungent odors, and my back has become old and perpetually sore from long restless nights on park benches. This was not the America I had come searching for.
Day in and day out, the cars rush by and create murals of taxi cab yellow. The people keep their heads up and walk with a pace that is determined and set. What are they speeding to get to? Their families waiting at home, their nice warm home cooked dinners, their fancy high paying jobs? Me, I walk slowly for what is in my cart is all I possess and Phala, my husband, always ambles beside me. God must laugh at him though. His name means prosperity and as of now that is sure one thing that we are missing. All of our possessions are contained in a 4x3 box on wheels.
It carries, two threadbare blankets, many cans picked up from the sidewalk or dug out of trash cans in hope of the 5 cent recycling refund, clothes (even if they don't fit, they can be used as pillows), jewelry that we purchase cheap and attempt to resale so our stomachs do not ache with hunger, and the rest of the space is occupied by useless knick knacks we never have use for but are too afraid to dispose of lest we find something to do with them.
It was not that we tried to really make a name for ourselves here and failed, it was that when we came here we were never really offered the chance. We came without a penny not really leaving us much to build on. It is easy to start from something and climb but when you start from nothing the first step is impossible. If you never get passed it, you are as good as stuck. Unfortunately, that was our predicament.
I am surprised that Phala is still with me. I am no longer pretty, my hair is ratty and has lost its sheen, my face aged with deep wrinkles, and my demeanor no longer as pleasant. If he left me though, he would have no where else to go. Therefore he stays and I am grateful because we keep each other company and pull one another through the rough, trying times. Some days I look into his eyes and I can see our childhood, the bright sun, the eternal happiness, and our once love.
I step into the street and Phala pulls me back out of the way of a speeding car. Of course it would never stop. Instead, it just keeps speeding through life, aimlessly going in a direction. It supposes its destiny lies ahead and will flee if it is not reached quickly enough. But for me, I stand still here in America, the place I had once thought held promise.
Now, three years after my arrival here the city noise is a dull roar in my ears, my olfactory senses have grown accustomed to disregarding the sharp pungent odors, and my back has become old and perpetually sore from long restless nights on park benches. This was not the America I had come searching for.
Day in and day out, the cars rush by and create murals of taxi cab yellow. The people keep their heads up and walk with a pace that is determined and set. What are they speeding to get to? Their families waiting at home, their nice warm home cooked dinners, their fancy high paying jobs? Me, I walk slowly for what is in my cart is all I possess and Phala, my husband, always ambles beside me. God must laugh at him though. His name means prosperity and as of now that is sure one thing that we are missing. All of our possessions are contained in a 4x3 box on wheels.
It carries, two threadbare blankets, many cans picked up from the sidewalk or dug out of trash cans in hope of the 5 cent recycling refund, clothes (even if they don't fit, they can be used as pillows), jewelry that we purchase cheap and attempt to resale so our stomachs do not ache with hunger, and the rest of the space is occupied by useless knick knacks we never have use for but are too afraid to dispose of lest we find something to do with them.
It was not that we tried to really make a name for ourselves here and failed, it was that when we came here we were never really offered the chance. We came without a penny not really leaving us much to build on. It is easy to start from something and climb but when you start from nothing the first step is impossible. If you never get passed it, you are as good as stuck. Unfortunately, that was our predicament.
I am surprised that Phala is still with me. I am no longer pretty, my hair is ratty and has lost its sheen, my face aged with deep wrinkles, and my demeanor no longer as pleasant. If he left me though, he would have no where else to go. Therefore he stays and I am grateful because we keep each other company and pull one another through the rough, trying times. Some days I look into his eyes and I can see our childhood, the bright sun, the eternal happiness, and our once love.
I step into the street and Phala pulls me back out of the way of a speeding car. Of course it would never stop. Instead, it just keeps speeding through life, aimlessly going in a direction. It supposes its destiny lies ahead and will flee if it is not reached quickly enough. But for me, I stand still here in America, the place I had once thought held promise.
Monday, March 23, 2009
WA-6 Snapshot Assignment
There have been many things in life that I thought, some were important and some not so much. When I set out to America to make my life better I thought that all of my previous problems would stay behind me. How was I to know that they could follow me over the vast expanse of the Pacific and into the big city of New York where the possibilities are endless? The answer was that I didn’t. However, I soon learned that when you assume things, nine times out of ten you will be terribly disappointed.
Now, three years after my arrival here the city noise is a dull roar in my ears, my olfactory senses have grown accustomed to disregarding the sharp pungent odors, and my back has become old and perpetually sore from long restless nights on park benches. This was not the America I had come searching for.
Day in and day out, the cars rush by and create murals of taxi cab yellow and plain boring white. The people keep their heads up and walk with a pace that is determined and set. What are they speeding to get to? Their families waiting at home, their nice warm home cooked dinners, their fancy high paying jobs? Me, I walk slowly for what is in my cart is all I possess and Phala, my husband, always ambles beside me. God must laugh at him though. His name means prosperity and as of now that is sure one thing that we are missing. All of our possessions are contained in a 4x3 box on wheels. It carries, two threadbare blankets, many cans picked up from the sidewalk or dug out of trash cans in hope of the 5 cent recycling refund, clothes (even if they don't fit, they can be used as pillows), jewelry that we purchase cheap and attempt to resale so our stomachs do not ache with hunger, and the rest of the space is occupied by useless knick knacks we never have use for but are too afraid to dispose of lest we find something to do with them.
I am surprised that Phala is still with me. I am no longer pretty, my hair is ratty and has lost its sheen, my face aged with deep wrinkles, and my demeanor no longer as pleasant. If he left me though, he would have no where else to go. Therefore he stays and I am grateful because we keep each other company and pull one another through the rough trying times. Some days I look into his eyes and I can see our childhood, the bright sun, the eternal happiness, and our once love.
I step into the street and Phala pulls me back out of the way of a speeding car. Of course it would never stop. Instead, it just keeps speeding through life, aimlessly going in a direction. It supposes its destiny lies ahead and will flee if it is not reached quickly enough. But for me, I stand still here in America, the place I had once thought held promise.
Now, three years after my arrival here the city noise is a dull roar in my ears, my olfactory senses have grown accustomed to disregarding the sharp pungent odors, and my back has become old and perpetually sore from long restless nights on park benches. This was not the America I had come searching for.
Day in and day out, the cars rush by and create murals of taxi cab yellow and plain boring white. The people keep their heads up and walk with a pace that is determined and set. What are they speeding to get to? Their families waiting at home, their nice warm home cooked dinners, their fancy high paying jobs? Me, I walk slowly for what is in my cart is all I possess and Phala, my husband, always ambles beside me. God must laugh at him though. His name means prosperity and as of now that is sure one thing that we are missing. All of our possessions are contained in a 4x3 box on wheels. It carries, two threadbare blankets, many cans picked up from the sidewalk or dug out of trash cans in hope of the 5 cent recycling refund, clothes (even if they don't fit, they can be used as pillows), jewelry that we purchase cheap and attempt to resale so our stomachs do not ache with hunger, and the rest of the space is occupied by useless knick knacks we never have use for but are too afraid to dispose of lest we find something to do with them.
I am surprised that Phala is still with me. I am no longer pretty, my hair is ratty and has lost its sheen, my face aged with deep wrinkles, and my demeanor no longer as pleasant. If he left me though, he would have no where else to go. Therefore he stays and I am grateful because we keep each other company and pull one another through the rough trying times. Some days I look into his eyes and I can see our childhood, the bright sun, the eternal happiness, and our once love.
I step into the street and Phala pulls me back out of the way of a speeding car. Of course it would never stop. Instead, it just keeps speeding through life, aimlessly going in a direction. It supposes its destiny lies ahead and will flee if it is not reached quickly enough. But for me, I stand still here in America, the place I had once thought held promise.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
WA-5 Wedding Part 1 and 2
Part 1
(Flower)
My xylem sap was fresh and thin from the light rains. I sucked up the water and it transpired on my light amaranth pink petals. In a beige colored room, a giddy but excessively anxious young woman sat tapping her pedicured foot as she discussed the floral arrangements with her very qualified but extravagantly lavish planner. The color palettes were strewn across the ornate desk and the woman’s eyes flickered betweeen them. Finally, she puckered her Venetian red lips, inhaled a sharp quick breath and jabbed her filed nail at the custom group that read, Amaranth Pink Bouquet. “I believe this will do,” she said.
Slice. Everything disappeared. I regained consciousness the cream colored linen lined woven basket was brimming with detached petals. Sunlight was streaming in through the stain glass windows depicting Mother Mary and falling down across old wooden pews. A man sat hunched over the mighty organs, practicing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The bride was getting dressed and so far she was wearing something old and something new. Her shoes were borrowed and she was looking for her broach that was blue. In a room, the groom and his best men were lounging around in their white tee’s obviously oblivious to the quickly encroaching time. Off somewhere the ring bearer and flower girl were playing hide and go seek, soiling their new outfits before the start of the ceremony.
The air was becoming thick with anticipation as long lost family became reunited and the chapel began to fill for the start of the service. The organs began to sing a song and the chatter fell to a hushed tone as seats began to be occupied. With each step, the basket became lighter and emptier. Sticky fingers plucked me out and dropped me mercilessly to the floor. High heel spike after high heel spike proceeded to skewer me as I lay bleeding Amaranth Pink. The pain subsided and the music faded. The group looked like a black and white cookie, V formation of geese. “I do” was said by the pair, the couple was wed, everyone stood up, stampeded, and that was the last of my memory.
Part 2
(Bride)
I sat tapping my foot, constantly glancing at the clock. I needed to pick a floral arrangement and quick. My eyes scanned from one set to another and finally I picked an alluring Amaranth Pink color. I took a deep, stress relieving breath and counted to three.
I didn't really feel too special, instead I felt exhausted, tense and dithery. The calming sound of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March relaxed my racing heart. The church looked truly beautiful, instead of my eyes taking it all in appreciatively they wearily recognized all the hard work and effort put into it. At least soon I would be able to unwind on the beaches of Malpais and put some color back into my drained face. Grandma Dottie's blue broach was nowhere to be found. I located a nearby chair and sat for a moment. I hadn’t seen him all day and I began to wonder what he might be doing, hopefully doing a last minute shave or ironing his shirt, at least something productive.
From my room in the back the steady noise of chatter began to increase in decibels and my heartbeat regained its dashing pace. I picked up the small wicker basket that held the Amaranth Pink petals and placed it into Eloise’s small fragile fingers. The flower girl led the procession. I saw each petal laying on the carpeted aisle, many had been pierced by high heeled shoes and their blood stained the carpet. I tried to concentrate on the service but my mind was pulled back to the petals. Each one came to signify a part of my life that I was going to leave behind as soon as I said the words “I do”. A petal with a pierced heart was my first love. There went some of my freedom. “Two shall become as one” and there went a piece of my identity. They were scattered on the floor distracting me, I looked to the right and there was the man that I was willing to sacrifice all of the things the petals represented for. I looked up to see Mother Mary watching from the stained glass window above and I could feel that our smiles were worn with identical happiness.
(Flower)
My xylem sap was fresh and thin from the light rains. I sucked up the water and it transpired on my light amaranth pink petals. In a beige colored room, a giddy but excessively anxious young woman sat tapping her pedicured foot as she discussed the floral arrangements with her very qualified but extravagantly lavish planner. The color palettes were strewn across the ornate desk and the woman’s eyes flickered betweeen them. Finally, she puckered her Venetian red lips, inhaled a sharp quick breath and jabbed her filed nail at the custom group that read, Amaranth Pink Bouquet. “I believe this will do,” she said.
Slice. Everything disappeared. I regained consciousness the cream colored linen lined woven basket was brimming with detached petals. Sunlight was streaming in through the stain glass windows depicting Mother Mary and falling down across old wooden pews. A man sat hunched over the mighty organs, practicing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The bride was getting dressed and so far she was wearing something old and something new. Her shoes were borrowed and she was looking for her broach that was blue. In a room, the groom and his best men were lounging around in their white tee’s obviously oblivious to the quickly encroaching time. Off somewhere the ring bearer and flower girl were playing hide and go seek, soiling their new outfits before the start of the ceremony.
The air was becoming thick with anticipation as long lost family became reunited and the chapel began to fill for the start of the service. The organs began to sing a song and the chatter fell to a hushed tone as seats began to be occupied. With each step, the basket became lighter and emptier. Sticky fingers plucked me out and dropped me mercilessly to the floor. High heel spike after high heel spike proceeded to skewer me as I lay bleeding Amaranth Pink. The pain subsided and the music faded. The group looked like a black and white cookie, V formation of geese. “I do” was said by the pair, the couple was wed, everyone stood up, stampeded, and that was the last of my memory.
Part 2
(Bride)
I sat tapping my foot, constantly glancing at the clock. I needed to pick a floral arrangement and quick. My eyes scanned from one set to another and finally I picked an alluring Amaranth Pink color. I took a deep, stress relieving breath and counted to three.
I didn't really feel too special, instead I felt exhausted, tense and dithery. The calming sound of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March relaxed my racing heart. The church looked truly beautiful, instead of my eyes taking it all in appreciatively they wearily recognized all the hard work and effort put into it. At least soon I would be able to unwind on the beaches of Malpais and put some color back into my drained face. Grandma Dottie's blue broach was nowhere to be found. I located a nearby chair and sat for a moment. I hadn’t seen him all day and I began to wonder what he might be doing, hopefully doing a last minute shave or ironing his shirt, at least something productive.
From my room in the back the steady noise of chatter began to increase in decibels and my heartbeat regained its dashing pace. I picked up the small wicker basket that held the Amaranth Pink petals and placed it into Eloise’s small fragile fingers. The flower girl led the procession. I saw each petal laying on the carpeted aisle, many had been pierced by high heeled shoes and their blood stained the carpet. I tried to concentrate on the service but my mind was pulled back to the petals. Each one came to signify a part of my life that I was going to leave behind as soon as I said the words “I do”. A petal with a pierced heart was my first love. There went some of my freedom. “Two shall become as one” and there went a piece of my identity. They were scattered on the floor distracting me, I looked to the right and there was the man that I was willing to sacrifice all of the things the petals represented for. I looked up to see Mother Mary watching from the stained glass window above and I could feel that our smiles were worn with identical happiness.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
WA-5 Wedding (Bride)
I sat tapping my foot, constantly glancing at the clock. Every time a minute ticked by another wad of money disappeared from my wallet. I needed to pick a floral arrangement and quick. My eyes scanned from one set to another and finally I picked an alluring Amaranth Pink color. We were on the final countdown and there was still so much to be done. I took a deep, stress relieving breath and counted to three.
So today was the day. I didn't really feel too special, instead I felt exhausted, tense and dithery. Well what could I do now? The calming sound of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March relaxed my racing heart. The church looked truly beautiful but instead of my eyes taking it all in appreciatively they wearily recognized all the hard work and effort put into it. At least soon I would be able to unwind on the beaches of Malpais and put some color back into my drained face. I searched in my jewelry bag to find Grandma Dottie's blue broach but it was nowhere to be found. I located a nearby chair and sat for a moment. I hadn’t seen him all day and I began to wonder what he might be doing, hopefully doing a last minute shave or ironing his shirt, at least something productive.
From my room in the back the steady noise of chatter began to increase in decibels and my heartbeat regained its dashing pace. Eloise entered the room short of breath and I asked her if she was almost ready. Nervously she answered yes. I picked up the small wicker basket that held the Amaranth Pink petals and placed it into her small fragile fingers. The organs began trumpeting their tune. The flower girl led the procession followed by the bridesmaids and groomsmen. My father clutched my arm and we began our walk down the aisle. Instead of recognizing faces in the pews I saw each petal laying on the carpeted aisle. Many had been pierced by high heeled shoes and their blood stained the carpet. I went up and stood facing the man I loved but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, my mind was pulled back to the petals. Each one came to signify a part of my life that I was going to leave behind as soon as I said the words “I do”. A petal with a pierced heart was my first love. There went some of my freedom. “Two shall become as one” and there went a piece of my identity. They were scattered on the floor distracting me so I lifted my head and instead I was able to see all of the people I loved. I looked to the right and there was the man that I was willing to sacrifice all of the things the petals represented for. I looked up to see Mother Mary watching from the stained glass window above and I could feel that our smiles were worn with identical happiness.
So today was the day. I didn't really feel too special, instead I felt exhausted, tense and dithery. Well what could I do now? The calming sound of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March relaxed my racing heart. The church looked truly beautiful but instead of my eyes taking it all in appreciatively they wearily recognized all the hard work and effort put into it. At least soon I would be able to unwind on the beaches of Malpais and put some color back into my drained face. I searched in my jewelry bag to find Grandma Dottie's blue broach but it was nowhere to be found. I located a nearby chair and sat for a moment. I hadn’t seen him all day and I began to wonder what he might be doing, hopefully doing a last minute shave or ironing his shirt, at least something productive.
From my room in the back the steady noise of chatter began to increase in decibels and my heartbeat regained its dashing pace. Eloise entered the room short of breath and I asked her if she was almost ready. Nervously she answered yes. I picked up the small wicker basket that held the Amaranth Pink petals and placed it into her small fragile fingers. The organs began trumpeting their tune. The flower girl led the procession followed by the bridesmaids and groomsmen. My father clutched my arm and we began our walk down the aisle. Instead of recognizing faces in the pews I saw each petal laying on the carpeted aisle. Many had been pierced by high heeled shoes and their blood stained the carpet. I went up and stood facing the man I loved but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, my mind was pulled back to the petals. Each one came to signify a part of my life that I was going to leave behind as soon as I said the words “I do”. A petal with a pierced heart was my first love. There went some of my freedom. “Two shall become as one” and there went a piece of my identity. They were scattered on the floor distracting me so I lifted my head and instead I was able to see all of the people I loved. I looked to the right and there was the man that I was willing to sacrifice all of the things the petals represented for. I looked up to see Mother Mary watching from the stained glass window above and I could feel that our smiles were worn with identical happiness.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
WA-5 Wedding
The warm spring sun beat down on me. My xylem sap was fresh and thin from the light rains. I sucked up the water and it transpired on my light amaranth pink petals. Far off, in a beige colored room, a giddy but excessively anxious young woman sat tapping her pedicured foot as she discussed the floral arrangements with her very qualified but extravagantly lavish planner. The color palettes were strewn across the ornate desk and the woman’s eyes flickered from one set to another and then another. Finally, she puckered her Venetian red lips, inhaled a sharp quick breath and jabbed her filed nail at the custom group that read, Amaranth Pink Bouquet. “I believe this will do,” she said.
Slice. Everything disappeared. When I regained consciousness the cream colored linen lined woven basket was brimming with detached petals. I tried to peer over the side. Sunlight was streaming in through the stain glass windows depicting Mother Mary and falling down across old wooden pews. A man sat hunched over the mighty organs, practicing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The bride was getting dressed and so far she was wearing something old and something new. Her shoes were borrowed and she was looking for her broach that was blue. In a room on the opposite side of the church the groom and his best men were lounging around in their white tee’s obviously oblivious to the quickly encroaching time. Off somewhere the ring bearer and flower girl were playing hide and go seek, soiling their new outfits before the start of the ceremony.
The air was becoming thick with anticipation as long lost family became reunited and the chapel began to fill for the start of the service. The organs began to sing a song and the chatter fell to a hushed tone as seats began to be occupied. I was whisked off of a table and into the shivering hands of the young girl. A salty tear of fear trickled down her cheek as her mother reinstructed her and kissed her forehead. A sweet bridesmaid took the girl’s hand, led her to the door, and sent her on her way. Eyes wide, she looked down at her scuffed shoes and placed one foot in front of the other on the carpeted aisle. With each step, the basket became lighter and emptier. Sticky fingers plucked me out and dropped me mercilessly to the floor. High heel spike after high heel spike proceeded to skewer me as I lay bleeding Amaranth Pink. As the pain subsided, the music faded, and the star crossed lovers faced each other in front of the priest. From my view on the floor the group looked like a black and white cookie, V formation of geese. A bright, gaudy pair of shoes adorned with large tulips stole my attention from the vows being spoken. “I do” was said by the pair, the couple was wed, the service was over, everyone stood up, stampeded, and that was the last of my memory.
Slice. Everything disappeared. When I regained consciousness the cream colored linen lined woven basket was brimming with detached petals. I tried to peer over the side. Sunlight was streaming in through the stain glass windows depicting Mother Mary and falling down across old wooden pews. A man sat hunched over the mighty organs, practicing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The bride was getting dressed and so far she was wearing something old and something new. Her shoes were borrowed and she was looking for her broach that was blue. In a room on the opposite side of the church the groom and his best men were lounging around in their white tee’s obviously oblivious to the quickly encroaching time. Off somewhere the ring bearer and flower girl were playing hide and go seek, soiling their new outfits before the start of the ceremony.
The air was becoming thick with anticipation as long lost family became reunited and the chapel began to fill for the start of the service. The organs began to sing a song and the chatter fell to a hushed tone as seats began to be occupied. I was whisked off of a table and into the shivering hands of the young girl. A salty tear of fear trickled down her cheek as her mother reinstructed her and kissed her forehead. A sweet bridesmaid took the girl’s hand, led her to the door, and sent her on her way. Eyes wide, she looked down at her scuffed shoes and placed one foot in front of the other on the carpeted aisle. With each step, the basket became lighter and emptier. Sticky fingers plucked me out and dropped me mercilessly to the floor. High heel spike after high heel spike proceeded to skewer me as I lay bleeding Amaranth Pink. As the pain subsided, the music faded, and the star crossed lovers faced each other in front of the priest. From my view on the floor the group looked like a black and white cookie, V formation of geese. A bright, gaudy pair of shoes adorned with large tulips stole my attention from the vows being spoken. “I do” was said by the pair, the couple was wed, the service was over, everyone stood up, stampeded, and that was the last of my memory.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
WA-4 Final Draft
Dear Mr. Obama,
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your presidential victory and your accomplishment of becoming the 44th president of the United States of America. On top of that, being the first African American to hold that title. I am glad that this country is seeing a change, and I would love to thank you for bringing it about. Secondly, I would like to take a little bit of your time to express my wishes of what I would like to see you help this country accomplish in your first year.
The environment is very important and all of the risks that it is being faced with are a major concern to me. The abuse and neglect it undergoes simply is too much of a strain that will eventually bring about a catastrophic problem. I think that with a major effort from the government and this country’s people, our great nation can begin to set precedents for a better, cleaner world. The problem now is that there is not enough awareness and government sponsored projects. The restrictions placed on companies are very lenient and need to become more environmentally focused. Two of the major industries that I think need to re-alter their standards are that of the oil and automobile. As of now, the stipulations placed on these major, influential companies need to protect the environment far more than they do. Now that you, Mr. Obama, are president I believe that you can pass bills and make laws to help save the one and only Earth we have. Please think of that when you take office and use this quote said by the Iroquois people as something to follow: “In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”
A controversy that most Americans have a strong feeling about is Iraq and the War on Terror. People like myself, believe that the awful war brought on by Bush has gone on for too long. However, now that he is no longer in office, this can change. We can pull our troops out for good and not meddle in business that is not ours. We can once again regain a positive connotation for our country and some of us can once again call ourselves proud americans. Family members and loved ones can come home and it is my hope that when they do, they will be treated and cared for like the heroes that they are. They have risked their lives for the protection of our country and when they return they should receive nothing but the best. Please understand that this war can be ended by you and I hope that you realize that this should be a top priority.
Please take a moment to consider the things I have said and take into account the thousands of things that you now have control over. We as citizens have placed our trust in you to not only do what is morally right but also what is best for the people, the country, and the world. Thank you for being what this country needs.
A proud citizen of the United States of America,
Olivia Levine
Sunday, January 25, 2009
WA-4 2nd Draft
Dear Mr. Obama,
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your presidential victory and your accomplishment of becoming the 44th president of the United States of America. On top of that, being the first African American to hold that title. I am glad that this country is seeing a change, and I would love to thank you for bringing it about. Secondly, I would like to take a little bit of your time to express my wishes of what I would like to see you help this country accomplish in your first year.
A major concern to me, is the risk that the environment is being faced with. The abuse and neglect it undergoes simply is too much of a strain that will eventually bring about a catastrophic problem. I think that with a major effort from the government and this countries people, our great nation can begin to set precedents for a better, cleaner world. The problem now is that there is not enough awareness and government sponsored projects. The restrictions placed on companies are so lenient that the profits that they make put no money back into paying for the negative outcomes that they create. Two of the major industries that I think need to re-alter their standards are that of the oil and automobile. As of now, the stipulations placed on these major, influential companies need to protect the environment far more than they do. Now that you, Mr. Obama, are president I believe that you can pass bills and make laws to help save the one and only Earth we have. Please think of that when you take office and use this quote said by the Iroquois people as something to follow: “In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”
A controversy that most Americans have a strong feeling about is Iraq and the War on Terror. People like myself, believe that this awful war that we have been involved in for far too long is a war brought on by Bush. However, now that he is no longer in office or has any type of control, this can change. We can pull our troops out for good and not meddle in business that is not ours. We can once again regain a positive connotation for our country and some of us can once again call ourselves proud americans. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters can come home and it is my hope that when they do, they will be treated and cared for like the heroes that they are. They have risked their lives for the protection of our country and when they return they should receive nothing but the best. Please understand that this war can be ended by you and I hope that you realize that this should be a top priority.
Please take a moment to consider the things I have said and take into account the thousands of things that you now have control over. We as citizens have placed our trust in you to not only do what is morally right but also what is best for the people, the country, and the world. Thank you for being what this country needs.
A proud citizen of the United States of America,
Olivia Levine
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your presidential victory and your accomplishment of becoming the 44th president of the United States of America. On top of that, being the first African American to hold that title. I am glad that this country is seeing a change, and I would love to thank you for bringing it about. Secondly, I would like to take a little bit of your time to express my wishes of what I would like to see you help this country accomplish in your first year.
A major concern to me, is the risk that the environment is being faced with. The abuse and neglect it undergoes simply is too much of a strain that will eventually bring about a catastrophic problem. I think that with a major effort from the government and this countries people, our great nation can begin to set precedents for a better, cleaner world. The problem now is that there is not enough awareness and government sponsored projects. The restrictions placed on companies are so lenient that the profits that they make put no money back into paying for the negative outcomes that they create. Two of the major industries that I think need to re-alter their standards are that of the oil and automobile. As of now, the stipulations placed on these major, influential companies need to protect the environment far more than they do. Now that you, Mr. Obama, are president I believe that you can pass bills and make laws to help save the one and only Earth we have. Please think of that when you take office and use this quote said by the Iroquois people as something to follow: “In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”
A controversy that most Americans have a strong feeling about is Iraq and the War on Terror. People like myself, believe that this awful war that we have been involved in for far too long is a war brought on by Bush. However, now that he is no longer in office or has any type of control, this can change. We can pull our troops out for good and not meddle in business that is not ours. We can once again regain a positive connotation for our country and some of us can once again call ourselves proud americans. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters can come home and it is my hope that when they do, they will be treated and cared for like the heroes that they are. They have risked their lives for the protection of our country and when they return they should receive nothing but the best. Please understand that this war can be ended by you and I hope that you realize that this should be a top priority.
Please take a moment to consider the things I have said and take into account the thousands of things that you now have control over. We as citizens have placed our trust in you to not only do what is morally right but also what is best for the people, the country, and the world. Thank you for being what this country needs.
A proud citizen of the United States of America,
Olivia Levine
Sunday, January 18, 2009
WA-4 Letter to Barack Obama
Dear Mr. Obama,
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your presidential victory and your accomplishment of becoming the 44th president of the United States of America, and at the being the first African American to hold that title. I am glad that this country is seeing a change, and I would love to thank you for bringing it about. Secondly, I would like to take a little bit of your time to express my wishes of what I would like to see you help this country accomplish in your first year.
A major concern to me, is the risk that the environment is being faced with. The abuse and neglect it undergoes simply is too much of a strain that will eventually bring about a catastrophic problem. I think that with a major effort from the government and this countries people, our great nation can begin to set precedents for a better, cleaner world. The problem now is that there is not enough awareness and government sponsored projects. The restrictions placed on companies are so lenient that the profits that they make put no money back into paying for the negative outcomes that they create. Two of the major industries that I think need to re-alter their standards are that of the oil and automobile. As of now, the stipulations placed on these major, influential companies could account for environmental concerns far more than they do, and now that you, Mr. Obama, are president I believe that you can pass bills and make laws to help save the one and only Earth we have. Please think of that when you take office and use this quote said by the Iroquois people as something to follow: “In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”
A controversy that most Americans have a strong feeling about is Iraq and the War on Terror. People like myself, believe that this awful war that we have been involved in for far too long is a war brought on by Bush. However, now that he is no longer in office or has any type of control, this can change. We can pull our troops out for good and not meddle in business that is not ours. We can once again regain a positive connotation for our country and some of us can once again call ourselves proud americans. Fathers, brothers, and sons can come home and it is my hope that when they do, they will be treated and cared for like the heroes that they are. They have risked their lives for the protection of our country and when they return they should receive nothing but the best. Please understand that this war can be ended by you and I hope that you realize that this should be a top priority.
Please take a moment to consider the things I have said and take into account the thousands of things that you now have control over. We as citizens have placed our trust in you to not only do what is morally right but also what is best for the people, the country, and the world. Thank you for being what this country needs.
A proud citizen of the United States of America,
Olivia Levine
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your presidential victory and your accomplishment of becoming the 44th president of the United States of America, and at the being the first African American to hold that title. I am glad that this country is seeing a change, and I would love to thank you for bringing it about. Secondly, I would like to take a little bit of your time to express my wishes of what I would like to see you help this country accomplish in your first year.
A major concern to me, is the risk that the environment is being faced with. The abuse and neglect it undergoes simply is too much of a strain that will eventually bring about a catastrophic problem. I think that with a major effort from the government and this countries people, our great nation can begin to set precedents for a better, cleaner world. The problem now is that there is not enough awareness and government sponsored projects. The restrictions placed on companies are so lenient that the profits that they make put no money back into paying for the negative outcomes that they create. Two of the major industries that I think need to re-alter their standards are that of the oil and automobile. As of now, the stipulations placed on these major, influential companies could account for environmental concerns far more than they do, and now that you, Mr. Obama, are president I believe that you can pass bills and make laws to help save the one and only Earth we have. Please think of that when you take office and use this quote said by the Iroquois people as something to follow: “In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”
A controversy that most Americans have a strong feeling about is Iraq and the War on Terror. People like myself, believe that this awful war that we have been involved in for far too long is a war brought on by Bush. However, now that he is no longer in office or has any type of control, this can change. We can pull our troops out for good and not meddle in business that is not ours. We can once again regain a positive connotation for our country and some of us can once again call ourselves proud americans. Fathers, brothers, and sons can come home and it is my hope that when they do, they will be treated and cared for like the heroes that they are. They have risked their lives for the protection of our country and when they return they should receive nothing but the best. Please understand that this war can be ended by you and I hope that you realize that this should be a top priority.
Please take a moment to consider the things I have said and take into account the thousands of things that you now have control over. We as citizens have placed our trust in you to not only do what is morally right but also what is best for the people, the country, and the world. Thank you for being what this country needs.
A proud citizen of the United States of America,
Olivia Levine
Sunday, November 30, 2008
WA-3 2
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?
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 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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