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This is a continuation of my last post.



My memory for names is utter rubbish. Fortunately, I remember just about everything else. We were having a roller-blade party in the basment of our new house out in the country. The basement was unfinished, so we put in a half-pipe and left the floors bare so we could skate. We eventually got a flybox and another ramp, along with some not so good quality rails. We decides to have a skate party, so we were playing music from my computer, which also had a light show, music from the Theater Center which also had a bit of an obnoxius blue light, and music from a radio. They were spread out so you would hear different music when skating different places. The 'party' really wasn't all that big- just family and a couple close friends. We started skating with the regular lights off so we could better see the light shows. I kept getting a cold shiver whenever I would skate past a certain spot in my basement near the treadmill. Now that I look back, I think she may have been the one who plugged in the treadmill at our old house and then proceded to turn it on. Anyway, I stopped mid-round of my skating and took a good look at the cold spot. I saw a girl around thirteen with jet black hair in a bun. The hair had a purplish hue, and she wore mostly black, with a little green. She had very heavy eyeliner on, and her skin was pale. I thought she must be of purgatory, because of my recent experience with Anna. I prayed for her silently while skating. She didn't leave. I wondered what I was doing wrong, so I sat down partly because my feet hurt, and I thought about what to do. My brother Max was sitting down at the computer monitoring the music, and it just sort of came to me to dedicate a song to her. Her name was vivid in my mind at this time, but unlike Anna, she said nothing. I took the micorphone after the last song ended- and I took her name and spoke it over the loudspeaker. I put on the song "You Get Me" by ZoeGirl. My brothers looked at me like I was nuts, but by that time of night I really didn't care. She skated with me until the song was over. Afterward she was still there. It wasn't something I'd usually do, but this circumstance was an exception. I told everyone to clear the floor for the next song. Another ZoeGirl one. This time, she alone was on the floor skating (Or at least I'm reasonably sure that's what she was doing) her heart out. She was joined by three other beings, who I guessed were angels, and they skated off. And that was the last of it.



Although I do believe her name started with a 'C.' and was quite short.



Cora pehaps?

Spirit sightings: Contact. But they made it with me before I made it with them!



My first experience with this sort of thing was when I was sitting by my pond and I saw a girl with blonde curls in a blue menonite dress. She was watching the water. I immediately thought something was strange because a girl of twelve surely wouldn't trespass on my property out in the country late at night on the fourth of july just to look at the surface of the pond. She told me her name was Anna. I don;t know how I thought of it, but I asked her if she was suffering purgatory. When I voiced my question, she went into convulsions and jerked in a freaky way. I prayed for the release of her soul, and she stopped shaking. Then she started to drift away above the pond in a dim light. Since then, there was a set of twins, a goth preteen girl, a young lady, and some zachariah- but he couldn't be older than seventeen. All came out to my property. I set them all free- but some took a bit more work than just a prayer. I will probably put detailed accounts of these in my journal. These were just the suffering ones. The ones I can call arn't suffering and will help me when I need it. I refer to them as saints. Once I even got Pope John Paul II recently after his death. But that was at church- not my house.

Note: This is a twisted fairytale. This does not reflect my views on vampires, werewolves, Hollister, or volleyball. It is just an entertaining little story.



Goldylox



Once upon a time, in a land far away, a young teenage girl was skipping home after playing with her friends at the mall. She then proceeded with the inevitable: Getting lost in the forest. She had been walking for what seemed like hours, and the sun was already setting, when she came upon a little woodland cottage. She knocked on the door to see who was home, but found no answer. Maybe she was afraid of the dark, maybe she was afraid of the forest, maybe she was just so dead tired from volleyball practice, or maybe C, all of the above. For whatever reason, she barged into the cottage and looked around, swiftly shutting the door behind her. She set her Hollister bag full of mall goodies on the night stand next to a small bed, and proceeded to listen to her stomach growl. This, no doubt, was because of volleyball practice! Why did coach Lindsey make them drill so hard? At any rate, she was so very hungry. The only things on the kitchen table were three bowls of unsweetened oatmeal. Goldylox hated oatmeal, in fact, she was quite the picky eater, but she decided to try some just to get the her mind off of the hunger. The first bowl was so hot, she shrieked and backed away from it after taking a bite. Oh no, don’t misunderstand me here; The oatmeal didn’t have a high temperature- it was spicy! She spat it out immediately, which was the same thing you would do in her place. “Who eats oatmeal with curry and jalapeno and garlic flavors!?!” she couldn’t help but say to herself. She then turned to the next bowl. It was smaller, but it didn’t smell horrid- so she took a bite. It was like tasting a clump of frozen cotton! She shivered from head to toe, which was quite unpleasant. She carefully examined the smallest bowl, which she knew could never appease her hunger, but was at least something to make her stop thinking about hating the coach. She found it had a pleasant smell, and upon her touch it did not burn and did not freeze- it was room temperature. She dug into the bowl with the minuscule spoon, and after taking a few bites, found a layer of cherry glaze at the bottom. From her reaction, one could easily presume she was allergic to cherries. She bellowed, “Why do you mock me!” to no one in particular, and slammed the bowl to the ground. After she composed herself, she found an irregular sleepy feeling all about her. She knew this was unnatural- even for after volleyball. Something was wrong- she had never been tired before when she was this hungry. She didn’t know what else to do but grab her Hollister bag and lay down in the little bed next to it. As soon as her back hit the mattress, a net made of strong metal chains fell from the ceiling above her, holding her fast to the bed. Just then, three hairy figures stepped out from the shadows. “It worked!” shouted the smallest one. “Our trap actually worked!” she exclaimed, smiling to reveal a whole row of razor sharp werewolf teeth. “I guess there really is a practical use for fairies.” The largest one grunted. “And a practical use for anesthesia oatmeal.” the middle sized one pointed out. A twisted smile started to appear on Goldylox’s face. The sun was down.... Gone. No where in sight. Her eyes seemed to become redder as she looked out of the chains at the three scrumptious werewolves. “Well I was VERY hungry!” She breathed, and the chains fell to thousands of tiny separate links.



I think I’ll leave this part of the story to your twisted imaginations.



Just know that when Goldylox walked home the next morning she was carrying three very bulky Hollister bags full of juicy leftovers.

This is a song I'm working on for our band-



our band is called E.L.M.O.- a bit of an inside joke. (We're not REALLY a band, we only had one practice. We're just friends really...)



Anyway, here's the song:



"Coldest Kiss"



The last few moments-

can you feel the icy hand?

fate has come to snatch away your broken heart.

beat away black tidings,

and again they come,

again they crawl too near!

and the screams are all you hear....



Believe in danger-

feel- it breathes down your face!

How can you escape this darkness....



NEVER...



EVER!



Lie!- to tell me you've never seen it comming.

Lie!- Tell me that you might still be fine!

But you'll always speak the truth

if in only one way...



The way,

that you know,

you're doomed to-



DIEEEEEEEEE!



So lock the doors

and scream until you breathe

your last breath,

it never changes that

in silence and solitude,

without any question- comes DEATH!



Embrace this feeling-

believe- it bleeds from your heart!

How can you escape this future....



NEVER...



EVER!



Lie!- To tell me you've always been that stranger.

Lie!- Tell me that you were never there!

But you'll always be condemned,

if in only one way...



The way,

That you know

you're doomed to-



DIEEEEEEEE!



(Musical Interlude)



So collapse, be peaceful,

Choke down the screams,

that say you're not

so brave

it never changes-

that when nothing can bend,

someone will- BREAK!



Forget resistance-

Understand- it's only for you!

How can you survive the breaking...



NEVER...



EVER!



Lie!- to tell me you've found a way around this.

Lie!- tell me that you don't really care!

But you'll always be afraid,

if in only one way...



The way,

that you know,

you can't escape realiy....



oo-oo-ooh no oh



goooood-BYE!



Okay so it's a little dramatic and exaggerated... WHO CARES!



I'm still working out the kinks/finishing the melody.



You know you want to send me a message. Just do it....

This is another essay I did for the same english class. This is about some large goal we have for our lives, and how we might realistcally accomplish that goal. Sorry this one isn't about a book- but it's about me- so that's okay.... and it's written in the first person!





The Subtle Beauty of a Dream



I have always dreamed of the chance to walk into a museum and see one of my own works of art next to works by famed masters of this skill. I began drawing humbly, without any idea of the methods or techniques involved in achieving the forms within my imagination. The sheer joy of pressing the pencil to paper and creating something entirely yours was what instantly addicted me to art and its ways. The feeling that even a simple crayon could contain an unfathomed realm of creative expression compelled me to usher forth an array of colorful nothings. Yet in those formless shapes, those clashing and contrasted colors, was the work of my own hands, and my own mind. My interest in art, development of my abilities, and continued dedication give me the hope that someday this dream can take shape like the rest of my invented endeavors.

I wasn’t always determined to be recognized for my efforts. At a special time in my life, the only art critics were my parents, and the sole museum was our kitchen refrigerator. I never realized how elementary and crude my best works were, but it didn’t really matter until I wished to do better for myself. When I started realizing that people thought my fire engine was a house, I took matters into my own hands. Art would forever be my passion and my expression. The talent I never had happened to be the one aptitude I forced myself to develop: and it worked. Never again would the walls of the fridge consist of anything less than my best.





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Soon most of the sketches I produced were remotely identifiable! Over time, I adapted to the use of mediums such as chalks and paints. My shading techniques improved, thanks in a large part to the assistance of a how to draw website. The more I created, the more my creatures seemed to take life within their two dimensional confines. My improvements had not gone without notice by my family, who frequently reminded me that my hard work was doing wonders for my pictures.

The soul of my artwork stems from my frequently wondering mind, and its backbone is most definitely hard work. Long hours pricking minuscule dots into a copper relief gives me enough time to contemplate everything from why a pickle is green to the ultimate fate of the human race. Still, even during the less exciting moments of my work, I remember the ultimate goal of a finished masterpiece. Sometimes these moments make me think of how God felt while immersed in the tedious task of painting the frigid Arctic, yet where would we be if he hadn’t?

Each grand master of every talent starts as a simple child, with a dream that seems larger than life. Whether Mozart or Martin Luther King Junior, living up to a dream will enable exciting opportunities to emerge for life. I am one such youth, with one such dream, and the same steadfast determination to set me on the path to a greater future. Every stroke of my brush brings my lofty dream a little closer to becoming reality. Every great accomplishment that was ever made possible was achieved so by every day ordinary people with extraordinary ambitions.



Coments or questions etc...? you know the drill! message me!

This is another essay I composed for Mrs. Rosinski's Academic English 10 class at Bishop Luers High School. This is based on the novella The Pearl by John Steinbeck. The topic is the roles of fate and human agency.





The Ultimate Deciding Factor



John Steinbeck has endowed his novella The Pearl with creative examples referring to hard work in contrast to miraculous chance, demonstrating the ability to turn a person’s entire life around. Excitement is seized by terror, and good fortune is slowly choked away, leaving only the evil aftermath of greed’s effects in its wake. An unseen force can be constantly found putting its hand to the fate of an unambitious and unsuspecting pearl diver named Kino. Kino’s lot in life as a pearl diver, his fortuitous encounter with the pearl, and his final decision to plunge the pearl back to its watery home are ways John Steinbeck lets initiative and chance serve as influences.

An innocent newborn baby has no concept whatsoever of what his or her newfound existence will entail. No man can choose how he is born, only what he will do to achieve his goals for happiness with the assistance of what he already has. At first Kino treasured his humble beginnings and the simple crafts such as his family canoe that brought him joy. The one resounding hope inside Kino’s heart was for his family to be prosperous, happy, and safe.

Sadly, Kino’s humble wishes became corrupted by that fateful pearl which resided in the deep and treacherous recesses of the ocean until chance would beckon our protagonist beneath to reveal it. Once it’s fame had spread, every person in that land felt he was attached to the pearl or wished to claim it. Kino alone was the one most deeply connected victim to the pearl’s maddening qualities; after all, he thought of it as his pearl. Most villagers overlooked the fact that Kino’s success of



Hite 2 finding the pearl did not guarantee either pleasantry or demise in the discovery itself. The pearl did however pose the opportunity for a man to choose if treasuring what you have is more important than acquiring that which you might treasure.

When Kino tells the village of lofty goals for his pearl-acquired wealth, it is already apparent that his simple gratifications have vanished into the newfound abyss of power that the pearl seems to bestow. A battle between what might become and what already had been was waged by the pearl inside Kino’s soul. The pearl had Kino securely in it’s grasp, and only the tribulation of his son’s death could wrench away that murderous grasp. It was as hard for Kino to let go of that tiny jewel as it might have been to tear a piece out of his very being. His heart burned when he plunged every remembrance of his hated past headlong into the open waters without hesitation. An empty shell of who Kino once was now roamed the happy soil his dreams used to belong to.

Fate can appear at any moment to shape our existence, yet chance is just as it seems: a chance to change. For Kino this was a chance for the life he was never to know. Valuable as a lucky event may be, human choices are what make good or evil in life. Kino had no idea the decisions he made would have devastating repercussions; he simply let his guard down. Perhaps after the time the story takes place within, he will find the hope for a brighter future somewhere along the beautiful Mexican shores of his own little village in the sand.



Comments/questions/reviews/complaints? Message me!

Sorry for the odd text format- the paste did a number on this one.



This is an essay I wrote for school about the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. The topic is social injustice against outsiders.



The Cowardly Rejection of Outsiders



Many societies demonstrate unfair behavior toward outsiders such as what is portrayed so



colorfully in the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. The main character, Victor Frankenstein,



finds only despair and rejection in his future as punishment for the one rejection of his own



handiwork. In this thrilling tale rich with emotion, Victor creates a monster from the depths of his



own twisted ambitions. William, Victor’s young brother, fell victim to the murderous powers of



revenge by the hands of this despised creation. Peaceful co-existence with his creature becomes



completely out of the question for Victor, our tormented protagonist, when his monster from within



lashes out against his creature for the horrific murder. A vicious cycle issues through the pages, in



which Victor abandons his creature; the creature is cast out by William along with the rest of



society, and Victor is rejected by his own species.



This cycle of prejudice begins with our talented creator himself, Victor Frankenstein. He was



repulsed by the grotesque structure of his own creation, and views it as a demon simply because of



its hideous appearance; an appearance that Victor himself had bestowed. Perhaps if Victor had



molded his being to look more like the average everyman, they may have lived happily as brothers.



Upon the creature’s discovery of the curse Victor had cast upon his physical form, and the



possibilities destroyed because of it, he becomes confused while replacing his lost dreams with a



violent rage.



This allowed the creature to finally understand why the people in the towns would flee from him.



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He was an outcast from the very beginning. His unknown identity and disgusting frame would haunt



his appearance and distort the view of the loving heart that was collapsing inside him. Blow after



excruciating blow crushed his dreams of finding a friend. Even when appealing to a blind peasant for



comfort, he was attacked by the angry son of that quiet wise man without sight. How blind they all



were! The truth is, without sight, every villager in every town would see each person as a special



gift. So blind are the ways of rejection that even a small boy, William Frankenstein, was warped by



stories of apparitions enough to give no credit to the hopeful soul of Victor’s creation.



Meanwhile, the sanity of Victor is slowly being scattered into his horrid fantasies about what



despicable crime the monster might commit against him next. This Frankenstein, withdrawn into his



hopelessness, avoids companionship with those whom he loves. While fleeing from the wrath of his



creation, Victor finds himself on an island. His welcome by the natives was to be falsely accused of



the murder of his own best friend. The tables were turned; Victor was now alone, a condemned



criminal, and his creature lurked blamelessly out of sight. It was in fact the creature, not Victor, who



was the murderer. Could the creation have known Victor was to be blamed for his crime, therefore



extracting the perfect revenge from this murder?



These victims, Frankenstein and his monster, were unfairly judged by people too closed-minded



to appreciate the differences of others. Their painful existence as outcasts warped the wonderful



people they might have otherwise become. Social injustice is what makes the novel Frankenstein so



emotional and appealing to the soulful reader. It continues to draw audiences to the underlying fact



that if we do not treat others with equality, we become no better than a monster.



Please message me with coments/questions/thoughts/suggestions!

The Quarkoid Theory:



A scientific explanation for will, life, and spirits.



All matter in the universe is made up of quarkoids: Partacles that, in some large number, make up quarks.

(Partacles that make up protons and neutrons, which make up atoms, which make up everything!) Matter that is able to be

seen/smelled/felt/sensed is made of Atoms- these are known as normal materials. Scientists have not allowed

for the possibility of partacles so small and far apart from eachother that they consist of pure unimbodied

energy- or willpower! These partacles, let's call them quarkoids, would make up such unsensible matter such

as "Life" and "Spirit" and even "Soul!" Being pure energy, these would be nothing but a driving force, with no sensible

physical matter to back it up. People, keeping with this theory, would have a layer of these quarkoids imbedded

thruought their natural atomic structures. Thus animating the lifeless bundles of potential energy within an otherwize

stationary partacle.



This theory would explain a whole hairy heck of a lot of unexplained phoenomenon that baffle scientists currently!



Later much!