Dreamer.

Just because he's that adorable.

2008-04-24T23:33:00.001-07:00

I love my kid. So here's the latest photos of him just for you all :)

I dream of hallways of the past.

2008-03-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

My middle school was on the upper floor of a school in the middle of nowhere. On one side, there was a field. On the other, a cemetery. As though reminding us where we'd end up if we stay in this little town too much. Beside the resting place, was a church-at the corner.

The school, was beautiful compared to the other schools, but at the same time, it also held a forboding feel to it. It was an immaculate building with bricks and these large windows. The classrooms were tucked in and out as you walked. The Elementary was downstairs-and we, well, we were stuck upstairs. When you walked in the doors in the morning, the Middle Schoolers walked in the doors to the right, and the Elementary to the left. There was a conference room to the right and the Teachers' inboxes were to the left. The stairs were split level stairs and there were glass doors on the half landing. Once you finally walked into the top hall, there were windows with the view of the playground to the right and lockers that looked as though they were there for the sixth graders, even though they never used them. Above those, there were large windows.

The hall split at the doubledoors, and thus began the hallway. It was a long hallway, with glass at the end by the girls' restrooms. The classrooms sometimes had connecting doors, and it felt larger than my last school. The lockers just lined one side of the hall, and it felt as though it went on forever. The first time I walked into the school, I realized the spots of the restrooms. I feel as though I'm not doing it justice, trying to write about it, but across from one of the Math rooms, there was the "Hall of Fame" where newspaper clippings and photos hung of the students that made the paper. I made it there several times.

A little ways down, there was Jane's board. Which usually had various mythology pages, graded papers with perfect grades, and tributes to world events. She felt it was her duty to inform us of the world that the Educational System wanted to shield us from.

My teachers all had odd names. I'll always remember that. Names that you'd find in fictional stories, in fact, I can't write many fictional stories now because I fear that there's probably a teacher out there with that name.

Just five classrooms before the end of the entrance hall, there was a turn to the right.

It held the entrance to the cafeteria, and straight ahead the gymnasium. Our bathroom at that end of the hall, it was horribly painted purple with yellow sponge paint on the wall. The stall on the end never worked, and usually I avoided using the bathroom at all there.

Our gym was old and drafty, with wooden stairs and seats-with a stage that probably was only used in talent shows. What a waste of a stage. I always was hoping for a drama club, but we were far too poor to afford that.

I had a dream about that place last night. After reading Jane's blog with the description of the classroom that I remember sitting in and watching the Horrible truths of the Holocaust. The Princess Bride, Frogs, and an array of other movies which were probably not that educational, but in ways no one else could see unless you paid attention and it tied into the lesson. (Right?) But movies are all educational, in some way.

I wish I could go back and tell most of the teachers what I thought about them, but now, I'd rather go back and tell them that they need to get their heads out of their asses and stand up for something they believe in-and don't get brainwashed by the system.

I'd go back and tell Jane how much she affected my life. I'd go back and choose a different path than the one I took.

But then, I wouldn't be the person I am today...would I?

I still laugh at the fact that my friend Lauren & I would watch Tommy when he spun his combination every day and we'd leave him notes, and funny pictures-although, he didn't find it too funny. Was I a mean girl? For a while, yes.

But he was doomed-and that hallway is still dark.

Amazing.

2008-03-07T07:04:00.001-08:00

On a community.

2008-02-20T00:18:00.000-08:00

Friends.
Honesty.
Hope.
love.
Acceptance.

Neverending commitment to each other-
this is the online community which I am relieved to be a part of.
It's amazing there.
I love it.

2008-02-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations...as well as a SNS employee...

2008-02-14T16:04:00.000-08:00

JUST A MOM?

A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a......?"

"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman.

"I'm a Mom."

"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.

The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right.

I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronoun cement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. "Might I ask." said the clerk with new interest."just what do you do in your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, [what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom." Motherhood!

What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations" and great grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates"? I think so!!! I also
think it makes Aunts "Associate Research Assistants".

----

My grandma has the neatest e-mails to send me. Sometimes, I forward them, if I think they're worth forwarding, but most of the time, I simply delete them after reading them, because Chain E-mails have made no horrible effect on my life. I've never been killed by a girl with a knife, and I'm not dead yet.

But this one, for some reason, hit me. Maybe, when I wasn't working, I could have used that. It would've been a priceless statement to make. ANd it makes you sound important.

I do love that.

Time to think.

2008-02-10T15:22:00.001-08:00

In the most recent days I've been away from here (Yes, I know, I did say I would try to write religiously) I have been working, raising my son, spending time with my husband, and just thinking about my life and the direction which I am headed in. And this is the conclusion I've come to.

I believe I need to take the SATs. I want to apply for several colleges, while I probably won't go out of state, it's a nice idea to think that I could get accepted into an out of state college. I want to feel like I have the brains and application down. I mean, with the colleges I applied to my Senior year, I got accepted to four of the four I applied to.

So, it's nice to know that I can get into them if I wanted. Although, it's going to be hard, considering I need to take that stupid test. But I am just going to go to IVY Tech for a while.

I know now who my real friends are. I say that with the most deepest sincerity. Although, one of them hates the other one, that's fine, because they don't have to be in the same room together. (Personal vendettas are so pointless, ladies). My best friend from high school, she just doesn't seem to want to hang out anymore, or call, or message me. Now that I think about it, I talked to her sister the other day longer than I've talked to her since May. Sad, isn't it?

I'm craving Oriental food. Crab legs from bloomington to be exact.

I now know who I am, by the way. It took some time, but I know. I just know. And this is odd to say, but it's all thanks to the PostSecret Community that I know who I am. Those people there are awesome, and we all trust each other-even though we're complete strangers.

Is the world that funny sometimes? Like, you know, you'll be best friends with someone for so many years, and then you open your eyes and realize that the friend you haven't spoken to in four years wants to be your friend still, and is sorry for not making their motives that caused the break clear? Then you can pick up a conversation like that and be friends again. It's funny like that.

I saw a photo of myself from the beginning of my sixth grade year. I was so tiny. Bony. Skinny. Anorexic. And it disgusted me that I ever thought I was fat, that I let other girls tell me I was fat. I looked at that photo and I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

Society is unforgiving. But when you get older, you realize that society's opinion of you doesn't matter at all.

Well, I'm going to go before I begin to rant on etiquette.

<3
Faith

Someday...

2008-01-27T08:57:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I've been doing lately. It's like my mind is all boggled up and there's not a coherent thought in there. Sadly, I Must admit, I have had little time to remotely do what I want to do, although some might paint a slightly different picture, it's honest...i have had little time to do what I find fun.

Writing being one of them. Lucian is now ten months old and growing before my eyes. I can't believe he's that big already. it seems as though last summer didn't happen, and it shouldn't be like this. But he's growing, and there is little I can do to slow him down. He must make it to being a kid. And then the fun begins, even more after he's potty trained and I don't have to change his diapers, that will be a day of rejoicing.

I don't really have much to type at the momment. Other than it's hard to balance so many things on a plate at once, and I mean that sincerely.

I wouldn't ask for things to be any easier though, because I wasn't given an easy life because I was meant to be a strong individual.

Life lesson no. 400: You were meant to be strong, deal with the hardships and chaos that is your life with the grace of an adult and the acceptance of a child.

Love,
Faith

My latest attempt at actually writing.

2008-01-25T22:01:00.000-08:00

Title: Madison Brighton, Novelist.
By: Me.

Prologue:

Everytime I sit down to write my novel that's been building up in my mind for the past three years, I just can't seem to find the appropriate words. Nothing comes to mind, and it's utterly sad. The characters, the plot, the setting-I have them all planned out, yet I can't seem to write those first words. It's like there's a block set in my way of writing it, like I need to write this first before I can pen that novel. And it's utterly depressing.

How horrible is it that writing should prove to be so difficult, that words can't seem to find their substance-that my pen shouldn't make the phrases I long to write? It's the cruelty of a writer, not being able to express yourself, and I'm being honest when I say that. Writing has always come so easily to me, but right now, it looks absolutely dismal.

I remember the first graded story I ever shared with anyone. It was my Creative Writing assignment in High School, the teacher, he was a stickler for grammar and sentence structure even though it was Creative Writing; I digress, I wrote about a woman I observed at the bookstore, and it received an A+. He then had the nerve to write at the top of the paper in huge, red, capital letters 'YOU'LL BE FAMOUS, I JUST HAVE THE GUT FEELING. NEVER STOP WRITING LIKE THIS'. A year and a half later, I published that observation, and it made me a little money and famous to boot.

I'm feeling rather Nostalgic. I dedicated that book to him, seeing as how he swore I would be famous, and he put it on the booklist he hands out to his students. I was astounded when he contacted me and asked me to speak before his class. Of course I went back to my old High School and gave the 'Keep at it, don't give up, just be who you are' speech. It was boring to me.

My second and third novel, well, they were what we'd call 'rebound books'. I wrote them after failed relationships. One of them being a failed marriage. He told me I was married to the book rather than being married to him.

He was right, on so many levels.

Maddie placed her pen aside and began rubbing her left hand. It had been quite the longest time since she had last penned anything. She felt that maybe by freewriting she would be able to begin her story, but what she had, after looking at the pages before her, was the beginning of her autobiography. It was yet again, a failure at attempting to begin her novel.

Just then, the grandfather clock in the livingroom chimed seven times, and her stomach growled. Placing her hands on the desk, she pushed herself up from her seat and the black labrador retriever in the corner lifted his head and watched as his master left the study and walked toward the kitchen.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, Madison began rummaging through the cabinets to look for Samson's food. When she pulled out the food, she noticed her cat, Juliet was on the cabinet now. Sighing, she poured her cat milk and filled up her dog's bowl.

She then reached for the phone and pushed speed dial three. She knew the voice on the other end so well...and she would dial this number every night, and every night, her over analyzing mother would call and berate her for not going out and trying to meet someone new, and she would spend an hour of her life, arguing with the lady on the other end of the phone, who thought, that just because she had a degree in Psychology, she could psyco-analyze her daughter and the failed relationships.

"Tony Wok, take out delivery." The asian voice said.

Ah, Tony, her love. The man that makes her food.

Updates, Happy Christmas, and so on...

2007-12-25T22:08:00.000-08:00

Wow, I just noticed that it's been quite a while since I last posted anything here. I bet you all were wondering where I have run off to? Well, work does that to one. It takes them away from the things that they once enjoyed, yes? Well...blogging seems to be low on my priority list. Although, I suppose it shouldn't be so far down, no? It releases...but lately, I've had another outlet for all my fears, hopes, dreams, and tears to pour into. And I love that so very much. It's been a while I suppose I could say since I've had my BEST FRIEND. I've had what I considered a best friend, but really, I don't think I've been able to share as much with her as I have with this person. If she's reading this, I want you to know, my dear, that even though we didn't speak for the longest time, I believe it strengthened our friendship.

Yes, that's right. *smiles* I appreciate you in my life.

Work...wow. I've gotten at least about 35 or 36 hours-Idk what my check will look like, but on Christmas Eve we had to flood our kitchen, and for those of you who have never worked in a fast food-restaurant, it means we lay down our sani-rags on the floor between the kitchen and the dinning room and literally hose the floor down and sincerely make it FLOODED. And then we take these giant squigies and brooms with bristles and push the water into the drain. It's a wet mess, it really is. So, I got my feet wet. And my socks were wet. I was late for Dirty Santa [But I still got the envelope with $10. :)]. But I can't wait for my check. My friend and I are planning on going to a movie next Sunday-we REALLY WANT TO. :) Cause we haven't hung out outside of work other than the other day when she took me for my first eyebrow waxing. :) I really enjoy this.

Christmas. Wow. Well, Shane's great great grandma is in the old folks' home, and we got a call this morning that they were calling the family in. We spent from 10:30-4pm there, then we brought the baby home so he could get in some sleepy clothes and some warm bottle. We did that, then the in-laws came back home at 9 so we could open our gifts and they left at 10...they're still there. She got better this afternoon, but she took a turn for the worse at about 6, and her blood pressure is dropping-it won't be long. But we think that she would've wanted this-to die on Christmas or the day after-it was her favorite holiday. She looked like a mere pile of skin and bones laying there, but I suppose cancer does that to one. *SIGH* Cancer. That word seems to take all the people I grow to admire away. Please, if you are out there, and I admire you, I don't want you to die of cancer, I don't want to remember you like that. It's painful to think about.

But for Christmas, I got the fifth HP movie, the 3rd PoTC movie, an iPod Nano, a gift basket from Bath & Body works, some sleepy pants (I love sleepy pants), a PostSecret book, and my journal. My journal. God, that sounds amazing. It's more like a giant black book one would find on an old-fashioned book case. Who knows, one of these days, maybe you'll own it. I'm seriously considering writing my story in it. Just because that's what it reminds me of. A story book. I suppose in many ways, it will be a story book. My story book.

My son made a killing this Christmas. He's now officially 9 mos old. And he got some clothes, and a billion toys. Kids are blessings, spoil them while you can.

My grandmother got me a satin bedset, a fleece blanket from New Mexico, and candles. I do love that woman, and I miss her more than anything.

Well, just thought you all deserved an update. I love you all.

Feliz Navidad.

<3
Faith

2007-12-11T23:57:00.000-08:00

My feet hurt, and I'm tired. So, I'm going to go to bed. But alas, I leave you with love. <3>

How are you living your dash?

2007-12-06T15:35:00.000-08:00

WATCH THIS and then think.

How are you living your dash?

Life...or something like it?

2007-12-03T22:08:00.000-08:00

Well. I got a job. *Waits for applause*. So, Mamacita, if you come in at night or during the weekend and see Lindsey and I both working at Steak N' Shake, don't be surprised. I go in Thursday for Orientation. I already think I'm going to love working there, everyone is great.

So much to say but I don't know where to begin. Been thinking a lot about who I am lately, and I penned the most perfect description of how I'd like to be remembered someday. Yet, there feels like there is so much more that I need to add to it before posting it here.

There's a quote, that I found the other day. I am in love with it. It goes a little something like this.

You have achieved perfection in design not when you have anything to add

but when you have nothing more to take away.

I love it. It's perfect. So, I figure this, if you have lost everything in your life at one point or another, or you are happy with where your life is in the moment, then you're perfect. They say perfection doesn't exist, but maybe we're all just looking at it the wrong way. My stretch marks on my upper region are beautiful to me because they were part of being pregnant, which produced the cutest kid I have ever had the opportunity to meet. Yet, at times I feel ugly compared to him because he's amazing. He's taken to waving bye bye to me now, when I walk out of the room.

Yet another sign that he's getting older. He'll be nine months on Christmas day.

The Good Die Young.

2007-11-26T19:01:00.000-08:00

I've always said that every single year, someone from the graduating class either dies during the school year, or after graduation. It's no different for the Class of 2007.

After I noticed this pattern, and pointed it out to my friends, we would speculate as to who it would be. Never in a thousand years did we picture who it was that died from our graduating class.

Chris Kidd.

He was a good kid. Respectful, kind, generous, would give you the shirt right off of his back. But first and foremost-he was my first real guy friend. His mom use to babysit me, and when we were two or three, we had baths given together, I don't remember much, but I know that his mom had pictures of us in the tub, we wore bathing suits-of course, but it was a memory that's so vague. I would always ride my bike down to his house and run up the stairs leading to the front door, and we'd chillax on the bench that sat at the edge of the porch. And talk about Ninja Turtles and Garth Brooks.

I don't remember when we quit hanging out...but I remember that I guess it was when I moved in the sixth grade. We had spray painted the door to the tree house where we had played spies and ninjas. We were always the good guys that saved the day-usually to a group of people that would be hidden in the sandbox.

I remember the time he put vanilla pudding in my hair-I got him back by dumping the cheese dip in his. There were good times. That's all I remember.

That's all I'm going to remember. We never talked in High School, but he was dating my friend, Meg. She's so torn up she couldn't go to school today.

RIP, Christopher Allen Kidd. My first friend.

Just like the branches they cut that we use to climb to get up the Fir tree, your life ended too soon.

WWJD-What would Jesus....drive?

2007-11-25T04:52:00.000-08:00

I was clearly looking up scriptures when I found What Would Jesus Drive? And I laughed. You might find it funny as well.

Sometimes I draw just to draw.

2007-11-23T18:30:00.000-08:00

Reference Photo* I added my shoulders because I didn't feel like drawing the floating head and the shoulders came from another photo of me.

The end result...so, occasionally I just draw my outline like that and I don't bother with the details such as the shadow and such, I just like drawing the "Cartoon" versions.

And this is the second one...I attempted to color it, but I just don't have the right amount of colored pencils...or colors rather, I believe I have a lot of colored pencils...

This Will Take Your Breath Away.

2007-11-23T18:22:00.001-08:00

This is something that my cousin posted on Myspace and I began to love it dearly. So, here's what it said...

------------------

This will take your breath away.

The parodox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgement, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but we have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We've conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are the days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway mortality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can chooses either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever. Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.Give time to love, give time to speak, and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

----
The picture is mine, but that was the most amazing and profound thing I have yet to read on the Myspace bulletin board. I hope you find it as beautiful and profound as I have.

Thanksgiving.

2007-11-22T18:29:00.001-08:00

I am thankful for today. It was excellent.
Lucian & Shaylee were so adorable playing in the floor together.
Charity's baby-absolutely precious. I loved her when I saw her.
THe family-still as rambunctous as always.

But they thought it was weird that I loved eating the Turkey Skin...am I weird? Or do other people do it too?

Don't ya think he's cute?

2007-11-19T19:55:00.000-08:00

My son had his Holiday Portraits. I love these the most.

Well, which one do you like?

Storm-Lifehouse

2007-11-19T11:53:00.000-08:00

This song just pulls at my heart. There are so many different emotions in it. I'm overwhelmed by it. It speaks to me on so many different levels.

The Movies I can't wait to see.

2007-11-18T19:41:00.000-08:00

Would you like to go see them too?

"...where did I go wrong, I lost a friend..."

2007-11-18T18:53:00.001-08:00

Ha. My friend and I were talking yesterday (she came over and helped me clean my room and we hung out and laughed) about how when we were in sixth and seventh grade, we talked about our senior year of high school, and the things we would do. The pranks we would pull, and we talked as though we would still be friends in High School.

Yet, as messed up as it may seem, we weren't friends in High School. The opposite, we were probably each other's nemesis. Ha. Senior year was just from August-December for me, and I wasn't in Marching Band anymore, so we were on different paths. Not to mention the fact we couldn't stand each other when we were in Marching Band. I was a pain in the rear, and she was a royal-well, let's not go there. I was pregnant, and she disapproved.

Somehow, we've patched our friendship after four years of not speaking to each other-and we're talking once more, and we're hanging out more, and we're writing together again-which is the one thing that we have found that keeps us sane. It's amazing to have her back in my life. I'm so grateful that we could throw our differences aside and reconcile.

But yesterday when we were cleaning we had a good laugh. And when we finally finished to the best of our ability, we were laying on the bed, and staring at the ceiling fan when she spoke, it went a little something like this.

HER: "God, what happened to our senior year?"

ME: "It just happened. And we weren't even paying attention."

HER: "You remember all the crap we said we would do...what ever happened to that?"

ME: "We just found different social groups-and we lead different lives-lives which took crazy and unusual twists."

HER: *Laughs lightly* "Yeah. I know. You were just too busy finally fitting in, and I was busy trying to fit in."

ME: "You know, you didn't have to change who you were to fit in, I didn't."

HER: *Sighs* "I guess you're right. But my god, can you believe it, our Senior year feels like it didn't even happen, and one minute you were there-I heard you were pregnant, I denied it because it was you-and let's face it, no one saw it coming-"

ME: "I didn't even see it coming."

HER: "-then by the time I found the words to apologize for being such a bitch to you, it was like you were gone-"

ME: "I graduated in December."

HER: "That's what I was told when I asked Heather."

ME: "Then before we knew it, we were at graduation, and we were different people-right?" I paused. "But doesn't it feel nice to know that here we are-you're a freshman in college and I'm a stay-at-home mom looking for a job and we're talking again? Our lives came back full circle-and as long as we don't let anyone else come between our friendship and writing we're good. We don't need a senior year-we've got the rest of our lives to make it up-four years don't make a friendship or break one, it was just our time to grow up and grow apart and we grew back together."

HER: "Yeah. I guess you're right."

And that was how it went. I've always been told if you want to make God Laugh, tell him your plans. I've found this to be true-I had my whole life planned out and now I'm not sure if I'm coming or going half the time, and I like the spontaneity. I'm not suppose to live according to an itinerary.

But we're back to where we were-different, but we're still the same. Just a little wiser than we were in sixth and seventh grade. I leave you with a picture of us at Graduation.

Heads Carolina, Tails California

2007-11-14T17:27:00.000-08:00

One of my aquaintances just recently went to North Carolina and this is a picture she took. I stole it from her myspace.

I miss North Carolina. I've lived their two summers in my life. One between the third and fourth grade and once more between the sixth and seventh grade. I loved it there both times I went. The first time I lived with my aunt and her ex-husband (was her husband at the time) on Fort Bragg in Fayetteville, NC. We lived in Chastain (I think that's right) Addition. Right on the first road when you turned in. It was a brick house with three bedrooms and a huge tree in the back yard. Being on the Army base every single morning I'd wake up to Artillery four miles away shooting off at seven thirty every morning. The neighbors had a tree in their yard and their dad (like my ex-uncle) was in the 101st Airborne Division so we hooked up a line going from our tree to theirs, and we'd all climb the trees, hook ourselves on, and go down the wire. My cousin, Amber, and I would put on Rollerblades and go all through the addition and in the back of it there was a little wooded area that all of us kids in the addition built a fort. Well, the girls built a fort.

But we went to Carolina Beach that summer. It was the first time I ever touched the ocean and I feel like I left my heart by the ocean. I loved it. Everything about it. I was sad when we left, but I collected a bunch of shells which I have in a shoebox in the other house.

The second time I lived with my Aunt, she had gotten out of the Army, and she had gotten a divorce (it's a long story, but turns out her ex was gay) :S. She lived on Canady Pond Road, just outside of Hope Mills. Her boyfriend's father owned two Rodeos in the state. One in Raleigh and Hope Mills. Or, what we called, Shady Acres. I loved that summer because it was full of Rodeos, Trailrides, and meeting cowboys from the PBA. (Dan Dailey the Bronc rider ate dinner with us). We went to Tim's parent's house and they took us out to Lonestar Steakhouse just outside of Raleigh.

North Carolina is a beautiful state. And I think given the chance, I'd probably move there. Just because I LOVED IT! It's amazing.

I just wanted to share that because it's all the things I thought of when I saw the picture on her myspace.

North Carolina, First In Flight-Always in my heart.

Dribbles pt. 2

2007-11-14T15:45:00.000-08:00

I misspelled 'intact' on a post somewhere. And no one is letting me live it down.

Lucian has a hoarse throat. (I believe that's right-I mean, he doesn't have a horse in his throat.) But he's got this whimpy fussy cry now. It's hard to hear him. I hope he gets it out soon.

I haven't been doing too much lately. Shane has his nights and days messed up. So, I sleep alone at the moment. I hope he gets them right soon. I don't know if I can deal with it.

I'm hungry. So, I have to get off of here and eat. :)

Sorry it's short. But this is my life.

Dribbles.

2007-11-12T19:00:00.000-08:00

Shane just woke up.

Lucian is laughing and carrying on. He's getting so big. But he's such a gorgeous baby.

I'm kinda out of it at the moment.

I learned something new just moments ago, and I'm not sure how to feel.

Jane took me out to lunch today-it was enjoyable. I just wish I could've left Lucian at home. (That's so horrible to say).

I wish I would've saved my Creative Writing papers and notes. It would be easier to write my story. (I'm going to start with a short story and stretch it into a novel.)

I have to go now. I love you.

Evil Fluffball.

2007-11-11T16:39:00.000-08:00

This puppy is too cute!

Add to My Profile | More Videos

More of that cute puppy

Add to My Profile | More Videos

From My Girls Day Out.

2007-11-11T15:48:00.001-08:00

Above: Mel, Lindsey, Tani & I at the Movies...
Sasha & Mortania...I mean, Lindsey & I at Charlotte Russe. Ha. We use to write stories together-a joint authorship really.

We thought this was fun. There are four people's different fingers in this picture...mine is the second from the left.

They teased me because that skirt I could've worn with those pants...

Me. :)

We petrified Tani, believe it or not, this was a planned photo...

The three of us chillaxin. We kept trying to get Mel in this pic, but she wouldn't...so we got this.

Tani.

They like straws...I had mine in my hands.

Mel. She loves Playboy merchandise. Haha. But she loved that hat most of all.

In the car, on the way to the Mall.

YOU'RE THE MURDERER OF LOVE!!!

2007-11-10T22:26:00.000-08:00

Haha. The line of my post is from "Dan: In Real Life" which was a funny movie, but it wasn't as good as we had hoped it would be.

I spent today hanging out with an old friend of mine from Junior High. She brought her roommate up from college and wanted her to meet her friends from up here. So, Lindsey (the friend), Melody (The roommate), Me, and Tani (an old Marching Band friend) all hung out. Turns out we're all pretty fun to hang out with. We went to the mall, out to eat and then to a movie...while driving around and chit-chatting.

But while we were eating we went to China House to eat...they have unlimited Crab legs after four pm, and I had never had crab legs, but now I'm addicted. But while we were waiting on the legs to get done (we had like four plates a piece), I went and grabbed a plate of hot butter and cold shrimp. But when I sat down and began peeling off the shell of the shrimp, a smile crossed my face because I was reminded of something that a certain Mamacita told us when we were in the eighth grade.

I laughed when I asked Lindsey if she remembered-and she began laughing too. Then we both agreed that we're too lazy to take it out. You know the black/brown line down the back of the shrimp? What do you think it is? Haha. If you were thinking it is the digestive tract, you're correct. Haha. I remember our faces on the day that Mamacita was just telling us random bits of information-I believe it was during her infamous PB&J experiment...that we got to talking about other foods and how if you brought up a certain $100 steak to the history teacher you didn't have to do any work. She laughed and then informed us that the shrimp with the lines down the back-was the digestive tract.

A few of us quit eating shrimp after that...but some of us just went right on ahead and continued eating it.

I found the company of the three girls fun, and I hope we can all go out again sometime.

But I'm home now, after stopping by SNS and putting my application in. At least it's worth a shot. I want to have money of my own to spend, so I can get a car of my own, buy my son things he deserves, and save for college...I'm finally coming to terms with growing up. I only hope that I get hired.

TAG :)

2007-11-08T15:51:00.000-08:00

I found this on Denise's blog. It looked fun. :) So I'm gonna do it.

Here are the Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.

Five random, weird things about me...

1. I watch Hannah Montana because I think it's funny, but I feel like a dork because it's on Disney Channel.

2. I've never worked a day in my life. I've applied everywhere but no one has ever hired me.

3. I've always wanted a camera so I can take photos of everything that I think is beautiful and pure in the world. Seriously, beautiful photos.

4. I'm allergic to Peanuts so I eat Sunbutter (Sunflower seeds turned into a Peanut butter type ordeal) and I LOVE IT! You should try it.

5. I'm not ready to admit this one yet. No, not yet.

Her last breath was spent with a small laugh, she had succeeded.

2007-11-08T13:14:00.000-08:00

The novel I am writing includes suicide. I'm going to say that to begin with. It contains things that might just get me put on the list of banned books. I only hope my grammar and the plot are decent enough to live up to that list of wonderful authors when I get slapped there. That is, if anyone remotely reads the novel which will probably take me years to write.

But in writing a novel, fiction or nonfiction, there's always a bit of research involved. My character, the one the story is about, commits suicide and it's her friend telling her story to you, the readers. She's telling me the story as I write it. Yet, there's a note that she leaves behind. That's where my research is coming in at. I am researching suicide notes and what kind of people write them (surprisingly only 10%-25% of suicides write notes, which is less than I originally thought) what those individuals usually say, and how they finish the letter.

But there's something about my character, though that I want to make the note beautiful. I wish for it to be her beautiful goodbye her love note to the world. She's a complex character. With a troubled past and a mask that she hides behind for everyone but her best friend, the narrator of the story. I want the note to be something so eloquent and so amazingly perfect that it even moves me to tears.

I'm a twisted author, you need not tell me. I already know.

I don't think there have been any beautiful suicide notes ever written in all my research. So, I've made it my duty to write the most beautiful sucide note anyone has ever read. Even if it does belong to a fictional character.

I think I'll just go about writing the story and then come back and finish her note last-even though it will be among one of the first things people will read in the book.

I was bored-yet again.

2007-11-08T09:19:00.001-08:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

So sick...bleh...

2007-11-07T16:54:00.000-08:00

Today has been a pain for me. Literally.

I think I caught whatever my son had-only it's hit me twice as hard as him. For some funny reason, my immune system is crap and when I get sick I get sick sick. When my fever reached 102 degrees, I tend to have seizures. And the doctors can't explain it. They've ran tests and hooked me up to electrodes to try to figure it out, and I don't have a tendency to have seizures when I'm not sick, they couldn't even figure it out.

I'm pretty sure my temperature today was at least 101.5-but idk because I don't have a thermometer. Pity really. Because I felt as though I was going to have a seizure. Shane doesn't seem to understand the whole "I'm sick and running fever" concept with me is ten times worse than him. For some funny reason, he was like "Don't roll your eyes at me!" And I responded a bit snippy by telling him I can't control it when I've got a fever. And he was telling me to take medication-that's another funny thing-when my fever is super high I can't walk because I pass out.

But I've thrown up six times today-greeting the porcelin god. I'm going to clean the toilets tomorrow-they're disgusting. I wanted to throw up in the sink it was that bad.

Then comes the other side of being ill. The "bathroom" part of it. I feel dehydrated now. Although I'm not running fever anymore, I'm still dizzy and I hurt all over.

The In-laws just went to my FIL's parent's house because it's his mom's birthday. I didn't want to go and get everyone else sick, especially Shane's cousin who is suppose to go in tomorrow or Friday and have her labor induced-the third baby in the family this year.

I guess the Presidential Election is coming up-Still have no idea who I'm going to vote for. I'm split between a Democratic candidate (not Hilary) and Mike Huckabee. But I'm not sure who I'll vote for. I've been looking at all the candidate's platforms and I think they're all pretty similar now. It would be funny to have a Republican president with the Congress and House of Representatives being mostly Democratic. Haha. Things wouldn't happen in the country.

The best Democratic President was Kennedy. I wasn't alive, but I've read on him and I'd have to say he was the best.

I'm watching VH1 and it's a feature on the top 100 songs of the 80s. I think I love 80s music. Especially B-52's Love Shack. And the Eurythmics-I love them.

This was probably the most random post so far. Forgive me for volunteering too much information.

That's the beat of a heart.

2007-11-06T07:11:00.000-08:00

So. last night I experienced what it's like to be a mother with a sick, I mean SICK, throwing up baby. It was so stressful. He was throwing up and I was feeling completely helpless because there was nothing I could do other than clean it up, and hold him close to me, in hopes that he would just get better or go to sleep.

He fell asleep on me and occasionally woke up fussing about it-but all in all, he was a good sport. And I know that when he's sick, all he wants is his mommy and daddy because daddy's voice soothes him and mommy's heartbeat is something familiar.

Now that I'm over that bump, and he's smiling and laughing at the elephant in our living room (the ones they sell at Sam's Club that kids when they're older can sit on and can hold up to 140 pounds) I'm even more amazed at him. Althought just a moment ago he sneezed and coughed, bless his little heart. I hope it's only a 24 hour thing-if so he'll be over it by 8 tonight.

I just wanted to say that-I haven't found anything truly profound for me to blog about yet. Haha. I will in due time.

-Faith

2007-11-05T09:54:00.000-08:00

So, I made the submission post for LJ Secret the other day. Although, I must admit. I feel a little better about myself now. I love how we that can never find postcards have the opportunity to make a computer graphic and post it to LJ secret, the livejournal spin-off of Postsecret. I'm addicted. I love a quote that Frank Warren, the creator of PostSecret came up with, he said:

"There are two types of secrets: Those we keep from others and those we hide from ourselves."

I am absolutely in love with that quotation. And when you really think about it-it's true. We do hide things from ourselves. And the only way they really come out is when we freewrite. Like an old graphic I use to have on my TOD journal...
"My secrets I hide inside only seem to slip when I write." Yes, they do. But alas, I must go wake up my husband cause he said HE was going to clean the room cause he's tired of the clutter...(I try to keep it clean...)
Love, Faith.

For Bonnie-

2007-11-04T06:45:00.000-08:00

Bonnie, I was searching youtube for viola solos, and I wanted to see how well other people played Prelude from Bach's six suites when I came across the version of Yo Yo Ma playing the cello. I love this song and did it in the seventh grade as a solo piece and received a blue medal for it. Have you played it?

I found my poetry book....

2007-11-03T19:26:00.000-07:00

I found my poetry book. Which in all reality, is a composition notebook with a bunch of poems and prose that I write. It's the most recent one, so it's got stuff from my senior year. I am going to share some with you. Okay, let me start with the inside of my cover. I put the following quotation that I wrote when I was in the eight grade..

"It's all about the beauty and captivation you hold inside of your heart which inspires the best ideas to become a very real reality...it's up to you."

Now, inside of it, I wrote about growing up, and this is what I had to say:

You know, sometimes when you think about it, growing up really sucks. Your whole childhood is spentduring the sticky-hot days of summer wishing you were older. Wishing for the freedoms you believe you'll inherit when you reach a certain age. Yet, somehow when you get older, you realize you wish to be younger because you didn't have to worry about gas money, jobs, meeting the graduation requirements, making your boss happy, etc...you just want to go back. But you can't. The only way to go in life is forward. You being to attach the phrase "last ever" to certain events. Such as your last ever ride to practice with your friend who is graduating, the last ever lunch when you sit with the seniors, the last ever concert...The last time you walk out of the High School. The last time you register for classes.
Graduation becomes the deal when you register for your senior year, you try to get classes with your friends, make the memories you've missed out on in all the fuss about the education. You aren't an 8th grader and you probably won't see these people ever again after Graduation. Then school will start again next year and you expect to see the cocky seniors-but you realize when the teacher asks how many seniors are in the class that you're one of them. Way leads on way and you discover that you graduate, go off to college, start families, get jobs, life goes forward. You become a human being.
Until one day it hits you-you're older. You're growing up exactly like you use to wish--
...only, it isn't what you thought, is it?

I wrote that my Junior year...The next one is something I wrote while sitting in the field at church one day and everyone was asking me where my friend was--

SHE

Sitting under the lonely tree,

I stare up at the sky-

just watching in peace as the clouds pass by.

Many thoughts grace my mind,

such as "how is she? does she remember me?"

I stare in the direction and wonder,

"Does she think about me?"

Someone takes a seat,

beneath the tree beside of me,

quietly she turns to see,

"How exactly is she?"

She has a name,

but everyone knows it's much easier for me,

if everyone refers to her as 'she'

I smile back at them,

eyes sort of puffy,

take a solid breath and reply,

"I don't know, she doesn't talk to me."

They always nod, get up, and walk away.

They know not to ask me twice.

for they know I wish she would just say "hi"

I stare at the sky-

lay back on my arms,

glancing in her direction I mutter,

"She's probably at home."

It wasn't my best work.

Born into diversity,

where skin color & religion

are counted among things people can hate-

amazed with music,

it becomes her escape.

captivated by art,

She decides how to interpret it.

Mixed race

choices of how to save grace

founded on freedom to choose

only to be persecuted

heritage & background

it's all the same

so love each other

we're not different at all

grab onto a different person's hand

before we all fall.

find your own saving grace

before it's too late

take a deep breath in,

it's nothing to do with race, religion or skin,

we all beautiful anyway.

That was just something I wrote after having enough of people being prejudiced against other individuals when we're all really the same.

Trapped in a world

where none can comprehend

listening to no one

taking silent breaths in

given an opportunity

yet taking the long way around

pathetic excuse for a human,

can't keep her feet on the ground.

forced to the limits

can anyone understand?

----FIN----

2007-11-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

I found one of the papers I turned in for Speech my senior year just moments ago. It was supposedly an exercise on page 49. I guess I had to find five quotations relative to english and speech. The following are the quotations I found:

"Language shapes the way we think, and determines what we can think about."

-Benjamin Lee Whorf

"Language is the means of getting an idea from my brain into yours without surgery."

-Mark Amidon

"When I get to read great literature, speeches, great drama, or sermons, I feel that the human mind has not achieved anything greater than the ability to share feelings and thoughts through language."

-James Earl Jones

"What is the shortest word in the english language containing the letters: abcdef?

Answer: Feedback. Don't forget feedback is one of the essential elements of good communication."

-Anon.

"Language...has created the word 'lonliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has cretaed the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone."

-Paul Tillich.

All were true, which is why I turned them all in, and received a 15/15.

My favorite scenes & music

2007-11-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

Reflections on a friend of mine.

2007-11-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

Wow. I just found an OLD blog of mine onilne that I had only put one entry into . But the entry was talking about how I gave a christmas present to one of my friends and how she was the one who kept me haning on when I felt my grip slipping. But there was a line toward the very end of the post that was talking about when I wrote her a note and handed it to her on Senior night, I caught her by the arm and had told her that I meant everything I said in the letter. And how she looked at me, and with tears running down her face, gave me a little half smile and responded, "I know, and that's why it hurts so much."

Now, I never quite figured out what she meant by that until just now. Although no one ever wrote me a heartfelt note, book, or whatever else I may have written her-I have come to the realization that sometimes all a person needs to hear is "Thank you, for you have made my life easier-and you've saved me from letting go." I see now why she said what she did in response to it. She had also told me at one point in time that she hadn't ever cried until I wrote her and told her it was okay to cry, and that she's not alone in the world and that I am comfortable just sitting in the silence with her until she feels better.

Is that what we all need in our lives? Someone who we can sit and say nothing to but feel comforted by the mere simple fact that they're there? Is that what we need? Companionship that knows no words? I know it's been a long time since I last hung out with her and actually just sat and talked. True, we've spoken on Myspace and talked on the phone for maybe thirty minutes or so-but it's not the same...

Maybe we just needed each other for a year. Just long enough to know each other to the point of silence and be comforted by the fact that there's another person out there who feels the same way about everything.

I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe that's why it hurts so much. She meant all the words she told me too.

But when I need to hear her voice to feel she's sitting right there-I tune into the radio.

Go through the concrete zoo to get to the real one.

2007-10-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

I went to the zoo with my son and in-laws yesterday. It brought great joy into my heart to watch my son dressed in his Halloween costume (a cow, with a tail!) watching the animals and making baby goo sounds at them as though he was trying to communicate just what he thought about them.

But I think I learned more about love by watching two little baboons yesterday than anyone else could've ever thought you would. We stood there for a good ten minutes just watching them. There was the puny baboon that was causing havoc, of course, and thus got slapped around by an older and higher up baboon. Yet, there were these two baboons that would go apart for a few minutes then find each other again, and sit facing each other, one's head on the other. They were the same size, and they always came back to each other. And they would wrap their little arms/legs around each other and sit there with their heads together. It was beautiful. I was in awe of those two baboons. They were just too cute and they made me all tingly inside.

My son was amazed by the lions, who were making small roars yesterday and he would go "Oooo" every single time the male did it. I think he was trying to talk to it.

The giraffes were walking back and forth and he was following them with his head looking up at them like "Woah, mom, those are tall guys!" And they moved their legs out so far when they went to eat. (When we get the pictures developed, I'll scan them and put them on here.) But it was a fun day.

We went to the dolphin show and it made me want to go to college to be a zoologist/marine biologist just so I could work with them. I have always loved dolphins and the wild animals. I think I have the wild and free nature of an animal and that brings a sort of kinship with them and I can sit and look at animals for a long time and just feel peaceful. There's something therapeutic about animals.

Especially horses. I was once told that a horse was my spirit animal once. I have to agree, I do feel a connection to horses. Even the wildest horse will approach me in a field if I'm sitting there. (It's been done before, so don't think I'm not just saying it-it REALLY happened.) The horse would let me touch it and guide it around with my hand under it's jaw bone. If you ever saw me with a horse, you'd see what I am talking about. It's my plan to go to college and get a CAREER so I can get a little land, build a house, and get some horses. I want to do that because it's just something else I've always dreamed.

But anyways, the zoo was fun. I loved it, seeing as how the last time I was there was when I was in the first grade...yeah, I know...

But on the way back we drove through the Hispanic outskirts of Indy and there was a Steak N' Shake that had a HORRIBLE misspelling on the sign. THEYRE BACK HALOWEEN SHAKES (I told them of their error and HOPEFULLY they fixed it...and added an apostrophe to the contraction for "they are".

Until next time,
all my love.

Some day I will wake up and realize I made up everything.

2007-10-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

WARNING: This is the most random of thoughts that have ran through my brain EVER.

.....

Ever felt like you were watching you life on a movie screen? Lately I find myself looking at the life I have lived to this point and the current moments in which I am breathing in and out as though I am a mere bystander, watching my life's events unfold as though a plot in a movie. The continuous ebbing and flowing of the conflict, the turning point, the climax, and then the resolution-although unlike the line, it's a continuous circle.

The quote that reads the following lines is one of those that I have adopted over the years as my motto.

"Strange as it may seem, my life is based on a true story."

Indeed, it is. Truly based on a true story. Anyways, there's a song that I ran across by pure accident by Senses Fail a few weeks ago-"Can't be Saved" and I love the line that I put as the topic of this post. The full verse is like this:

"I'm stuck in a coma,

stuck in a neverending sleep.

Some day I will wake up and realize I made up

everything."

So, every time I look in the eyes of my lil' man (which have finally set in as brown, in case you were wondering...) And everytime I'm playing with him I look at him like we're in a movie. Like my life is one of those shows on Lifetime. I just can't quite figure it out really. How my life changed. I believe in fate. I believe that all things happen for a reason.

I had a full ride scholarship to ANY college in Indiana. I lost it because my parents and I are estranged and I couldn't get them to sign it. Now, I could've signed it-but that would've been forgery and I didn't feel like getting charges pressed on me because of that. I guess I'm suppose to get a job and work so I can make my own money so I appreciate my education. Not that I wouldn't value it with a scholarship but I guess I'm suppose to work for EVERYTHING in my life. Nothing will ever be handed to me, so thus I am not one of those kids that gets all they want on a silver platter. I guess that's why I appreciate things better.

I guess when the time comes, I will make it to college. I can't just sit here and let my brain rot-it would be a waste of intelligence that I wasted during High School...

I digress-well, I don't really know where I'm going with this-but I'll just say this: Maybe one day I'll get my happy ending-and it'll be something I value.

"Singing in the rain, just singing in the rain..."

2007-10-22T13:49:00.000-07:00

It's a rainy day here. In the past I use to crack my window, choose a worthy book, and recline while reading and listening to the rain. I also would turn on classical music-something soft and not to loud-Pachelbel's Canon in D being my absolute favorite on rainy days. There's just something about rain that makes me a little peaceful. Most people want to sleep when it's raining, but not me, I'd rather stay awake and watch it fall from the sky.

When I was little I believed that it rained when someone arrived in heaven. Then I grew older and realized that we don't go to heaven right away but we're stuck below the dirt waiting for the second coming-which is why I think I stopped going to church-the idea of being stuck in the ground in a body instead of in heaven where we're promised to go if we've lived a 'righteous life' whatever that means; I also realized that people died every single day and there's a funeral every single day so it should rain every single day-but it doesn't.

I think I prefer the idea of reincarnation. Because then we get to live again until we reach the right state. Yes, I think I like the idea of reincarnation.

I use to dream about living in the UK where it rains almost every day and if it doesn't, the sky is usually partly cloudy. I love that, I would probably go there and be found in the countryside at a cottage or in the city at a cafe, in the corner writing in a journal.

Yesterday I went to the Covered Bridge Festival. It was a VERY LARGE place. I thought I was going to die with all the walking...and I got a sunburn on my face, but you wouldn't guess it today cause it turned to a tan (thank you my native american great grandmother for giving me your genetics in the skin pigmentation department). At one booth there was a woman talking on her cell phone speaking an African language. At another booth, there was this man who was Asian painting calligraphy names-(we got one for the lil' man to put above his crib-it's a Finding Nemo one). But then there were booths with deals because it was the last day-like the one I got my naval jewelry at. It was one for a dollar. Which isn't bad at all...I got five from that booth and a dangling butterfly from a booth where everything on the table was two dollars. But it's a dangling one, so I figured that usually they're 10.00 why not?

The food. My goodness, the food. There was SOOO MUCH food. And the smells from the food court area and the food strip across the bridge...I tried Cheese Curds yesterday too-they sound gross but they're actually pretty good. I think I am going to save up for next year's festivities. Beautiful things and rare things. A place to go for culture. But take sunscreen.

Well, the rain is a little slower now, so I am going to get off of here to enjoy it.

Have a wonderful day.

"Music is the only language spoken worldwide..."

2007-10-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

I just finished making a burnt CD...this is a past-time of mine. I have to say that I have made a lot of burnt CDs in my life. When I was in the seventh and eighth grade I would take my CDs, copy them to the computer, then take the songs and put them on discs to give to my friends.

As I went through High School I became a little attached to many different types of music-introduced to new artists through my friends-which my freshman year and sophomore year iPods weren't available to many of us band geeks, so we'd take our CD cases on the buses and swap, trade, and listen to each other's music. This was fun, and I began paying attention to what my friends listened to and sung the most-so I began making mixes for them. IT became my thing-making the CDs. Whenever I had something to tell a friend, or a new song by an artist not yet popular on the radio I wanted to introduce to friends because I felt they'd appreciate the music & artist-I would hand them a CD.

My last mix I made before this one was for my best friend. The one I met because I needed a pencil-I burnt her a CD for Graduation. It had my deepest sentiments. Songs about graduation, friendship, and songs just saying, "Thank you for being there-I am glad that you're in my life".

My mix today-has no theme. It's just a collection of songs I am in love with-and I guess it also signifies who I am at this point in time.

Faith's Mix for October

1. Angel-Augustana
2. Boston-Augustana
3. Found My Place-Augustana
4. Lonely People-Augustana
5. Stars and Boulevards-Augustana
6. Stand By Me
7. Lean On Me-Bill Withers
8. Thx for the Mmrs-Fall Out Boy
9. Before It's Too Late-Goo Goo Dolls
10. Better Days-Goo Goo Dolls
11. Iris-Goo Goo Dolls
12. Have A Little Faith In Me-John Hiatt
13. Autumn & Me-Saving Jane
14. Chasing Cars-Snow Patrol
15. Hands Open-Snow Patrol
16. Signal Fire-Snow Patrol
17. In This Diary-The Ataris
18. How To Save A Life-The Fray
19. All At Once-The Fray
20. Breathe Again-Too Sorry for Apologies

And that's my ear candy for the day.

Back in the day i had some good fanfic lines...

2007-10-18T07:12:00.000-07:00

Ha. I found most of my old accounts on ff.net...and I read my stories. I think I should make a NEW account and write those over and fix all the errors. Because I could do it. Successfully.

Here are a few of my most genius lines though:

Welcome to the Family Tree-Story

"Great! The one day I ACTUALLY am on time, and the greasy git cancels class! Just my bloody luck!" -Ron Weasley

"Pot-Potter, follow me to my office." Snape almost slapped himself when he stuttered.

"I think it's dreadful to see Hufflepuff get flattened by Ravenclaw, since half of them in Ravenclaw turn as bad as those in Slytherin." -As said by Harry Potter

"Well, if you ever feel dizzy again, come straight up here."
"I will," Mortania started walking away, she then muttered nonchalantly "not." -Poppy & Mortania

"Clairese, what the bloody hell is that? A speck of Hydrogen with Sodium Chloride?" Severus asked pointing to the tear. Clairese smiled, then looked at Poppy, who rolled her eyes and then urged them to continue.

"Harry, I know a lot more than what you think, about you."
"Of course, who don't I mean; I don't even know the whole story of me." Harry winced.

"Mr. Weasley, do you have something you want to share with the class?"
"Uh....No sir. Nothing that they would want to hear."

"...I expect to see a dark red potion at the end of class, and Mr. Longbottom, minus 100 points for the potion you are about to blow up, spew, whatever you are going to do."

A Snape Christmas

"Can you believe? That something so fragile can break so clean sliced? Something that glitters and shines, can just be gone in a moment? You know, I have come to find a lot of things like that....one being a heart. You see, when I give away my heart, I intend to do just that...not have it played with and forgotten like it was nothing....do me a favor Severus..." The red haired girl smiled. "When you take someone's heart, only take it for eternity...and like this silver Christmas bulb, and the black one on the tree already, you have to hold them, and keep it in something soft, when you pull it out, hang it carefully and cherish it...in case it ever breaks. Treat it like a snowflake, and love it....as if it were to disappear. You see, in the future. I want for you to grasp that one special thing and hold it near. Keep it warm, and never let it stray, for I am afraid..." She held the bulb by it's metal hook and let go. "That not everything stays the same." -At Hogwarts, 1977.

A Summer with the Family

"Mummy! I heard scary noises last night!" Little Hope said as she walked down the spiral staircase into the kitchen, holding a teddy bear tightly against her chest.

Malissa snickered slightly.

"Well, Hope-"Clairese began uneaily but then looked up, smiling at Sasha and Mortania, "Sasha could you explain to her please?"

"We have a poltergeist in the attic, forgot to mention that." Sasha said, reassuring her.

Mortania sat there with a confused look on her face then turned to look at her step-sister, as she did so, she mouthed the words 'poltergeist?'

Sasha rolled her eyes and said, "Don't ask."

"I wasn't planning on asking." Mortania said as she turned to face her bowl of cereal.
-CHAPTER 1

A NEW FAMILY

Prologue

Let's think about this, there are two different worlds, one realistic to some people, and one realistic to the other people. What would you think if you thought you were part of one world....then discovered that you were part of the other world only imaginable.

"Well, if it isn't Potter." Mortania looked at the group standing before her. "Had any luck escaping this summer?"

"Had any luck at the deatheater meetings?" Ron shot back. Mortania Riddle looked at him, eyes narrowed.

"Actually, yes." When she said this every word was dripping with pure hatred.-Chapter 1

------------------

Ha, well, what do you think? I was quite the one for theatrics...and humor.

Delayed PPD & Cutting Teeth.

2007-10-16T15:58:00.000-07:00

So I've been feeling a little down lately. Of course, you wouldn't know it unless I tell you. (And I jsut did...) But I think it's because I don't get out that often cause we're paying off my probation. (I have to go to court on Thurs. and we're gonna pay it before we go into court so we have the receipt and I should be FREE!) I finally get to be an adult in the county's eyes. I've been on juvenile probation since November 2006. So it'll be good to get off of it. I finally get to experience being 18. When I'm 19.

But my husband was taking the neighbor kid to his friend's house earlier and then he's going to town-guess what Faithy is doing? Sitting at home with her son. Doing NOTHING. I hate doing nothing, it's so...boring. Man...oh man...then he's going to town to get something-which leaves me here while FIL & MIL take Lucian off to town too.

Postpartum depression, anyone? I think it's catching up to me. I didn't have it-which if that's what it is-then I did pretty good for six months.

Anyone have tips on how to soothe a kid that's teething's gums? Other than whiskey (cause I'm not suppose to have alcohol in possession in the house) and those teething rings, and Orajel cause none of that seems to be working and he's got a BAD temper. I mean HORRIBLE.

I'll write more later, when I'm alone again.

Comedy is my potion, Mr. Lewis...

2007-10-14T20:49:00.000-07:00

The neighbor kid strikes again.

This time it was 11:45 and my BIL came in and said the Neighbor kid was wanting to talk to my husband. I told him to tell the kid that's 16 that he has school in the morning and needs to go home and go to bed and mind his mother. And for Shane to tell him that he's gotta work tomorrow and needs to get into bed before 1:30 am. O yes, I would be rude to that kid just because he takes my husband away from family time...such as watching Jerry Lee Lewis on a video.

I made supper tonight. It started out "Honey, help me make hamburger helper" to me just standing over the stove and cooking for the five adults and one child in the house. O, I can manage if given the opportunity.

My son is arguing because he's going to sleep in his swinging chair. He's exhausted. I dunno what the In-Laws took him to do this morning, but he was gone since this morning when I got him up to hand him over for church. He finally returned home so I could see his grinning face at 9:50 tonight. He's such a cute kid. I wish I could record it and post it online. He's so funny. It's like he's arguing with the sandman, "NO! I will not-ooo-is that sleep? Hello...My name is Lucian Amadeus...nice to meet you-once more" almost what it's like. He's also staring at his Halloween costume...a cow. He's gonna be a moo cow for Halloween. He's such a cutie. I love that kid with my heart.

*Sigh* Well, I suppose I should get off of here and sit down and eat my bowl of food. Although, I don't usually eat what I cook, I'm weird like that. But this time, I think I'm getting the hang of cooking for more than one person.

Until then, my loves,

Faith.

Oh what a night...

2007-10-14T06:01:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted!

Last night my husband & I went to his cousin's birthday party out in Buddah. Well, I guess I could call him my cousin now. Ha, oh well. But it was refreshing to get out there in the middle of no where right on Devil's Backbone. (Oh my, there's enough in that sentence to tell you that I'm living in a hick state). But it was an adventure, I'm telling you.

So, when we got there his Uncle Mike, Buzz, & Mike Jr. were moving logs to make a bonfire for when it got later after all the fun festivities, while Tina was watching Tater Bug. His Aunt Mary, Jessica, and Amy were all in town buying the things needed to make chili and roast hot dogs and make hot chocolate. So, I decided to hang out with Tina and help her watch Tater Bug. (Christina is Buzz's girlfriend and we call her Tina, Amy is Mike Jr.'s wife). Shane decided to hang out with his cousins and uncle and help them move the trees out of their woods. So, it wasn't long before I walked over and his Uncle Mike asked me if I wanted to ride the four wheeler, well, scratch that, first he asked me if I knew how to drive one. Then I told him I did, so he hopped off and let me on. I haven't ridden a four wheeler in FOREVER. But it was refreshing to just speed along. I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

Mary, Amy, and Jessica showed up about ten minutes after I began riding the four wheeler. So I decided to go in and help them make the chili or whatever else needed to be made (doing the woman's job...). After a while though, there started to be people show up, with their guns and the shooting began. Mike and his son, Mike Jr. are BIG outdoorsmen. They hunt every year and we get deer jerky for Thanksgiving and Christmastime around the family. (IT'S AWESOME STUFF!). After a while it looked like a firing squad cause there were just about seven or eight people lined up with shotguns waiting to shoot the skeet that was being thrown in the air.

After they all finished shooting, we all sat down and enjoyed some chili. Clayton, Suenishia and their kids, Rocky, Charity & Adriane, Lacie, RD & Shalee, showed up when we were getting ready to eat. After we finished eating Mike decided to let off some fireworks and Shane, Jess, & I decided to sit inside the trailer and watch them instead of freezing our butts off. We were saving the freezing for the hayride.

Ha. The hayride. THAT was the adventure. We all piled on the hay wagon, (some of the people *cough* Jimmy *cough* were drunk), and hooked it up to Mike Jr.'s truck. Charity, who's 9 months pregnant and due anytime now, and her son Adriane, Mary, William (some little kid), Heather & Amy were all sitting in the back of the truck while all the rest of us were sitting on the wagon. It was eventful in the fact that we were also spotlighting deer (no guns or bows in the vehicle of course, so it wasn't illegal) and that there was a foreign family who had never been on a hayride before. Leave it to the Staggs' family to show the foreigners, the Dali Lamma's nephew, of all foreigners, what American traditions can be like (in an awkward, somewhat unethical manner, of course). But we went down in the bottoms off of Pinhook road and we were down in a field there (I can't pin-point exact locations, it was dark, and I was a little lost in the area that I grew up in) which had many twists and turns and low branches.

When we were going into the field, Jessica grabbed my leg and held on tight, I mean GRABBED my leg. She was squeezing really hard and digging her nails into it. I was like "That's my leg! OUCH! JESSICA!" And everyone thought it was funny. Lacie is a huge hick but she wouldn't let you know it unless you were with us last night-haha. She yelled out "I found Dirt!" After we went into the field, and we all looked at her "Dirt?! Lacie, it's all around." (This is a true story, sadly). And she was like "Deer! I found Deer." (Say Deer like Der). We all just laughed at her-it was just funny.

Then, Buzz & Rocky decided to jump off and get some corn. So, Mike Jr. hit the gas and left them in the dust. We made them run up a hill to catch up with us. So, I just laughed at the two boys and told them "You gotta stay in shape if you're gonna defend our country." (Buzz is in the National Guard and he's suppose to leave to go to Iraq in January or February and Rocky is in the Army and is suppose to go in December). They looked at me with a death-stare and shook their heads but I don't care-I went to PT two years ago. My Sgt. made us run up and down 16th street (which is nothing but hills) and sprint it. So, I just couldn't help but laugh at those two.

But on the way back the front left tire of the wagon started to shred it's cap. And then there was a huge bubble in the right tire and we were all like "It's gonna pop!" So Mike opens the door and stands out of the truck and looks back at all of us, who had taken our feet up and were getting them out of the way. And the guy sitting on the right side was like "It's gonna blow! Any time now!" And so we had just turned around on S Kenray Lake Road (we went WAYYYY out there) and then, BOOM! It busted. So we had to drive all the way back from there with a blown tire on the right side and a shredding tire on the left. I moved in the back with my husband at the end 'cause we sounded like a train coming through and it was hurting my back to sit up there...

But that's my night in a nutshell.

It's always an adventure with my in-laws. ALWAYS.

Beetle-Headed Individuals, Classrooms, Changes, Bees, & Rants; OH MY!

2007-10-11T16:25:00.000-07:00

*Sigh*

I hate the neighbor kid. He's sixteen and harries me to no end partially 'cause he's beetle-headed.

My husband has now been gone for 2 hours. We were going to watch the Adam Sandler movie "Reign Over Me".

Mamacita, you've probably seen it, was it good?

Ever since the time I met Mamacita, my fascination with Adam Sandler began. She had just about every poster of that man on the wall of our classroom. Those posters, Phantom of the Opera, Princess Bride, and she had a Harry Potter poster by the bulletin board which was next to the door that lead to the other English Teacher's room. I remember these things vividly because that was probably my favorite classroom. Actually, yes, that one and my Geography teacher's classroom were my favorites in Middle School.

My Geography teacher-*laugh* the walls were painted purple and yellow (the purple I didn't have a problem with). And she had posters of almost every location you could imagine. She's been so many places that it was just fascinating to hear her talk about it. She still hasn't made it to Australia though, and she wanted to go there really bad.

My friend and I told her that we'd go with her someday, all she had to do was ask us and we'd figure out how to get the money and go. Although, I think the place I'd LOVE to visit would be Santorini, Greece. Just Greece in general, all the islands. That place is beautiful. I don't care what anyone says. Just look at pictures of the place, they're beautiful-I digress.

It's cold suddenly. I love it when it gets cold. I can't wait for snow, because winter is my favorite season of them all. I would move to somewhere cold for the rest of my life if given the choice. Now I'm waiting on the leaves to all fall off so I can enjoy the weather without sniffling, sneezing, and getting sick cause my allergies.

Ever heard of Apiphobia? I have it. The fear of bees. Could be that I was stung all over when I was little and almost died (I've had several close calls, actually) that resulted in that. Ha ha. Death is a good friend of mine-figuratively speaking. When I was depressed I would put myself in situations that might result in imminent death. Of course, that faded away and apparently it just wasn't ever my time. Not that I'm sad about that-don't get me wrong, but I'm just stating that I never died. (DUH)

My friend (who's 16 going on 17) just had a baby. I thought that maybe she would stop complaining about being pregnant now-nope. She was complaining because she had so much water weight. I wish I would've had more water weight, my kid coulda moved around better & it wouldn't have hurt as much. She would complain about him hurting her-he was only 19.5 inches long and weighed 6 lbs 14 oz...and she gained about 35 pounds. Giving him more than enough space to move. Hell, I only gained 10 pounds, and 7 lbs. 9 oz of that was my son. He too was 19.5 inches long, but weighed more. So realistically I only had when you consider the placenta weighs a pound-that's 8.09 of my 10 pounds. And my breast gained milk, so let's say that takes me to nine pounds. I only had 2 lbs of water weigh. So, really, I had enough space to complain. Cause when he would move, I could feel his nails going into my organs through the placenta. IT SERIOUSLY HURT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She has no idea-at all-NONE. Plus, she was chubby to begin with-so really, she had NO ROOM at ALL to complain. Yes, it will take her longer to lose the weight, but at least she had a healthy kid and her doctor wasn't worried about the countless problems I could've developed...with me being hypoglycemic, I had too much protein in my urine (which is bad, I guess), Was dilated for a month and half at 2 cm...so when my water broke I was just 3 cm...I had a cold when I gave birth, so between pushing I wasn't breathing due to the fact that I couldn't breathe out of my nose. Yeah, I'd say she had it fairly easy because her epidural actually worked. Mine didn't until 3 minutes after he was born...*grumbles*

Done with that rant. Sorry, just had to get that out of my system.

Anyways, I'm going to go now, let you all have fun out here in internet-land.

I love you all,

God Bless,
Faith

Phantom, Les Miserables, & West Side Story

2007-10-10T15:08:00.000-07:00

If anyone knows where Phantom, Les Mis, or West Side Story are playing soon and locally, (Indy, Bloomington) I'd love to get my hands on tickets and go with someone who wants to go see them too. It would be most excellent.

Trains

2007-10-09T11:39:00.001-07:00

I was always told that my life would go in whatever direction I wanted it to and that I held the keys to my future. I always thought that this was a funny statement because I figured that there was no way I could ever be all the things I wanted to be or do all the things I wanted to do. I have a wandering mind and my spirit is one of those rare free ones. I hate being in one place for too long and it starts to take its toll on me.

When I was younger (around five or six) I use to be fascinated with trains, train tracks and the open road. *Sigh* I went everywhere with my god parents. We went places in the RV. I saw several states-but still not them all, and I hope one day to explore the west as I have the east coast. The only places left to visit in the east coast are Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Maine, & Massachusetts. I've been all over this side of the US. I'm ready for the other side, the country side, the side that's not all cities and roads, and slums. I'm ready for nature at it's finest.

There's a thought that continues to this day to run through my head. One of those thoughts that you wouldn't expect a mother or wife who is happy to be where she is to have. The one of "One of these days, I'm gonna jump on that train that runs through town and never look back" which is a ridiculous notion, because the train probably doesn't go very far away from town. It probably just stops outside of the county. Then again, what if it doesn't? I'll never find out. But the daydream keeps me wondering.

I don't know what brought this up in my mind or why I felt compelled to write about it-perhaps because it's something that plagues my mind more than naught.

I was watching "Girls Next Door" which is a show about Hugh Hefner's girlfriends and the life they all live in the Mansion and they went to a Renaissance Faire, I would LOVE to go to a Renaissance Faire dressed in Garb and speak Elizabethan just for a day. Or I would love to stay the night and enjoy the other festivities. That would be an excellent adventure to embark upon with someone who's genuinally interested in it. (I hope I phrased that right). We could drink ale and dress in garb, I think it'd be fun. And I learned a Shakespearean insult. "Sausage Wallet" which means "Whore" that's something good to know next time one of those girls gives me an evil stare...I'll just say that and she'll think I'm crazy, but I'll smile with glee because I am smarter than her. I of course learnt several other insults and words, but I digress. It's not important right now.

"Elizabeth: The Golden Age" is coming out soon, idk, it might be out already. I want to go see that so bad. I'm so intrested in the Elizabethan era, Medieval era, and the Renaissance. It's a beautiful time for music and art in the world. Chilvary was measured by swords and not long distance combat. But that's another story I don't want to get into at the moment. I love people who can move with swords, and have the correct usage of them. (Shane knows how to battle with swords, he's trained in the martial arts, which is why I find him so irresistable I believe...so chilvarious if these days were like that).

I love renaissance gowns too. I never got to wear one to Prom but it would have been fun.
Something like this would've sufficed.

Swimming in October and Horror flicks

2007-10-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

I went swimming yesterday.

Before you say anything, it was hot yesterday and the cool waters of Lake Monroe were just too pristine to pass up, so I put on my turquoise bikini, drove out there with my husband, met our friends Chris and Sara there, and well all just jumped in after walking past the rope swing and around the corner where it comes to a point and the rocks meet the water in a perfect slope. It was heavenly. I find that I enjoy swimming in the fall more than I do in the summer. Perhaps it's because there aren't any horseflies to bite you.

The latest I ever went swimming in a year was November 11th, and that was in the sixth grade. It was snowing a little bit, meaning it had to have been around 30 degrees but my friend Nikki and I we jumped in and swam in the creek while trying to catch crawdads. We were wearing our jeans and sports bras. We took our sweatshirts off so we'd at least have one dry article of clothing when we got out. We caught about 20 crawdads and the water, although it was November and snowing, the water was warm, and flowing. It was amazing and I don't think I have ever had as much fun as I did that day.

I think if I could join a Polar Bear Club, I would. The only bad thing about swimming in the fall is the fact that when you get out, it's cold. Your fingernails have the purple around the cuticle and it's just freezing and you wanna change as soon as you can.

After we finished swimming we came back home, changed into dry clothes, out of our swimsuits, and went back up to Bloomington. We went to Chris and Sara's and then we all loaded in Sara's car and went in search of a scary, gory, halloweeny, old fashioned, or just vampire flick. We found a film originally filmed in Russian but it was dubbed in English that we ended up watching-it was a pretty sweet movie. Although, I can't remember what it was now.

Vampires are super sexy, by the way.

I'm playing the McDonald's game...haha, I know I'll never win, but it gives me hope, and I only need one piece to win either: 1.000.000, 50.000, 10.000, 5.000, 1.000, 500., 50... (I like using periods instead of commas).

I think if I don't win anything I'm going to send it to PostSecret and write on it "I play cause it gives me hope that maybe I could win." Not because I like McDonald's food, the only thing I like from there are the french fries. Okay, the chicken sandwiches too. I LOVE CHICKEN SANDWICHES! It's my addiction. But hey, at least it's a healthy addiction, right?

Anyways, I hope you all are doing well.

Love you all,

Me.

P.S. Bonnie, I'm going to write you a letter. I found an envelope today so I'd expect it this week sometime :)

P.S.S. Mamacita, I would love to come over sometime, so maybe on a Thursday when I'm in town doing something for Probation or Doctor's office or something I can stop by, and we could "hang out", just tell me if that would work. :D

Snail Mail and Promises

2007-10-04T18:36:00.000-07:00

My husband was just on the phone and the internet. I miss talking on the phone. You have no idea. Before I was married my friends would all call just to chit-chat with me; now they e-mail, comment, or message me on myspace. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy hearing from my friends. But they feel so distant, because it's so impersonal (is that a word). I don't want to boo hoo to all of you, but I'm just so sad that my friends don't pick up the phone, or send me a snail-mail letter.

I use to love getting letters. You'd go to the mailbox open the front of it, and reach inside, and in a scribbly writing you'd see your name and your friend's name in the top corner. Then, you'd open it and the letter would be penned in their writing, and although you had a little trouble reading it, you still loved getting that letter, and you put it somewhere special so you could pull it out when everything became digital.

I hope I'm worth the cost of a stamp. Don't type your letters, that makes it distant. Call me. The sound of your voice on the phone lets me know that I'm not alone.

I sat in the doctor's office for six hours today. Of course, it wasn't anyone's fault that the baby born up at the hospital with the same doctor I was there to see was taken into surgery because of post-partum problems. I blame no one. And I'm praying for the baby, whatever it was, and whoever it's parents are-because no child should have to go into surgery just mere minutes after being born. I don't know how it is, but I hope the problems weren't TOO serious.

My husband just brought down the hammock swing-again. This wouldn't be a bad deal, except for every single time it's happened, it scares me. Our hammock swings are hung from the rafters and obviously, no matter how much it is reinforced, it never holds. We have a concrete porch. And I know he's going to fall down and then not get up one day cause he'll crack his head. And that scares me more than anything because I love him so much.

I feel like I can say anything here because my friends don't know about this site and the friends I make here, well, you guys are awesome. And you read my ramblings without even thinking of doing something else other than just reading and seeing things from my eyes, mind, and point of view.

It's liberating.

But, in case my friends are on here, call me. Or send me a letter, I'll write one back. I PROMISE. And you can ALWAYS hold me to my promises.

My South Park Character.

2007-10-03T14:56:00.001-07:00

Ha, this is what I would look like as a South Park Character.

It's amazing.

Her name shall be Sharla Mane

Write.

2007-10-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

I've reallly taken to blogging as of late. To be honest, it's given me a reason to use my brain. In fact, even after writing on here, I take out my black journal and write in it. Which means that I'm writing twice as much. I use to just write in my journal when there was something bothering me, but now I'm recording everything that happens to me. But I'm enjoying it all very much. I've actually never felt more liberated in all my life. I'm finding my voice, my heart, and my opinions. Actually, recording everything and looking back on my life thus far has made me realize that I have lived a life that's pretty amazing.

I think it's the simple things that are taken for granted. Most people just toss the little things, like the smell of the air before it rains, to the side. They ask why that musky dirt, grassy smell is important. I'll tell you why, because one day you won't smell that smell anymore. You'll be laying in the dirt. There's a lot of things that I've come to pay attention to. Like the sounds outside of the window at night, the sound of my son breathing at night, certain comforting things that I've began to take notice to.

I love the Goo Goo Dolls. Especially their newest song-"Before It's Too Late". That song is amazing. There's a few lines that I've fallen for. Like the first two lines, I wandered through fiction to look for the truth, buried beneath all the lies those lines are amazing. Maybe I'm the only one that thinks so, but they're so vivid. Then there are the lines Don't fall, just be who you are, that's all that we need in our lives. What amazing advice! JUST BE WHO YOU ARE!!!! I love that. Is it just me, or do songs written for movies seem to be the most beautiful songs you've ever heard. Take "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls. City Of Angels was a beautiful movie with a beautiful soundtrack, I loved the song "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan. I love the Snow Patrol song "Signal Fire" from the Spiderman 3 soundtrack. But you see what I mean?

I was trying to write my "about me" section on myspace today, and what I came up with was amazing! I didn't think I was capable of writing such an about me, but I did, and I'm going to share it with you! So, smile, cause you get to read it.

Okay, here it goes:

I don't quite know where to begin, that's a problem of mine, you know. Not knowing where to begin. Kind of like I don't know where to end these things either. But I'll try my best to introduce myself in an amazing way. I'm generally a happy person. I enjoy hanging out with my friends, like any other 19 year old. I love my husband, as a wife should. I adore my child, he's my life. I love writing because it washes away the dust and dirt from my brain. I enjoy watching movies because the soundtracks. I love listening to classical music because it's soothing. I'm a high school graduate, and that's something I'm proud of. I dream big dreams and know that eventually one day, I will make them all come true. I believe your destiny is something you create. Our pasts are what teach us to be better individuals. We are the sum of our errors. Life is beautiful if you take the time to live it. Don't forget to say I love you to those that you love. Don't forget to apologize to your friends. Never take anyone for granted because at any moment they can disappear forever. Don't forget to slow down in the rush that is life and smell the roses, because it's a sweet smell you might not get the chance to breathe in. Winning isn't everything, it's that you participated. Live your life loud and proud, don't be ashamed of who you really are. Never take the simple things for granted, because they are the most precious. Ask questions, it's the only way you learn anything. Don't be a fair-weather friend, they're annoying; But most of all, and I mean this seriously, make friends that will be there for you through the tough times and the good times and be that friend for them.

And that was it.

Anyways, I do hope you all are having a good day...don't forget to write for yourself, it'll feel so liberating.

Franchesca.

2007-10-02T08:26:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching Marie Antoinette. That movie is excellent. I loved watching it. So, now I am sitting at the computer, with the channel on the Light Classical station. As I do every day, My son is watching the words pop up across the screen and he is squealing in delight. He enjoys looking at whatever mommy is typing.

Classical Music, it seems to soothe me no matter what mood I am in. If I'm overjoyed, Classical Music is the food that fuels it even more. If I'm sad, it makes me smile and brings me hope. If I'm angry, it doesn't take long for the sounds of either Mozart, Vivaldi, Bach, or Tchaikovsky to make me smile. If I had the choice, I'd probably marry my music. Although, it wouldn't keep me warm at night and I wouldn't have my beautiful baby boy.

I had a teacher who gave me the choice between Violin and Cello when we first began playing in Orchestra. Of course, I had been onto my estranged parents for three years (since the third grade) to let me play in Orchestra, but they didn't take me seriously when I told them I wanted to play the viola. In fact, I believe my parents had the nerve to ask me, "What the hell is a viola?" I of course, being a third grader at the time, rolled my eyes. I then managed to inform them that it was a stringed instrument that wasn't half as annoying as the violin. They didn't understand until I actually reached the play age that it was a beautiful instrument and I believe that they cursed themselves everyday after they heard me play that instrument out of frustration that they didn't let me play sooner.

But the thing about it was, the instrument called to me. It sings to me when I'm not playing it, as if it's a siren and I am the sailor and it's trying to lure me into it's clutches. *Sigh* I love playing her, I named her Franchesca.

I don't know what inspired that, but I just felt like sharing my viola's name with everyone.

Looking at the stars, with a smile on my face but tripping over my feet.

2007-10-02T05:10:00.000-07:00

I've only been up sixteen minutes, and already I'm knocking things over.

I am not the most graceful of beings. In fact, the only time I was EVER graceful was when I was performing in Color Guard. Believe it or not, I was in contact with something inside myself when I was performing. The girly-girl seemed to surface when I put on the make-up, bodysuits, and finally my uniform then I grabbed my TWO flags, and rifle. Because, when you're on rifle line, you only usually use two to three flags, whereas flag line uses three to four. I was such a performer. It was like I was born to do it and I would always do it with my head held high 'cause I was proud of it.

I'll never forget the last competition that I ever took part in. It was also my "older sister's" last performance as well. It was what we thought was the best one of our lives. We all came off the field crying, and hugging each other, and I'll never forget the last note that was played, because as the band hit their last note, we hit our last pose and it stopped, suddenly. (I'm getting the chills I use to get on the field as I remember this). The five seconds later, one of our Band Directors yelled "THAT WAS THE ONE!" And we all just smiled, and had tears running down our faces, smearing our mascara.

There's this feeling that you'll hear members of the Marching Band talk about. They'll all tell you the same thing, "There's this feeling you get before you walk on the field, it's like you gotta pee, but when you get out there and take your opening set position, it goes away and everything fades. It's just you, the Drum Majors, the Music, and the Guard, the audience doesn't matter. And when you're performing, you forget to breathe. Everything is so perfect for seven to eight minutes. But when the last note is played there's this feeling that rushes over you like the waves in the ocean take away the sand from the beach and replace it, that's what it's like in your soul, you shake and finally exhale. Then you walk off, and it's just-you can't explain it, you'll see." And it's the truth. You have to experience it to feel it. It's a natural high.

But that last performance, before we made the long walk down the side of the school in Centerville, OH., we were warming up, it was a speedy warm-up cause the band before us took FOREVER getting off of the site. When we finally did, the flags did some drop spins, tosses, and the rifles didn't warm up on flag at all, we all took our weapons and walked away from them, doing some exercises, rights, lefts, flat taps, and tosses. I tossed a strap-toss so hard that my strap broke and I had to find tape. Of course, the only people that carry tape are those that are in Drumline. So, I had to find a director with tape. I still have my black taped rifle strap. I kept it as a souvenir.

I'm not graceful anymore.

Fantasy Worlds, Chaotic Eloquence, and Banned Books.

2007-09-30T06:07:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I use to write fantasy stories and beautiful poems. Not just the "Oh, woe is me, I'm so sad" type of poetry, but real poetry. The kind that someone who has been writing for their whole life would write. They were my own masterpieces. I hit a point in my life where I stopped living in my poems and the fantasy world I visit only every once in a while; now I have difficulty penning a single poem, and when I do, it's not as good as they use to be. I've lost my eye for rhyme, rhythm, and meter. The three most important parts of writing a poem. I've lost some of my writing style too, it's changed and evolved as I've grown.

The last time I actually "wrote" poetry was my sophomore year when I had Mrs. Dasser*. She set a writing assignment that was to be our final, we had to write a poetry book with fifteen poems and the book would be worth 350 points. So, I dug and found my old journals with my seventh and eight grade poetry in it and I typed them up, added artwork to the pages and stuck it in the sleeve. I did this with about ten of my poems. So, you know me, the overachiever, I decided to sit down and write the other five from scratch. But five turned into ten and then I the before I turned in my book (which I titled Chaotic Eloquence) I wrote another poem, so I stuffed it in the last page that she said to put in there for the grading paper. (Lucky for me, I had an extra sleeve in my bag.)

I laugh looking back on it now, 'cause after she handed our books back to us after they'd been graded, she said this in the most serious of tones and had the most solemn facial expression, "Guys, I've never wanted to kill myself until I read all your poems. It's not that they were bad, no, they were well written, even a some of you have genius writing skills with poetry, it's just your class and every other class with the graduation year 2007 I have is probably the most depressed, suicidal, heartbroken, neglected, and messed up kids I have ever had to read about." I felt bad for her, I'm sure she went on anti-depressants after reading our poems. She refused to do the final as a poetry book the year after us. (Yes, Mamacita, I got a 450/350.) So, needless to say, I passed her final with an A+ and the highest final score from the 10th grade. Her comment on my paper, "You'll be famous". Tell me something someone else hasn't, please.

My literary hang-ups are:
1. I'm either too descriptive or too vague, never am I "Just right".
2. I have either all conversation or none at all. I can't find my happy medium.
3. I tend to bounce from first person to third omnipresent.
4. I over-analyze my own writing.

I digress.

I talk a lot to people when I finally get the chance to talk. And most of the time, the person probably gets tired of hearing me talk, but I just can't help it. Ya know?! I'm just a boring housewife and mother who is living in her "glory days" to stay sane. I love Ami, don't get me wrong, but I get tired of being a mom sometimes, and I just want to throw everything down (Not my son, I'd place him in his walker) and run off and be a kid. Because in essence, I'm still a kid. As a quote I read somewhere once said, "It's never to late to have a happy childhood" maybe I'll get mine some day.

Changing topics.

I was reading an article in the paper about "Early Literacy Programs" and here's my take on that. I laughed. Ha, I was read to as a child (yes, they did read to me, believe it or not) and learned how to read because of that. I owned over 300 Golden Books, all of which I donated to a Kindergarten Teacher when I moved and had no place for them in a trailer as compared to the five bedroom house I lived in for nine years. (Three years in a trailer before that). So, here's my opinion, if parent's would get off their ~~asses~~ high horse and read to their children and help them learn to read at a young age, then there would be no need for an "Early Literacy Program". Take Ami, my son, for example. Already, he's only 6 mos old, and I am reading to him from "Chronicals of Narnia" . I am saving Harry Potter until he can understand them, but I can't wait to read that series to him.

Harry potter is an excellent series. I don't care what these close-minded enthusiasts say about it being 'evil', 'wicked', 'witchcraft' it's not. You're stupid, go jump off a bridge.

Long live the banned books list. I'd be GLAD to be on that list. 'Cause it would mean I was among the greatest writers to have ever lived. A master of my craft, if you must. Like Stephen King, Maya Angelou, Steinback. That's my goal in life, to be on the Banned Books list with the greatest authors that have ever lived. Long live the greats.

I'm done.

The Past Shades, hot baths, and scars

2007-09-28T20:45:00.000-07:00

I don't know quite where to begin other than by saying that I wrote most of this while soaking in the tub-writing in my little black journal with my black ballpoint pen. I've been reading a lot lately, not just anything, mind you, but a former educator's blog. She writes so eloquently; I wish I could write as she does. But that's her writing style and this is mine, and that's what separates us writers from one another-our styles. But I get to jump into her brain sift through her thoughts on education, life, and her childhood. I can't help but wonder if I will ever be able to recall the moments in time as she does.

Ha, baths are my time to rejuvenate not only my hygiene but also my mind & "mommy muscles" as I call them; you know, those that you use while lifting your child in and out of his or her swing, bouncy chair, walker, etc...I have great difficulty imagining the Renaissance when baths were a monthly thing and even then the tub wasn't clean unless you were the lucky first one in the tub. I think people take these normal routines for granted.

I sat in the tub tracing the white little lines on my wrists and ankles this bath while I was shaving my legs I couldn't help but think on the days I would frantically come home from school and bust open a razor and take out the three little blades, stuff one in my shoe in a little spot by the laces and then take the other two and hide them strategically for just the right moment when I could drag the blade across my skin and make a bloodly little line. You see, I use to be the girl that the classmates would call "fat" not that I was fat by any means. I was simply 5'2 and weighed 85 pounds my seventh grade year...not that the teachers could tell or anything but I was depressed and anorexic but I wore the baggy shirts and pants that would hide everything. But I couldn't help but wonder what my life would have been like without Prozac. That's the miracle drug that I'm no longer taking because I've been announced "Cured". So it annoyed me the other day when I saw an "Anorexic recovered" on TV. She was only Anorexic for a year. Ana became my only friend for two years-and I didn't think I had a problem. Mia was my next friend (Bulimia). And of course the razor was too, if you want to know, ask. It's the only way you'll get the full story.

Anyways, I don't know where this is going...But I'm going to go to internet-land and pounce among my fanfiction that I enjoy reading.

What the educators had to say about or to me.

2007-09-25T08:22:00.001-07:00

SR. YEAR

Thank you for taking my class. Good luck in everything. I know you are more than capable. Be the best you can be.

God bless, [Creative Writing]

The very best to you always. I hope your senior year and new marriage are filled with happiness and blessings. Continue to do your past in all life's avenues.

[read below]

Classical Lit (Myth)

Study Hall

Best wishes,

You're a bright you woman who deserves the best.

[Sr. Comp]

I wish you the best in the future.

Good luck,

[Fros. English]

I'm happy for you,

but sorry you're not going to be here 2nd sem.

You have certainly have been a valuable viola player

& person to have.

Good luck & God Bless.

Love,

[Orchestra Director]

Hope you & baby & family have a wonderful life.
Remember it's the little things in life that matter most.

Best wishes,

Love

[Nurse]

(Nurse)

I wish you well as you take the leap of faith

into all the world has to offer. Continue to pursue

all that you imagined you would. Good luck & God Bless.

[Sr. Speech]

'♫ Music washes from the soul the dust of everyday life.♫'

~ Play On!

Enjoyed having you in class sophomore year.

Best wishes to you in the future!

[Soph. Poetry & Drama]

You are such a sweet

young lady with so much

potential. No matter what

you do, give it your best!

I wish you the best with

your marriage and the birth of your child.

[Success teacher]

It has been a pleasure having you

in my class. You are always extremely

organized and a very hard worker!!

Good luck with the baby-remember,

children are truly a blessing from God.

Keep in touch,

[Econ Teacher]

I can't believe your 4 years are almost up!

There have certainly been a lot of changes

in your life. Good luck as you move into a life

as a mother. Trust your instincts.

Work on a college degree as you can, even if it takes years!

You're bright and I hope you will always shoot for your dreams.

Always,

[HS Counselor]

I have enjoyed getting to know you during your time here

at BNL. I hope that everything goes well for you in the future.

I'll be thinking of you as you enter motherhood.

[Spanish 2 & German 1 & 2 teacher]

(name)...of doom.

Whatever am I going to do without you?!?!?!

I will miss you terribly!!! Keep in touch, I want to know

how you're doing!!!

(You have my e-mail.)

[Soph. Earth Science, Jr. Astronomy & Meteorology]

You are a special young lady who deserves the best.

Remember how smart you are (confidence, girl, confidence!)

and nothing will seem impossible! Keep in touch!

XOXOXO

[Frosh. Study Hall, Soph. English, Sr. Study Hall]

Good luck,

Take care,

[Secretary]

Thanks for remembering me. You look great. Have a great life--

be happy. Good to see you!

[Retired freshman english teacher]

Good luck. I hope you have a wonderful life!!

You did it!!!!

[Computer lady]

I am so proud of you! Being able to prevail in

tough times is a sign of a leader. Don't stop here!

Be successful! You are a special person meant to

be something, more than you know! I will miss you,

Keep in touch,

Love you,

[Female principal]

Good luck with all of your future plans!

Best wishes!

[Algebra 2 teacher].

8TH GRADE-

I will miss you so very much! You have

been very special to me. Take care of yourself,

& best of luck in high school! Good luck!

[7th Grade English Teach]

P.S. Keep Writing!

Best wishes during your "4" high school

years and beyond. Dream big, Work hard,

write on!

[PE & Success Teacher]

It has been a pleasure having you in class!

Work hard next year, stay on top of your work &

you'll do GREAT. Keep in touch!

[8th Grade Pre-Al Teach]

Best wishes for all you decide to do.

Keep smiling and work hard-I know you will

go far.

[The IEP Teacher who I knew from Church]

Best Wishes @ [HS] & in life after your school years!

Be good!!!

[6th & 7th grade Math teacher]

My goofy violaist. That word even looks weird. I guess it's your

destiny! I enjoyed your playing and getting to know you. Keep

up the good work & I can't wait to see where you'll be in 4 years!

Love,

[Orchestra teacher]

There are those few one never forgets...

[Mamacita]

It has been wonderful having you in class & working

with you on Academic Team. I'll miss you and your smiling

face next year! Have a wonderful summer & great 4 years at [HS]!

[Home Ec Teacher]

It's been great getting to know you these

past two years. You are a wonderful writer

and I hope you stick to it. Good luck at [HS].

We'll miss you.

[Teacher's aid]

Wow! What talent!

Keep drawing! Enjoy your

summers, do your best at [HS].

Keep in touch.

Love,

[Art teacher]

Hang on to those dreams.

[Principal]

It has been great getting to know you here

at {school in middle of boonies}. Good luck at the

high school.

[6th & 7th grade Science Teacher & BBall Coach]

It's been fun! Hope you have a wonderful 4 years at [HS]

I will miss you!

[Computer Lab Lady]

You're a wonderful person I've enjoyed teaching this year.

Have a great summer and good luck in high school.

[8th grade science teacher]

Congratulations on finishing 8th grade at {school}!

I wish you the VERY BEST at {hs} next year.

Continue to work as hard in high school as you did in the 4th grade!

[School District Super]

Prov 3:5-6

I wish you the best at [HS]! I know you will enjoy it and do great things!

Make sure to say hi if you see me this summer.

[Cheer coach]

P.S. (Left handed people are special!)

Thanks for being such a wonderful young lady!

I really appreciate all of your Saturday and after school

work on the yearbook, etc...Thanks for being 3rd in English at the

Academic bowl!

[Geography Teacher]

Good luck always.

Don't forget Santa!

[8th grade History]

------------------

So, now you know what people say about me.

I do hope I haven't let them all down.

I'm going to do all the things they told me to do.

I just want to be happy myself.

And maybe someday I will do all the things I want to do.

So, if you read this and you are one fo them,

Thank you.

You have all pushed me to succeed in all the things I set out on.

Without those that had faith in me, I doubt I would've gotten very far.

So, thank you.

Anyone out there? Well, hello come again soon.

2007-09-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

So, my son is six months old today. Well, he turned six months old at 8:50 in the morning. It's insane to really think about. They really do indeed, grow up right before our eyes. Lately he's been trying to crawl and prematurely talk. He's going to be a jabberbox. Ha, yesterday he was looking at me while we were playing in the floor and he kept going "Gek gek" (say it with a considerable amount of flem). It was too cute. I asked him if he was calling mommy a geek. (Which he probably was.) He's such an amazing person. Right now he's blowing bubbles at me, and screaming at me while animately moving his arms as though he's telling me a grand story about something he had a dream about.

I am going to go hang out with my little man. You all have a pleasant day, if you're out there.

WTF is wrong with people?!

2007-09-21T12:22:00.000-07:00

I was watching Nancy Grace last night. It pissed me off. I am not putting a strikethrough in that. Forget it. I'm just seriously disturbed by people in my generation. They treat sex like it's a sport. This story pissed me off more than anything on the show last night. In case you don't click there-it's a story about how a Pennsylvanian College athlete gave birth to a baby girl (to term) and claimed that she didn't know she was pregnant. She's skinny! I was skinny! I knew I was pregnant. Wouldn't you wonder why you weren't having periods? Or why you get kicked in the ribs, or have to go piss every five minutes?!

She also claimed that she didn't know she was in labor until she saw the baby's foot...which HAS to be a load of bull-s**t. I mean, trust me, YOU KNOW when you're in labor. You feel it. It's a gut wrenching feeling that affects how you walk, it also affects so many more parts of your body. When your water breaks, you KNOW something is up. Or maybe she's just stupid and was too immature to deal with a baby-I know that's what it seems like.

Which is why I hate my generation. They get pregnant, and then choose abortion, or just kill the baby by shaking, choking, suffocating it after it's born. There have been so many cases of that lately-and each time I hear about it, it just enrages me to the point of where I want to meet these individuals and kill them with my bare hands, however they killed their babies.

Children are GIFTS. This is a picture of me when I was pregnant, mind you, I'm 5'4" and weighed 125 lbs when I got pregnant. This is me a few hours before the water broke and I was approximately 135 lbs here...So, how she could "Not know" she was pregnant is beyond me. I think you get bigger when you're skinny.

Trust me.

I hope she goes to PRISON for LIFE. I hope that she realizes that she killed the future. She killed a part of her. If she saw it as just an object, then she's messed up in the head and should be locked in a mental institution. I despise baby killers. I think they're worse than a person who kills 5 women who are over the age of 18.

Yes, baby killers are definately the worse out of all serial killers, cannibals, or just murderers. They are the plague of the society.

The sad part, they do it without a guilty conscious. They do it without a soul. They're the same generation as I am. I think I was born in the wrong generation.

Graphic.

2007-09-21T12:21:00.000-07:00

Dreams, school, and teachers oh my.

2007-09-21T09:32:00.000-07:00

I had a dream about High School last night. It was quite frightening really, you see, I graduated mid-term from that ~~hell-hole~~ educational institution. I'm not going to share the dream, but I really would've been glad if that never would've happened. I hate dreaming about that place. I wiped my hands of it December 2006.

*SIGH*

I feel as though I'm stagnate. It's a horrible feeling. But alas, I am to start schooling in January-maybe then I'll feel as though I am progressing after that time.

I think that the biggest problem in my life at the moment is the fact that I am a student. That's how I define myself. Because I love learning, I love reading, and most of all, I love gaining knowledge, whether it be about people, places, things, ideas, suggestions, theories, anything really, as long as I can learn. Different writing styles attract me. When I was seven, I read the dictionary for fun. So every once in a while, I bust out a word that I remember reading and it stuns other people for the simple fact that I use big words occasionally. I love spelling. LOVE IT!!!

Occasionally, I find myself pondering about childhood. What would have happened if my childhood would have been different? Would I be the same person I am today, I doubt it. No, I wouldn't I would have been a completely different person.

One of the most important times of a person’s life was childhood. The manner in which a child grows up affects him or her for the rest of their lives. Parents imprint a child from a young age with the way they discipline and raise them or the lack thereof. They can mold a child into becoming a well grounded and good adult or they can turn them into a hateful ~~bitch or bastard~~ being. I would have liked to say that my parents were kind people to me and that we were the closest family ever, but I would be lying. And lately I have taken to telling the complete and utter truth no matter how it degrades someone or offends. We have freedom of speech for a reason so what better way to exercise it than with the truth.

Other people raised me in all reality. My parents both worked jobs that disabled them from spending too much time with me and when they were home my father was watching NASCAR and my mother was doing housework while I stayed in my bedroom reading, or my downstairs playroom playing with my dolls or Super Nintendo. Or, I was outside pretending my swing set was a far away castle and while I was sitting on the monkey bars I pretended that I was a princess and I was waiting for that knight in shining armor to come across the moat and save me from the horrible fire-breathing dragon. Being a typical girl on that account, but really, in all reality-I was a tomboy and I preferred playing in the mud and dirt and riding my bike down the trails in the woods in our addition, or going to the cemetery and reading the headstones (quite a morbid little kid, wasn't I?).

When I started school I began as a student of Head-Start. Margaret Staggs (no relation) was my bus driver. She was a kind old lady and a funny lady. She would drive around until I was the last student on the bus so my parents would be home by the time she dropped me off. Of course, I was five and had a key to the house so I would say that the car was in the garage (which if any vehicle could fit in our old garage, it would have been a miracle with all the wood projects that I did with my father when he did have free time) and unlock the door and go in by myself fix a bowl of cereal and sit in front of the TV and watch WB4 Cartoons. Gargoyles was my favorite. That and WishBone. I learned most of the greatest pieces of literature from WishBone. Romeo & Juliet, The Case of the Baskerville Hounds, Rumplestiltskin. God, the list goes on. But most of the time, I would go to my Grandmother's house.

Did you ever get wipped with a rosebush stem? Hurts like hell. Of course, back in the day, it wasn't child abuse to get wipped with a switch of the plant that an elder told you to go pick yourself, and if you choose the one that you thought would hurt the least you'd have to go get a different branch. I think sometimes that she's the one that put me in line when I was acting out. The one time my father wipped me I took my little chair and smashed it over his back. Come to think of it, I've never done well with discipline. I always felt if you hit me, you're gonna get hit back. No matter who you are. I guess that's my problem. I follow the Golden Rule a little too closely. I digress.

I've had countless babysitters (one of which was abusive & I stopped seeing them after my Great Aunt gave them the what-for. Which is unlike her seeing as how she's a good Southern Baptist lady.) But my teachers are the ones that raised me. Let me explain. I would go to school from 8-3. Then my bus ride in my younger days would last 40 minutes. I'd get home, and be by myself until about 5 or 6. Sometimes 7 when my mother began working nights she would be home for 10 minutes, tell me what to tell dad to fix for dinner (the only thing that man could make was fried taters and chicken I had to make the mac & cheese and asparagus.) And then be on her way, and then dad would get home at fix dinner at 7:30. I would do my homework, and go to bed. Get up the next morning and do it all over again.

In sixth grade I was in quite a state. I hadn't been eating for a year, and was depressed, cutting, and just plain suicidal. I had the most amazing teacher who forced me to sit in her classroom during lunchtime just to assure that I ate and would accompany me to the bathroom so I wouldn't throw up. She knew about my dirty little secret and watched me to make sure I wasn't a lost cause, because she, like most of the educators I've had told me I had this potential that she wanted to see used for the greater good and not by destroying myself. I quit my habits to please her. She made me try out for basketball and my teammates treated me like crap. But I enjoyed defensive playing in Basketball, and I was good at it. We were undeafeated that year.

I moved mid-semester. To a little hill-jack school by a cemetery and field. A mile off of the highway. I lived in the boonies, got on the bus at 6:45 every morning and kept myself after school until 5 pm so I wouldn't have to ride the bus. I did this all three years of Middle School. Avoided going home. Hung out with other kids, enjoyed life for once. My coaches saw me more than my parents. I loved it.

High School wasn't much different. I hung out with people after school my freshman year. (Older kids, who drove.) Then I joined Marching Band and hung out with all the Band Geeks, Guard Freaks (I was a Guardie). And that consumed my life for the next two years. Senior year I left home. Got married, had a kid, graduated.

So, I raised myself and the teachers helped me. They all were supportive. Minus a few...no real names given, but Senora I'm-too-good-to-answer-your-question and Mrs. was-your-absence-excused...

However, back to life. My child is crying. He's murmuring Mumumumum. Which means "Mum." Love that little boy. Toodles.

A Figurative Explanation

2007-09-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

I hate runny noses. They annoy the crap out of me. I suddenly had this short thing pop into my head and I suddenly felt cacothes scribendi, or the insatiable urge to write (I do hope I got that right). In case I ever forget to mention it, I love languages. While I am only barely fluent in English, I know British terms, some German, a little Spanish, a tad bit of Latin, a little Italian, and I am in the process of figuring out French. I love diversity...anyways, on with the thingy.

----------------------------

The light was shining through the trees, sprinkling the forest floor with shards of bright spots. I was walking through the dense forest in search of the road that I had heard of, the one that brought all beings closer to enlightenment. It was said that the road was a forked one, and one of the paths was dirt while the other was merely grass that had been trodden upon many times. I knew to take neither path, but instead go straight through the middle. Where I had also heard that by taking neither path you reach enlightenment through your own experiences.

When I approached the fork, I found that upon examination of it, there was truly the two paths that I had been told about. Sighing, I decided to go ahead and walk on the path that didn't exist. This is where my journey truly begins.

-------------------------

So, in all reality that was a figurative way to put the choices I've made in my life. Never taking the exact path. I've always travelled the road without a map, without markings, the road that I follow is the one I make. And I love it. The mere spontaneity. Oh the joys, lessons, and sadness I have discovered all on my own. And I wouldn't change a thing.

I hate autumn, the justice system, and misspellings.

2007-09-17T17:18:00.000-07:00

I am currently in the middle of a sneezing fit. I'm one of those people that sneeze with their head. You know, the forward, back then a bunch of snot. So I've mastered the holding of the nose so snot doesn't fly everywhere.

I hate the fall. Ironic isn't it? I'm named after it but I hate the fall time. The weather, although when it's later at night and the air feels so crisp, I like that. However, I'm allergic to leaves-that is why I'm in the middle of the sneezing fit.

I just took a sudafed-hopefully it works.

I'm watching Nancy Grace. That woman is the epitamy of know-it-alls. She could be Hermione Granger. I digress, they are running the story of OJ Simpson how they're finally getting him for the murder of his wife, err, ex-wife, whatever she was. It's horrible how the justice system works. Oh no, I feel a rant about the justice system coming up. So, here it goes. I know in my earlier post I was ranting about probation but here's another one. It's amazing how far, in all reality that forensics can go to solve the once unsolvable murders. Which is for a part, why I like science, but the thing that really irks me is the fact that murderers can get away with their crimes because they have some sort of super-lawyer and it takes a breaking and entering charge to finally catch them. I still believe that the Zodiac killer is going to get away with his crime until he's on his death bed and then he'll proceed to ask his grandson or granddaughter or someone of the sort to lean over and that's when he'll admit it. He'll say "I am the Zodiac Killer. I'm sorry." To his family and then die. Leaving the victims' families with their grief. Yep, that's how it'll work. And you can't be charged for murder again, it's double jeopardy. So, OJ will undoubtably get out of prison for good behavior-actually, he'll probably be made someone's ~~bitch~~ ~~butt buddy~~ slave-and die in prison.

Enough, I'm tired of the topic already.

So, I'm suppose to go to college in the Spring for nursing...but I feel there are so many other fields I would be comfortable or interested in. Music, Medical, Science, Literary. Yes, I would love those careers. If I had only applied myself in High School I could honestly make it into Med School. Hell, I know I'm brilliant I just choose not to be a geek because not many geeks have friends and they end up used for the money they earn. On the upside however, in College if I apply myself and get a career in one of those interests I can always go back to school later on in life and pursue my other interests. I want to be a professional student. That's the career I would love. To never stop learning. I would be like Dorian Grey in that sense. He was a professional student.

Students-ah, I was watching one of my college friends do her writing assignment and she can't spell worth a flying flip! She spelled Hospice: Hospise. College was spelled Collage. There were several other spelling errors and I would have taken a red pen out and corrected them all if she would've let me so she would have little to do with spell check when she went to type it. Spelling errors annoy me, tell me when I misspell, please. I beg of you.

I digress. I can't wait for winter. The sparkling snow. Oh, glorious snow.

Until then my loves.

just me.

2007-09-16T08:42:00.001-07:00

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

A Little Help from My Friends.

2007-09-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Lucian Amadeus (three photos)

2007-09-15T15:16:00.001-07:00

Me, my son, & my husband

Lil Ami & His cousin..

This was by lil' man the day I took him home from the hospital, he's gotten considerably bigger, eh?

Someday I'll make it to the rest.

2007-09-14T07:42:00.001-07:00

create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourCalifornia travel guide

Writer's Block Personified.

2007-09-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

Have you ever read anything that touched your soul-it made you shiver when you read it? How about the lines on a paper that you couldn't get out of your head even after you were finished with it?

Lately I've taken to writing once more, and I have found that I can truly explain things how I have always wanted to, I've discovered that words are easy again and sentences make sense and I'm not hiting the backspace key anymore. When you write something without a backspace key you're freewriting. And lately I've been doing just that. Details have come to surface, I can now describe to you how the invisible wind swoops down over the yellow grass and picks up the dry earth that's just barely holding the grass in place and sweeps it across the yard while I'm walking to get the mail, the remnants of grass crinkling beneath my feet.

I LOVE WRITING ONCE MORE. To think it took a role-playing game to get my writer's block knocked away-but I've done it.

There was once a time when I could compose a poem as fast as a swish of a branch in the wind, but I'm still not to that point yet-although I can write paragraphs and short stories now I am still not to the poetry; the rhyme, rhythm and meter just aren't ready to surface. But slowly, yes slowly I feel myself getting back to that point.

So, if you have the talent to write, never stop. Don't quit writing your ideas down no matter how ridiculous they sound or how pathetic any educator makes you feel. Don't listen to society when they tell you you're doing it wrong. Only you know how to write in your own unique style no one else can cater to that. So, keep it up. Just keep writing.

Take it from me, writer's block is a ~~bitch~~ very evil woman. And she doesn't want to leave when she sits down at the table and holds the pen in her hand and tells you to dictate it to her. Forget it. You won't be able to leave her sitting there and stand up. Or, maybe like me, you can fool her and get up and write the book you've been talking about writing.

Well, anyways, I do hope you all have a wonderful day.

I love you all.

-Autumn Faith

Why, yes, I think I do have anger problems, amongst other things.

2007-09-13T20:24:00.000-07:00

*Laughs lightly*

"Do you think you have anger problems?" The person behind the desk asked me a while back. I stared at her in disbelief. In my head, I was thinking a variety of things-most of them being how ridiculous it was that I was even there in the first place. But moreover the fact that I was sitting there while pregnant and married. The place in question, the Probation offices.

"No. I don't think I have anger problems, but you can only take so much and swallow it for so long before it's going to surface." Came my response. Not what I wanted to say, but it would do.

So, I hit my mother. I know, you can't just hit people and get away with it. But looking back at the events leading up to the confrontation, I find it liberating almost that I did hit her. They tried their best to raise me, albeit not doing the best in my opinion. (For that's another story). But they tried. Damn, where do I begin with this rant? So many places which to plant my feet and shoot the gun and take off running like a cross country runner.

Agression is an interesting topic really, the thought that someone can swallow so much for so long and then like a tumultuous storm it finally adds up to the point where you can't contain it within you anymore and you need an outlet and the first person that crosses you makes you so angry that you just want to hit them and not stop...that's agression and I'm going to stop there because my voice in my head is getting faster and louder than I dare to type.

I played sports to get away.

I joined the geeky clubs to get away.

I looked up to teachers because they all in a way were positive role models. Thank you school system, you raised me well. Even passed on that "Zero tolerance" only it's the other way for me. I take zero tolerance of being pushed around anymore.

I have to go to counseling again for the upteenth thousandth time in my life. Mainly because the court orders it. *LAUGH* I went to counseling for almost three years and the only thing it did was make me want to pursue a career in counseling so I can sit behind the clipboard and truly say "I know what you're going through" and really mean it.

The following reasons are why I should just be a counselor:

I helped myself in the end.
I watched a best friend die in a car accident at age 7.
I was raped by my first sexual relationship with an asshole who should have his penis cut off and fed to him on a platter. Enough about that dickhead.
I cut myself because the emotional pain I swallowed for so long hurt.
I starved myself first.
I became bulimic in the seventh grade cause I wanted to eat.
I tried to kill myself with pills-it didn't work and now I have to take what seems like eight 800 mg ibuprofen just to kill a headache.
I got pregnant my senior year of High School
I've lost friends.
I've had battery charges pressed on me.
I got married 11 days after my 18th birthday.
I graduated High School.
I can say "How does that make you feel" and mean it.
I am an empath.

So, in all reality. Going to counseling because the court ordered it-won't help a thing. If anything, it'll make me want to strangle my counselor because they have no idea how I feel.

Sorry for the rant. But enjoy it. Or else.

Poison.

2007-09-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

No, the title has nothing to do with the post. I swear.

--------------------------------------------------------

I was watching Patch Adams for the second time today, and the guy who was dying of Pancreatic cancer just keeps plaguing my mind. I imagine that tiny organ attached to the colon when I hear of the Pancreas. And it kills me because I've been reading an anatomy book finding out just what exactly it does. If you want to know, look it up. Knowledge is great, my friends.

But I digress.

Pancreatic cancer has a very high death rate. Meaning that if you have it or get it, the chances of your survival are slim. Apparantly it's also very painful for the most part. Sometimes I guess you are incapable of eating-I couldn't imagine, well, I could, but not being able to choose to eat-just not being able to, that would hurt.

During my Junior year of High School I took Chem 1. A year after most of my classmates had take it. I was considered an unfortunate soul because I had the teacher that everyone always said they wished she would die, or that she's a bitch, or other harmful things-poison in their words if you must. Mrs. Smith, for the record, was a very intelligent woman and expected us to be intelligent she wanted us to use our brains, not let them go to waste. Which is something I understand now.

One day after school in September I decided to stay after school and ask for help before the Marching Band rehearsal. I talked to this woman, the one who, on occasion, got on my nerves. But I learned a lot from her during this after-school session. Such as she had once been a college professor-hince her high expectations. And she too, had been in Marching Band, she played the Clarinet. But I also discovered that she was a nice woman, person, and human being. She just had a hard shell on the outside that you had to crack.

She shared wise words that I now will never forget as long as I live. She otld me that there will be some things in life that I will encounter and at first, not be able to solve. But that if I step back and check things out and really examine them closer and don't fret over the fine details I might find an easy answer.

At the time, I wasn't sure what that had to do with Chemistry-until later on in the year. When answers began being common sense to me. But starting around December she began missing a lot of school and we had subs for a few months straight. I found out when I asked Mr. Bailey about it, he told me that she had Pancreatic Cancer. I was shocked, and yet at the same time, I was hoping that there was hope for her, so I asked him what stage, and he said the fourth. If you know cancer stages you know that the fourth is right by the last stage-the fifth-and recovery at the fourth stage is rare-she was going to die. And I knew this. Not a lot of students found out until May though.

So, from December to May I listened to my classmates diss her, and I stood up for the absent teacher. I couldn't believe how cruel my classmates and other students were. I was ridiculed because I stood up for her. But I just told them that they didn't understand and they'd eat their words at a later date.

Mrs. Smith took the Envirothon team to their competition that year. She was back for two or three days and she excused those of us in her Chem classes from the lab that she held that day. But on the lab that we had had a few days before she was proud to tell me that I got a perfect lab score. AND that I had received a ninety six on the last test. She told me that she was proud of me.

When she graded my final Chem problem she told me that it was excellent that I had paid attention to the easy things and not skidded to a halt as so many of my classmates. There was an easy answer. Her words suddenly made sense about the different views.

The last time I saw Mrs. Darla Smith was in August, right before the start of my Senior year. I had told her that I was pregnant and was getting married. She told Shane & I that she hoped our lives were full of love, joy, and many good years. I think she knew she didn't have that much time left, she was looking forward to teaching as much as she could before she died. It was her passion, helping and teaching the students that so rudely commented behind her back about how mean she was when in all reality they didn't know her.

She was the only High School teacher that I had had as an educator that didn't get to sign my Sr. Book. I hate that she didn't get to, and I often wonder what she would've written given the opportunity. I had written her a letter the first time she was in the Hospital, but I never sent it. I wish now that I would've...god I wish I would've.

So, I guess my point here is that I heard on December 4th, 2006 that she had died that day. Everyone else just walked around not really knowing quite yet. I was a mess. She was a person and everyone (students) just acted like she never existed. I hope that when she left her suffering it was painless, that she went in her sleep. Because I believe that she was a fighter and she was a champion in the fact that she never let it show that it was getting to her that she was dying. She embraced her life that she lived before she died.

I want to live like that. I want to live so that when I die I can say I truly did everything that I wanted to. That I was an inspiration without knowing it. I want to live to the fullest and be joyful up until my last breath.

If you have a letter you have written and never sent, send it. There might now be a later for you to send it in.

The things movies make you think of.

For the Friends.

2007-09-13T18:44:00.004-07:00

Another soul forgotten
another story never heard
no one seemed to notice
no one seemed to hear a word...

This is reality
another failed attempt
your life is worth living
if you just help a friend
no one ever spoke out
when she was screaming
words have become meaningless
promises can't seem to find the verb.

this is a reality another failed attempt
your life can be worth living
if you just help a friend.

No one seemed to notice
when tears fell down from her eyes
no one seemed to reach out
when she bowed her head...

This is my reality
I've had another failed attempt
All I was screaming for was a friend,
someone who could reach out and take my hand.

The Things I meant but Never Said.

2007-09-13T18:44:00.001-07:00

Here’s the Things I Meant but I Never Said

At any one moment there are a million things running through ever single mind. However, only a few of those things actually make it form though to speech, and even fewer are actually said to another person. Why, you ask? Because we’re scared. We’re afraid that we’ll be rejected if we say what we really think, and humans can’t stand the though of rejection.

Sometimes we get rejected on too many times and all our thoughts and emotions come pouring out. But we get over it, and turn back into our normal bottled up selves. Well I’m sick of it! We need to stand up and say what we feel.

So I’m going to. I’m going to say what we all want to say. This is for every little girl that never fought back on the playground. For every boy who was too scared to tell a girl how he felt. For every office worker who was to afraid to stand up to their boss. This is for every person who was ever too afraid to say what they feel. I’m going to say what I feel, what I think.

I feel happy. I feel sad. Sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe. I get scared just like everyone else. I’m a horrible person. I lie and cheat and steal. I lie about things I have no reason to lie about. I make fun of people for no reason at all. I’m a saint. I volunteer at a soup kitchen and it makes me feel good. I tutor little kids that think I’m great. I have a fan club and they make my day. They think I’m perfect. I try to be perfect, but really I’m far from it.

I say I hate things when I secretly love them. I say things I don’t mean, and they hurt people. I want to hurt people sometimes. I hate people who are mean, but I’m mean too.

It hurts when people think I’m not good enough. It hurts when they ignore me. As much as I don’t want it to, it hurts every time they forget about me. And I hate myself for it. I hate them more though. I hate them for making me feel worthless. As if I can be replaced so easily.

I’d like to think I can’t be replaced. I’m one of a kind, just like everyone else. I’m the polar opposite of myself. I’m a liar. I try to be good. I’m mean. I stand up for people who won’t stand up for themselves. But you probably don’t care about me. I’m just a one of a kind, utterly replaceable girl, who’s trying to change the world. I know one person can’t change the world, but I’m making a dent, one voice at a time. So do your part. Say what you think. Say what you feel. Make a dent, change the world.

Warmth.

2007-09-13T18:42:00.001-07:00

This is the beginning portion of the book I am in the process of writing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The crystal blue of the sea stretched out before her fingertips, reaching for the pristine nature of this place, she reached out into nothing. The scene faded and she found herself in total darkness. Just hte crashing of waves on the rocks for a slight moment, then nothing. Silence envelopes her. Silence. She always hated silence. Darkness is the very envelope that holds the very persona of her being. Life has gotten her down so many times, yet like the lioness she is, she's not going to take it sitting down. She doesn't plan on being told what to do. She plans on taking her life the opposite direction of those before her. A small speck of light shines through the dark & silence, she knew once the warmth from the stream of light, and yearns for it. The puzzle that is her life, is like broken pieces of colored glass, she just needs to put the final piece in the grand design. Those little shards of broken glass that have been broken over neglect for seventeen years can be replaced with a marvelous stained glass window. One which will allow for the inner light to warm even the coldest of days. Even if it's the hollow shell she's built herself, she will find warmth in the slightest touch. She can use the inner light if everything falls apart. The lonely candle in the wind falters a little, but stays lit, as saying "it's okay child, you can make it" She just wants to feel freedom and be loved by the person she has loved for the past three months. She wants her chance in the sun. She is me. I am her, reaching out, touching the beam of warm light on the shattered glass, trying not to get cut while making a masterpiece, while staring to the green eyes which hold the key to my freedom.

My Husband & I

Beautiful. Ramblings from last April.

2007-09-13T18:41:00.001-07:00

Something I have come to realize this past week is that we are all beautiful. Through all of our imperfections, we are all beautiful. Everything about us is beautiful. From our imperfections, to our talents, we have this amazing talent to be a beautiful being-inside and out-and we should consider ourselves lucky to have the things we have right now, because someone totally the same as us, doesn't have the things we have somewhere, it's guaranteed. I promise you. And when we are old, and crippled, people should want to come and visit us, because we have this wisdom that no one can quite comprehend-that's beautiful-Senior Citizens are beautiful. Orphans have no one but the people around them and other Orphans-they are beautiful because people should care enough to spend time with them, by doing things with them that they might not get the chance to do otherwise. Blind kids, handicapped kids, those with Mental problems, they are beautiful because they appreciate the little things, like a butterfly or raindrop. EVERYONE is beautiful. You just have to look below the surface-dig a little deeper. Trust me.

Love you guys,
Autumn Faith

A Letter I composed for a friend a while back.

2007-09-13T18:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend (i wonder sometimes, can i still say that?),

You know who you are. And so does anyone else that knows how much I adore you and hold in in high esteem. You probably won't even read this. But I recommend you do.

i don't know what's going on in your life anymore, so i can't pray for you about it. i just hope that asking for god to give you the strength is enough. is it enough?

I just wanted to say that it hurts that we have gone our separate ways. i've realized that you were the closest thing to a sister i'll ever receive-but you don't need a sister, you already have one. you don't need a friend, because you have plenty.

so maybe this is for the best, just know that i hurt so bad right now cause i know that we're not strong enough for each other anymore. and i miss your warmth and friendship...it hurts to have you stand right there sometimes and not say anything, not sharing a laugh, a tear, or a word other then "hey" and "bye" or "what song are we singing?"

know that i can't let anyone in (a female) to be as close as you allowed me to be to you-i can't tell anyone (that is a female friend) half the things we shared together.

but thank you for the good times, cause i'll still think of you as a sister-even if we aren't.

i'm just going to miss you is all, (and i hope that you like your wonderful candle...:])

and just because you aren't in high school anymore doesn't mean that you're too mature for me, (it doesn't mean that "old" people things are "old" people things, cause i'll be 18 in 52 days...and i realize my life is changing..) it just means work is a priority to you now. it doesn't mean you have to forget me, but i understand why you don't want to have me too close-but just know that i will always have a place for you in my heart.

thank you for the good times, kid.

autumn faith

Influences.

2007-09-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

Influences (Friends & Teachers)
When I was younger I always wondered if anyone was influenced by me, and my goal was to leave a legacy behind. Well, I don't want to leave anything behind but I want to leave a mark on everyone I meet, and by doing so, I know that a part of me will continue on-it's an amazing thing to smile to someone who needs it and then a few years later hear about that person doing something kind to another person and mention that they became not to shy because of a simple smile.

I'm currently reading a book by Oscar Wilde called The Picture of Dorian Gray and I love everything about it. It talks about how art is music and how music is expression, and expression is life and how without art and music our lives would be nothing, it also speaks about influences and leaving a part of you behind in the things you do and how those things live on for a long time and how beauty is appreciated by simply existing. How the secret to life is finding beauty in everything. And It got me thinking today-about all the people that have came into and out of my life since i was born. But most of all, it got me thinking about an area in my life from fifth grade to the present date.

In fifth grade, i didn't smile and I hated everyone. Everyone except a few friends-but there was a teacher who told me that I'd be beautiful if I smiled. And all year long she tried to get me to give a genuine smile. I wouldn't do it, I thought I couldn't do it. How could I be beautiful by simply smiling? I give her credit because she taught me something that I can't quite explain to you-her name was Mrs. Charmaine Roxanne Glassco. And I love her so much. She'd seen me since I was little and knew that I was capable of smiling because I did it in church-I passed fifth grade and she told me to stop in and see her every once in a while and to smile-cause it made her day better, more about her in a minute.

In sixth grade-the beginning of it-I didn't want to live. I hated myself and I think it's because bullying all my life. I had a group of friends who pressed me with their problems and seldom did I get a word in edge-wise. My teacher was Mrs. Kimberly Sue Wheeler-and god, I love that lady. My bus ran an alternate route that winter before i moved and she drove me home about 6 times. I learned a lot from this wonderful person whom I still visit occasionally and she brings me home when i visit her...I love her to death. She has a son who has down-syndrome and still she smiles and laughs and loves life-she's worked so hard and she loves kids. She gave me a present for christmas and told me if I ever needed anything I knew where to find her-more on Kim in a minute.

So, I moved to the hill-jack school in the middle of nowhere-and this was a turning point. The teachers I can list off that impacted me here-it's amazing...even a principal that no one liked-so I shall begin. The first day I met a girl-and she knows who she is. I loved laughing with her, watching british movies, eating chocolate chip cookie dough, playing the sims, writing, drinking big red, her teaching me the correct way to belch (which i still haven't mastered...). But she taught me that simple moments are the ones you'll miss in the years to come...more about her in a minute.

Ms. H-god, this lady is remarkable. She's such an amazing person that I can't say enough about-she taught me to never give up no matter how hard it is that if we set our minds to it-we can do anything. LIterature is a perfect expression of our souls-we can do anything as long as we use the correct words...and her favorite phrase was "Carpe diem." Which means, "Seize the day" how amazingly true. Enough about her-

Mamacita-was hilarious. She taught me we never have to really grow up and we should be ourselves above all. Variety is the spice of life...this lady had a rubber chicken above her head for christs sake...and she was a little unorthodox-but we all love her-that's just a random bit right there...i'm absolutely finished with her...

Now, I'm in High School and I met this girl my freshman year who is absolutely AMAZING. a little odd, but i still love her...you can read about her on my main profile...she's taught me so much and keeps teaching me more every day. She's my adopted sister, and her family pretty much claims me too...

Mr. B is my hero. He's the first male teacher I've ever gotten along with and he's so funny-god, I can't say enough about him, but he's influenced me that it's okay to be yourself and no one else can take that away as long as you search for something you love, "the truth is out there" and he calls me Peril...I'm insane-he's crazy. He's awesome, I just can't explain how much this man deserves to be nominated teacher of the year or something...he loves teaching-and he loves inspiring students to be their best no matter what.

I met a person my sophomore year in the Color Guard, and she's one of a kind. Laughs at everything-makes jokes, sings, is a family girl-and is a neat person. She made me not afraid to be myself. She acts like she doesn't care what people think and that's totally awesome. Enough has been said about her and I wish we could talk more and hang out again, but we both have lives and she knows how much she's influenced me and I know how I've influenced her-we've written this out.

Lately, I've been talking to a Mrs. Coats-and I find that this woman is absolutely amazing. She's just a great lady and I talk to her every single day-and she's I just can't explain. She is influencing me so much and making a difference in my life so much-I wish I could begin to describe-but I can't cause it's still in progress, maybe when all is said and done I'll explain it.

Mrs. Storms is new to BNL, and she's a principal. From the moment I met her I knew I would love her to death. And I do. She's such a sweet woman and she's wise and makes me have a good day when she sees me she says "hey sweetie, how're things going?" and I love that. She told me the moment we met she knew she would like me-I don't know how-but more later.
Last but not least, (oh no, train of thought de-railed...) haha...OH! Yeah...Last but not least, Mrs. Jeanne Brown. She was my first orchestra teacher. This woman-god, I love her. She believed that when I asked her if I could play a viola that I would be something great with it. She told me to keep playing and maybe someday I'd see her again-She retired when I was in the 7th grade-but the last time I saw her was at a contest-and she told me that I was something special to her-that I would be the student she remembers most of all-unfortunately, I'm not first chair anymore and I feel like I've let her down and she's not even around here anymore-but it's just that she taught me about music and how it's a passion and it consumes you and becomes your soul-I live by this and everytime I pick up my viola and bow i think of her. And though I want to quit-I can't because it would be quitting my passion.

Now, to explain things-I'm almost 5 months pregnant, and I've got a lot of time to read and think and laugh and write. and I love this time. The book I'm reading is currently in the talking about influences on people.

I visited Mrs. Glassco last time I was at Oolitic, and she told me she missed me and was glad to see me smile. She also seemed flabbergassed that I was a senior-she feels old now. Haha* Poor Roxanne.

I invited Kim to my reception (sorry I didn't get to invite everyone! I kept forgetting to send my invitations, so I verbally invited people-and I'm sorry if I forgot you!) and she told me she'd try to make it. God, when she said if I needed anything she meant it. When I opened the card, she had given Shane and I $100 to start our new life together...how amazing is that woman. I think she kinda adopted me as a daughter-haha*

My friend I met at SMS she thinks of me as a sister-and we've had our disagreements and such but we're trying to work things out-and she's even written about how I've influenced her-it's a two way street. Take things as they come to you-cause life is absolutely a curved road.
My friend I met freshman year-god, she told me she misses performing with me, and I miss performing with her, looking at the front of the line or behind me and smiling and winking before the show-our makeup all prettified...I don't know how exactly I've influenced her, but she told me I have-so I believe her.

Life is full of many influencing people-and they all inspire us to be better people-but we influence people too-and if we all work together we can achieve something that a movie was made into a few years ago, the movie was Pay It Forward which means if you can't return a good deed, pass it on. So, by merely existing in life we make a difference whether or not we realize it-and it's my only wish that when I am old and gray and the people older than me that have influenced me have died away that my influences live on in younger generations and that someone remembers me as a person who was always searching for that beautiful part of life that is beauty. If you get a chance to see the movie I just mentioned and read the book I'm reading, please do, you'll learn a lot about yourself and you'll discover that who you wanna be you already are. And that nothing is a coincidence-because everything is meant to be however it is.
If you've read this-I'm not depressed-I'm quite happy with my life and I love living every day to the fullest. I'm taking nothing for granted and I've found beauty in the simple sunrise, how colors change our perspectives and how simple things shouldn't be taken for granted...because in the words of Mrs. Coats, "The little things in life matter most." and she's absolutely right.

You have to appreciate who you are. There are more people who have influenced me, but I felt that I was writing a novel as it was. Maybe someday after I've lived a bit more, I shall write my autobiography-I'll probably never be famous and no one will read it-but it'll be there for people. After all, a writer is part of the world who shares with future generations the knowledge they have gained in all their characters-they put themselves in their work. LIke artists put themselves in paintings, and good musicians are the music while it lasts.

To you who have read this, I applaud you-you have just read through 50 minutes of writing. And I hope you know that you have probably influenced me too. Share what you know with other people-cause wisdom is passed down through the ages.

Until then, dream, live, laugh, love, smile, share, and keep safe.

And remember the words of Howie Day's song, Collide-"Even the best fall down sometimes."

With all my love,An Enlightened Faith

Introduction. Just to tell you who I am-(from forever ago)

2007-09-13T18:34:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Autumn Faith Staggs. I was formerly Autumn Faith Luttrell, but on August 17th, 2006 I got married to the love of my life, my soulmate-Jeffery Shane Staggs. This is who I am.

I grew up an only child of William & Dana Luttrell. Apparently I was the "Hope" of the luttrell family, but i only ever felt like I was a burden on those two people. When I was 5 years old I got ready for school by myself and i came home only to be by myself for 2 more hours. One time I went home with the bus driver because she couldn't leave me there alone, I didn't tell her I was there every day by myself. Sure, my mother would come home long enough to make sure that someone was there and then she'd leave and go back to work. I grew up at Wal-Mart from age 6-8. After school I'd go to work with my mom and sit up in the lounge until my father came and got me.

I lost my best friend in a car accident when I was going to the first grade, she was going to be a second-grader...I saw the whole thing happen before my eyes and everytime I cross that intersection I pray to god that a drunk driver doesn't plow into the vehicle like he did hers.

At the age of 11 I was in the fifth grade, I became depressed because the other children were picking on me because all my clothes were second-hand and when I went home I hardly had any food in the cabinets as was. So when I went to school I never wanted to eat anything. I formed anorexia as just a fifth grader and I always found an excuse not to eat when I was out with friends or at home with my parents.

When I turned 12 I started the 6th grade at Oolitic and I had this awesome teacher who went out of her way to make sure I ate or that I had clothes. Mainly because she herself never had a daughter she kinda adopted me as one and bought me some clothes for Christmas. I had to leave her class at half year because we lost the house due to repossession but we evaded it by selling the house and renting a small two bedroom trailer other than living in the five bedroom house we use to live in.

At this middle school I participated in all sorts of activities so I wouldn't have to be at home all the time. I began eating a little bit but I was bulimic at that point-and I use to cut myself because it felt better than the pain I use to feel in my heart and emotions wise. It wasn't an "emo" thing because emo didn't exist yet, I was the real deal. The true disease. I was on the basketball team, volleyball team, academic team, yearbook staff, and about ten billion other clubs just so I had stuff to do and didn't stay at home all the time.

I entered high School but was forced to see a counselor because Dana found all my shit online and got pissed and worried about me, so after 14 years of being invisible or feeling invisible, she finally noticed me. Big whoop. From then on I would survive under someone who never trusted me because of my personal problems. I did think about suicide but I was afraid of Hell. I wasn't afraid of death I must've OD'd about a thousand times but it never killed me, it was like I was immune to the shit i was taking. I didn't really do much except church my first year of high school and I met this one girl in Algebra who is now my best friend-hell, she's my sister. My older sister and yet we're almost the same age-only she's 19. And I'm 18.

She got me involved in Marching Band and for once I belonged somewhere. Without a person in their spot in Marching Band it looks like shit, and I was needed there otherwise there'd be a hole. I was also in Science club and gradually I began to feel better about myself and i found a group of friends who I had something in common with, people I could be real with. Orchestra concerts didn't mean as much to me anymore because my parents never came and I felt like the only person I was playing for was Mrs. Brown, however, I found I was truly playing for myself after freshman year. My parents never came to my Marching Band competitions and personally, I loved it. Marching Band once more helped me get away from home and I forgot about everything.

I met Shane through a mutual friend, and we began talking last January-we started dating in February and we both knew as soon as we met that we're each other's last. Everything was perfect the moment we first kissed and it was like the stars were aligning, which technically, we share a birthday only we're 4 years apart. He had liked me since my freshman year and it was his senior year-we knew we wanted to get married after I finished my senior year.

In July of this year 2006, I got in a fight with my mother, I was sick and wanted to stay at home since it wasn't required I go to the picnic that was being held for Guard families and she argued saying I just wanted to stay home so I could talk to shane, however little truth that had in it, I was really feeling not that good and I didn't want to go because I felt like I was going to be sick. She got up off the couch and i SWEAR she raised her hand to hit me like she had done before, and me, feeling threatened hit her in the face. I was going to be done with that one punch, but she came after me more when I turned to head to my room, so I felt that if she didn't get the message and wanted more, I would give her more-anyone who knew our relationship would know that I am the type that gives warnings and then I snap. She kept coming back so I kept defending-and trying to get away. She finally stopped when my father stepped in and she called the cops.

He then told me I had a hell of a right hook.

I'd never hit anyone in my life.

I am on probation until May.

I don't talk to them anymore, they're dead to me. If they cared they wouldn't have forced me to do anything I didn't want to do while not feeling good. However, I did hit her and leave a mark. But I figure hers faded, my emotional scars from growing up and being called names will always be there.

Sometimes I call myself a bitch because it's what I was told growing up.

Sometimes I think I'm stupid because people use to call me stupid and tell me I would never amount to anything.

I turned 18 on August 6th. It was on this day that I took a home pregnancy test after realizing that I didn't have a period in July. It should've happened during band camp. ANd it came out positive. Yeah, happy birthday faith.

I told shane later that night.

We decided that for the sake of the baby, we would get married after I turned 18. Speed up the process so the baby would have the last name of its father.

So, I got married on the 17th of August. And became Autumn Faith Staggs. If you still call me luttrell, go to hell-(so call me staggs...it's okay. or just call me autumn faith like always.)

I am graduating on the 21st of December. Yep, I made it. I still have a scholarship and I've been accepted at Oakland City University to begin college. Amazing, I'm totally accomplishing my dreams. It's a boy.

His name will be Lucian Amadeus Staggs. He's due the 30th of March, 2007.

This is who I am, a wife, a mother, and a soon-to-be graduate. I love music, my husband, my son, and my friends who've been there all along. Not in that order-but you get the picture.

Hello world, this is me

All Your Life-Old Poetry.

2007-09-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

All Your Life

All of your life,
You’ve worked for a change,
You’ve dealt with heartache, hunger, and pain.

All of your life,
you’ve labored for a living,
Watching your children grow and leave.

All of your life,
You’ve worked for a while,
Watching all of your fingers blister and bleed.

All of your life you’ve been let down,
Yet you push forward,
With your feet on the ground.

All of your life,
You’ve been hurrying around going no where fast,
Until that morning you woke up, tired of wasting gas.

All of your life,
You’ve wanted to shine,
So you stand in the sun with your head held high.

All of your life,
You’ve dreamed big dreams,
And to achieve them you’ve avoided all evil schemes.

All of your life,
You’ve made many friends,
Faithful and true, they’ll be with you until the end.

All of your life,
You’ve been running fast,
Hoping to finish in first instead of last.

All of your life,
You’ve been the competitive sort,
You’ve won first place in almost every sport.

All of your life,
You’ve wondered what’s beyond the stars
And you’ve vowed to discover planetary secrets from afar.

All of your life,
You’ve seemingly pushed forward,
Change if you wish-but keep on pushing the next generation forward.