A Dream about You (well alot of you)

So I'm going to tell you about a little dream of mine because a lot of people from homelink and Mrs. Musick's class are in it. Just to be clear this was a dream so what ever happened is in it is not real and should not be judged with on the people in it because I'll say right now not many of you are the good guys in this dream. O and one more thing to be clear on is that I most probably will not spell your name right. Let me begin,

We (everyone) are all going on a camping trip to a forest/ fun park. We huddle around a campfire burning marshmallows and listening to Keven Hirsh tell a harrowing story about a house, a ghost, and a potato. After we had scared and warmed ourselves, we run to this gigantic play castle with moats, ladders, rock climbing walls, slides, and cannons. I start climbing the wall when Joel Brown kicks me, and I fall on top of David Tate. Scrambling after Joel Brown, I make it up the wall. When I pull my self over the top, Brianna trys to push me down again by tackling me but I dodge and accidentally trip Kelli Clark, who falls down the wall and again on David Tate who falls on Tim Segrist. When we are done having our fun, we all gather together and are directed to do some parent game. As the parents are ordering us, I see Matt Segrist and Laurel Bader sneak off. I, curious, slink after them. Going through a small forest, we arrive at these big doors. While we are walking, I find out that Matt and Laurel are dating. Laurel get made at me because she thinks I am trying to steal Matt from her and she starts trying to throw me into the black lake. OK, so the lake was behind the door and after we opened them that's when she started trying to kill me. Sprinting, I try to out run Laural but she's getting closer. I try to climb a cliff to get away from her but I can't; now she has my foot. I turn around and push her off the ridge and into the water. Matt didn't link this. Now he's chasing me. I run out of the room and through the wood till I get back to our camp and find people. I run up to Hannah Musick, Stephine Steen, Staci Pitts, Brittany Pitts, Kelli Clark, Brianna Hall, Lindsey Jessop, and Christina Lawson and beg for help. I tell them that Matt's right behind me. I hear him coming so I run out of the room and make a circle to try to hear what he is saying to the group of girls. I leaves and I run back to them but apparently Matt had told them we were dating which made them all jealose so now they try to kill me. Hannah starts making a wooden pole to burn me on because now I'm a witch while Stephine and the rest of the girls pile on me and hold me down. I manage to free my hand and punch Stephine and tackle Hannah. While I barge through the rest of the girls I run upstairs to get away from the girls now. When I get upstairs I try to tell what happened to me and that I'm being chased to all the parents that are sitting together but Josiah Vandermaas tells the parents that I'm lying. Josiah convinces them which makes me think he was in on the plan with Matt. Anyway... that's where I wake up.

Yeah so I didn't proof read it at all so yeah.

Sleepover

The white door stared playfully at me as I tickled its bellybutton and it giggled a high-pitched ding-dong. Swinging open, the door framed the faces of four excited girls. We tumbled up the stairs and into a secluded living room where a TV held the attention of  three reclining chairs and a beanbag, facing the plasma screen with dignity despite small amounts of dog hair sprinkled on their brown-flowered exterior. A parade of movies were strewn on the ground and a friend asked my option on a movie. Stupidly considering I was amid a huddle of girls, I admit I had never seen legally blonde. I am immediately punished for this crime for an hour and a while, watching scenes of pink followed by scenes of brighter pink, but if I knew the movies yet to come I would have rejoiced at this movie. Next movie to be inserted in the blue ray player is Mall cop (I was not happy about this). After four hours of sleep and sharing a small couch with two a hundred pound dogs, I was awaken at seven-thirty by one girl questioning another if I was asleep. Muttering nearly incoherently, I reminded them of the threat I mad last night if anyone woke me before ten I would seriously injury them. This threat however, only became less menacing when one of the hippo dogs leaped off my legs and began slobbering kisses on my nose and mouth. Needless to say... the dog was seriously injured.

Blogs and Winter

So I have to say I'm not really getting into this blogging stuff. I mean some people are writing blogs for fun and finding pictures that further their meaning. I wonder if blogging is one of those things that the more you write the more you are addicted to writing blogs you become. Maybe I just haven't been infected with blogging-itis yet. OK, I'll try writing about something I do like. I like snow. The warmth of my body spreads to my clothing while I sled. Finding a target, running sloppily toward my victim, I enjoy tackling my friends in the floury snow. I love snowboarding even more than sledding, keeping my balance, racing sledders, dodging young kids and aiming for bigger ones. I love wearing fat boots that claim they are water proof but in actuality are designed for allowing friends to shove fists of snow by my shivering toes. After a day of successful foolery, leaning towards a chattering fire so it can envelop my face with smoldering kisses, I steal my father's fluffy wool socks and hid the crime beneath the disguise of frayed slippers. I love the season. I guess these blogs can be a little fun if you enjoy what your writing about.

Description, Discription, Description

So I wrote this over the week for a class. It's just a portion of the paper.

 Various trees bow to make a dome over me and frame the single spot of visible sky: a train of clouds with white steam puffing from the engine and a gliding hawk for the conductor. Agitating the glittering elm above me, a frisky breeze sets the tree aquiver, spooks the drowsy leaves, and jostles the arthritic branches. The scent of a peculiar lichen that grows on broken rocks cruises aimlessly on the whims of this playful wind. I close my eyes and let the garden shock my senses.

A blue jay sings to his mate; his twittering fills the air with a pleasant melody. Sailing by my ear, a lone bee hums a tune in harmony with the buzzing of his wings. He moves from clover to clover with a steadiness in his work; he seems aware of only the sweet nectar he is extracting and the notes to his song.  Hopping on my arm, two crickets gossip in soft chirps. Eyes flickering open, I feel a ladybug waltzing across the smooth white floor of my forehead; my skin tingles with her gentle dancing. Rising from my peaceful meditation, I continue my stroll along the snaking path.

Whoa, This is Big.

I'm an aunt. Just as the last of the sun's fingertips were disappearing beneath the overwhelming darkness, my father walked up to my mother and I while practicing volleyball. A strange look twisted his face. Talking to my mother he says,
"So, how do you feel about being a grandmother."
Initially the words are incomprehensible. Then quickly my mother and I, simultaneous, understand the foreign words. Shocked, I look at my father with a truely silly grin and ask,
"Jingwan is pregnant."
My father nods. Vito, my oldest brother, a month ago married Jingwan, a former college mate. In our front yard the wedding was intensely hot and beautiful. My mother planted blooming flowers around the aisle and the wedding arc. After a few days, the couple spent a two week honeymoon in Tuscany, Italy. Having returned to their home in Baltimore, Vito called my dad with the shaking news. The first thought that flashed through my head is I'm a sixteen-year-old aunt. My shock and uncertainty about this news was little compared to my brothers and Jingwans questions. I punched the volleyball through the air for a couple more minutes but didn't notice when the ball skewed. I'm a sixteen-year-old aunt. Within minutes I decide I'm going to be the cool aunt.

A Thousand Questions With One Answer.

I stared a head,
Eyes held, I forgot.
Then the splash,
It stirs, it distorts:
Disorder.
Clear then obscure
A funeral, a celebration,
cry or laugh,
both are choked.
I cling now,
Should I push on.
Hesitation.
They mean so much.
Go to far and can't return.
I want to stay,
Terrified to lose.
Confusion.
What matters, what will I regret.
I search her eyes,
Her decision in her tears,
To close to ever release.
Are we the same.
Will I shine dim,
Or the dark my life.
Are the two, one.
They mean so much.
Holding, submurging,
I freeze but it does not.
Are they my search,
I wont let go, but do I wait.
He will be alone,
Do I stay for him,
Or more for myself.
The other is near,
Resolved: locked.
So easy, so tempting but is it fear.
Uncertainty.
They mean so much.

Blog about Writing.

 Write about writing

I love to write sometimes and other times it is just a chore that I try to be creative with but hate the words that I force myself to write. I have only a couple times actually enjoyed what I write about and when I do it is more addicting than a good TV show premiere. I love reading good writing though, especially short stories. Steinbeck is probably if not my favorite writer. Short, crisp, and descriptive, his writing is exactly how I want to write. I have been kind of pushed at writing by I'm not really sure who. I like to write but I think people think I want to be a writer and they try to encourage me towards it. I don't know how much writing I see in my future. I have never wanted to write a book or publish any works like some kids in kindergarten swear they are going to do before they are twenty. When I was five and six when my mother would tell us all to free right all I would write was how much I hate writing. I go back and forth with the subject. Maybe I'm not infatuated with it because this semester I have had to write a paper every single week and will continue to do so until December for the English class I am taking at a College. This week I have to write a definition paper. How could I get excited about writing that. On the flip side I really do like to write. I like to describe objects and land. I've have never been too interested in describing people though. Inserting pictures in my mind with words is very exciting. Slowly as I begin to understand punctuations and structure it because easier and more enjoyable. When I get involved with a piece I'm interested in it renews my interest in writing and reminds me of how much I like it. I guess I'm even enjoying writing this blog. It's hard to say. Maybe it has been so long since I actually wrote something I want to write that I've become less interested in the topic. I just have to dive into the flow of it again and find the fun of writing again.
Mary