tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39362628703715199492024-03-05T18:23:03.753-08:00Brave New VoicesIf you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never get it. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. If you don’t step forward, you’re always in the same place.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-52557795904144680992010-07-06T15:33:00.000-07:002010-07-06T15:34:00.449-07:00(Last take) From You To Me.When it comes down to it, my mother and I are very much alike. Physically, we have the same facial features, blue eyes and a rounded face. We proudly wear well polished noses that fit our delicate faces and broad cheekbones. Though we have completely different hair colors and our body figures aren’t much the same, mine being that of a taller athlete and her a beautiful stay-at-home mom several inches shorter than me, she has given me her genes and I am a carbon copy of what her and my father have provided for me. In reality, we have the same political views, the same tastes in music, and if she were my age, she would probably be my other half. If anything, my mother is my best friend, and that phrase sounds a little cliché, but there’s no other way to say it.<br />In many ways we have the same interests and dreams. We both see the world in the same way; we take things into our own hands by going after what we want. I chase my dreams and I’m what she’s always wanted, the college student living the college life wanting to study abroad and become a doctor. She’s a woman whose dream was to become a mother and be in a loving marriage. This is where we differ, though, because my desire is not to be a mother right away, and marriage will happen much later in my life. She is a well brought up middle-class woman who has had a pretty fulfilled life. She’s happily married and very much in love with five children who adore her. In this way, my mother lived out her life’s dream, where as I am only beginning my journey. I’ve learned my morals and beliefs from my mom. She set the standard and I followed suit. She taught me to think highly of myself and where I should be placed in modern society, working hard for my place. She’s showed me how to have an open heart. I’ve never known prejudice; I’ve always accepted people for who they are and given second chances.<br />Both of my parents have given me the freedom to believe what I like, even though they didn’t teach me to believe in organized religion, together they have taught me to hold my head high and own up to my opinions. I was raised in knowing I could believe anything I wanted, but in reality, both of my parents are atheists, so it was a little hard to find my own faith. Through a long journey of searching with the help of my mom and my aunt, I figured out that it was not required of me to see things any certain way, and that I wasn’t being forced to have an organized religion. My relationship in what I believe is personal and I don’t have to have other people telling me what I should or should not believe.<br />A specific thing that I’ve always noticed about my mom is her voice. She has this voice that just sounds like a mother’s voice, when I hear her I know everything is going to be okay. I specifically remember one time when I was bawling because I was so upset. I had gotten a bad grade and everyone was telling me that it wasn’t the end of the world, that one bad grade wasn’t going to wreck everything. But in my eyes, it was. I came home and confessed to my mom about how it was going to ruin everything I had been working toward. She looked me in the eyes and told me, “We’ll deal with it.” That’s all it took, those four simple words to make me feel like everything was going to work out just fine. She gives me the sort of comfort I can’t get anywhere else. Her vibe, her presence, is all I need to reassure myself that it isn’t the end of the world, no matter how horrible things seem.<br />Over time, my mother has helped me discover many things, but I’ve always been able to speak my thoughts around her. She gives me the insight of forty-something years of experience when the sixteen years of my youth are not enough. She’s sacrificed everything in order for me to have a good life. When I was younger, I didn’t really realize just how much she had given up for these sacrifices to be worth while. She pushed me when I hated her for it, and now I look back and see how much it was all worth it. I’m something like the “good child,” I guess, because I’m that sort of child every parent wishes they had. Now, I’m not trying to be conceited, I’m just telling it the way I see it. I’ve never done anything bad in my life, and for the few small things I ever did that was serious enough to have consequences, I never once took them for granted. I get the good grades and join all the right clubs so that I will have the chance to get accepted into one of the premier Universities of the world. I’ve worked hard for this privilege, this opportunity to be something great, and this desire is entirely my mother’s doing.<br />My mother is an amazing person, she is like no one I’ve ever met before and she supports me in everything I do. If I want to dance, she opens the doors in order for me to be able to do so. If I want to audition for a play, she encourages me that she can’t wait to see me on stage. If I want to join a sport or pick up an instrument she says to me, “Let’s do it.” And every single time I’ve quit, or become sick of my newfound passion, she tells me that next time, whatever I decide to do, will be perfect for me. She assures me that I don’t have to find my passion right this second, because I have years ahead of me full of opportunity. Over time, we’ve become closer and out of anyone in the world, my mom would be the first person I would call if anything major happened in my life. She’s become the “we” in my life. When I talk about going to college, or moving to a different country, or starting something new, it’s always “we,” like I couldn’t do anything if it weren’t for her. This is mostly true. I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish what I have today if it weren’t for her support.<br />When I was younger, we would take road trips to Iowa where my grandma lived. I remember one year when she was driving at four in the morning, and everyone else was asleep, and with a car full of four kids and only one adult, it was a miracle. I woke up and we pulled over by the side of the road in Colorado, I think somewhere outside of Denver. The sun was just coming up and all of a sudden, all this fog was surrounding the trees and coming up over the hills. We tried to take pictures, but none of them did the experience any justice. So we stepped out of the stuffy car, and sat on the hood of the minivan, taking in the incredible smells and mist all around us. We didn’t say much; we’re like that sometimes. We don’t need words to ruin a beautiful experience. We both knew that this was the sort of thing only she and I would share, because everyone else was asleep. It was probably one of the moments that moved us closer, because it was just for us, and we were the only ones there. We got back in the car and continued to drive, not saying much and remembering the moment with these goofy broad smiles across our faces. That’s who we are; we enjoy beauty.<br />My mother has a heart of gold. She takes whatever I throw at her in great stride, and she doesn’t get sick of me. I have this perception of myself that is always completely terrified everyone is always going to get sick of me at one time or another, and for some reason I don’t have that void with my mom. I mean granted, she’s my mom, but she’s the person who’s closest to me; and she doesn’t feel like a parental unit, because she’s my friend, not my mother. Well, she is my mother, but not in the sense you think when you use the word “mother.” When I was younger, I thought being best friends with your mom was dorky; that I would never be that close to my mom. Now, I don’t think of it like that. I introduce her to new music that I enjoy, most of it being the music most teenagers are “into” in this modern age, but she loves it. We share television shows that we squeal over when we watch them, and I give her books I swear she just HAS to read. Everything we do relates to each other, and I never pass up a moment to call her and tell her about my day. She’s the definition of “best friend.”Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-53115839941008282372010-06-18T13:18:00.001-07:002010-06-18T13:18:15.623-07:00Our SummerCarolyn Hancock<br />6/16/10<br /><br />My image is such a vivid one. My memory brings me back to a time when I felt an innocence that I hadn’t felt in an extremely long time. My best friend, something of a savior, was who made me, me. Heather, the best friend I speak about, and when I say best friend I mean the person I could spend weeks at a time with and never get sick of her, were together after school like we were every Friday. We were sitting in my room the day of my sister’s graduation when it started pouring rain outside, just all of a sudden. Something so beautiful, something we’d been waiting for. Listen, to the sound of it, the pounding that sounded on the roof, the light sounds it made while hitting the trees and the earth beneath the plants. The smell it gave, cooling everything down from a hot summer day. Heather looked me in the eyes, and we both grinned from ear to ear. Though lightning had started and the thunder was monstrous, we walked down the stairs hand in hand, and into the light pouring rain.<br />It was the first monsoon of the season. And I suppose you couldn’t even really call it a monsoon, because it was only the end of May, but it was our first rain on a summer day after a long hard winter. Heather and I were always able to somehow read each other’s minds; I always knew what she was thinking. We automatically walked onto the dirt path leading to the enormous swing set I owned and we sat. We sat, and then we started to swing. It seemed as if nothing in the world existed except us, the rain, and those swings. We swung until we felt like we couldn’t see the ground, laughing and throwing our heads back to feel the cool and wetness the rain brought upon our faces. <br />We were like this until our clothes clung to our skin and our hair was soaked through. We let the water seep into our skin and felt as though it would wet us to the bones. We didn’t talk about how life was or what we were worried about, because we didn’t have to. From all the swinging and dancing in the rain, twirling like there was no tomorrow, we found a sense of innocence. We found how we wanted to be always, and how we were going to make our summer feel like. Summer had always been our season where we would spend weeks at a time together, doing anything we felt like doing. But it was that moment, that small, insignificant moment that made us realize how much these tiny little memories were things we needed to hold on to forever. They were what connected us and allowed us to be so close for so long.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-89919689226898398442010-06-15T11:57:00.001-07:002010-06-15T12:23:00.020-07:00My Mother, TAKE TWOWhen it comes down to it, my mother and I are very much alike. Physically, we have the same facial features, blue eyes and a rounded face. We proudly wear well polished noses that fit out delicate faces and broad cheekbones. Though we have completely different hair colors and our body figures aren’t much the same, mine being that of a taller athlete and her a shorter, thinner version of a housewife, she has given me her genes and I am a carbon copy of what her and my father have provided for me. In reality, we have the same political views, the same tastes in music, and if she were my age, she would probably be my other half. If anything, my mother is my best friend, and that phrase sounds a little cliché, but there’s no other way to say it.<br />In many ways we have the same interests and dreams. I’m what she’s always wanted, the college student living the college life wanting to study abroad and become a doctor. She’s a woman whose dream was to become a mother and be in a loving marriage. This is where we differ, though, because my desire is not to be a mother, and marriage will happen much later in my life. She is a well brought up middle class woman who has had a pretty fulfilled life. She’s happily married and very much in love with five children who adore her. In this way, my mother lived out her life’s dream, where as I am only beginning my journey. I’ve learned my morals and beliefs from my mom. She set the standard and I followed suit. She taught me to think highly of myself and where I should be placed in modern society, working hard for my place. Both of my parents have given me the freedom to believe what I like, even though they didn’t teach me to believe in organized religion, together they have taught me to hold my head high and own up to my opinions. <br />A specific thing that I’ve always noticed about my mom is her voice. She has this voice that just sounds like a mother’s voice, when I hear her I know everything is going to be okay. I specifically remember one time when I was bawling because I was so upset. I had gotten a bad grade and everyone was telling me that it wasn’t the end of the world, that one bad grade wasn’t going to wreck everything. But in my eyes, it was. I came home and confessed to my mom about how it was going to ruin everything I had been working toward. She looked me in the eyes and told me, “We’ll deal with it.” That’s all it took, those four simple words to make me feel like everything was going to work out just fine. She gives me the sort of comfort I can’t get anywhere else. Her vibe, her presence, is all I need to reassure myself that it isn’t the end of the world, no matter how horrible things seem.<br />Over time, my mother has helped me discover many things, but I’ve always been able to speak my thoughts around her. She gives me the insight of forty-something years of experience when the sixteen years of my youth are not enough. She’s sacrificed everything in order for me to have a good life. When I was younger, I didn’t really realize just how much she had given up for these sacrifices to be worth while. She pushed me when I hated her for it, and now I look back and see how much it was all worth it. I’m something like the “good child,” I guess, because I’m that sort of child every parent wishes they had. Now, I’m not trying to be conceited, I’m just telling it the way I see it. I’ve never done anything bad in my life, and for the few small things I ever did that was serious enough to have consequences, I never once took them for granted. I get the good grades and join all the right clubs so that I will have the chance to get accepted into one of the premier Universities of the world. I’ve worked hard for this privilege, this opportunity to be something great, and this desire is entirely my mother’s doing. <br />My mother is an amazing person, she is like no one I’ve ever met before and she supports me in everything I do. If I want to dance, she opens the doors in order for me to be able to do so. If I want to audition for a play, she encourages me that she can’t wait to see me on stage. If I want to join a sport or pick up an instrument she says to me, “Let’s do it.” And every single time I’ve quit, or become sick of my newfound passion, she tells me that next time, whatever I decide to do, will be perfect for me. She assures me that I don’t have to find my passion right this second, because I have years ahead of me full of opportunity. Over time, we’ve become closer and out of anyone in the world, my mom would be the first person I would call if anything major happened in my life. She’s become the “we” in my life. When I talk about going to college, or moving to a different country, or starting something new, it’s always “we,” like I couldn’t do anything if it weren’t for her. This is mostly true. I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish what I have today if it weren’t for her support. <br />My mother has a heart of gold. She takes whatever I throw at her in great stride, and she doesn’t get sick of me. I have this perception of myself that is always completely terrified everyone is always going to get sick of me at one time or another, and for some reason I don’t have that void with my mom. I mean granted, she’s my mom, but she’s the person who’s closest to me; and she doesn’t feel like a parental unit, because she’s my friend, not my mother. Well, she is my mother, but not in the sense you think when you use the word “mother.” When I was younger, I thought being best friends with your mom was dorky, and that I would never be that close to my mom. I look back on my attitude about it now and I just laugh because I couldn’t ever think of our relationship being any better. She’s truly the definition of “best friend.”Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-29039233849650580662010-06-15T01:53:00.000-07:002010-06-15T01:54:07.526-07:00Early Beginnings<span style="font-weight: bold;">IN GOOD HANDS</span><br />Safety is achieved when I am with my grandparents. There is no way to explain the feeling I get when I wake up on a Saturday morning in the room I have claimed as my own when I stay at their home. That’s what it is, a home, not a house. The level of comfort and security I have when I am there is overwhelming. Not once do I think of the things going on at home, or of some terrifying experience happening when I am there. In no way do I feel as though I am in the line of harm. They are my safety nets, my grandparents. They are the anchors of my sailboat. I move along at alarming speeds and just when I am about to spin out of control, they pull me back and assure that no harm has been done to me.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">WORST CHILDHOOD NIGHTMARE</span><br />When I think about it, my worst fear when I was small was losing my mom. I remember one time I was waiting after school for my mom to come pick me up after orchestra class, and she never showed up. I was terrified that she had forgotten about me, and I didn’t know what to do. So as fast as my little legs could carry me, I made my way up to my fifth grade teacher’s classroom and frantically asked her to call my mom. From there, everything turned out to be okay. She talked to my mother and when she hung up, she told me something about our car breaking down and that she was on her way to come get me. I knew everything was fine, but in those fifteen minutes when I was terrified my mother would never come get me, I thought I was going to be lost forever. I never would have thought that a single, insignificant occurrence could impact how I would watch out for myself always.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-31451910720769201682010-06-15T01:52:00.000-07:002010-06-15T01:53:06.213-07:00Cool Like That (our one act, or rather five minute play)Cool Like That<br />ACT ONE:<br />Harold Rogers- the old man<br />Hillary Rogers- Harold’s wife<br />Timothy Peters- “hip” kid<br /><br />[Opens with clear stage, Harold standing in middle of stage looking towards the audience]<br />HAROLD: The other day I got a phone call from my son who lives in Louisiana. He had just received a letter in the mail that I had sent him. The week before, I had bought a lap computer, and I was so proud of myself for finally figuring out how to send an electronic correspondence to my son Chester. After typing up my message to him, printing it out, putting it in an envelope, and mailing it, Chester informs me that the letter I had sent him was not in fact, an email (which is apparently the name for an electronic correspondence). I wasted all this money on my lap computer, a printer, an envelope and a stamp. This was the day I realized I needed to make a major change into becoming “hip,” as they say on that music television channel.<br />[LIGHTS OUT]<br /><br />[Lights come up and Timothy is sitting on his bed, the stage is now his bedroom.]<br />TIMOTHY: [Timothy is looking in the mirror checking himself out when the phone rings, he answers phone] Hey Sam, what’s up bro? Yeah me too. Not much, just got back from football practice, it was super intense because of the big game this Friday. Oh man, hang on a sec, I just got a text. [Checks phone] Oh, it was just some chick. So I’ll see you at 6, but I might be a little late because I have to go mow the lawn for Mr. Rogers- [laughs] old man Rogers. Alright, peace. <br />[LIGHTS OUT]<br />[Lights come up and Timothy is mowing the lawn, gets a text message- checks phone. Harold shuffles out and goes to the edge of the stage, winks to the audience, sits in a lawn chair.]<br />TIMOTHY: [Goes to Mr. Rogers to get his pay for lawn mowing.] How ya doin’ Mr. Rogers?<br />HAROLD: Oh hello young man. I’m doing alright. I got a lap computer a few days ago and I’m still trying to figure it out. [searches pockets, hands Timothy the money]<br />TIMOTHY: Thanks for the dough Mr. Rogers.<br />HAROLD: Dough?<br />TIMOTHY: Oh, I meant money.<br />HAROLD: [takes out pad of paper, writes on it. Timothy gives him a strange look. Waves] Goodbye Timothy!<br />[Timothy waves and walks away]<br />HAROLD: This is when I realized Timothy could be my connection to the “hip” new world. It was then that I decided I would watch Timothy and pay close attention to how the youngsters live.<br />Lights down.<br />Lights up on Harold and Hilary eating dinner at their dinning table. Hilary is drunk. Harold is not really paying attention, and his mind is wandering. <br />HILARY: Harold, is something wrong?<br />HAROLD: Do you think we’re old?<br />HILARY: [holding a wine glass, slurring her words.] Of course we’re not old—I’m drinking in the afternoon! After all, it may be 3 o’clock here, but it’s 5 o’clock somewhere!<br />HAROLD: Seriously, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I wish I were young and cool again.<br />HILARY: You’re cool to me, deary!<br />HAROLD: I’ve been watching Timothy,<br />HILARY: The attractive boy who mows the lawn?<br />HAROLD: and I think I can take a cue from him. He really seems to know his stuff!<br />HILARY: Well, do whatever you want dear. [takes another swig of wine] <br />HAROLD: [thinks hard for a moment, then gets up and rushes to the other side of the stage to his computer. Hilary blankly watches him. He types for a few seconds, then practices reading aloud what he has on the screen. Stands, and awkwardly recites what he sees.] “Yo, dawg….I LOL at what…you be saying…” Hey, this isn’t too hard! [lights slowly fade down] “I can…dig it, yeah…I can dig it, word!”<br />Lights down.<br />Lights up on Timothy mowing the lawn again, with Harold sitting in his usual lawn chair. Harold “tries out” gang signs while watching his hands. He looks really awkward and is unclear what he is doing. Timothy notices, and stops mowing the lawn, looking up.<br />TIMOTHY: What are you doing, Mr. Rogers?<br />HAROLD: [caught off guard] Oh, nothing… [Timothy goes back to mowing. Harold pauses then looks back up.] Hey, dawg, what up…dude?<br />TIMOTHY: [surprised, stops mowing and looks back up.] Excuse me?<br />HAROLD: I mean, can you dig it, word?<br />TIMOTHY: Uhh…yeah, Mr. Rogers. You really know your stuff.<br />[Harold smiles to himself. Lights fade down on Harold smiling.]<br />Lights up on Harold, center stage.<br />HAROLD: After displaying my cool new language that’s hip to the youngsters of today, I decided to email [said with pride in knowing how to say it correctly] my son Chester again. And this time, I typed it up and pressed “send” instead of printing it out. Yeah, I guess you could say I’m pretty hip now. Word.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-37348726245939629092010-06-10T11:28:00.001-07:002010-06-10T11:28:53.962-07:00My MotherWhen it comes down to it, my mother and I are very much alike. Physically, we have the same facial features, blue eyes and a rounded face. We proudly wear well polished noses that fit out delicate faces and broad cheekbones. Though we have completely different hair colors and our body figures aren’t much the same, mine being that of a taller athlete and her a shorter, thinner version of a housewife, she has given me her genes and I am a carbon copy of what her and my father have provided for me. In reality, we have the same political views, the same tastes in music, and if she were my age, she would probably be my other half. She has this voice that just sounds like a mother’s voice, when I hear her I know everything is going to be okay. She gives me the sort of comfort I can’t get anywhere else. If anything, my mother is my best friend, and that phrase sounds a little cliché, but there’s no other way to say it. <br />In many ways we have the same interests and dreams. I’m what she’s always wanted, the college student living the college life wanting to study abroad and become a doctor. She’s a woman whose dream was to become a mother and be in a loving marriage. This is where we differ, though, because my desire is not to be a mother, and marriage will happen much later in my life. She is a well brought up middle class woman who has had a pretty fulfilled life. She’s happily married and very much in love with five children who adore her. In this way, my mother lived out her life’s dream, where as I am only beginning my journey. I’ve learned my morals and beliefs from my mom. She set the standard and I followed suit. She taught me to think highly of myself and where I should be placed in modern society, working hard for my place. Both of my parents have given me the freedom to believe what I like, even though they didn’t teach me to believe in organized religion, together they have taught me to hold my head high and own up to my opinions. <br />Over time, my mother has helped me discover many things, but I’ve always been able to speak my thoughts around her. She gives me the insight of forty-something years of experience when the sixteen years of my youth are not enough. She’s sacrificed everything in order for me to have a good life. When I was younger, I didn’t really realize just how much she had given up for these sacrifices to be worth while. She pushed me when I hated her for it, and now I look back and see how much it was all worth it. Compared to my sister, I’m something like the “good child.” I get the good grades and join all the right clubs so that I will have the chance to get accepted into one of the premier Universities of the world, and this desire is all thanks to my mom. <br />My mother is an amazing person, she is like no one I’ve ever met before and she supports me in everything I do. Over time, we’ve become closer and out of anyone in the world, my mom would be the first person I would call if anything major happened in my life. When I was younger, I thought being best friends with your mom was dorky, and that I would never be that close to my mom. As I look back on my attitude about it now, I just laugh because I couldn’t ever think of our relationship being any better.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-2492913964472679992010-06-09T12:59:00.000-07:002010-06-09T13:00:03.657-07:00Prisoner.My name is James Bryan. Today is the day a judge and a jury will decide if I get out of prison. I’m twenty-six at present time and let’s just say it was one of those, wrong place at the wrong time, type of moments. I got convicted for a serious felony called involuntary manslaughter when I was twenty-three and sentenced three years in a prison cell. Not that it was my fault or anything. Picture this, two guys sitting in what is a well decorated and expensive gun show room. This room was my father’s. With cherry wood crown molding around the walls, gorgeous scarlet paint that almost looked like molten rock because it had such intensity and white accents around the room to just catch your attention with expensive designer furniture. It was beautiful. My best friend and I were sitting in this magnificent room looking at the well made and ancient guns my father owned. I picked one up and felt the kind of power it had. I had grown up around guns my entire life because it was part of my dad’s mission to make sure I was a well brought up hunter. In all reality, I hated hunting, but it was the one thing I had in common with my dad.<br />Sean and I were in my father’s gun room, and I was showing him my favorite gun. It wasn’t a very big one, a .25 air caliber at best. What I did not realize at the time was that this gun was still loaded. I don’t understand this, because as an experienced hunter, both my father and myself, you’d think I would have known to check the ammo, but I didn’t. This was my problem, and if I could go back in time I would change this fact, because it’s what changed my life. I held it up and somehow accidently knocked the trigger, which set it off. At first, I didn’t realize what had happened. For the first twenty seconds of a disaster, no one ever does anything. We stand there and watch the terrible things unravel. By the time I got control of myself, it was too late. The bullet had gone through Sean, slicing some major artery, or something like that, which is what the doctors told me. I’m not a med student, so I don’t know the specifics. All I know is that I somehow unintentionally killed him. I killed my best friend. <br />The next few weeks are kind of a blur. There was a huge trial, and although it was all unintentional, I was sent to prison for three years. Three years is a long time for a kid who’s enrolled in his junior year at a major university. So that’s what happened, and today is the day they’re letting me out. I guess I don’t really know what to think. I mean, my life just kind of stopped at twenty-three. I don’t know that I’ll be able to go back to school and finish out my years to go to grad school and become a lawyer. That’s my dream, to become a lawyer, and with everything that’s happened I don’t know if I’ll be given another chance. When you go in for an interview and people look at your criminal record, if they even get that far, all they see is: Felony. Three years in prison. Your fault. They don’t want to know the specifics, and they don’t care that it was an accident. When you’ve been in prison, everyone looks down on you and you don’t have any control over that. So I’m pretty terrified to say the least. <br />In two hours, I’ll have a completely new life, again. When it comes down to it, I guess I’m just excited to be free again. Prison is a scary place, with people that have actually meant to do the bad things they’ve done, unlike me. Some of them will never get out of here, and there’s no way I’ll ever want to see the inside of this place ever again. It’s not like I made any friends, because in prison, you don’t make friends, you only make enemies. This is real life to them, and now it’s my turn to start over.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-3031525003786380732010-06-09T00:01:00.000-07:002010-06-09T00:02:03.305-07:00My Throne.I am a throne. My nature is simple, with no padding or expensive cherry or mahogany wood made for my legs. I do not use extravagant measures to get the attention of others. My metal is worn with my paint rubbed off from being used, dark grooves of grease from arms that have rested on my arm stands. I assume the position of a regular folding chair which gives me personality. Other thrones go to large measures to get others to notice them, where as I am just hardworking. I am essential to the needs of the public, the whole of my pillar in which I am attached to holds an important part of the theatre that many come to enjoy great pieces of art. I am not art, I am a resource in which to sit. I help others in their time of need, when they need rest I am here to comfort. I am not always noticed, but that doesn’t bother me. The fact that I am essential to the everyday life suits me just fine. <br />I am this chair because though I am very hardworking, I do not need to be noticed. It is not my dream to be the center of attention day in and day out. This kind of life I would not be able to handle by myself. I want to achieve grandeur, and although I may not be prominent in one’s mind constantly, I make a great first impression. This is who I am. It will be my life’s work to change someone’s life. By being here and allowing people to confide in my comforts gives me the motivation to manifest greatness. My love for people was born when I was made, and it is a part of who I will always be. <br />Although I am plain and seemingly insignificant, my existence is great. My nature of love for the human race will continue when many of known faces have gone. I am here, and I am a stepping stone in the life of others. I will be used to my greatest extent, and when I am old, and a hundred years old, someone, somewhere, will remember me because of the beauty I once had. This is why I am here. I am here through bad times and good, to make a difference.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-13399189480566151662010-01-26T17:20:00.000-08:002010-01-26T17:21:06.296-08:00HEY!I miss my blogging family.<br />Just letting you guys know ;)Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-20607885736187265172009-10-17T11:54:00.001-07:002009-10-17T12:28:21.250-07:00It's a Great Feeling.It's so cool when you figure out how much people really care about you. Wednesday, late afternoon, after my home cross country meet, I went to go change and go to rehearsal. I'm searching for my keys in the locker room and failed to find them. So, I go out to my car to see if I miraculously left them in the ignition, again, failed to find them. I'm sitting in my car crying because I'm upset, and my fellow JV partner Tessa texts me and says that I won a medal for coming fourth in JV. So I go out, get my medal, and walk over to the auditorium to talk to Heather and Nicole about the whole keys fiasco. I'm crying and I walk in and Heather comes over to me to see what's up, I tell her about my medal, and then about my keys, still upset. So she hugs me and tells everyone <div>"Hey! Guys! Kara got a medal for Cross Country!!" </div><div>And they all gather around me and congratulate me and tell me how proud they are. Which then leads to Heather, Nicole, Britni, and Ryan coming over to the parking lot to help me search for the damn keys, which were never found. My mom took Heather and Ryan home, and I got in trouble when I arrived at my own home. But the fact that they all cared so much about me, and were so proud of me for something that isn't their thing, because Drama is all our thing, but cross country is new for me, and I love it, and they were all so happy for me that it made me feel so good, because these kids really care about me. I don't think I could have better friends.</div><div>(I went to the office the next morning and someone who was very nice, ended up turning the keys in, to which I was very grateful.)</div><div>Anyway. Classes are doing alright, I think I got one A and three B's, or two A's and two B's, which I would be ecstatic about. Friday I took the day off to catch up on some work because I really just haven't had the time to do it all, but it was really worth it. Then at cross country practice, we played medic and ran a mile, and rehearsal we did some scenes, in between which Britni felt like doing my makeup (Thanks Brit:p) The Homecoming game, we slaughtered Alchesay 62-14, and I got to see my dearest Cassidi Marie, who came up for the weekend, and will probably see again today.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's been a good weekend so far, and I'm just really glad I have the people in my life that I do right now. They're good to me, I need them, and I really care about them. So guys, thanks for everything:)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Also, I have some new things that I adore that I feel like sharing at the moment.</div><div>Books: I'm in love with The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. It's like nothing I've ever read before.</div><div>My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picculi, which I know was one of my books over the summer, but I still love it.</div><div>And Nicole lent me seven books today, which I'll probably start on tomorrow.</div><div>Music: The new Owl City CD (Ocean Eyes), All American Rejects, Boys Like Girls, Plainville, and some others. Nicole also burnt me over six Cds of new music, and I'm still trying to figure out which ones I like best.</div><div>TV: I've become very close to Gilmore Girls. Hahah, it's my new show, and I love it. Along with Glee, Greys Anatomy, Private Practice, and So You Think You Can Dance.</div><div>And last but not least, new people.</div><div>Nicole Kreger. She's not new, but this year we've become really really close. I adore her, she's sweet, hilarious, and very smart. Let's just say, if it weren't for her, I would have died already.</div><div>Jamie Huth. She was cast in our play, and even though she's moving soon, I'm really glad I got to know her. She's a good addition to our Drama family. </div><div>Sidney Kizzar. We're in AcaDec together and she just cracks me up. She's also in the play, and is a great actress.</div><div>Ms. Abel! Our AcaDec coach, and basically, I just love her. Both Cassidi and Heather have been really good friends with her in high school, and I'm just glad I'm finally getting to know her. She's awesome:)</div><div>My cross country family! Alex, Brian, Deveny, Tessa, Brazia, Alyssa, Celise, Brandi, Kyle, they have been really accepting. I adore all of them, they're funny and sweet, and I don't know what I'd do without them. Cross country has been really good for me this year.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway. I feel like it's gonna continue to get better. Trying new things has been really good for me this year.</div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-8238764235675102662009-09-08T21:33:00.001-07:002009-09-08T21:45:18.475-07:00OHMAN.Do you realize how hard it is to juggle a million things at once? I didn't, until I actually had to.<br />Cross Country.<br />AcaDec.<br />The play.<br />School work (Friggin' Geometry, AcaDec- sooo hard, Fredley- :|, and Chemistry, which I don't get.)<br />No time after school, or for a life. Hahah.<br />Crazzyyy schedule. It's been sort of difficult. I mean, I'm handling it, for now. I was just such a load so incredibly fast that I didn't expect it, and now that I'm doing it all, I'm freaking out. I feel so stressed, and I haven't really run in the past few days, which is what gets rid, or calms me, of my stress. It's my high and these past couple days have been hectic.<br />THOUGH!<br />Saturday was my first meet, in Flagstaff, which was a complete blast. I was so nervous, but I had soo much fun:) All those kids are really nice, and are nice to me, and I appreciate all of them.<br />Also, the play started today, we did read throughs, and I'm so excited. It should be really fun.<br />Another plus is the meet in Winslow tomorrow. That won't be too bad, except that I'm assuming I'll come in last.<br />Thursday my phone should come in, so I'll finally have a real source of communication again:D<br /><br /><br />Today, the school wouldn't allow us to watch the speech President Obama gave directed towards us students, and I was kind of furious. Ms. Able read it to us in AcaDec though, which was nice. It was such a beautiful and inspiring speech, no one could understand why they wouldn't let us watch it. My mom is planning on calling Superintendent Brackney and pretty much bitch him out. I'm proud to have parents that care.<br /><br />Anyway. I don't have a lot to say. It's weird to be so busy, but have nothing to say about it. Hence why I've not blogged in so long. My book is a little hard to understand, (Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison) especially because I have no context for it, and how he talks about how African Americans are treated. It's just so hard to comprehend. I have to finish it basically by Friday though, so we'll see how it goes.<br />Anyway, anyone else have updates? I know we've all kind of just stopped posting. I think maybe that means we have lives again. Haha. Anyway. I'm wiped, and I've got some things to do, so hopefully, I'll see you around:)Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-34904211970789439662009-08-30T21:13:00.001-07:002009-08-30T21:13:38.501-07:00Did you know?<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mmz5qYbKsvM&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Mmz5qYbKsvM&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br />Watch it.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-71914951867652630352009-08-28T17:53:00.000-07:002009-08-28T18:12:27.868-07:00Hey!Man, I've missed this! It's been so long, and I feel like I never have anything to say. But all that aside, it's good to be back.<br />So, we're in our third week of school, and I've really been enjoying it. I mean, I'm already completely stressed, but it's okay. I've been kept REALLY busy.<br />I have Geometry first hour, which is actually going well. I've been keeping up pretty well I think.<br />Second hour is AcaDec, and probably my hardest class. Man it's SO hard. It's the one I'm most worried about.<br />Third is AP Sophomore English, and it's with Fredley. Every senior, and everyone else for that matter, thinks she'll be horrible, but I really like her.<br />And last is Chemistry. It's an alright class, Grena is just hilarious, so it makes it all better.<br />On top of all that, I am involved in Cross Country (though hard, I LOVE it.) AcaDec after school (mandatory practices) and the Blood Drive Committee. Next Monday are play auditions, so that's quite a bit more work. I really don't know how I'll be able to juggle it all, so we'll see.<br /><br /><br />I've just been really busy, obviously, and really tired. But it'll get better:]Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-47469981558755959982009-08-22T19:23:00.000-07:002009-08-22T19:38:20.647-07:00This Week:<span style="font-weight: bold;">I've learned</span> that when you're happy, you're beautiful, and everyone sees it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I've become</span> less jealous, which in turn makes you a better person.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I've noticed</span> that laughter is the best medicine.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I've rediscovered</span> that I love running, and it's something in my life that I've got to do right now.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you’re getting this down.”Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-77124474604140328232009-07-25T19:42:00.000-07:002009-07-25T19:55:15.081-07:00my sister's keeper."If there was a religion of Annaism, and I had to tell you how humans made their way to Earth, it would go like this; in the beginning, there was nothing at all but the moon and the sun. And the moon wanted to come out during the day, but there was something so much brighter that seemed to fill up all those hours. The moon grew hungry, thinner and thinner, until she was just a slice of herself, and her tips were as sharp as a knife. By accident, because that is the way most things happen, she poked a hole in the night, and spilled out a million stars, like a fountain of tears.<br /><br />Horrified, the moon tried to swallow them up. And sometimes this worked, because she got fatter and rounder. But mostly, it didn't, because there were just so many. The stars kept coming, until they the sky so bright the sun got jealous. He invited the stars to his side of the world, where it was always bright. What he didn't tell them though, was that in the daytime, they'd never be seen. So the stupid ones leaped from the sky to the ground, and the froze under the weight of their own foolishness.<br /><br />The moon did her best. She carved each of these blocks of sorrow into a man and a woman. She spent the rest of her time watching out so that her other stars wouldn't fall. She spent the rest of her time holding on to whatever scraps she had left."Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-68987838892258023772009-07-23T23:55:00.000-07:002009-07-23T23:56:59.944-07:00Those three words.I love you.<br />I miss you.<br />See you soon.<br /><br />They're all one ever wants to hear.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-58510352330053675072009-06-30T14:03:00.000-07:002009-06-30T14:30:21.877-07:00ABC Story.<span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>s I walked down the sidewalk next to him, I thought about the softness of his hand in mine. <span style="font-weight: bold;">B</span>ehind us , the full moon shone, as brightly as could be. <span style="font-weight: bold;">C</span>aressing my back with his free hand gave me shivers down my spine. <span style="font-weight: bold;">D</span>own the road we could see my porch light on, my parents surely inside waiting for me to walk in the door from my late night. "<span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>lla, do you really have to go?" he says in the sweetest voice. <span style="font-weight: bold;">F</span>inding my voice is hard, I'm afraid I'll ruin this perfect, beautiful image of the night. <span style="font-weight: bold;">G</span>raciously, I take his hands in both of mine and say, "You could just stay a little longer than planned... accidentally letting me fall asleep in your arms.." <span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>ow nice the night smells on my fragile senses.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> I</span> don't want him to go just yet, praying to God he'll agree to my plan. <span style="font-weight: bold;">J</span>oining me on the porch, he and I both realize my parents aren't up, and he's able to take his time and look me in the eyes. <span style="font-weight: bold;">K</span>issing me lightly after his bright blue eyes have memorized every part of me, I think to myself just how in love with him I am. <span style="font-weight: bold;">L</span>ips in sync, he realizes I want him just as much as he wants me, right here, right now. <span style="font-weight: bold;">M</span>oving slowly into the outdoor swing, padded with cushions, I feel the warmth of him compared to the chill of the night air. <span style="font-weight: bold;">N</span>othing could ever feel as great as this. <span style="font-weight: bold;">O</span>f course, he's the only good thing I've felt since I was twelve. <span style="font-weight: bold;">P</span>acing heart, I know I'm not nervous, especially with him being here. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Q</span>uiet overcomes everything outside, and all I can hear is his strong, healthy heart, and my failing one. <span style="font-weight: bold;">R</span>estrictions on my body prevent me from moving faster, I worry my body wont keep up with what will come next. <span style="font-weight: bold;">S</span>taring at me, he gives me strength, I know I can handle it. <span style="font-weight: bold;">T</span>urning to the door, I'm positive I'll be able to do the thing I've always wanted most. <span style="font-weight: bold;">U</span>nless my parents somehow wake up from the quiet creaking of the stairs, I'm golden. <span style="font-weight: bold;">V</span>arious things cross my mind, as if I'll have all the time in the world, even though I know in a matter of months I'll no longer be here. <span style="font-weight: bold;">W</span>ondering if he thinks the same things, I undo his buckle swiftly, I'm not scared because with all my heart I love him. <span style="font-weight: bold;">X</span>anadu is where I'm at, it feels like heaven already. "<span style="font-weight: bold;">Y</span>ou love me, don't you?" <span style="font-weight: bold;">Z</span>ach has always loved me, and I've always known this.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-42295923246304209262009-06-29T20:26:00.000-07:002009-06-29T20:45:14.512-07:00Anyone. Anything.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtb3zAam-RZ9GY-tJgYJvLkxN_dzfpvyg5upykP2jPpWouAk3_j2147MAVrxtjVIaL9aOfs0HldveoAkU0KST51a9WkcWkBiSVDikXO3e1YAMhX4jnbuuMtB_Ept6oGUxECE76VE9lOM_q/s1600-h/101_0437.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtb3zAam-RZ9GY-tJgYJvLkxN_dzfpvyg5upykP2jPpWouAk3_j2147MAVrxtjVIaL9aOfs0HldveoAkU0KST51a9WkcWkBiSVDikXO3e1YAMhX4jnbuuMtB_Ept6oGUxECE76VE9lOM_q/s320/101_0437.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352960703818560450" /></a><br />I feel...<br />weird. I can't even explain it. I don't know what I want or how I feel or what to say.<br /><br />I want to be distant, not talk to people for days and have them miss me, and when they see me, it'll be like a celebration. I want to be missed and wanted. I want someone to want me in the best way possible.<br /><br />I want to fall in love. I want to fall in love with them because they're in love with me. I want love. I want to know what it feels like to love with my whole heart, with everything I have. I want to be crazy about someone, and I want to remind them every day. I want to be everything to someone and not be afraid.<br /><br />I want a new perspective on life. I want to do the things I'm scared of missing. I want to make a list. I want to be and to live and to love and to breathe and want and need.<br /><br />I want to dance in the rain. I want to make dreams come true. My dreams, and dreams of people I love.<br /><br />I want to move away and meet new people that know nothing about me, I want to tell them my life story and I want them to want to listen, and know more. I want to be funny and witty and interesting.<br /><br />I want to be lost, and have someone find me.<br /><br />I want to be a late-night waitress and listen to stories of people I meet and get to know them.<br />I want to sleep embraced in the arms of someone who wants me.<br />I want to sleep on the beach.<br />I want to travel up the east coast.<br />I want to live with my best friend.<br />I want more than one best friend.<br />I want to be beautiful because I choose to be that way. I want to get sick so I can bask in the glory of being healthy.<br />I want a life that always has the right turn in front of me, but I choose the other road because it's full of adventure. I want those turns to turn out perfect, and be a different person that makes different decisions.<br /><br />I want more choices.<br />I want to think about different things.<br />I want to learn more.<br />I want to be free.<br /><br /><br /><br />Before I Die<br />By Jenny Downham, read it.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-67200864426678226902009-06-01T17:34:00.000-07:002009-06-01T17:35:14.033-07:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cbk980jV7Ao&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cbk980jV7Ao&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I. LOVE. THIS.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-6972151150476345782009-05-29T23:46:00.000-07:002009-05-30T00:21:00.239-07:00I've figred it out!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRnhcmcP_-xgDDAXt3Bba2ZQAdPbZHMwlMg0HvOmumfekFSCXt2RDe46d2MCXVWCLRYJjplw-Xbl2BgysyLmzMBFr3edPgi-dirtmAuoMUP7GBGlc8QRmEiA-zhIQkqeM6AlaO7_UICAN/s1600-h/2008_050_1116.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRnhcmcP_-xgDDAXt3Bba2ZQAdPbZHMwlMg0HvOmumfekFSCXt2RDe46d2MCXVWCLRYJjplw-Xbl2BgysyLmzMBFr3edPgi-dirtmAuoMUP7GBGlc8QRmEiA-zhIQkqeM6AlaO7_UICAN/s320/2008_050_1116.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341512251140882658" /></a><br />I know what I want to do. At least, what I think I want to do.<br />I want to start dancing- ballet specifically, I'm not sure why, but it just kind of sprung on me. I think it could be something to love, that I could love. <br />I talked to my mom about it, and and how I love the arts, and how if I could be great at anything in the arts, it would be dancing and acting. She was saying how she sees dancing more as me, because it's more athletic. I said how much I love acting, and I love theatre, and I don't know how good I am but I love it. She said I was really good at it, but that I was better at it more than I loved it. That dance would be good for me, because things like dance and sports are more me. I'm more athletic. I love running, I like some sports. And I love the arts. I love it, I do. But this is an art, and something that takes being fit. The running with cross country this summer, if I really do it, will make me able to do anything. I'll be able to dance and do sports and feel good when I act. I want to find my place, and be good at something, and something beautiful. Theatre will always be my home, and I'll always love it, no matter how good I am at it, but it's not me, though I know it and love it and live it, it's not what I know I can be great at. <br />Heather took dance until her freshman year, and she loved it. It was her, a part of her, and the fact that she loved it so just makes it that much more appealing. I just want so much to love it as much as she did, kind of do her justice because she loves theatre so much now. Which is fine, but dance will always be a part of her and I just...<br />I want something to be so much a part of me, and this is something I can see myself loving.<br />it's like Hair said, " I don't know, but this could be for you, what guitar is for me."<br />Which I get. I get that it could be great, because Hair loves guitar, it's his passion. <br />I just want a passion, something to love any do and maybe be good at.<br />I'm just excited. And that's my goal. I want to work towards it. <br />I've figured out what I want to work towards, what I want to do.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-49266352191041558962009-05-22T16:06:00.001-07:002009-05-22T16:12:23.475-07:00Hey, YOU!Are you ready to have a great time?!<br />Are you ready to sit in the rain and watch the sun set, drink tea out of mason jars and sit on your porch?<br />Volunteer at the thrift store and spend nights crying over The Outsiders, reading books that we love and drinking raspberry (strawberry) smoothies?<br />Sleep all day, run into town at night, stay up til five and watch the morning light?<br />I'm. Ready.<br />Because it may not a repeat, and it may not be exact, but we're going to make it fun, that's for fact.<br />We're going to make memories, and we'll love each other more, it's okay if you get sick of me because I don't care.<br /><br />(What the hell is with the rhyming?)<br />I'm ready to do new things, and do them with you. I'm ready to spend a summer with blue blue blue.<br />sky.<br />I'm ready for <b>rain.</b><br />I'm ready for sun.<br />I'm ready for books, and trips to Tuscon.<br />I'm ready for you, to stay with me.<br />And I'm glad. Because you're my best friend:]<br />Ever. :pKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-59521230867768243492009-05-22T15:47:00.002-07:002009-05-22T16:02:06.069-07:00Graduation.I'm proud, I'm sad, I'm happy, I hate it.<br />A lot of those kids have been my family for the last year. I mean, I've seen all of them grow, I've grown, and I love them.<br />I bawled my eyes out last night.<br /><br />I really teared up when Shay got up there, but my the time Blake was walking across the stage, I was bawling. I know I'll see Shay again, so even though it's sad, it's okay. But with Blake, Steph, Cass, Fran, all of these wonderful people I might not ever see again.<br />And that breaks my heart.<br />I haven't cried that much in a long time. <br /><br /><br />Blake was the first to grab me and pull me into a hug.<br />He just hugged me and told me he loved me. Which means a lot, because I know with him, he and our family have been through a lot. And I just kind of took it to heart. I love the kid. I just want to make sure I spend as much time with the people that mean so much to me as I can this summer. Because in 80 days, it'll ALL be different. All of it.<br /><br />I stepped away and Heather told me it'd be okay, because by then my face was tear streaked and wasn't going to go away any time soon. I needed her right then.<br />Because I know the exact same thing is going to happen next year.<br />Next I found Steph. I'm so proud of her, she's been through a lot too, but she made it, and now she gets to go live her life.<br />I grabbed Shay, Dylan tackled me, I hugged Jessica Jeffs and Annah, kids that I'm not very close to anymore but still love, and people I hope to be in my future. <br />After all the crying and hugging, the congratulating and loving, Heather, Britni, Tucker, Ellie and I all went to Denny's, had some good times, and headed home.<br /><br />Probably the most emotional day I've had in..<br />Months.<br />It was very... exhausting. <br />And I'm glad it's over, but also not. Because now it's summer, but that means everything, EVERYTHING will change.<br />Which is good, change is good.<br />I'm just scared.<br />And I have to work myself up to be ready for it.<br /><br />I'm just glad I have Heather to help. Because we need to change with eachother, and I need to grow apart from people that are leaving.<br />I'm ready, I am.<br /><br /><br /><br />(Okay, did you hear me? IT'S SUMMER! And I'm so so excited. I CAN'T WAIT TO DO THINGS.<br />And it starts early Monday morning. The rest of this weekend is for recuperating. IT'S SUMMER! Summer summer summer. FINALLY.)Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-5711152692978492192009-05-18T21:51:00.000-07:002009-05-18T21:59:41.852-07:00I'm here. I'm ready. I'm waiting and changing and being.
<br />Finally.
<br />Summer is in three days, and I'm just so pumped , so ready.
<br />I want to leave notes in people's mailboxes, I want to get a Polariod camera by May 30 and take one picture every day of the summer. I want to work hard, and spend time with people I adore.
<br />And I'm working on it.
<br />I can just <span style="font-weight:bold;">feel</span> the change happening in me.
<br />I'm transforming. and I'm so glad.
<br />Because it's what I've been waiting for.
<br />
<br />Today I went outside to read, with a camera in hand, and I took pictures.
<br />The clouds were dark, and it was breezy. The flowers had bloomed, roses, tulips, and dandy lions, finally.
<br />I sat on my sat on my swing and read, listening to music.
<br />I let the breeze brush my hair, I felt the rain drops come down on my skin.
<br />First time it's rained in awhile.
<br />I love rain in the summer up here, it's gorgeous. The smell has no comparison, and it's the best thing out there.
<br />I think the atmosphere was ready to start clean, so it all let go.
<br />And now, I feel like everything's going to be different, from here on out, it's all going to be good.
<br />
<br />There's nowhere left to go but up.
<br /></b>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-71087485152581102132009-05-18T21:45:00.000-07:002009-05-18T21:51:31.238-07:00For the love of Heather. :]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRK6qVt_JvjoKFbugI080vL1rcAfzEF5AIgPEWNPpm8jd9JrLi7Zm2ylW46NMhwjnRXXYUEVhqL076oA4z4MDNkseYt_Pj-OFYZlyizdueVHVr2WFyFenV2qEjKhP990DfvK5yNaJAvr5/s1600-h/101_0305.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRK6qVt_JvjoKFbugI080vL1rcAfzEF5AIgPEWNPpm8jd9JrLi7Zm2ylW46NMhwjnRXXYUEVhqL076oA4z4MDNkseYt_Pj-OFYZlyizdueVHVr2WFyFenV2qEjKhP990DfvK5yNaJAvr5/s320/101_0305.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337393065997485554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMpOjXQc80KAZ8coRuefyF_fbCcAEmGKu1nIdjAkw-BBGVcx6Vt6SLERw8cCzPV0NBBxQr3LNSAxENk7lTob8WdppST170BPrXLMMxZRJz2RZmvRfas4K2bRff8ITKlOg_dKQQPTKRm2E/s1600-h/101_0357.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMpOjXQc80KAZ8coRuefyF_fbCcAEmGKu1nIdjAkw-BBGVcx6Vt6SLERw8cCzPV0NBBxQr3LNSAxENk7lTob8WdppST170BPrXLMMxZRJz2RZmvRfas4K2bRff8ITKlOg_dKQQPTKRm2E/s320/101_0357.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337393059409684434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcy6gXW9ZNN7xbc72lxQqPz1mSt0DypneGAomCxGMUD3bkYmmrXKyzLkQH-EAIRocVCfz61MPW1kZgj7AdEBBIz2DHqSY0q9MPg9FPmDMzye5adjQlLWMIc15ydRqp8ZYGSqI_VGtlHvwe/s1600-h/101_0348.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcy6gXW9ZNN7xbc72lxQqPz1mSt0DypneGAomCxGMUD3bkYmmrXKyzLkQH-EAIRocVCfz61MPW1kZgj7AdEBBIz2DHqSY0q9MPg9FPmDMzye5adjQlLWMIc15ydRqp8ZYGSqI_VGtlHvwe/s320/101_0348.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337393060775540258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwXDfRcrHN-wGe279Qq_BUebABw143OlrBizgAqT26Lc372dZ3HVEAz0XIWhNGakZI2g3_9APl3tsSBjIcgSk_v4mFYqXMYToWGhYcgnMlMDAilMWVVpO34O29oZx3kQ5lODykAOX_tZw/s1600-h/101_0335.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwXDfRcrHN-wGe279Qq_BUebABw143OlrBizgAqT26Lc372dZ3HVEAz0XIWhNGakZI2g3_9APl3tsSBjIcgSk_v4mFYqXMYToWGhYcgnMlMDAilMWVVpO34O29oZx3kQ5lODykAOX_tZw/s320/101_0335.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337393053175720162" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggWOI731pRGtHxao34Hxc0Wi48_bltA_4hHmDz_uB0kTx9iTcGtk4fCH2toc4WYI6EiM2fuo5FhDWS5znp_tJtkoyLqTA9mK5wsgcvKKT63ZwcqcsrEfkptN5IVIcBw02-5aAfelYaEllH/s1600-h/101_0319.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggWOI731pRGtHxao34Hxc0Wi48_bltA_4hHmDz_uB0kTx9iTcGtk4fCH2toc4WYI6EiM2fuo5FhDWS5znp_tJtkoyLqTA9mK5wsgcvKKT63ZwcqcsrEfkptN5IVIcBw02-5aAfelYaEllH/s320/101_0319.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337393050182422898" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8yUm8QJ9SypbAqQbUjxh77ztm4tD6dJE5FPaqJCPvG13FP54DtotBVAkN8fIweBkCPSKOGMYtG4e02zflEYppfyZSxzpUV-CaXESCThMMrDIXMfowfzh83njdtzKcAYbuuDefkovbzvB/s1600-h/101_0301.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8yUm8QJ9SypbAqQbUjxh77ztm4tD6dJE5FPaqJCPvG13FP54DtotBVAkN8fIweBkCPSKOGMYtG4e02zflEYppfyZSxzpUV-CaXESCThMMrDIXMfowfzh83njdtzKcAYbuuDefkovbzvB/s320/101_0301.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337392149299385330" border="0" /></a>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936262870371519949.post-10052061152826746012009-05-17T03:16:00.000-07:002009-05-17T03:18:13.187-07:00Websites to remember:http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/15131<br /><br />http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/mysterious-little-people-hard<br /><br />http://www.colerise.com/<br /><br />http://www.vertustech.com/blog/2008/02/11/32/<br /><br />http://www.markseliger.com/<br /><br />(for photography) :]Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07321752965379426089noreply@blogger.com1