Drug

drugs

My first thought when it all began? Holy shit. I didn’t want this. None of it. Waiting in a dark alleyway allowing the heavy, bleak rain to beat against my thin jacket, while watching for someone to exit the backdoor of a restaurant and jumping him when he was just trying to throw out the trash ? Not my style. I’m not a violent person; more so used to taking the hits instead of dealing them. Even if the person we were waiting for was Ben. How I despised that annoying snot.

“He deserves it,” My friend Chris had said to convince me, ” that stupid piece of shit, needs to be put in his place, thinking he can show US up.”

This whole thing was his idea, and despite my lack of desire to be here, I couldn’t deny his thoroughness. He had figured out the  guys work schedule and the exact time we could find him here, and he did all so he could get away with giving him a good beating.

” Just to scare him a bit.” Chris had assured me.

And scare him  we did, or at least Chris did. As soon as he felt smelt the warm aroma waft from the opening back door, he pounced; slamming his body against Ben and pinning him to a wall.

I however, stayed rooted in place watching the blur of their movements, my ears attuned to the sound of the wild flurry of fists. I watched them as they beat each other into bloody pulps, and tried desperately to keep the painful torrent of memories at bay. With each groan of pain from Chris as he gradually got overtaken, I saw myself taking the hits. I have always been the one taking the hits. First by my father, who beat me regularly, and then by my brother-who  had snapped under the weight of our Father’s fists- had turned his anger on me and beat me too. With each cry of pain from the two fighting it out before my eyes I heard my own weak cries of desperation as a child, heard the horrified gasps of my mother who kept it all a secret.

” SETH PLEASE!” Chris called my name, snapping me out of my haze.

He had been pinned. Even in the dim light I could see him struggle under the weight of Ben.  Shit.

Thats when I went at it, I threw Ben off my friend and as if my mind was no longer controlling my body, I began to punch. And kick. And stomp. Ben was soon down, but I didn’t stop there. I knew I should have, but I- I didn’t want too. I continued to cause harm even as he lay in defeat. With each fall of my fists I felt an intense exhilaration. The cracking sound of his bones and the feeling of them splinter beneath the surface of my hand was deeply satisfying, and as I continued to slam down I could feel the dampness of blood and detected a slight squelching sound as I tore his flesh. He tried to fight back, but he was weak, while I was strong. Finally I was the one in control. When I looked into his face I saw that he was my brother, my father, who hurt me far worse ways the surface wounds, and mother who let them carry on. When I looked at him I felt the rush of adrenaline. I smiled to myself. This was enjoyable. In the back ground I could hear Chris telling me it was enough. Enough? No. I needed more, because this time the cause of pain was in my hands. For once I wasn’t the one who had to cry out in mercy.

I now I understand why my father and brother do this. This feeling was amazing, it was a drug . A drug of which I couldn’t get enough. I reached for something more powerful then my own bones nearby, and felt a suitably sized rock. I smiled. This was the biggest high  of the drug. The ability to control the entire course of someones future.

” You can’t hurt me anymore.” I say looking at the body representing so many, and brought  the rock down hard on his head. Again and again and again I struck, hearing his skull crack and hearing a last final desperate breath. Panting I stopped collapsing over top of him, exhausted. I remained there for awhile as I felt the body go stone cold.

With that my high was gone, and I desired more.

 

 

 

It Has Fallen

This poem was originally going to be my spoken word, however, I felt more passionate about the one I had written (Dear Mama) shortly after. That does not mean I still don’t feel quite strongly about this subject. I had written it in response to the tragedy that unfolded in Paris. In this poem I talk about how humanity has fallen keeping that incident as well as many others in mind. Some specific events I refer too are the torture and torment of Christians who refused to denounce their faith  by ISIS. You will see this in the lines “fire after fire”- ” Or they will  burn you alive”. I also wrote a stanza that refers to the Sandy Hook elementary shooting. You will see this in the lines ” Shot after shot” – “dead”. I chose to include each incident because they both hit me hard. I am a christian and to hear about all this happening both upset and infuriated me. The Sandy Hook shooting horrified me beyond belief, especially since my cousins are in elementary, so it really hit me hard. These incidents along with the bombing in Paris are what inspired this poem.

It has fallen.

Love.

Bliss.

A reality,

woven together with threads of peace, tranquility.

A blissful simplicity.

Once it stood,

balancing on a pinpoint, teetering,

back and forth,

side to side.

All it took was wind, a breath of joyful sin.

Balance lost,

it fell.

Humanity fell,

doomed to forever plummet,

spiralling out of control.

King Chaos took his reign.

His dark touch tainting everything.

Poisoning our minds,

our souls,

and oh the pain it caused.

The beings of flesh and bone cry out,

it has fallen.

Humanity in the lowest abyss.

In the slums, coated in filth.

Covered in our dirty secrets.

Bomb after bomb,

bits of flesh sent flying around.

As if rain in a tropical storm.

” Do it in the name of religion.”

A religion that speaks of peace.

” Do it in the name of war.”

Let the innocent feel the waves of our wrath.

Fire after Fire.

denounce your faith,

denounce who you are,

because if you refuse,

they will burn you alive.

Shot after shot.

The youngest us, souls departing.

Eyes stone cold.

Dead.

The beings of flesh and bone cry out,

it has fallen.

Even the sky cries for us.

The earth trembles and quakes,

under the weight of our hate.

Waves rage against us

furious,

 

consequencing.

Murder after murder.

Rape after rape.

War after war.

We have not learned.

Humanity is all but gone.

The beings of flesh and bone cry out.

We have fallen.

Dear Mama – spoken word

Dear Mama,

You know me best,

sometimes more than I know myself.

After all, it was more than mere serendipity

that bonded us together.

God chose us

because of our strong compatibility,

but despite that Mama,

there are things about me you just do not know.

 

I am a manicured hurricane.

A flurry of:

dreams,

desires,

fears,

insecurities,

pills.

But the storm raging inside is ever so hard to see.

I am all dolled up in a pretty disguise.

The girl to boast about at parties,

sitting ever so politely,

and dressed to the nines.

I sit with pretty hands clasped together,

pretty fingers with pretty french nails laced together,

shifting nervously.

Trying to hide,

the finger which had previously been shoved down my throat.

I sit with the smile that was born onto my face,

as I watched the contents of my stomach,

circle down the gleaming white drain.

 

Dear Mama,

There is so much about me I have yet to confess,

that my grades are only good because I have a system.

I copy my homework off the guy behind me,

and cheat off the tests of the girl beside me.

Because on those “study days”,

I leave to party.

There’s the part of me that doesn’t want too.

I just want to sleep,

to be left to my own peace,

but my social representation,

leader of clique presentation,

demands more and more.

So,

I smoke,

I drink,

I kiss,

I am unravelling.

The later into the AM’s I go,

the more I lose my soul.

 

Dear Mama,

There is so much about me that I hide.

Makeup is my mask,

covering the flaws,

the puffy eyes and dark circles.

Dark circles revealing a glimpse

at the dark being inside.

I hide more often than not,

but I’m always in the spotlight.

Gleaming, pretty, polite me.

All adults swoon.

Hot, fun, party girl.

My peers approve.

But while my bold superiority shows,

the shadow of who I am trails behind.

It’s the me that inhales a whole bottle of pills in a weeks time.

The me that pushes to be:

prettier,

thinner,

better.

Because I, I am broken glass,

a fragmented lens.

My own demise,

hating myself because they say its not okay,

to eat that cupcake,

to laugh that way,

to not care about what you look like,

for just one day.

Dear Mama,

There is so much I wish for,

so much I can’t obtain,

even though it shouldn’t be that hard to grasp happiness,

or even a true love.

So my only solution is clear.

To silence the voices in my head,

demanding more and more,

I must first silence myself.

There is no room in this world for imperfections.

Dear Mama,

I am sorry for everything I’m about to put you through.

 

 

 

3am

 

images

It’s absurd to think about, and the connection would have never once crossed my mind, but once I had seen it, while I scrolled through Facebook- which was already a substantial waste of time- I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The frivolous use of my time had equalled in an even more frivolous use of my thoughts, the quote was a constant memory that resurfaced, and refused to be anything but pondered during the day and contemplated in the evening.  It had read,

“The only people up at 3am are in love, lonely, drunk, or all three.”

Initially I had read it, and promptly dismissed it all in the span of fifteen seconds,but what I didn’t realize, is that the idea that it was true began to take root in my head. After all, it was in a way accurate, because it’s 3am right now, and I’m thinking about you.

It’s the tenth 3am in a row I’ve spent doing this and no, I am not drunk, but I am alone, and it pains me to think this, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t in love with you.

It’s like clockwork in away, I fall asleep and I wake up right on schedule. No, my eyes don’t pop open and my mind does not whir to life at exactly at 3am; this isn’t magic, the time does vary, but I do wake up at 2:00 or 2:30, and I always stay awake for the hour. It’s simply a coincidence I know, but still, I can not escape the quote’s words, because it was lead to me to realizing my feelings for you. So now I wake up, alone and in love, and I’ll confess, a few times drunk.

I long for your kiss, your touch, or really any of the varying degrees of human contact. I long not to be laying here alone; to have you to be held by, but instead beside me there is a spot of cold. SoI cling to my covers, in an attempt to stay warm. But the cold is within me.

My emotions are perplexing, I am heartbroken, but at the same time not. I have not been rejected, and I suppose there is a chance he feels the same, after all why should I sell my myself short. In our workplace there is no time for affection, and everything is very strictly professional, I show no hint of my desires, and I know that he would not either, so I suppose it is possible he harbours secret feelings for me. Yet, despite that I am heartbroken because I know it’s absolutely absurd to think there is a chance. My mind is hard wired for science and logic, and the probability that two people out of the 10000+ people they would have encountered in a lifetime both truly loving each other is astronomically impossible. It defies logic, but then again, so does love.

I love you, and that defies logic, because I spent so much time alone, away from the reach of human emotions. You have complicated everything, you make me hit my pillow in absolute frustration, sometimes even cry, even though nothing has gone awry. When you walk by me, my heart beats a millions times faster, and I feel an explosion, a volcanic eruption within me.

Worst of all, I lose sleep over you, I lie there staring at the stucco ceiling above me at 3am wishing you would just take my hand.

 

Source for image: https://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=&url=http%3A%2F%2Fluluandlattes.com%2F2014%2F08%2F08%2F3am-august-6%2F&psig=AFQjCNHBMKH8wziBYLHfJqnKOa4ZbPhIZg&ust=1447350746421295

Interviewing Annie

 

At first glance, Suzanne Elizabeth Varns, or most commonly referred to by her nickname, Annie, may seem like your typical average girl, living an ordinary mundane life, but this, is not in fact true. In her fifteen years of living she has resided in three different countries: the U.S.A, Costa Rica, and Canada. Despite living in more than one country she fully considers herself an American because she has lived there for a total of fourteen years, although she has not remained rooted in one single state. She has told me that the reason she has moved around so much is because of her dads profession, as well as parents her parents passion for mission trips. Her dad is a pastor, and he has taken many different pastoral jobs in different states, as well as in entirely different country, leading to her family staying in Canada to pastor Church In The Hills for about five and a half months. It was their passion for missions that lead them to living in  Costa Rica for five months in preparation for their mission to witness and help the less wealthy class of people in Nicaragua. Moving and travelling is part of who Annie is today, needless to say, the constant changes have caused her pain and confusion, but through conducting this interview I have come to realize Annie’s story is a testimony to how adversities, shape us in to who we are today and can have a very positive effect.

I asked her about her life in Costa Rica, where she lived Tuis, Cartago and she spoke of the many challenges. ” It was quite  challenging for me, I didn’t speak spanish at the time, so I  often felt isolated and it was very hard to adjust to the change of lifestyle.”  She had told me.

Annie’s parents chose to live there in order to learn spanish so that they would be better equipped to  help out in Nicaragua, but it was the exact reason they came, to learn the language, and get a taste of the culture foreign to their own, is what made it so hard for her to adjust and be happy. She wasn’t used to having to walk nearly wherever she went as well,  and spoke of her disdain for it during the interview. On top of that all she was also severely bullied by her few peers. To them, she was different, and they made sure she knew it. They poked fun of her appearance, specifically her weight and she says that they, “… Made me feel worthless, and I came to believe that their was just nothing good about me.”

Even with her sisters she found she didn’t quite fit in.  She has four sisters, and she was born smack in the middle. Her two older sisters, Cassie and Kylie often stick together, and her two younger sisters Abbie and Ally do the same. This lead her to an even greater sense of marginalization and this made the time she spent in Tuis to be quite hard at times. Despite all this, she revealed to me she grew to love the country, she had discovered it’s beauty. She also was able to pull a lot of strength from that situation. She thought she was worth nothing, but eventually she came to realize that all those who poked fun at her were wrong, and she faced her inner demons.

” I looked in the mirror and decided that there was good in me, and I knew that in Gods image I was worth something.”

Everything she felt and learned in Costa Rica have helped to shape her into the  compassionate person she is today. This in combination with her missions trip to Nicaragua are the reason why she wants to be who she wants to be, but before I get into that, I’ll explain what I learned from her about her trip in Nicaragua.

For her, the mission trip was a life altering experience. She was the youngest on the trip,only thirteen at the time, and this was the first time she had seen people deal with so much poverty.  While the adults busied themselves with teaching the men and woman of Nicaragua useful skills, for instance, farming, Annie busied herself by entertaining and trying to witness to children. She made sure to show them the power of Gods love.

” It was quite humbling, When I showered, I had to do it with spiders hanging on the walls, and when the little kids wanted to run through the ‘sprinkler’, I watched them run threw filthy water,” She said.

These experiences, along with the way her parents raised her, are major contributing factors to her wanting to go into the mission field after she turns eighteen. Specifically, she wants to go to Thailand to witness to prostitutes and help them escape that lifestyle. It’s been a dream of hers for a very long time, and although it’s dangerous, she knows that this is what she is meant too do.

Even now, while she is still young you can see the fruit of her experiences; when she returned to the U.S she decided she wanted to help people in any way she possibly could.

Annie told me, ” I don’t want to change who people are, but instead, how they are.”

This became apparent to me as well when she moved to Canada at age fifteen, and we first met.She was an amazingly supportive human being and many people have grown to trust her and go to her for advice. She is incredibly selfless in most situations, always willing to give, and she says that it is what she experienced in other countries, the way she had to adapt, what she learned from her many different homes, and what God has taught her that made her who she is today.

 

 

Aaaand Break!- self narrative

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My heart pounds in my chest, beating so ferociously I begin to have the irrational fear that it will explode out from within me. My fingers quiver and my whole body shakes. My posture is one of survival; senses alert, adrenaline rushing threw my veins, eyes darting from one direction to another, feet always ready, read to- BREAK!

My foot slams against the break pedal, and the car comes to an abrupt stop. My mother ‘s body and mine lurch forward, only to be quickly pulled back by our seatbelts; seatbelts, I had never before been more grateful for. My mother lets out a small groan and shoots me a glare, and let me tell you, when she has that expression on, her eyes can burn a hole into your soul.

” Sorry,” I say meekly.

Foot still on the break, I squeezed the steering wheel and looked out at the road in front of me feeling quite deceived. All the people who had told me driving was hardly a challenge were most definitely lying. It wasn’t that hard of a system, I had agreed. It lacked major complexities and adjusting gears and pressing on the acceleration seemed like no great feat, but as I drove around the cul-de-sac, desperately praying this adventure of mine would result in no casualties, I began to realize how big of a deal this driving thing was.

Why I chose to drive for the first time in a bustling neighbourhood I will never understand. Children, were running around the streets practically begging me to hit them, and the many parked cars served as obstacles. It was especially annoying to see other cars drive smoothly passed me, drivers completely at ease, meanwhile I continued my pattern of abrupt stoping and going.

” Grace, ease up! You’re practically a statue!” My mother commands, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

I look down sheepishly and loosen my arms. There, that’s better, more natural. I continue to slowly inch along, gaining confidence. As we neared the end of the cul-de-sac I got ready to turn, knowing I had to follow the circle back down in the opposite direction.

My mother nods encouragingly, watching me turn.

” Er- Grace? can you maybe turn a little faster please?” She asks, sounding nervous.

Huh? It took me a second to sink  in then- Oh gosh! I wasn’t turning fast enough! I was nearing a car dangerously close and my panic level began to sky rocket. It didn’t help that my mother was beginning to scream, ” TURN TURN WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT TURNING!!”

” I am!” I cry, searching for my saving grace, the break pedal. I find it, and  have no mercy, pushing down hard.

Screeeeeeeeeech. The car makes an ugly sound, as if it were dying.  I remain still, knuckles turning white as my fingers squeezed the steering wheel. I risk a glance at my mother, who looks slightly green. Her hair is messed up, bits of it sticking out in all different directions, framing her face like a mane. Her eyes bore into mine, not looking too happy.

” Alright, how but we just- just switch sides okay?” I watch as she shifts the gear to “park’ and begins to open her door. What happens next  can only be described as a walk of shame to the other side of the car. I can’t help but notice a group people gawking at what must have been quite the spectacle. I lower my head embarrassed and sigh at the sound of light laughter. That was my driving, a comedic act.

Needless to say, my mother and I did recover from that incident- well almost. I have yet to set foot in the drivers side of the car again, but I know I will- atleast I think I will…

 

Time

time source:http://njitvector.com/2014/05/the-time-is-rapidly-approaching/

 

Time          heals all, at least that’s what they say. Time is  the cure for hurt souls, the remedy that will always succeed, at least… that’s the theory, but I disagree. I know the truth. The truth, bitter as it may be, is imperative for us to be made aware of, because they lied. Their golden solution is nothing more than a myth.  It is a mere rumour, running rampaged like wildfire. It gave me hope, I put my faith in time, I waited for the ages to come running by, burying my pain so far down it could never come to light, but that is not how works, I came to realize and,

Doesn’t     it hurt, when the only thing being buried is your faith in the potential of  living  a half decent life?  It’s infuriating, when you have minimal control, and your emotions, worse then a plague, become impossible to tame as they crash over you in torrential  waves.

Always,     I am aware of my pain. It seeps down from my bruised heart, travelling through my veins and into my bones, making me ache. This- when my mental  turmoil has become such an immense physical burden- is when I have reached my breaking point. This, is when I begin to tune out all those who would look at me, pity resting thick in their eyes, and tell me time will save me from my hearts demise.

Heal,       I urge myself, determined to find my own solution, but all I could do was wish, as if simply desiring it will chase away the melancholy. However wishing does nothing, and my urging was in vain.

Sometimes,  just for awhile, I feel like my old self. As if I shredded a layer of heavy, old skin, and was suddenly young, light, and full of life. I would find a temporary haven, where, I would find solace in being able to just forget. Grievously enough, this never lasts. All it takes is a simple reminder, and healing wounds open and become fresh again.

 It         is my thoughts that ruin my blissful calm. Fears, insecurities and anxieties fire off in all different directions, crashing against my skull and causing chaos in it’s wake. It’s a chain reaction; there is an incident, and then a flurry of thoughts, followed by an explosion of feelings. Eventually, these things take their toll, chipping away at my humanity, chipping away at my soul, until there is

Just       a little left of me in tact, and I am a new person entirely, and who I was is a foreign memory. This is when time stepped in, but it did not mend my broken soul like they had said, instead it

Numbs,    like an anesthetic during a surgery, keeping you under as you try and repair the damage, but as the anesthesia wears away, you feel a fresh new wave of pain. Other times it doesn’t fade and you feel nothing. You are nothing, and then in your distress you turn to other means to make you feel again. Some turn to a blade, digging deeper and deeper with every cut. Self-inflicted beautiful scars criss cross flesh, permanent reminders of all the battles being faced. Other just break, putting on necklaces of rope, never to feel again.  This is the bleak truth, and I urge you not to just wait, to rely on time, but too take action into your own hands, before your pain can no longer be pushed away.

 

 

 

 

 

Scavenger Hunt

1.   One piece of graffiti-    The evening grew darker and darker as we stood in the huge line, waiting to get ice cream at an outdoor stand. To are right there was a jazz band, flooding the atmosphere around us with good music and a cheerful beat. The band played their songs in  front of an interesting building littered with murals and other pieces of graffiti. I took special note of one image, a cartoon woman exploding with vibrant colors and hair full of fruit. It was an interesting painting, and suited the party like surroundings I stood in. Her skin was was caramel color and her hair, or what at least what was visible past the fruit, was brown, the same shade as her big doe like eyes. The mural took up a large amount of the wall it was on, and captivated nearly everyone’s attentions with its unique features.

2.  Name of restaurant –     A restaurant by the name of ” The Broken Yolk” opened up in the shopping center by house today. I’ve never heard of it before but it seems safe to assume that it is a breakfast place. After all eggs are most commonly eaten for breakfast. The exterior was simple, but pretty. The walls were a silvery color that shined bright in the sunlight, and the restaurants name was plastered on to the wall. It wasn’t a huge sign and the letters were a simple white, which I appreciated. Simple and pretty is the best look.

3. Vivid description-  Her skin was a dark tan colour, and her eyes and hair are even darker, bordering on black. Not that you can see her hair that often, being that she wear a hijab out in public at all times. Today her hijab is turquoise with black swirls and flowers framing her delicate, oval shaped face. The fabric drapes down on to her shoulders as swishes slightly as she walks. In the clamour of the hallways, her walk turns more into dodges and staggering as she is shoved between the many people pressed up beside her.

She wears makeup nearly every day as well. Not too much, she is careful not to mask up her natural beauty but its seldom you will find her without her perfectly applied mascara (which makes her already long eyelashes quite bit thicker and more luxurious looking) and a bit of eyeliner. She’s a bit of a makeup guru, particularly on special occasions. Her love for makeup is part of who she is along with all these other things. These things are part of what makes her Sheema.

4. Two pieces of diologue overheard-     It was while I was at the park watching my little cousins I overheard the conversation of two middle aged women beside me. tHeres what they said…

Woman #1 : I just can’t believe she would do this to me!

Woman #2: I’m not surprised she is a teenager after all, my son always acts like that!

Woman #1 : Oh come on she…

They both started talking much softer and my cousins began to pull me away leaving me to wonder what the teenage girl had done.

5. Two scents- The shop was full of many different all natural perfumes, each of which were packaged in pretty little glass bottles. Enthusiastically, I began to take samples of them right away and remained in the shop for fifteen minutes doing just that, and by the end of perfume smelling spree I had a at least a dozen scents at war with each other as they tried to smell the strongest on my skin. They were all uniquely fragrant and appealing, but my two favourites  were the Lavender scented and Vanilla scented perfumes. They were both very different from each other; the lavender was overpowering and had a strong scent, but the vanilla was soft and pretty. Though they were very different from each other, they were both equally loved.

6.   Two hand gestures or facial expressions-  There are times where I find myself in awkward or troublesome situations. Whether it’s getting sucked into a conversation with someone I don’t really like or not knowing what to do in class, I can always count on my friends to come to my rescue be using a few key signals to let them know of my immediate situation. In many cases all it takes is an alarmed expression cast in their direction or maybe even a flick of the eyebrows. If that doesn’t happen to work I can usually try and subtly wave at them or just make awkward hand motions that may make me look like a really animated person to some, my friends will recognize it as a cry for help. These signals never cease to fail me.

7. Three names of food never tried before –

1. Hagis, Although I can’t say I’m complaining about never eating it.

2. Guinea pig, as strange as it might sound I have some friends who tried it at a Peruvian restaurant.

3. Hawaiian pizza, at an early age I decided that I most certainly do not like the taste of pizza, and never bothered to try pizza with Hawaiian

8. A film- One film franchise I really enjoyed was “Lord Of The Rings”. I find that most movies based on books end up being flops and never near as good as the novels. However, I  found that Peter Jackson did a great job of making the films interesting, action packed, and made the plot was exceptionally interesting.

9. A book-  Go Ask Alice. This book broke my heart to say the least. To see the main character submit to peer pressure time and time again, to see her struggle with her addictions and constantly battle with her demons was definitely eye opening and saddening. The book made me angry as well, as she was abused and raped, it all seemed so unfair. The hardest part about reading this novel was the fact that I knew it was a true story; it was a girls actual diary her parents published after her death. This fact was horrible to find out for me, considering the horrors in this novel. This book exposed the darkness in this world and in our society and is one of my favourites for that reason.

10. Three sounds:

~The rumble of a waterfall

~ The clicking of a keyboard

~ The crash and the shattering of a glass hit the floor

11. Something you touched- I smiled as I  touched the soft fur of the dog curled up by my feet.  It snored softly reflecting on how tired I felt as I lounged on the couch talking to my friend. The dog had soft curly fur that I could not stop running my fingers through and I began to drift off, falling asleep while resting my hand on the dog with fur soft as a pillow.

12. A body of water – The lake by my aunt and uncles cabin is probably my favourite body of water. We go to B.C all the time just to spend time by the waters. Whether we’re canoeing, or swimming or just sitting and reading on the beach it’s always been a favourite pastime for my family.

13. Secluded park- While in Kelowna I cam across an interesting park; it was small and completely empty. It was surrounded by houses and only had one entry that was rather hard to find. I had stumbled upon it completely by accident, and for the week I spent in Kelowna the always empty park became a bit of a safe haven for me. It was a way of escaping the chaos of my family as I was around them constantly in our small hotel room. I read and wrote there as often as I could, other times I would listen to music and sat on the old rusty swings. This park was far from thrilling but provided me with a little bit of sanity and relief

14. Run down place – I have seen many rundown buildings and homes in my lifetime but nothing quite like the one I saw in the beginning of summer. Not only  was it decrepit, but also incredibly eery and made my skin crawl. I had come across the abandoned shack while I was on one of my walks in the forrest by my aunts cabin. It had been a nice sunny day, but when I stumbled upon the wreck the air around me seemed to grow cold and at the world seemed to go still. A shiver ran up my spine and I felt chilled to the bone. Something really really bad must happened here, leave! Part of my mind screamed, at me, while the other half was full of curiosity and wanted nothing more then to explore. The fearful side of me one out, however, and I began to walk back home, casting occasional glances back as I walked further out to where the sun shone bright.

15. A tree – The tree was black as night and its bare branches twisted in all directions, casting strange looking shadows on the ground. It was blemished beyond belief, all bumps and rough edges, and it was hard on the eyes. Not many people liked to hang around where the tree was but I loved it. It reminded me of myself, different then the rest, and so full of flaws and blemishes it’s hard to believe. To me this tree was symbolic of not just me, but so many other people who try to pretend otherwise.

16. A garden-My dad loves to garden, always has,and always will. I love that he loves to garden. People often comment on the prettiness of the three different garden beds surrounding our house and makes me proud that my family can contribute something nice to the communities looks. The garden is full of vivid reds,yellows,blues,pinks and greens and smells amazing around the summer and spring time, but it is not easy to maintain. Often my father spends hours of his time working on keeping it neat and well groomed, but at the end of the day no matter how tired he is, he will always say that its worth it.

17. An animal- My favourite animal is an owl. the reason why I like them so much is not because any of their own physical features instead I love them for what the symbolize. In Greek Mythology they are known as the symbol of the wise. Even nowadays owls are depicted in T.V shows shows as smart or wise. I think wisdom is a very important attribute to have, because being foolish is a very detrimental thing.

18. A heartbreak: Heartbreak does not only happen when someone you love pushes you away, and hearts breaking is not a rare thing. My heart breaks everyday when sad news comes my way. Today in particular my heart breaks for the Syrian refugees. How hard their lives are, how unfair it all seems! Today in social we watched a clip on how the refugees are being treated and how they spend each day fighting to get on the  buses, fighting to find their loves ones, and fighting for simple necessities like food and water. It breaks my heart to see others struggle.

19. A heart soar- For this particular item I wrote a poem:

The beat of a drum, the rhythm of my heart,

the static electricity with every touch.

A love so pure,

innocent and full.

My heart will never sink,

for it had begun to soar.

20. An inspiring thing-I find music to be very inspirational. When I listen to music all sorts of possibilities flood into my head and new ideas and dreams take root. When facing writers block, or a dam in the way of the flow of my creativity, I turn to music for ideas and inspiration.

21. A walk- Every year my family does Betty’s run for ALS, although for us its more of a long walk. My dasds side of the family always gets together to do it in support of my grandma who was taken by ALS when I  was very young. It’s  a Geddes tradition and is a way of bringing my family closer together. This walk is not something I ever forget.

22.  A place you’ve never been- Italy. Which is very ironic considering I am Italian and very proud of that fact. I’ve been wanting to go for sometime now and plan to go when I am eighteen with one of my best friends, Annie. I am especially fond of the idea of going to Venice. I hear its beautiful and full of life, and dream of travelling down its many canals to view the city. I also wish to go to Calabria, my grandparents home town. I have numerous relatives there, and I have met none of them before, and I would love to get to know that side of the family, although I may be overwhelmed by the amount of people fawning over me. I can’t wait until I’m eighteen and able to travel to the place of my heritage.

23. lyrics of a song: ” If I get locked away and we lost it all today, tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?” Now this is just one lyric from the song “Locked Away” but it is my favourite because it questions how far a persons love for you will go.

24. One specific thing that is beautiful-  Sunsets are honestly one of the most breathtakingly beautiful things I have ever seen. Theres just something so amazing about watching all those bright colours come together and casting works of art all over the sky.

25. One thing that is sad-  One of the saddest things in life is seeing someone so undeserving of illness being inflicted upon by it. I’m not talking about your common cold, but things like cancer and other dangerous illnesses. For people to go through so much pain, just seems so unfair.

26. One ting that is grotesque-One thing that I find to be particularly grotesque are moles. I get sick looking at them- seriously. From their strange looking noses to their long claws I find them to be the most disgusting looking animals in all of the world.

27. One thing that is sick/ill- I find it sick how some people treat one another. We are all humans, all have feelings and emotions, so why on earth would you want to treat those around you with disdain and contempt? Why bully someone? Why is someone else’s pain pleasurable to some? It doesn’t make sense to me, and I don’t think it ever will.

28. One thing that is funny- The minute the word “funny” pops into my head I think of my good friends. They’re the people who can make me laugh when I feel down and are the ones that make me laugh so hard I can hardly breathe. Without them and their constant jokes life would be more humourless and fa more dull. They bring laughter into my otherwise mundane life.

29. Something to do with feet- For this item I have written a short poem.

With our feet we walk this land,

we journey,

we fight,

we fall,

but always, we must remember to stand tall.

30. Something to do with hands- For this one I have written a poem on one of my separate blog posts.

 

 

 

 

 

River Writing

rocks

Descriptive:

         The atmoshphere was bright and full of life by the river. It sparkled blue in the sunlight, and even the boring grey of the rocks appeared to shine under the suns intense rays. The river, just off the rocky shore, rushed rapidly, it’s waters stretching out as far as I could see.  I felt the cool, refreshing water wrap around my anckles and weave between my toes as I waded into the shallow water. I took a deep breath, allowing the clear, fresh air filled my my lungs and I identified the smell of pine trees, and other woodland scents that wafted towards me from the further in to the park. I kicked at the water and watched as drops of water sprinkled all around causing ripples to break out in all directions. Laugher floods my ears as my peers joke around with each other, tossing rocks and striking up conversations, while others scribble furiously into their notebooks, inspired by their stunning surrounding.  Meanwhile I gazed up into the sky and looked at the puffy white clouds and let the sun seep into my skin and wrap me around in its warm embrace

Narrative:

        How utterly beautiful is the mind of a child. How very simple and innocent, it’s nothing short of a miraculous in our world today that so many young children are wrapped up in a world of light and magic amongst all the darkness of reality. This is what I think to myself as I watch a small girl clumsily lurch side to side as she navigated her way across the many rocks littering the ground at our feet. She does not show any fear or discontent, in her world I imagine everything to be so easy. Her three main concerns are probably eating, playing, and sleeping. Her problems, are probably nothing more then a scraped knee, I think to myself with just a touch of envy. I watch as her mother grabs her hand while laughing, and my gaze trails after them as they continue to walk down the shore. I wish in that moment, that I could have what that child did: freedom. To be free from school work, free of the stress, to live a life without much pressure and complexities. Ah the simplicity of it all. Simplicity is a sweet, beautiful thing.

Persuasive:

        Look upon the cool blue water at your feet, doesn’t it look inviting? It’s a hot day and in our school uniforms, it only feels worse. It’s starting to bother me, like a scratch you can’t reach that only gets worse and worse… luckley, the water is cool and  refreshing. Just wadding in makes me feel much more content instead of the uncomfortable hot I was feeling before. Now imagine how much better it would be to just dive in to the deeper water, to feel the cool of the water all around you!  To swim around, to splash, to have fun. I think you should do it! I really do. I wish I could… but I have a cold and can’t risk getting more sick, but you can! There’s no reason you need to sit on shore whilst gazing into the river welcoming water. Just dive in, don’t look back, and enjoy the heavenly feeling.

Expository:

      A dog runs along the shore, sometimes running into  the water and running back. Wherever the dog went a few people would marvel at it’s energy and exclaim about how cute he is. Some people how ever shrieked and backed away as the dog approached. When that happened the dog would run in the opposite direction and all you would see as it would flee was a flash of its golden fur. It spent a great deal of time with a small girl as well, presumably it’s owners child. She giggled when it  licked her face and it was seldom it left her side. After about twenty minutes after our arrival, a woman hooked the dog back onto it’s leash and motioned at the small girl, telling her it was time to leave. They walked back up towards the path, away from the river and the dog look back a few times, his eyes looking wistful.

These hands we’re given – Scavenger hunt

handsOur hands are powerful

they can build, create, let us form our lives.

Hands show love,

a touch, a caress, the connection of two different ones

affection, radiating with every touch.

Hands showcase our talents, bring with them our pride.

We use them to paint, to write, to draw

or to catch a ball.

Through our hands we achieve the impossible, our fingers, bringers of miracles

watch as a a midwife catches a child, or as a baby moves its hands for the first time;

watch as we use these hands to save lives.

Our hands are our gifts, but can also be our demise.

They can be used to hurt

cutting,

punching,

scratching,

Bringers of self harm.

They are used to type, sending hate worldwide

these gifts can take lives.

Our hands are powerful, they hold our lives.