Sunday, September 27, 2009
Charles William Stanford
simply known as Will. He is my cousin, and a Corporal in the US Marines at only 20. He spent the last year in Japan and spent the month of September home visiting and he leaves to go back to California on Wednessday. :( I'm really going to miss him. To top it off he is leaving for Afganistan until atleast May, which really scares me, but he is serving this country and doing what he loves, so i am very very proud of him! Plaease help keep him safe by praying for him and all of the americans serving in the Military, every prayer is appreciated :)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
rough draft...example
The Child Called ‘It’
To inspire is to fill with animating, quickening, or exalting influence. To hope is to feel that what is wanted can be had. To hear inspiring stories of others can fill us with the hope to brighten the darkest days. This is what a book will do for me, especially a non-fiction book. The trilogy by Dave Pelzer: A Child Called It, The Lost Boy, and A Man Named Dave, was enough to change my life forever.
In the first novel, A Child Called It, I cried, I screamed, and I hurt. This little boy, David, was only five years old when his mother started to secretly abuse him. He was hit, tortured, starved, lived in the garage, and eventually lost his own name to his family. His mother had so much power over the rest of her kids, and alcoholic father who just wanted to get away, that David soon became known as “It.” I can only imagine the hurt that he went through as a kid. One example from this book stuck with me long after I had read it. “I knew mother had something hideous on her mind. As soon as the left, she brought out one of Russell’s soiled diapers. She smeared the diaper on my face. I tried to sit perfectly still. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t see Mother standing over me, but I could hear her heavy breathing” (Pelzer, 55). How on earth could a mother do that to any of her own children?
He got out, he was eleven but he got out. Then into foster care he went. While in foster care he faced many new struggles of trying to fit in and winding the love of a family again. My brother and sister went through foster care and that’s when the thought first came to my mind about helping these kids because they go through so much. Reading these books just made me want to do something for foster kids. It didn’t necessarily make me want to be a social worker, but I want to help make these kid’s lives better.
Nothing ever happened to that mother. She went to court when he was put into a home, but nothing ever happened to her. They didn’t take her other children and because of that, she moved on to abusing one that was left with her. This book made me realize I want to change that. Children should not have to go through anything hurtful at all. I simply don’t understand how anyone could do that to children.
In his final novel, he is now grown and out of foster care and is now trying to struggle with jobs and life. He got married and has a child. This scared him more than anything in the world. As an adult he found out that one possible reason that he was abused was because his mother was also abused as a child, so he thinks that it runs in the family. He doesn’t want to be like that. His last book is maybe the most inspiring of them all. He proves that no matter what, you can get through anything and let go and forgive even when it doesn’t seem like you should. He forgave his mother on her death bed. Of course she didn’t care, but he did it so he could finally let go and live his life for his son.
Everyone should read David Pelzer’s books. They are the true meaning of inspiration and hope. Any book for that matter can change your life. Just pick it up and start reading.
To inspire is to fill with animating, quickening, or exalting influence. To hope is to feel that what is wanted can be had. To hear inspiring stories of others can fill us with the hope to brighten the darkest days. This is what a book will do for me, especially a non-fiction book. The trilogy by Dave Pelzer: A Child Called It, The Lost Boy, and A Man Named Dave, was enough to change my life forever.
In the first novel, A Child Called It, I cried, I screamed, and I hurt. This little boy, David, was only five years old when his mother started to secretly abuse him. He was hit, tortured, starved, lived in the garage, and eventually lost his own name to his family. His mother had so much power over the rest of her kids, and alcoholic father who just wanted to get away, that David soon became known as “It.” I can only imagine the hurt that he went through as a kid. One example from this book stuck with me long after I had read it. “I knew mother had something hideous on her mind. As soon as the left, she brought out one of Russell’s soiled diapers. She smeared the diaper on my face. I tried to sit perfectly still. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t see Mother standing over me, but I could hear her heavy breathing” (Pelzer, 55). How on earth could a mother do that to any of her own children?
He got out, he was eleven but he got out. Then into foster care he went. While in foster care he faced many new struggles of trying to fit in and winding the love of a family again. My brother and sister went through foster care and that’s when the thought first came to my mind about helping these kids because they go through so much. Reading these books just made me want to do something for foster kids. It didn’t necessarily make me want to be a social worker, but I want to help make these kid’s lives better.
Nothing ever happened to that mother. She went to court when he was put into a home, but nothing ever happened to her. They didn’t take her other children and because of that, she moved on to abusing one that was left with her. This book made me realize I want to change that. Children should not have to go through anything hurtful at all. I simply don’t understand how anyone could do that to children.
In his final novel, he is now grown and out of foster care and is now trying to struggle with jobs and life. He got married and has a child. This scared him more than anything in the world. As an adult he found out that one possible reason that he was abused was because his mother was also abused as a child, so he thinks that it runs in the family. He doesn’t want to be like that. His last book is maybe the most inspiring of them all. He proves that no matter what, you can get through anything and let go and forgive even when it doesn’t seem like you should. He forgave his mother on her death bed. Of course she didn’t care, but he did it so he could finally let go and live his life for his son.
Everyone should read David Pelzer’s books. They are the true meaning of inspiration and hope. Any book for that matter can change your life. Just pick it up and start reading.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Last Night I sang to the Monster
So I just got this new book yesterday and it is just drawing me in.
It's a great book.
It follows this kid who instead of being in his senior year of high school, he is in rehab for addiction. I like reading addiction stories because many in my family have suffered many addictions, and i have my own with nicotine, which is my bad habbit that I need to stop.
I know.
But the first line in this story got me, I laughed and at the same time knew exactly what he meant.
"Some people have dogs. Not me. I have a therapist. His name is Adam.
I'd rather have a dog."
It's a great book.
It follows this kid who instead of being in his senior year of high school, he is in rehab for addiction. I like reading addiction stories because many in my family have suffered many addictions, and i have my own with nicotine, which is my bad habbit that I need to stop.
I know.
But the first line in this story got me, I laughed and at the same time knew exactly what he meant.
"Some people have dogs. Not me. I have a therapist. His name is Adam.
I'd rather have a dog."
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Coming back home
Finding the topic for this paper was rather easy, I read returning to an old neighborhood in the book and immediately knew that was what my paper was going to be about. I actually haven't left home to come back to it, but I have heard enough stories from my grandparents about returning to old places and everything seeming smaller. I did however use my experiences and my house. The most difficult part was actually making myself recall all my experiences as a child because what i said in the paper was true: "I loved it here but I couldn't wait to get out."
I always enjoy reading other peoples stories, of any kind. I like to know other peoples experiences and ideas.
Monday, September 14, 2009
My angel
Every day when school got out, I would get off the bus and I'd run down that old dirt road where you were waiting for me, On the front porch in that blue swing, you'd be smiling and we would sing amazing grace and jesus loves me.
You were like my mother, you were my bestfriend, you were everything i want to be and all the good inside of me there's never been, never been another that loves me like you do..
My Grandmother, My Angel
I love you Grammy and you already know this songs for you!
You were like my mother, you were my bestfriend, you were everything i want to be and all the good inside of me there's never been, never been another that loves me like you do..
My Grandmother, My Angel
I love you Grammy and you already know this songs for you!
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
sleepless nights
I am so into this new novel I'm writing. I just can't help it, it's like I will get random ideas about what would sound good and I just have to write it down, or I'll dream about something ( i literally had a dream with my characters again the other night) and have to find a place to put it. I'm not going to lie, I get stuck with it at times so I just won't open the file back up because it will only discourage me. Instead I just wait until something just pops in my head and get a whole load of writing on it done. It's going to take so much longer than this semester to write, i know. But I'm excited :)
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
coming back home
I never thought I would ever return to this hot, small town. Once I was gone I was really gone. Driving down these curvy black roads only bring back the memories as a child. I loved it here, but I couldn’t wait to get out. The Dogwood trees were like leaves through the pine trees as I slowly rode over the old bridge above the creek we used to walk down until we hit the deep end and then we would swim with the rocks beneath touching our toes. The splashing and laughter still echoes in my ears. Driving off the bridge, I pass the house on the left whose blue wooden mailbox that was the first thing I ever hit with my car; believe me it wasn’t the last. The ivy on the side of the road still looked like the same old green and tangled ivy just a little overgrown. Pulling up to the last stop sign before home I start to think back to when we would meet in the middle of the night and sit around the stop sign. We talked, sang, caught lightening bugs, and listened to the crickets and those crickets sang their own song all night.
There it was, just in front of the stop sign. It wasn’t necessarily a big house, just a one story house with a basement. The old brick seemed to be wearing away and those turquoise shutters have not changed since the 70’s. The dogwood tree in the front yard just didn’t look the same. Nothing did really. It all seemed smaller or maybe I have just grown up too much. When I pulled into the driveway and got out of my car the air seemed really heavy. This place used to be my sanctuary, playing outside in the humid and pollen filled air, I know most people hated it but I always enjoyed playing outside. I walked into the garage that was still filled with tools and plenty of cans coke that my nana would always buy in advance on sale. All I could do is smile and shake my head. Then I was at the door that matched the shutters outside and still had the 70’s style curtains; this is what happens when you live with your grandparents who have had this house for over 20 years. Opening the door and walking in nothing has been moved but it all feels different. Picture frames still fill up every wall in the house along with rhyming birthday signs. These signs are behind the couch in the den and rhyme. For example, “Kaeli is eleven, isn’t it heaven,” and “Kaeli is fifteen a teenage queen.” This was my life growing up.
I walked outside onto the back deck that my papa built. I looked over the railing into the crystal clear pool and immediately wanted to jump in. The pool floor was reflecting in the sunlight like pebbles in the bottom of a lake. The trampoline behind the pool looked like it had not been touched in years. It was covered in leaves and pollen. The playground that we built when I was four was literally falling apart; the slide was on the ground and the swings were hanging on by one chain. Thinking about all the memories as a child made tears fill my eyes. I wanted to come back, I wish I could. There was no possible way. It didn’t feel the same. I guess you can never go back home again and it be the same. I wish it was the way it used to be; popsicles on a hot day, running down the hill in the backyard and picking the roses in the rosebush that grew up the side of the deck, playing in the little creek that ran next to the trampoline, painting the rocks we found with glitter glue and pretending we were mermaids in our pool. It will never be the same again; however, the memories will last a lifetime. I will always look back on them with a smile on my face.
There it was, just in front of the stop sign. It wasn’t necessarily a big house, just a one story house with a basement. The old brick seemed to be wearing away and those turquoise shutters have not changed since the 70’s. The dogwood tree in the front yard just didn’t look the same. Nothing did really. It all seemed smaller or maybe I have just grown up too much. When I pulled into the driveway and got out of my car the air seemed really heavy. This place used to be my sanctuary, playing outside in the humid and pollen filled air, I know most people hated it but I always enjoyed playing outside. I walked into the garage that was still filled with tools and plenty of cans coke that my nana would always buy in advance on sale. All I could do is smile and shake my head. Then I was at the door that matched the shutters outside and still had the 70’s style curtains; this is what happens when you live with your grandparents who have had this house for over 20 years. Opening the door and walking in nothing has been moved but it all feels different. Picture frames still fill up every wall in the house along with rhyming birthday signs. These signs are behind the couch in the den and rhyme. For example, “Kaeli is eleven, isn’t it heaven,” and “Kaeli is fifteen a teenage queen.” This was my life growing up.
I walked outside onto the back deck that my papa built. I looked over the railing into the crystal clear pool and immediately wanted to jump in. The pool floor was reflecting in the sunlight like pebbles in the bottom of a lake. The trampoline behind the pool looked like it had not been touched in years. It was covered in leaves and pollen. The playground that we built when I was four was literally falling apart; the slide was on the ground and the swings were hanging on by one chain. Thinking about all the memories as a child made tears fill my eyes. I wanted to come back, I wish I could. There was no possible way. It didn’t feel the same. I guess you can never go back home again and it be the same. I wish it was the way it used to be; popsicles on a hot day, running down the hill in the backyard and picking the roses in the rosebush that grew up the side of the deck, playing in the little creek that ran next to the trampoline, painting the rocks we found with glitter glue and pretending we were mermaids in our pool. It will never be the same again; however, the memories will last a lifetime. I will always look back on them with a smile on my face.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
My story
I have started to write a novel. I do this often; however, this one is the only one I have stuck with this long. I started out with researching name meanings for my characters and then ideas were just flowing through my head. Actually putting these ideas in just the right order and on paper is the hard part. I am in the first chapter still, I finished the Prologue already. I think this one might be the one i finished because I had a dream about it the other night. That never happens, and i dreamed about certain characters and what they looked like. It is so much better having a visual in my head. When I woke up I immediately wrote down what I dreamt because It was too good for me to risk about forgetting. I am going to keep update about my story throughout the semester because I highly doubt I will finish any time soon. :)
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