I was there for ten hours today. School is all I need. I don't need my home to get me drunk with all the demands of me in this world I've created. All I need is school; my never never land. They tell us that we will go to college and the work will get harder, and it has but I don't feel any different which is simply perfect. I only want a forever lasting school day where hope and optimism is synchronized. That sounds REALLY cheesy, but it's true. All I hear at home is "you better work hard" or "don't eat that unless you wanna get on the tredmill" and really, all I want to do is jump off my roof and NOT DIE just pretend that I did and see how they would all react. Or, run away for a few days, as I wish I did in elementary school because nothing mattered then.
Personally, it's worse being constantly judged by your family than peers, though that could be pretty rough too. I'm not going to go into great details about it because I'm sure you can imagine an example of your own.
2.06.2008
All to Mourn
As the time of grief for the Browning family has passed, I feel as though it is time to look into perspection of Nick Browning: the son, the brother and the murderer.
Clearly, he was insane. How could a sane person kill their father over seemingly petty conversations with their father's handgun. And after kill their mother and two brothers while sleeping. If you think about it, the person who killed these loving people was someone else inside. Someone else inside that hadn't dissolved over the years of punishment and scolding from the parents. Thus, the Nick the people in the neighborhoods and schools see didn't kill his family; the Nick that manifested inside him did and one day mustered up the strength to kill those whom bothered him. It's a virus. Obviously he needed help, and no one gave it to him.
I not only mourn the family and Nick's old sane self.
Clearly, he was insane. How could a sane person kill their father over seemingly petty conversations with their father's handgun. And after kill their mother and two brothers while sleeping. If you think about it, the person who killed these loving people was someone else inside. Someone else inside that hadn't dissolved over the years of punishment and scolding from the parents. Thus, the Nick the people in the neighborhoods and schools see didn't kill his family; the Nick that manifested inside him did and one day mustered up the strength to kill those whom bothered him. It's a virus. Obviously he needed help, and no one gave it to him.
I not only mourn the family and Nick's old sane self.
2.05.2008
Kids! Look at the Water!
"kids! Look at the water!" (quote from my dad, who every time we passed over a bridge over water on our drive across the country (US, that is) would say just that with na equal amount of enthusiasm each time.)
Luckily, I refrained myself from saying it when roaming around the peer this night, though I wanted to.
2.04.2008
Character Sketch: Seven Year Old Daniel
Nothing had jarred his senses at this pinnacle before. His whole face was disgruntled; a frown for the mouth, a furrowed brow, a soggy eye and redness in between. Emotions were confused with no map; there were too many to maintain and his boggling mind had no other mannerism but to crash. So there he sat pondering in awe on his kitchen floor beside the cupboard below the metal sink.
Sure, I've seen Dad cry like this before; Great-Uncle Pete's wedding. But he hadn't. His father wasn't known to cry often at all, and neither was Daniel.
From the ceiling of the kitchen, rumbled the footsteps of his father dragging his feet on the wooden floor. For the remainder of the hour, Daniel sat listening and counting his father's footsteps scraping against the floor. At his father's hundred and first step Daniel pulled himself out of the puddle that had accumulated beneath him, and walked out the front door into their yard. He perched himself on the grass laying his sweatshirt, which he had taken off, on the grass creating a target where his head would ly. But before he lowered himself he looked off into the neighboring yards;
He scanned Mrs. Denson's yard for her cumbersome Pug named Frodo to play with, but no good. He must be at the vet. Daniel concluded because she didn't let it inside the house too lazy to potty train him. Daniel turned his head over to Mr. Walker's fence where bunnies usually roam, but there were no bunnies today. The foxes must have captured them. Frustrated, Daniel shifted himself for the last time to search for his older neighbor, Shelby's award winning roses. He finally found them behind the humongous hydrangea bush practically empowering them. But none the less, one blue rose bush penetrated through, illuminating the spectrum. Its branches scraped her white house every time the wind blew.
After his retina enjoyed the effulgent colors, he lowered his back and hard onto the floor of his bosky yard. Instead of blinking profusely to adjust to the light, he tied his arms around his face leaving only a single crack of beaming light that muffled to a slight glow. He sat and gargled his thoughts. Swish Swash Swish Swash. Daniel could see himself holding her hand across the street as they walked home from the grocery store. Her hand was always warm but not clammy. She was very tall; Daniel always pictured her fighting the bullies if they came around. He wasn't safe without her. Daniel convinced himself never to make the mistake his she did even if it meant never crossing a street again. His mind burned with rejection.
Daniel curled his legs up to his head allowing his chin to rest on his left knee. In the morning, Momma will be back.
Daniel didn't know that she was never going to know, so he awoke to a sunrise with no one but Frodo and bunnies.
Sure, I've seen Dad cry like this before; Great-Uncle Pete's wedding. But he hadn't. His father wasn't known to cry often at all, and neither was Daniel.
From the ceiling of the kitchen, rumbled the footsteps of his father dragging his feet on the wooden floor. For the remainder of the hour, Daniel sat listening and counting his father's footsteps scraping against the floor. At his father's hundred and first step Daniel pulled himself out of the puddle that had accumulated beneath him, and walked out the front door into their yard. He perched himself on the grass laying his sweatshirt, which he had taken off, on the grass creating a target where his head would ly. But before he lowered himself he looked off into the neighboring yards;
He scanned Mrs. Denson's yard for her cumbersome Pug named Frodo to play with, but no good. He must be at the vet. Daniel concluded because she didn't let it inside the house too lazy to potty train him. Daniel turned his head over to Mr. Walker's fence where bunnies usually roam, but there were no bunnies today. The foxes must have captured them. Frustrated, Daniel shifted himself for the last time to search for his older neighbor, Shelby's award winning roses. He finally found them behind the humongous hydrangea bush practically empowering them. But none the less, one blue rose bush penetrated through, illuminating the spectrum. Its branches scraped her white house every time the wind blew.
After his retina enjoyed the effulgent colors, he lowered his back and hard onto the floor of his bosky yard. Instead of blinking profusely to adjust to the light, he tied his arms around his face leaving only a single crack of beaming light that muffled to a slight glow. He sat and gargled his thoughts. Swish Swash Swish Swash. Daniel could see himself holding her hand across the street as they walked home from the grocery store. Her hand was always warm but not clammy. She was very tall; Daniel always pictured her fighting the bullies if they came around. He wasn't safe without her. Daniel convinced himself never to make the mistake his she did even if it meant never crossing a street again. His mind burned with rejection.
Daniel curled his legs up to his head allowing his chin to rest on his left knee. In the morning, Momma will be back.
Daniel didn't know that she was never going to know, so he awoke to a sunrise with no one but Frodo and bunnies.
2.03.2008
A letter to Mrs. Tina Fey
CONGRADULATIONS, TINA FEY!
you've won your first trophy (I guess you could call it that) for acting. I know I'm really really reallly late on this news that isn't really news cause it isn't knew, but oh well. I could say; I'm fashionably late because you, Tina Fey, are fashionably awesome.
Good Luck with all projects you may be working on, whether it's how to cure the common cold, cancer or simply making a new ep. of my favorite show on TV 30 Rock. Keep it real.
sincerly,
Ivy Ribbon (only a fan, clearly i dont really know you, but olzz well.)
you've won your first trophy (I guess you could call it that) for acting. I know I'm really really reallly late on this news that isn't really news cause it isn't knew, but oh well. I could say; I'm fashionably late because you, Tina Fey, are fashionably awesome.
Good Luck with all projects you may be working on, whether it's how to cure the common cold, cancer or simply making a new ep. of my favorite show on TV 30 Rock. Keep it real.
sincerly,
Ivy Ribbon (only a fan, clearly i dont really know you, but olzz well.)
Abonohu te:
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