Dedicated to the NIU victims

This is from February 2008. If you want to hear about some of the writing process, read my entry entitled "If you haven't noticed."

This is supposed to take place before they found out who the shooter was and the last victim died in the hospital.

It was my dream come true to come to this school. I've never been so busy, confused, stressed, and happy in my life.
That one moment turned my dream into a nightmare.
I'll never forget the look on our faces. I'd never seen anyone so scared in my entire life! Everyone was so taken aback by it, we weren't sure what to think.
My mind was racing. I can't tell you a single complete thought I had. No one should hear the sound of a gun, at least not in this kind of situation; not if it's a random shooting.
I was so looking forward to today. I mean, who doesn't love Valentine's Day, at least just a little bit? This was supposed to be such a wonderful day. Then something like this happens.
Have you ever been to a wake or a funeral and saw everyone in the room crying? Imagine that with x amount of college students! I saw the toughest guy in my science class cry on his friend's shoulders. I saw the most athletic jock on the cross-country team in a fetal position on the ground, refusing to hide her tears. The worst of enemies would embrace each other and not care who saw.
I didn't get a good look of the shooter. There is a lot of talk about who it was. The nerd who ate by himself at lunch yesterday? The guy in the drama club who just got dumped by his girlfriend? Someone who goes to a rival school? A former teacher?
That kind of discussion would last about 5 or 10 seconds. We cared more about how they lived as opposed to how they died. I'm not sure right now how many died, but I saw one person get pulled into an ambulance. That one didn't look so good.
I didn't know them much, but I know one guy who was killed was so close to his family. That's pretty much all I've thought about. What's going to happen to his family? I can't imagine the pain they're going to go through.
I can sense this will be the only thing people are going to talk about. Who knows if the media is going to get it right anyway? This clearly won't give our school a good name; but, hey, that's not our fault. I don't care about that. The only thing I want to know is what is happening to the world?

Church model

On a violin, a bow is strummed along four strings to make music. The violinist rests the instrument on his/her chin on the chin rest. Pegs are used to tune the violin and the nut supports the string.
In this sense, the people of God are the strings, and we are guided by God, the bow. Jesus supports us like the chin rest and the nut. The Holy Spirit acts as the pegs because it 'tunes' our actions, if you will. The strings played together create harmony and beautiful music.

If you haven't noticed

The original name for my blog was "Just for the heck of it" because...well I couldn't think of anything better. Now, it's called "Searching for inspiration." That's exactly what I'm doing at the moment.
One aggravating thing about writing is having writers block. Whenever I get it, it usually lasts quite a while until something happens that is, well, overwhelming. For example, I once had writers block for a few months (2 or 3 maybe) last year. As soon as I heard about the NIU shootings, I had inspiration for a story. I'll post that one some time this week.
So once something shocking, something incredible, happens like that, the writers block goes away. It takes a lot to capture my interest.
Why am I telling you this? Well, it's been a while since I posted anything. The reason you probably can't tell is because I've scheduled a few of my previous ones for a few days ahead of when I wrote them. Also, if you refer to my first post, you'll see that I admitted to having blogged on other sites and I said I'd use some of those.

If anyone can refer me to some blogs on this site (or any other) that is worth reading, let me know

About the "Conner" poem

I sent it to the author of the book it was inspired by ("Impulse" by Ellen Hopkins) and this was her response:

Excellent poem. I'm honored, and so is Conner! Thanks for writing
XX, Ellen

:D

Parody Poem: Macbeth

In my English class, we have to write a parody poem about Macbeth. We've only read the first 3/6 acts. Here's my poem...

Fair is foul and foul is fair
So read Macbeth, if you dare
His partner in greatness, his wife
Friend, Banquo, must fear for his life
Macbeth starts out admirable
A strong fighter, oh so noble
Next thing you know, the witches tell
Of a fate that will bring him Hell
They tell him he will become king
And so he starts his killing spree
He gets rid of competition
Keep the title, that’s his mission
What’s to come of this tragedy?
We’ll find out in time, hopefully

Obesity

I'm going to try my best not to offend anyone. If anything, I'm trying to defend overweight people.

Every single girl you meet in your life is self-conscious about her weight; guys are like this, too, but you mostly hear about girls. Not everyone looks perfect and obesity in America is rising.

Have you ever walked down the street or in a mall or anywhere else and saw an overweight person and started criticizing that person in your head? That's not fair and you know it; you don't know their lifestyle choices or how they grew up. Hey, it's not like they asked to look like that.

Putting off that weight isn't exactly easy. Everyone assumes that skinny people work out a lot and overweight people don't do much. My problem is when people think overweight people are lazy. Here are 2 perfect examples to prove how wrong that is:
-My friend is overweight even though she eats healthy is very physically active
-I, on the other hand, am not as active as her at all and I don't eat as healthy (ask anyone) and yet people tell me I look thin
My point: sometimes obese people work out more than those who aren't obese and results don't exactly show as much.

So leave these people alone. Don't they have enough to worry about without having people either giving them repulsed looks or, worse, trying not to look at them at all?

The first cut is the deepest

Conner

http://www.ellenhopkins.com/Impulse.html

This poem was inspired by the book Impulse, about teenagers sent to a psychiatric hospital after they attempt suicide. What happens to Conner? Well, find out for yourself...

He seemed to have it all
He could have what he wanted
But no one would believe
The fears that kept him haunted
Like the women he loved
So different from other girls
The pressure from family
Left him the weight of the world
His sister, so pretty
He could never be like her
But nobody would care
Unless he got in Harvard
He pulled the trigger, but
He can't even do that right
They sent him to get help
But would they care if he died?
He met some great people
Again, he was admired
His parents sent homework
Intended they cared. Liars!
They took them all hiking
To pass obstacles again
As if life weren't enough
Last step: to climb the mountain
He's heard it all before
Negative noise in his head
He defies them, proves them wrong
Praise would still be left unsaid
He is above them all
Drugs can't get him high like this
They notice something's wrong
But they don't ask what it is
He's conquered the heartache
And he stares over the edge
He looks back one last time

And he steps over the edge

Obnoxious things you'll hear from girls

I'm really getting sick of the people I've been associating myself with. Every girl I've come in contact with is the same: They think they're so sure about everything and think they're smarter than everyone else.
So to take these people down a peg, I've come up with responses to all the cliche bs I've been hearing...

1. I'm not fake like everyone else
Meaning: I'm the most fake beeotch (yes, I spelled it) you'll ever meet in your life

2. I don't care what people think of me
Yeah, you do. Who are you trying to kid? Besides, you wouldn't be saying that if people liked you

3. I wear a fake smile
Coming from the people who say they 'love their life.' There's a saying I like that goes with this: "do i regret one thing? never, because at one point i did what i wanted and i got my satisfaction!"
Yes, I stole that from someone

4. I don't need a guy controlling my life
So is that why you've been with the same a-hole for the past x amount of years?

5. I feel I'm more mature than most girls my age
HAHAHAHAHAHA
Are you kidding me?

6. I've done things I regret
These are the same people who claim to have no regrets
Vice versa

7. You will never know me
People say this all the time, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

8. I'm done, I'm over this, I'm independent
Honey, no you're not. By the way, this phrase is so overused (if that's a word) that it's lost its meaning

9. I'm not taking his crap anymore
Next day you'll be making out with him, watch

10. I'm far from perfect, and I'm OK with that
I don't believe that

11. I'm not looking to fight her
But if you were alone with her, she'd end up with a black eye, right?

12. I don't want anyone else getting involved in my business
Yeah, right. That's why you complain about your life on MySpace and to anyone who will pretend to listen

13. This is the start of a brand new me
Nope, same person I didn't like from the beginning

14. I take my beliefs very seriously
Aw, that's sweet. By the way, nice default of you in a bikini on your uncle's Lamborghini

15. She has nothing better to do than talk shit about me
Look who's talking

16. I'm not like her, she's a bitch
You never know, you may have more in common than you think

17. I don't lie
Liar

How are you?

I hate when people ask, "How are you?" The usual answer is, "I'm fine, you?" Everyone knows that's not completely true?
Well, let's see how I am...
Everyone keeps dying and I'm waiting to see how long it takes before it's my turn to lose someone close. My mom just yells and yells at me and makes personal insults and it's not getting any better. I'm drifting farther away from people I never should have let go. I can't stand my dad's girlfriend. The only way I can tolerate her is if I start doing drugs or something (I'm not on drugs). I'm ashamed of the people I'm surrounded by. I've had more panic attacks than I can count. My mom and aunt don't speak to each other and I'm still certain it's my fault and no one knows it. I can feel myself falling apart. I'm losing my confidence. People say they like me but I know they hate me, but there's nothing I can do about it.
And I'm just getting started.
We don't say all that because we don't want to pass our burdens down to others. If we don't say anything, then we feel like we're bottling our emotions and that makes us feel bad. If we say what's wrong, we think we're too whiny for people to handle, which also makes us feel bad.

How's life? Well, better than death.

Amber

Before you read this, I just want to assure I don't personally know anyone named Amber, but don't ask how I thought of the name

Her name is Amber. Well, not really. I say her real name when I talk to her, I say her real name when I talk about her. But in my mind she is Amber
She's told me I'm not good enough. She's told me she knows me 'so well.' She's told me I have problems I need to sort out. This is something my father needs to hear, not me.
I sit on my porch, listening to the yelling. She rushes out of the house and storms down the steps, not daring to look at me. But I'm looking straight at her, whether she knows it or not.
My father runs after her. Interesting how he's never tried to chase after me for anything. By now she's getting in her car. He begs her to stay, but she's had enough. She gets in her car and speeds away.
My father throws a rock at a tree. I just stare at my hands on my lap. He marches toward the house. I stare at him and his fists, begging God not to let them harm me. He looks at me, and both of us look away. He wants me to feel guilty. He wants me to feel sad. He wants me to feel angry. He wants me to be anything but happy. It's not working, not for a minute.
I watch him enter the house. I rest my head in my hands as I hear him throwing things at the wall, screaming profanities and all that shit. You would think I'm used to it; even if I am, that doesn't mean I like it.
No longer do I have to hear the screaming. No longer do I have to hear the fighting. No longer do I feel in the middle like I have to take sides.
Well at least for now.

She's back the next day. Oh, Amber...



Life is like a piano. White keys are happy, black notes are sad; but both are played to make beautiful music.

(I paraphrased that quote a little)

Don't go to bed angry

Kinda long...

Yesterday was quite a roller coaster for me. It went from normal, to bad, to relief, then pretty bad, then great, then so bad that I literally couldn't breathe.

It started out like a normal day. In my theology honors class, though, we got our tests back. I wasn't sure what my teacher was saying with the grade he put on it (there were a bunch of different numbers all over the place) and I thought I failed it. I was relieved later when I found out I actually passed it.

At about 6 I reminded my mom about taking me to youth group. We hadn't had dinner yet, and my mom starts yelling at me as if it's my fault she can't remember anything. I saw this as a test to see if she can remember anything about me, and she failed.

Yeah, cuz I love when pregnant bipolar psychos yell at me over nothing.

My mom had me drive to youth group...I hate driving, especially with my mom, so that didn't help much. I had a blast when I got there. I met up with people I hadn't seen in a while, we played some fun games, blah blah blah.

After I got home I did laundry. My mom kept giving me like 3 different directions on what goes in the dryer, what setting, etc. At one point she starts screaming at me.

Quick thing: There is a difference between yelling and screaming. Yelling is something I (somewhat) pay attention to; screaming, I just let it go in one ear and out the other, and all I really hear is the noise the person is making.

Anyway, it brought back memories of other times my mom yelled/screamed at me. When a pregnant woman yells at you, it's personal. Those memories never leave. Pregnant woman know just how to cut you down to pieces. Just thinking of everything drove me insane. I started throwing a 'temper tantrum' down in the laundry room. Grunting to myself, throwing things, crying, slamming doors, all that jazz. No one said anything, though.

Afterward I was getting in the shower, and I was just gasping for air. I just could not breathe. I was making the most obnoxious noises that probably drove my sisters crazy.

This morning in my first 2 classes I've been so dizzy. Whenever I go to bed angry this happens. I guess it's an adrenaline rush. As time goes on, how I handle anger is different. I used to be mad and let it ruin my whole day and have this bitchy attitude all day. As I got older, I'd be really PO'd for a while and I'm OK in not much time at all. Now, if I get mad enough, I just get real dizzy after I'm angry.

Well, the whole thing yesterday has given me ideas for writing, so the bright side is my writers' block is (somewhat) cured. Bad news: I still have no idea why I keep getting dizzy whenever I'm angry.

Ugh something is always wrong with me. -Kelly T

Give and take