Reality vs fairy tales

I live in reality I know what reality looks like but what I do forget is that good can prevail and if I need it, someone could come along and rescue me. And that's why we need fairy tales. We all need something to remind us that even if only for a while there can be happy endings and we are allowed our dreams and wished.

Diamonds or books...

Some girls want a huge diamond on their finger, I rather have a huge library full of good books

How much power do you hold over your character?

I believe that each day we make decisions about what we do, where we go, what we say and those things shape our character. And that everyday we have the chance to remain dynamic or static, that we can change our character or stay the same the choice is ours and ours alone.

Let's Dabble

For some weird reason we get this idea in our head that we have to do one thing for the rest of our lives. One goes to college, majors in something, gets a job and does that job for the rest of their life. These days it seems that people rarely dabble. They don't explore there talents and what they are capable of. It's like like your childhood is where you experiment but by adulthood you have to know what your doing. You know what I say to that type of thinking false. Exploring what your mind, and body can do is good for you. It keeps you healthy.

Besides by constantly learning your brain gets a chance to exercise. You know what they say use it or lose it. So go out and try something new. If you hate it move on do something else. Find something that you like and then go out and find something else you like. Who knows you could find a new activity, hobby or job.

Stuck in a Role

Sometimes I feel like we get stuck in a certain roles by our friends, family members, teachers, peers, coworkers, etc. And it sucks. We become the dependable one, the funny one, or the boring one with little room to break out. It becomes hard to change. But some times we have to change so what do you do? You can find new friends, go away and come back or change ignoring everyone else around you.

And don't put others in roles either. Let the people around be all of themselves.

Who do I want to be?

Sometimes one while along their life's journey acquires characteristics, traits, or habits, addictions they never really wanted. Characteristics that when you look in the mirror you don't like who you see. You ask yourself "How did I become this person?" These thoughts can lead to self- hatred , and depression. They take the smile off you face, the skip out of your step.

But how do you get rid of those characteristics? How can you become a person that when you look in the mirror you like who you see?

Fairy Tales

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that the dragons can be beaten.

Romeo and Juliet - Do you really wanna be them?

Why would anyone want to compare themselves to Romeo and Juliet. I mean really, they commit suicide at the end of the play. And not only do they die, many of their friends and family die because of them.

Even so today there are many couples who compare themselves to the most tragic couple all time.

What I wanna know is what is it about them that is so special? Is it the fact that they meet at a masked ball? Is it that they rebelled against their parents? Oh wait maybe its because just hours before Romeo fell in lust with Juliet, he was preoccupied with Rosaline a couple of hours before?

You know what I got it. It's that after only a couple of days, of knowing each other they ran away to get married. I mean unless your drunk, who does that?! Like really. That's not romantic that's just weird.

Romeo and Juliet are not my example of an ideal relationship. I think i'd rather be a Odysseus and Penelope. At least they never cheated on each other or killed themselves, or even caused the death of their family and friends. Yes there were separated for twenty years but hey doesn't true love wait.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Does it really matter? Why do we have to know why the chicken crossed the road? Can't he just cross the road in peace? Like really, does it matter where he is going? And what's with the obsession with the chicken? I mean why not make it more realistic and make it a deer? Or make it more creative - such as a walking fish? So many questions I have but yet everyone keeps asking the same question - why did the chicken cross the road?

The language does not always change with the times

The sun does not rise. It's impossible, the sun does not move. The Earth rotates.

It is funny how in the English language there are certain phases that stick with us that are scientific incorrect or that only can be applied during a certain time period. An good example of a time period only saying would be pot calling the kettle black. But think about it, today kettles and pots come in all different colors, at the time when this saying came about all kitchenware was made from iron. So this saying could be harder for our generation to understand with out first doing research.

But even though these sayings are wrong or no longer relevant, we still use them. I wonder why that is? Is it just because we have been hearing them for so long so they stick?

Sibling love is a funny thing

So I am the oldest of three. I have a brother who is sixteen months younger then me and a sister who is seven years younger then me. I love them and I know that they love me but the sure have a funny way of showing it.

Their favorite way is to wake me up in the morning. They have used lights, dogs, flying pillows, flying bodies, loud voices, you get the point. It's awful and I hate it.

Now if that wasn't showing enough love right there we also like to tease each other about our crushes in front of our parents. ( I feel as if that is very cruel)
My little sister likes to run around making kissing noises at all of us.

The love also continues with the name calling, and the smacks and the punches, as well as the blaming and the teasing.

But its all good because there is a poem on our fridge where my sister calls me her hero. And even though my brother is about a foot taller then me and hundred pounds heavier, he still likes to use me as a pillow when ever he is tired or sad.

Sometimes I don't like my siblings very much but I always love them.

Me + technology = huge mess

Technology is so not my thing. I think I am living in the wrong era. For example I managed to single-handedly give over my laptop to a 40 year old man sitting in his mom's basement. Which is quite an accomplishment if you ask me. Now if I could I would just be like bye-bye laptop and buy a new one. But there are two problems with that - number one I do not have that much money. Number two - this 40 year old man is using me and I do not like it when people use me.

My solution to my problem is to find a smart person to fix it for me and I did. This guy is great, he started fixing it at like ten - thirty at night and then went home promising to come back with some type of software that will finishing fixing it tomorrow. I gotta tell you this guy is my knight in shinning armor.

Well not exactly, he really is my best friend's knight in shinning armor because he is her boyfriend in all. But he is totally willing to fix my laptop and I am thrilled that he is doing so. Besides while he is so focused on fixing that technology thing that my friend and I could be painting out faces blue and he would not even notice.

So now I am happy that my laptop is being fixed, my friend is happy to hang out with me (I am also happy to be hanging out with her), and my friend's boyfriend is happy to be fixing something. The only person that is not going to be happy is that 40 year old man sitting in his mom's basement.

Empty

"Kaya!" my baby sister screams, "What about supper?"

"I'll be back soon," I yell over my shoulder.

           I knew I should not have started my run so close to the time when I had to fix dinner. But hearing my mama crying was more then I can take.  Sometimes I wish she would come downstairs and realize that she still has five children that are alive and well.  Jake, my stepdad, agrees with me but mama does not seem to be listening to us. All she does is just stare ahead with that lost look in her eyes.  I shake my head my head and put the thoughts of my mother to the back of my mind. Then I focus on my breathing and my pace and run.

When I get back to my house my baby brother and my baby sister are waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Kaya, look," Levi exclaims, " Ava and me set the table all by ourselves."

"Ava and I," I correct him. "How did you get the dishes?" I look around the kitchen to check for any signs of broken dishes.

"Out of the dishwasher," Ava replies, "We heard it sing so we knew that it was done."

"They were hot so we used the paddy thingys," Levi adds to Ava's explanation. 

"Hot pads," I correct him, once more, " Where are Jake and the older boys?" I ask.

"Well," Ava begins as she pulls out her chair at the dinner table, "Daddy is upstairs with Mommy, and Lukie and Si are in the basement watching Toy Story."

"Toy Story?" I raise my eyebrows for I have heard my thirteen and twelve year old brothers complain more then once about having to watch that movie with Levi.

"They were watching it with us but we came upstairs to set the table for you. I'm hungry. Can we have hot dogs?" Levi switches the topic to food once more.

I begin to cook dinner without even bothering to change out of my sweats and sneakers. I'm gross right now I know but I never know when I will have to get out of the house again.  As I cook the hot dogs and toss the salad I listen to Levi and Ava talk about their day.

"Hey Kaya," Levi starts carefully, "Do you think that Mommy will come down to dinner today?"

"Yeah, she should she has not been downstairs since the funeral.

I look at my four year old sister and three year old brother and try to think of how to put what I wish to say to them in words.

But the moment is broken when most of the family joins us at the dinner table lured by the smell of food. Jake comes from the upstairs with puffy eyes, and Simon and Luke come up from the basement as quiet as mice. Normally my brothers being quiet is a blessing but right now the quietness is because of sorrow not peace. We sit down to enjoy our meal of hot dogs and salad. At the food of the table my mother's chair is empty. Just like the nursery above our heads. 

The Local Food Movement

One of the major difficulties with the local food movement is persuading people to join the movement.  As of now food that is not produced locally is cheaper and can be conveniently found at Wal-Mart, Target, Shoprite, as well as many other stores. In South Deerfield, Massachusetts there is a nonprofit organization, Community Involved in Sustaining Agriculture (CISA), which has begun campaigning to convince consumers to buy locally.  Their slogan is “Be a Local Hero.”  Finding a good campaigning strategy most have been a difficult,

“Campaigns that dwell too much on guilt – the horrors of factory farming or the pollution associated with 18-wheelers – can turn people off.  At the same time, campaigns that dwell on pleasures – can turn people off.  At the same time, campaigns that dwell on pleasures – face-to-face contact with neighbors who grow your food or unrivaled flavor of a ripe peach – can be overly abstract” (Halweil 143).

So instead the CISA decided to use human pride as to further their cause.  This campaign has been unquestionably successful.  “A research firm found that 87 percent of the people surveyed knew about the campaign.  ‘The firm was astonished,’ Lattanizi says.  ‘In marketing, that’s gold’” (Haweil 143-144).  The CISA works to raise awareness about local foods so consumers can play their own part in saving the Earth.

Halweil, Brian. Eat Here; Reclaiming Homegrown Pleasures in a Global Market. New York: W W Norton & Company, 2004. Print.

“It’s the Simple Things”

It was the Wednesday night right before Easter Sunday and I was about to do something I absolutely love, have dinner with my friends.  On a normal Wednesday night my friends and I would have gone to church for youth group but this week youth group was canceled and we were having dinner at my house instead.  The guys were all down in the basement watching TV and us girls were in the kitchen making dinner.  (Hahahaha all the girls were in the kitchen making dinner, very funny go ahead and laugh)  From time to time we would drag the guys upstairs, once to set up all the tables and extra chairs, another time to set the table.  We had developed a rhythm that was broken when Chels burnt her hand on the oven rack while putting in the mac and cheese.  All activity in the kitchen ceased while we located the first aid kit and consulted the best way to treat a second-degree burn.  Chels was then given a chair in the kitchen and instructed to sit down and put an ice pack on her burn.  She was not allowed to touch the oven for the rest of the night.  Eventually the food was ready and we were very hungry.  As we sat down we segregated ourselves again, except this time it was singles at one end of the table and couples at the other end.   The conversation included taunts, laughter, and inside jokes.  It was nothing special but that is what made it so great.

            After dinner, we decided to go to Rita’s for dessert.  The main reason was not for the ice and custard but to see my brother at work. We left my mom with strict instructions not to worry about cleaning up our mess for we would clean up when we got home.  There were fourteen people so we had to take separate cars, we had are on little caravan. Chels, a few others, and I went a different way to Rita’s.  On the way we saw flashing lights of the EMS.  That kind of freaky me out because that was where the rest of out caravan should me.  I had to reassure myself that if something had gone wrong for my friends on their drive the EMS would not have gotten there already, although they were there for someone.  My car arrived there before anyone else, so I was a bit worried about the others until they got there.  After some water ice and some hellos to my brother, we went to leave, but that was easier said than done, for a couple of my younger friends had decided it would be funny if they disappeared.  Therefore, we decide to prank them back.  The rest of us got in our cars and went to go back home, some of us actually did. Although Chels, a couple of others and I waited for them in the parking lot next door. Eventually we got bored and went and picked them up.  Finally we headed back home.

            For the rest of the night we relaxed, watch TV, played Just Dance, and talked. Nothing crazy or interesting happened but it was fun all the same.  One by one everyone left until once again my house was quiet.  There was nothing special about that night except for the fact that we were all together and really that all that matter to me because soon we will go our separate ways.  College, jobs, marriage, children, and so much more waits for us but for now we will spend our time together  until we have to leave each other.

Chelsea

            Chelsea and I meet when we were in third grade.  We were in the same third grade class and I had just started going to her church.  This resulted in us seeing each other at least six days a week.  The two of us were as a like as we were different.  Both of us were so stubborn but we each had a different way of demonstrating it.  I was quietly stubborn, never one to throw a fit I would just make up my mind and refuse to change it.  Chelsea would get loud.  ( As she says “I would agrue for the sake of arguing.”)When she wanted something she would fight tooth and nail to get it. Our most memorable fight was over a paper chip.  Both of us insisted that it was ours. (Don’t ask me how that problem got solved I don’t remember.)  I remember our parents would say that we spent too much time together and that we needed a break, so over that summer that’s what we did.  We didn’t see each other as much so we didn’t agree as much.  Our relationship could be described as a love/hate relationship.  Over the years. We reminded frenemies although we did continue to hang out with each other.  We attended the same church programs, the same school and had lots of mutual friends.

            Sophomore year we both discovered that we actually enjoyed spending time with each other. We had both grown up and become more mature and we had learned the value of discussion and compromise.  It was no longer torture hanging out together.  As it turned out Chelsea and I had a similar thought pattern, a similar way of looking at things, and we understood each other.  One night we actually sat down and talked about our past relationship. We used that talk to get out all of our past hurt feeling and misunderstandings.  After all that talking we agreed to move on and let it all go. Now we see each other at least six days a week and almost never argue.

            Without realizing it Chelsea had taught me that the importances of giving people a second change because others and ourselves do change.  If I had shut Chelsea out of my life I would have lost a chance of having someone that now means so much in my life.

The instructor said,

Go home and write

A page tonight

And let that page come out of you-

Then, it will be true.

Trying to put all the stuff I love in one page that will be hard

So I wouldn't even talk about what I hate

Where should I start? What should I talk of first?

My love of my family, or my friends, or just the simple things of life

For the most part I like my family

But I always love them

My mom, my dad, my brother, my sister, my dog

I would do anything for any of them

My mother so full of kindness and understanding

My father is intelligent and hardworking

My brother who is just like a big teddy bear

My smart and crazy little sister

And my hyper dog who would not hurt a fly

Then there are my friends - or rather those goons

We have climbed mountains together

We have made our friendship strong by spending time together

We care tons about each other

And entertain ourselves by acting as nuts as possible

Then there are the simple things I love

I love the smell of rain and a sixty degrees

To me music always sounds best when dancing to the car radio

The feel of a clean house although mostly its almost clean

Cuddling up with a good book in front of the fire

To God I give thanks for the people and things

That He has put in my life

My life would not be my life without Him

So thanks God

There are some who might read this and say

But what does it tell me about you

But if one looked really looked they would see

That me is all wrapped up in this poem

Multiple Uses for a Plastic Kiddie Pool

1) Pool (hot tub, bath tub, dog bath tub, etc)
2) Big space to put bubbles
3) sandbox
4) sled (regular sled or dog sled)
5) bed (just put a bunch of pillows and blankets in it)
6) flower garden
7) hiding spot
8) storage
9) ball pit
10) a reading spot (or a thinking spot or a drawing spot)
11) mud pit (why go to a spa when you have everything you need in your back yard?)
12) a play pen
13) a nursery for newborn pups (or anytype of new born for that matter)my dog lived in a kiddie pool for her first couple of weeks
14) a canvas for painting
15) a shield for a snow ball fight, pillow fight, paintball war, etc


With a huge imagination and some time anyone can come up with multiple uses for a kiddie pool (or anyother object for that matter)

warning there are some uses for a kiddie pool that might lead to your injury or death or the injury, or death of another person or, the injury or death of a kiddie pool

Ms. Findley's Angel

Today I meant a woman by the name of Ms. Finley . This woman is about eighty-five years old and lives in a house that was built about hundred and fifty years ago. Her daughter had tastefully decorated her mother's home for Christmas. The house is so well done that many people (including my great-grandmother) request to tour her house. There are no words to describe to you this house. Its gorgeous. I felt as if I was underdressed and I needed to run home and get my ball gown. But alas I am getting off topic. Each room of the house has many Christmas decorations, with each decoration having each own story. Some stories were simple,  such the Wal-Mart find of Santa singing and dancing in the bathtub (who knew old folks had such a sense of humor), others were more sentimental, such as with the Lucinda doll that had been given to her by an old friend. In my opinion the funniest story was about the Christmas decoration she had out that was given to her by her ex-husband. After 25 years of marriage the two got a divorce. Then he preceded to built a smaller replica of the house the two of them had live together right across the street. The best part of the story was how the current wife had kicked him out to wander the streets. (OK don’t get me wrong I don't think that someone wandering the streets is funny but if you had heard this lady tell this story you would have laughed too.)  

Although the story that grabbed me the most was the story I heard in the dinning room. Now the dinning room was the room of angel, literally. Everywhere you looked in this room you could see angels. They were above the fireplace, the dinning room table and in the window still, you get the idea. The tree in the room only held silver ornaments and the curtain like decorations were all done in silver. As we looked at the angels Ms. Finley told us of her own angel. Five month old Annie. She told us how Annie had on her only Christmas seem to admire the angels. How her bright blue eyes had light up with admiration as she looked at the angels. Ms.  Findley then proceed to tell us how the day after Christmas Annie began to  run a high temperature of 105 degrees. Of how the doctor told her to take Annie to the hospital and then how Annie died two days after Christmas.  She smiled a little as she told us that Annie was her only baby to look like an angel, while her other children as babies looked like mice. After she said that she laughed a little and said the rest grew up to look like angels but then she repeated that Annie was born looking like one.

It was so obvious that after all those years Annie's mother still misses her very much. Don’t get me wrong its not like Ms. Findley broke down and sobbed her guts out as she told her story (not that there is anything wrong with that and I am a firm believer  in that everyone needs to have a good cry down in then )but her pain was there all the same. That whole room was dedicated to her angel, baby Annie. As I heard her tell this story and as well as many others I began to see in my heart  a deeper story. I saw a woman who had great pain and sorrow all though out her life ( a divorce and a lost of a child) but didn’t let it consumer her. She had some how learned how to move one and mourn all at the same time. She showed me that it moving on does not always mean forgetting. That how however many decades later the loss of a loved one is still there you just have to deal and live life.

Now maybe I'm wrong and Ms. Findley would totally disagree with me but that is what I saw.

All names in this story have been changed and the story is only as accurate as my memory. Ms. Findley's story was told to me by Ms Findley herself.