Quotes from my favorite movies

The Help
 -Minny Jackson


Mean Girls
 -Gretchen Wieners

Mulan
 -Emperor of China


Iron Man
 -Tony Stark



Harry Potter
-Luna Lovegood

Cinema and Me

My favorite movie is the Jungle book. I don't really know why, I just have really fond memories of it from when I was little. It was just really uplifting to watch. Beauty and the Beast is also a fantastic film, as Disney can never do wrong. I don't usually care for horror movies, they just give me too much anxiety while watching them, and I just think about the events of the movie too much. Additionally, horror movie tend to follow the same formula with no real deviations to the previous movie, and feel like a blatant cash-grab. I don't watch very many movies; I only really watch them with my parents or friends happen to want to see one and I go along for the ride. It's a pretty even split on whether or not I go at the theater or at home. I always need to be around people, but I absolutely loathe going to a noisy theater. I need it to be quiet to watch a movie, if I pay eighteen dollars for a ticket, then I consider it rude to talk during a movie. At home, I just use movies for background noise while I'm on my laptop or playing a board game or something. Food is always necessary for watching a movie. I would always sneak food into my backpack before going in, although nothing can replace movie theater popcorn. Something about the butter is irreplaceable, but drinks, candy, and even nachos are all fair game for smuggling into the theater. I only will ever pay full-price for their pricey concessions if it's the popcorn. According to the quiz, I watch movies to escape reality, and pleasure-seeking, and I don't enjoy watching sensation-seeking movies. Every other quality in a movie was around average. I think that's why I prefer movies with atmosphere and wonder than a plot-based action thriller.

If I was in a movie, I would be played by Chris Pratt. The first scene would be of cosplay prom at the library. The second would be of me going to Nashville during my trip to HOSA nationals, and the third would be of the trip to Disney world that I did with my family. I don't really know what the ending would be, considering my story hasn't really started yet, so I can't really determine it's ending. I hope it's a little bit of everything, and that I can be a small fixture in other peoples' movies.

Gift of the Lake

This is aunt Jenny

after she has had

too mnay drikns.

She always partied

a little too hard

and was a spirit

that could not be tamed.

This is a weight limit

of the docks

that one too many

bridesmaids ignored

greeting them into the

icy waters below.

In their grey dresses

three-inch heels,

and the bride and

groom fighting

to stay afloat

on their special day.

This is moments

after she caught

the bouquet

and got help

after a young man

clad in white and black

came to her rescue.

And eventually

the myth of the bouquet

and the gift of the lake.

Brought them back.

Together.

One dressed in white.

the other sporting in black.

Flea Market Photos

      The first day of first grade was uneventful. My teacher passed out our spelling worksheets, and I finished early. The other kids were goofing off around me, gossiping, and the boy was managed to even sneak his pet frog next to me, which was indiscreetly ribbiting. Luckily for him, Mrs. Hibbens is as deaf as she is ancient, so he had no problems concealing in his book bag. I was more concerned with my little paperback copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
      The little blonde head in front of me spun around and awkwardly made eye contact with me, but I was too focused on my paperback to care.
     "Hey, watcha readin'?" he asked with a toothy smile.
I ignored him.
     "Do you like Mrs. Hibbens? She looks kind of like a troll, doesn't she?"
I ignored him.
     "Do you like Kyle?"
I blushed but still ignored him.
     Everyday for two weeks this cycle repeated. He would try to engage me, and I would brush him off. About books, toys, games, his mom, whatever his heart desired. He'd follow me like a shadow everywhere, to lunch, recess, and even gym.
     "Do you ever talk?" he said through a face of freckles and an agape mouth.
     "Yes" I replied.
     The way his face lit up was like it was his life-long goal to hear me speak. It felt... warm. And I guess he thought that it meant that this small indulgence on my part was an invitation to be my friend.
     And I didn't mind that. He started walking me home, and it was nice. It was like a light in my life in the darkness.
     One day his face fell, with news of his dad finding a job in a far away land, and he would have to leave soon. We spent everyday since together, him speaking to me in my silent understanding. Some things were left unsaid. Well, a lot of things, but we forged something unbreakable, and he taught me so much more than I could ever learn in a book.
     It's been a while since his seat been filled since he left, but the light is still there. With me.





*** I'm having trouble uploading the photo****

Roses

"A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet"
            -Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
It's a chilly December morning during the Orange Revolution. Protests that are quickly turning to riots due to the results of the recent presidential election. The people fear of corruption, electoral fraud, and even voter intimidation, which is turning into a flurry of protesters participating in strikes, sit-ins, and other acts of civil disobedience. Amidst all this chaos, corruption, and violence, a woman decides to places roses into the guards that are attempting to suppress the rioters. I think the photo is trying to say that we are all on the same side in the end.
     This woman is choosing love or war, as it's going to get them further in the end than any act of violence even would. There aren't any good or bad individuals in this situation. The people are just want freedom, and the guards are people just doing their jobs. In the end, we're all just people with similar goals, dreams, hopes, and fears. When violence is used, there aren't any real winners. The woman is showing that even in a tough situations, like the proletariat revolution, there's still a choice to make peace. As human beings, we're all more the same than different, and in the end that each one of them can make their own choices on whether or not to fight. It doesn't always have to win with brutality, because there are truly no victors in that battle. There's always a choice, and sometimes a simple act of kindness is all people need among the struggle of life in order to choose empathy as theirs.

My Ten Photos from around Kickapoo

 (a book)

My friend Sarah holding a copy of the Pilgrim's Progress, with Riley either ruining the photo or making it 10x better in the background. I have yet to decide which.

#LITisLIT

(someone(s) that make me laugh or smile)

I told Grace to stay still. She said no. Thus, the masterpiece was formed.  Next to her is Jamila being the goddess she is.

#headbangingfordayz

(a interesting angle)

The view of the science wing from below, with the banner of the biomedical science program from a barrier. The natural light is leaking through from the above windows.

#thataestheticformyblog

(something that brings back an important memory)

This is the beautiful head of Anna Garcia, the victim of a crime that I had to investigate in my biomedical science class freshman year. For now, her head lies in the cabneit in the science wing until she is needed again.

#literalheadbangingfordays

(something that will always remind you of Kickapoo)

This is a painting that lies in the art wings downstairs. I would always look at these photos while I was waiting for my parents to pick me up freshman year. I always wanted to be one of the artists featured on the wall, despite my general lack of artistic abilities.

#Ifoundthiseyecatching

(something square)

This is a framed pictures I found near the culinary room. I saw my sister in that photo from the time she competed for FCCLA in the 12th grade.  She ended up getting a silver medal at nationals.

#soproud

(something beautiful)

I thought all of the decorations from the art wings were really colorful, which was nice considering the rest of our school really lacks vibrant colors like this, but the foreign language wing is a rainbow.

 #tastetherainbow

(something that looks like a face but isn't)

I found this formula in Snyder's room that kind of looked like a face. It looks like it's messing with a group of struggling earth science students, like "hehehe goodbye 4.0".

#earthsciencerocks

(someone who has taught you something or helped you somehow)

I asked Jansen to take a selfie with me, and she obliged even though she was in a rush. Took like five tries to get a shot where we were both looking good.

#myhairisonpoint

(something round)

This is a stethoscope I found, and we used this kind of thing for all the heart rate labs we've done. My sister had to buy one for nursing school, and it's been collecting dust ever since she switched majors.

#aheartwarmingphoto

Nightmares and Dreak Marks

Nightmares are the body's way of telling us things that we wouldn't admit to in our consciousness. When  our mind denies the truth, our body sometimes has to be a little more... forceful. Our mind is a bit to deft in order to comprehend some things; sometimes it's easier to deny that a thoughts there than to admit it. Our dreams are supposed to tell us what our life is supposed to be like every day. You can end up with the girl that's out of your league. The shy kid can become a movie star, and anyone can become the hero of their own journey. It's all to prepare you so you can achieve a similar result during your waking hours.
Nightmares are of a different sort of the same coin. It's a harbinger of what life may become, built on a little piece of veiled truth. It's what life should never have to be like, and I think that's why some people only remember their nightmares; those are the things that stick. I mean, look at shows like Scared Straight. Fear is a powerful motivator, and people always remember fear. Whether it's sweaty palms before a presentation or the sting of rejection for the dance, it's an emotion that everyone experiences. Nightmares are just a personification of what the everyday fears, so you can take them on when you actually face them in real life. Therefore, nightmares shouldn't necessarily be something to fear because oftentimes, it's a message to prepare you for what's ahead. 

Freedom Rings

If a God's looking down from above

grant me a set of wings

on my back like a dove's

and break me from life's strings.

If I could have a gift

send me a sea 

to send me adrift

to a dream of you and me.

If life grants me one present

take me away to the past

and give me once change to repent

on the memories that I have amassed.

Sometimes I want to be cast away

and feel the gentle ocean spray

I know why the caged bird sings

for when the truth's revealed

freedom rings.

What Maya Angelou Taught Me.

5.) I think I could live as a mute better now than I would have been able to as a child. Eight- year old me would have talked to you about everything I liked, and every tiny event that happened throughout my day. I tend to speak way to much to people I enjoy being around (close friends, family, etc.) and I'm really reserved around strangers. I swear, I think 90% of my friends are people that I've meet introduced to by another friend. I loathe making conversation when I'm uncomfortable, like meeting a stranger for the first time. I feel like listening more would it easier to see the little details of others lives, and the parts of life that we don't usually see because we're too busy making our own details to actually notice them. I'd argue that speaking more allows you to learn more about yourself, but less about the world around you because speaking cancels out the white noise of the everyday. Sure, you can learn more from talking, but it forces you to cancel out the mundane beauty of silence and observation.
6.) I think it's absolutely amazing the Angelou is comfortable in a half dozen different languages. Actively I'm learning French and Spanish, and those are difficult enough on their own. I'm more comfortable speaking French over Spanish, mostly because I've been formally taught in a classroom for French while I've been teaching myself Spanish through the internet and books. I would like to reach fluency in both French and Spanish, and then I may eventually pick up Italian, Arabic, and German. The Romantic languages just have their own beauty to them, so I'd like to focus on those. Seeing the world, and the people that speak them would broaden both my knowledge and appreciation for the language, because I plan to travel to any of the countries that have learned the language of. It's the fact that learning about the culture behind a language gives it a new meaning.
8.) When Angelou says that "There is a world of difference between truth and fact", I think she means that the fact and the truth aren't inherently the same. A fact is based of logic, and is an undeniable piece of information. The truth is a little bit more subjective, because what the truth is in a way a fact to a person, but not necessarily . It's malleable like a sheet of copper. It depends on a person's perspective. A fact isn't really affected by a person's personal views like the truth. For example, Susie being five feet tall is a measurable piece of information. The truth is more of an answer for something that truly can't be answered by a single individual.
10.) Writing is hard work, plain and simple. It isn't always like the ideas just naturally flow out like a stream. It's more of a finely crafted quilt, with tiny little cross-stitches connecting each thread. Most of the time, a book is divided into a bunch of individual ideas that make up a larger whole. The thing that makes writing hard is connecting each sentence, paragraph, page, and chapter into one cohesive whole. Writing is about putting down ideas in a clear way, which is a huge understatement. Believe it or not, saying what you want to say and having it interpreted as such is difficult. That's what I think is the hardest part about  writing: getting the ideas across. Ideas are easy to find; inspiration can be found everywhere. It's more about actually translating your ideas into something that is comprehensible.

11.) I think that as you get older, it can be harder to learn some things, but I also think that adults are better able to focus and cut out distractions. As an example, I started piano in the seventh grade, which is much later than most students begin piano with some people starting at the age of three. However, the length of time spent isn't always a testament to skill. I know a girl that has been playing only a year longer than me that has won nationally recognized competitions in music, mostly due to diligent practice. She works two hours every day on the piano, while kids that started earlier only typically do around thirty minutes of piano a day. Therefore, I am a firm believer it's never to late to learn something, as putting hard work into something and giving it your all will get you much further than necessarily the duration of time you've been doing it.

Fragments of a Dream

I've seen him before--I have since I was young--but I've never truly met him. 
The man from the nightmares, the man that speaks
yet has no mouth.
He held my mind hostage every time a dared to drift to sleep,
greeting me with another one of his games. 
Making me a victim in my own mind, 
and warped every dream into a world of his image.
Chasing, never far behind
sending me high, 
sending me low.
Falling, crashing, ambushing,
waiting.
Scratches and bruises greeted me when I awoke,
along with a pair of worried parents.
Even now, he's still haunting me,
not through the dreams,
but through the memories.

The prescription tablets made him go away,
slowly, but surely.
And it was so quiet, lonely even.
Drifting to sleep to silence,
To awaken in silence.
I stopped taking them long ago, 
and he greeted me once again
as he did in my youth.
We talked restlessly until the sun rises over the trees.

If Chad was In Charge of the World

If I were in charge if the world
I'd cancel chromebooks,
weekdays, and also
college tuition.

If I were in charge of the world
there'd be an air conditioner for every penguin,
Diet Coke in every vending machine, and
Melissa McCarthy would be our queen.

If I were in charge of the world,
you wouldn't have 6 A.M classes.
You wouldn't have speed limits.
You wouldn't have man-buns.
Or "Stop telling me puns."
You would never have to stop.

If I were in charge of the world
a buffalo chicken wrapper
with fries would be a vegetable.
All of my time would be free.
And a person who sometimes forgot to say farewell.
and sometimes forgot his hair gel
would still be allowed to be
in charge of the world.

Taste the Rainbow

There was only a vast sea of blue.  An infinitely large landscape of a deep azure, with a couple of fluffy pure specks like islands in an ocean. Each wave lurched your raft, sending a scent of the salty water, jerking the vessel. It was as if a tiny hurricane had decided to take hold of my raft. I knew I had no control, so I just went with the flow of where the ocean decided to take me. Every dew-drop on that accumulated on the rubber boat was another sign of how long I’d been on this raft.

My yellow little barge drifted me across this expanse, kindly offering me safety to the frigid waters below. The sunlight made the floor of my rubber raft, while damp, rather warm. I also quickly learned that peeing off the side of a raft was not a particularly pleasurable experience. It reminded me of the daffodils my mom used to plant in the summer in front of our house. It made me feel less homesick, a glimmer of hope that I may somehow make it back to those flowers. Summers filled with lemonade, shucks of corn, the golden bales of hay that littered my front yard, every fragmented memory of my life somehow made this terrible situation better.

As the sun began to fall from my sight, the sky began to become shrouded in a thick veil of black. The sunset had long faded, leaving me with only myself, the dusk, and the shadow that chased us. The dark rims of my glasses made me doubt what I could really see, and required constant adjustment to maintain my limited visibility.  The wind has picked up considerably, and whipped me out of the raft like a rag-doll. All there was in the depths below was darkness, and it obscured my vision. I was uncertain if I had a prayer of making it out of this alive as the water threatened to pull me under into the abyss below. Somehow, I managed to feel my way up to the surface. The raft had managed to drift away, with the churning waters around me prying at me to jerk me back down. Swimming towards the raft was a near impossible feat, with the abyss trying to swallow me whole, so I was just trying to keep my body afloat. Wadding over there was tedious, but I managed to be reunited with my raft. I used every ounce of remaining strength I had to heave myself back onto my raft. The air was still freezing, with every inch of my body freezing as the breeze relentlessly whipped against my skin. My heart was beating out of my chest, like I was having a mini- cardiac arrest. Everything around me ceased to exist for a while. Eventually, the gales stopped and my fears were still as strong as ever, but my exhaustion overcame my terror.

    When I awoke, I first thing I noticed was a single green leaf that was stuck to my face. I peeled it off in confusion, and I noticed that my raft had washed up on a beach. My dingy was a dot on the surface on the island. To my back was the ocean that held me captive for so long, and ahead was a sweeping jungle of foliage and shrubbery that offered relief to a constant state of seasickness. Considering I hadn’t eaten in about a couple of days, I was prepared to consume just about anything. The canopies protected me from the wicked sun rays from overhead, and the floor below was cool to the touch. Dew drops formed on each and every lead, round reflections of the past. Bushy plants around me tickled my feet like imps, and the vines brushed against my arms harmlessly.