Even the wisest of men don’t see when they’re about to be blindsided, for if they could then how could it be labeled such? No sense of togetherness, completeness, or awareness is completely fool proof; one cannot possibly look at every minute angle at once. But far less plausible is the idea that they can not only look in every direction simultaneously, but process and understand the information they receive in doing so and use it to completely and accurately predict future events. No, a wise man can still be made a fool, so much so that he questions the reality of his supposed wisdom, and wonders if it existed in the first place.Continue reading “A Story All too Often Told”
I never really knew much about the town I grew up in. I couldn’t see what was where and always had people to drive me places, because being a suburb it always suffered a severe lack of public transportation.
I did know a select few places though – my schools, my home, and of course I knew that Cartwright Road in Mesquite was either at, or close to, the location of McDonald’s. So, to me, Cartwright Road was always associated with McDonald’s.
Now though, it’s a cross and flowers; a monument to a truly beautiful soul, as it will be from now on. That McDonald’s is no longer just another McDonald’s, but the last place my bro would ever try to go and something we both loved. On Cartwright, just 30 seconds from McDonald’s is where he made his final thoughts, his final plans, saw his final rays of sunshine, maybe said his final words. Cartwright Road is more than just a passing point to other destinations now, or the route to McDonald’s, it’s Justin’s road home.Continue reading “Cartwright Road”
This is sad, I’m warning you. I wrote it as a warm-up for the creative writing class I am in at school. Normally I don’t even save these journals, but I am this time because it’s one of the writings I’m particularly proud of. I left the prompt in here so you could know where this came from.
· Write about something ugly — war, fear, hate, or cruelty–but find the beauty (silver lining) in it.
It was dark.
The power had long since been knocked out, plunging this lonely house and the broken street on which it barely clung to life into complete darkness. Even the Sun had retreated from view as though it too was afraid to show its beautiful face in a land so completely consumed by such unimaginable destruction.
Yet the plains streaked overhead – wining, roaring, depositing their hate-filled payloads on our dead city. I did not know why. We had long since fallen from our knees. We were face up on the ground, staring lifelessly at the starlit sky, unable to see even the slightest flicker of brightness – and wasn’t that their goal? Didn’t they aim to block out all the light? If so, they did it already by casting the shadows of their flying devils upon us, and destroying the foundations of who we were with thunderous booms and the hellish orange glow that followed – no. It was clear to all of us – including those whose lives were lost as everything they ever stood for was pulverized before their eyes – that those people wanted us all gone, entirely.
Yet somehow, by some cruelly ironic miracle I could not name, through all of this, I laid protectively atop my three-year-old sister in what used to be my parents’ bathtub. And in this moment, I felt we were the only two living things left on the planet – the last two flickering pulses of light in a god awful sea of lifelessness.
As I laid there, plaster raining down upon me with every intensifying trimmer, I prayed to whatever inexplicably cruel thing was listening. By God, if I wasn’t gonna survive this, couldn’t she at least? I wanted a bright future for her. I wanted all this destruction to be a thing of her past; never forgotten but never repeated. She was way too young to be forced into our bitter ways.
I had already excepted the inevitability of death’s staccato steps eventually bringing it to my house, where it would smash the entire structure and rip us out with vicious claws and crush us in its ravenous jaws. And yet as I laid there, holding and singing to my sister who seemed, at least for the moment blissfully unaware of the danger around us, I felt a spark of triumph light within me. Perhaps the war had taken away almost everything I know. Perhaps my parents were gone – maybe dead, maybe not, but certainly never to be seen again. However, this bond I shared with this tiny child – so insignificant in the grand scheme of things and so fragile, was the one thing the war could never rip from me. If anything, the war had only made it stronger.
There was a massive crash. It was louder than any that had occurred thus far. It shook the house so violently, that I felt as though someone had picked us up, and slammed us down. A gasp escaped my sister’s lips, as the fearful tears began to fall from her eyes, dripping down her face and collecting in a pool behind her head. “Sam? I’m scared…” She murmured against my chest. I pulled her closer to me. Her tears soaked through my shirt, burning their way into my heart like acid.
“Please don’t let them hurt me, please?” She sobbed, desperation rising in her voice. “It’s my turn,” I thought to myself, the inevitability crashing into me like the constant shock waves. My song was dead now, for I had no more words to sing. Instead, the melodious bells of death rang in its place, louder than ever before. They were coming. Even my 3-year-old sister new that.
“It’s gonna get us, Sam. Daddy said we should run away if it tried to get us! What are you gonna-” She was practically screaming now, her body shaking against my chest.
“It’s okay, baby. I promise. Let it take you,” I whispered to her, stroking her hair. I absolutely despised myself for saying these words to her, because it meant I had failed her, myself, and my parents, and the rest of the world in the worst way imaginable.
“But I’m scared…” she protested.
There was a horrible whistle, as though from the gates of hell themselves. I squeezed my sister even tighter, folding my arms around her head protectively. And as the monster punched into our little haven of safety, I made my last dying promise. “Shhh. Don’t be. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. We’ll go together. It can never hurt us then.”
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
This semester, I joined a creative writing class. My first assignment was to write a story about anything of my choosing, as long as it was at least 1000 words and had 3 or more characters. The following is my result. It’s just over 3600 words. I apologize for coming back after all this time with such a long post. Anyway, enjoy; and feel free to leave feedback.
Early on the morning of reentry, the service droid assigned to maintenance of the habitation decks on board the Curious Beast stood in the sleeping quarters of the meager scouting party assigned to the ship. The droid stood no more than 4 feet tall, but despite his short stature, his features were made with intricate design – from the slight dimple on the right side of his face, to the slightly pointed nose, currently scrunched in exasperation.
The ball-shaped lenses that served for his eyes rested in their unnaturally rounded sockets above his high cheek bones, currently illuminated with a red glow, to perpetuate his glare. His immaculately groomed eyebrows were raised above them to complete the look. His ears were abnormally large, jutting out from the sides of his head like mini radar dishes; a testament to the fact that even robot design artists were still just human.Read the full story
Speech class has become a place where I take the prompts I’m given, and attempt to create entertaining pieces of work out of them. And while the answers to the question, “If you could be any age for the rest of your life, what would it be?” given to my class ranged from 3 to 35, I chose… 70.
When I brought this up, people told me they thought 65 was better. However, 67 is basically retirement age here in the United States. So by the time I turned 70, I’d have worked all the years I was expected to, and then, well, we’d get to the points I make in this speech. Anyways, have this rather twisted, overly optimistic outlook on old man life.
As children, we wish to be adults, because we want to be able to do
all the things our parents can and don’t like being told what to do.
As young to mid age adults, people want to be children again because
they’ve quickly learned how stressful life can be. As older adults,
people want to be at retirement age, because who likes work? If I had
to choose, the age I would be for the rest of my life would be 70, —
because of the respect I’d get, the discounts, and not having to work!
As a 70 year old, you get the senior discount at most places. Man,
wouldn’t it be nice to go out to eat, and get to pay the least amount
out of everyone because you’re more experienced at life? There’s no
reason for it besides how old you are. And because you’ve already
worked hard for years of your life, you don’t have to compensate it
Secondly, I wouldn’t have to work. Why, you ask? Well, because I
already did for 50 years. I spent 50 years saving up all this money so
I could blow it as an old guy. Man, that would be nice, you know, to
get to do what you want, when you want, and not stress about going,
And finally, respect. You see, unlike the 20 somethings fresh out of
highschool or college who don’t have a job, I wouldn’t be frowned upon
and told to get my lazy butt out the door; no, I’d still be respected
because I’m old. Man, I could sit there all day and eat nachos if I
wanted to, and still have all those youngsters trembling at the side
of my huge leather recliner with their “Yes sir” and “What can I do
for you, Mister?” Bro. I’m telling you, that’d be nice. I know, I’d
have to go through decades of constant work prior to it, — that’s how
the old folks earn their respect. But it would be worth it, if I
stayed that age forever, — never worrying about inferiors looking
down on me.
So as you can clearly see, 70 is the age to be, at least for me. It
may not be all I crack it up to be, but hey. If things go south, I can
just yell at the youngsters to fix me a fresh plate of nachos. That’s
it for my speech today, I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for listening.
Yeah. I’m sure life’s not like that when you’re 70, but who cares. I was bored and in the mood to joke.
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
I wrote this up for a number of reasons. I hope you enjoy it. It may not make sense to any of you, but if it does, awesome. If not, I hope you enjoy it anyway.
hiding in a tree.
what is it you see?
What will it be?
Will you show your face, or will you hide from me?
coming down the tree.
The bark is rough, beneath your feet.
But Flee, Flee,
don’t you see?
The feast that awaits is yours to be!
But flee, Flee,
no longer in the tree,
won’t get your boon, cowering before the beast.
the food you seak,
Can be yours, if you will just come and eat.
First of all, I want to tell you that though it says “you” a lot, this poem is not aimed at any individual or group of people. It’s just a work of humor, and no offense is intended.
I was extremely bored when I wrote this, although I’ve had the idea as a small outcast in my mind for some time. However, I couldn’t figure out how to get it into a poem, until about 15 minutes before I went to bed last night. It required some revisions, though. 😛
Nonetheless, have fun reading. I hope this makes you laugh!
How does it feel,
to live in a yard?
To stare at a house,
from which you are barred?
To feel like a mouse,
who’s dignity is scarred,
you live in a yard?
Does it make you frown,
To be torn and scarred?
or to sleep on a ground,
that is cold and hard?
To look filthy brown,
Your body marred,
To come to a town,
and live in a yard?
There are many a home,
close and far.
to which you could go,
by foot or car.
So don’t you know,
that it is quite bizarre,
that the home you chose,
was my front yard?
There you go. As you could see, it was more humor than anything else. However, should some one randomly decide that your front yard makes a good home, then this is something you can say to them. However, since such a behavior would be highly unusual, and most people would rather stay in a house than the associated yard, I don’t believe you’ll ever have to use this.
Happy Monday! I’ll post an actual update in the coming days, just needed to get this little poem out.
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
Yes, I posted yesterday, and I know that I had decided upon a four to ten day blogging routine at the beginning of the year. However, it has become an unofficial tradition to post a little something on the night of my birthday. I don’t know why, but it’s happened every year. And don’t worry, you’re gonna love this one!
a little poem
I’ve been wanting to share this with you since I first came up with it on Saturday, but didn’t have enough time Yesterday morning to do so. So here it is. Notice the rhythm I use.
I remember the day,
when I dared to play,
an audio game,
that was very lame.
The audio game,
that was very lame,
that I dared to play,
had a stupid name.
The name of the game,
was Flamity Flame,
and Flamity Flame,
was such a horrible game.
Because in Flamity Flame,
The goal of the game,
was to attempt to kill,
a man known as James.
Now what made this game,
so very lame,
Is the fact that James,
had no sound at which to Aim.
And what kind of game,
that is audio by claim,
has a guy named James,
at whom you cannot Aim?
So to this day,
I don’t know who to blame,
but all I can say,
they made a terrible game!
a declaration of independence rendition for the blind
Note: this is a project my sister had to do for English class.
Also note: source of the end of it: the actual declaration. I put this so we don’t run into copyright issues. Again, the end of this declaration was copied from the origional.
There comes a time in every person’s life when one realizes that they
were not in fact made “perfect”; As we age we learn that we have to
figure this world out on our own. This is not to say that God is not
there to guide us, but we are limited by our fears and lack of
knowledge. And the situation is exacerbated when one has a disability.
One is forced to shape their life around their disability. They are
forced to live by different standards than the “normal” ones. And
while we learn to manage, there are still the harsh realities that
those with disabilities must face, that those without a disability do
not. To narrow it down, the blind are forced to learn to cope, and
navigate the world.
In reality, the blind are, at times, viewed as less than the
sighted. And because of this, certain rights are taken from us. The
right to be seen and not immediately judged, the right to be
considered “normal”, and the right to be treated with respect are only
a few of the rights taken away from us. On top of the rights denied to
us, we also face many struggles that could be easily resolved if only
the sighted tried.
Firstly, architects do not take the needs of the blind into
consideration. We are forced to navigate around poles and columns,
that not only confuse us, but are a serious hazard.
Secondly, Any sighted person with a knack for decorating, that seems
to believe that fake plants and glass vases and figurines make nice
decor, have no respect or consideration for the people who are not
able to see and therefor find these needless decorations as dangerous
and as an irritant.
And thirdly, manufacturers who do not braille their products, as most
manufacturers fail to do, have absolutely no respect for the blind,
and are only losing customers. If a blind person cannot read the
labels on a product, we will not buy it.
There is room for improvement in all of these matters. For centuries
we have fought for the rights and accommodations that we deserve, and
that the sighted have. And for centuries, these pleas have been
ignored, or viewed as unimportant. And, here, we are once again asking
the sighted community to simply take a step back and take us into
consideration. We have made compromises, and we have relented to
letting them get away with ignoring our natural rights as humans. Yet,
they have been deaf to our struggles and needs. We must, therefor,
continue to fight for what should already be ours. We will be heard.
We will not let this world turn against the blind community. We,
therefore, the Representatives of the blind community, Assembled,
appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our
intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of
the blind populace, solemnly publish and declare, us, as, human
beings, are, and of Right ought to be respected and taken into
consideration; that we are Absolved from all unjust acts committed by
the sighted; and that as a respected and valued people, we are granted
the same rights and luxuries as the sighted; And for the support of
this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine
Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes
and our sacred Honor.
Finally, a good old set of updates!
My birthday was definitely great, despite it being a school day. I had plenty to eat, and an overall good day. There were even a few funny incidents:
So I was eating M&MS in Spanish class, because I was like “it’s my birthday so I’m gonna eat these, because the teacher won’t get on to me for it.” Anyways, someone saw me eating them, and asked for one.
“What do you say?” I asked them.
“May I please, have some M&MS?”
“no… that’s not right. Happy…”
Of course I gave her some, and then I guess more people in the class saw and heard that because the whole class started singing to me! Lol! And the bad thing is,
Oh yes the bad bad thing,
I only gave them to like 4 people. 😀
In all seriousness, though, I did have a wonderful blessed day. I hope you all did as well! Also, I got a space upgrade for the website, meaning no more Drop Box imposed space limits–We won’t have to deal with them for a long time! Currently, I’m in the process of transfering all files from dropbox to wordpress. I will let you know when I finish that.
a few notes
- just in case you wanted to know, the last person I talked to before I turned 16 (3:01 PM) was god. The first people I talked to as a 16 year old were those on my facebook friends list!
- My birthday falls on National Make Up Your Own Holiday Day! No, that’s not why I came up with Steve Eve and Steve Day, that was purely coincidental, which is why I’m telling you this in the first place.
I hope you enjoyed this post. I hope you all have a wonderful blessed day, and weekend. Come on, it’s my birthday! Just grant this wish for me!
Oh yes, and also, just this once, I ask that if you like this post, please follow my blog and share this to your social media. Also please hit the like button on this post. And be sure to tell all your friends and family about Steve Eve and Steve Day so they will be ready for it next year!
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
Steve, the man who made the awesome Steve Day and Steve Eve holidays happen!
I can’t believe it, but it’s already been 3 weeks since I last posted to this blog–and a fun 3 weeks it was. I have quite a bit to tell you, but I’ll try to keep this post as short as possible.
The first 10 days after my last update were pretty much uneventful. The only thing I did worth blogging about was going to the lake house, that is, except being without a sister for a week (she went to a PE class at the Texas School for the Blind).
But on Sunday, June 22, I went to TSB for a writer’s workshop class which lasted two weeks. In the class, we’d start the day by coming up with a theme. Some of the daily themes we came up with were darkness, anger, love, emotions, and on the first day, why write.
After we came up with, and had a consensus for the daily theme, we’d usually do some free writing. For the first two days, I was unable to come up with anything (I finally wrote two or 3 pieces, one of which will be at the bottom of this post).
In the afternoon, the teacher would give us some inspiration, which would be different each day. One day, he taught us about song writing, other days it was different forms of poetry, some being different types of writing. After that, we’d have more free writing time, then we’d share what we wrote.
Also, we did this thing called “work shopping,” where we’d go through an investigative report paper which would ask questions such as what’s happening, what were details that really stood out to the reader, could the story have a different title, could it have a different starting point etc.
On Thursday of last week, since the inspiration for the day was Eco poetics, our class visited a place called Bright Leaf nature preserve, where we had a guided tour of a forest filled with plants and trees you wouldn’t normally see in your back yard. I would’ve taken pictures, but wasn’t sure if I was allowed to, and besides I didn’t bring my phone to school that day.
After visiting the nature preserve, we ate and had the daily inspiration lesson at a park, which was practically swarming with peacocks.
Besides that, we went to a coffee shop this past Tuesday. There, we did some free writing and editing. I don’t know if it was the caffeine, the chocolate coffee drink I had, or the fact that I was getting to a good part of the piece I was working on, but that was by far my most productive day of writing.
At the end of the two weeks, there was an end of program show, where we displayed our work, or in the writers’ case, read our stories. I read my story Desperation and Frustration; I’ll post the recording on a different post. Also written by me was a piece (not exactly a complete story, but I guess you could call it an excerpt) called Unyielding Vines, which I’ll include at the end of this post.
To sum it up, I had a lot of fun during that class. If it still exists next year, It’ll definitely be on the list of programs I might want to sign up for, most likely somewhere at the top.
Well, I guess that wraps up this post. I won’t be doing any more posts for at least the next week, because next week is Texas Lions Club Camp. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
P.S. my story.
Disclaimer: If you are not okay with reading about horror or blood, please do not read this story.
I could only lie there, paralyzed with fear, feeling the terrible sensation of the vines tearing into my wrists and ankles, their thorns biting
into my skin. The night was bitterly cold, a harsh wind rustling the densely packed trees and bushes surrounding me. Mixed with the sounds of
the forest were the sounds of countless vines surging toward me, a horrendous crackling pressing in from all sides.
Muscles bulging, I desperately tried to pull my hands free, tugging at the vines with all my might. Thorns sliced deep into my wrists in
protest, blood oozing over the tops of my hands and wetting the ground beneath them. Shrieking with pain, I fell back, gasping at the burning
sensation of thorns digging into my deeply cut wrists. The pain was quickly forgotten as more vines reached me, stabbing through my white t-
shirt and carving searing cuts down my sides and across my back as they wormed their way beneath me. Wincing, I sat up, the vines ripping there
way out of my shirt, other ones clawing at my clothes, shredding the material and slashing the skin underneath.
Riddled with pain, I lay back, landing in a bed of vines, Cringing at the pain of thorns stabbing into my back. Trembling with pain and the
biting cold washing over my newly exposed skin, I let my head rest upon the cool, damp ground. Closing my eyes, I lie still, doing my best to
ignore the intense pain raging through me.
All of a sudden, a vine began to work its way under the right side of my neck. Within a second or two, it was wrapped around all but the far
left side. While I still could, I snapped my head to the left with a harsh popping sound, pain coursing through my spine. Angrily, I craned my
head forward, biting down on the nearest vine I could reach, tugging and wrenching with all my might, the vine stretching and creaking, the
muscles in my neck bulging with the effort. Driven by raw fear and the immense pain, I tugged with a force I never even knew I had, heavy
breaths escaping my tightly clenched teeth.
Finally, the vine gave way with a harsh crack, the ends quickly retreating into the forest, my head smashing into the ground, lights flashing
before my eyes. Dazed, I lie there, as yet another vine shoved its way under my neck, wrapping around my throat with enough force to jerk my
head to the side, the sore muscles in my neck screaming with pain. Suddenly, it became impossible to breathe, and boiling panic swelled within
me, urging me to fight.
Frantically, I began thrashing, vines slicing through my skin and clothes in retaliation, the burning pain intensifying to an uncontrollable
The pain of a thousand raging infernos erupted from my throat as a thorn stabbed into the side of my neck, a fountain of blood pouring from the
wound. My mouth flew open in a silent scream, my body violently convulsing with the immense pain and the desperate need for oxygen.
My strength quickly fading, I stopped struggling, falling into the deadly grip of the many vines wrapped around me. As I lie there, the darkness
closed in, a comforting veil separating me from that awful, unbearable pain. It seized control of my mind, pulling me down into its comforting
It’s Monday, yet it has already been half the school week. Tomorrow we have school, and then we’re done!
Last weekend, the good weekend it was, ended in a great disappointment. You know that winter storm I was so excited about? Turns out, the prediction was off by 3 degrees; if it had been just a simple 3 degrees colder we would’ve been slammed by unprecedented winter precipitation. In total, one half inch or greater amounts of rain fell across North Texas. According to this artical on the RAL Weather Center website, we could’ve been dealing with between 1.5 and 5 inches of snow, thus leading to a rare and potentially significant storm, one that would certainly reach Winter Storm Warning criteria.
Unfortunately however, the forecast changed approximately 1 hour and 12 minutes after update two of my storm monitoring update was posted to the Weather forecasts page at 6:45 PM CST. Basically, meteorologists decided at last minute that the ground would be too warm to sustain any winter precipitation accumulations, and it turns out no precipitation of that type fell where I live anyway. Although there is the possibility for snow flurries tonight, as stated by my NOAA weather radio, school will most definitely not be canceled for tomorrow, a pretty sucky thing since my school district is like the only one in school this week.
Changing subjects, I have been doing good, but rather cold this Monday and the recent weekend. On Saturday after posting that blog post, I went bowling as promised, and scored 117 points. And, as if the day couldn’t have been any more predictible, I spent the rest of the afternoon, you guessed it, chillin’.
Yesterday, after going to church in that windy blustery weather, I got to chill because I had no sister around, :). I did the following productive things yesterday:
-became a second year student at hogwarts (on the game I play that is supposed to simulate hogwarts, you have to become a level 15, defeat Voldemort, and you advance a year. After the normal seven years at Hogwarts, your title changes to wizard, and eventually god, and I don’t know what from there).
-Took a nap. I consider this a rather productive activity; it recharges your energy level, so you can be ready for the next chapter of your life.
-Figured out what I want to do for my history project and how I’m going to do it.
-Went to church
-Okay, not sure why I’m adding this to my list. This isn’t something productive I did, but I just needed a fifth thing :)).
As for today, I was very tired. A major factor in this was probably the fact that it was almost as dark as night time all day long, it was raining, and it was freezing cold. Inexcusable act(s) of pure stupidity I committed are as follows:
-wore a light sweater to school.
-went to Starbucks and got myself a large frozen coffee drink before having to go outside in this weather. That made my perception of the temperature, or wind chill, someware in the 5 to 10 degree range.
As for right now, I am just lieing hear, typing this blog post. I have nothing else to do for the rest of the evening, except putting up my laundry. *groans* But then again my mom did have to fold, wash, and dry it all for me, so I have the easy task really :))).
Thanks for reading this post, I hope you enjoyed it. The next time I blog will likely be sometime during the break. But just encase it’s not before Friday:
travel safe, eat lots of turkey, stay warm, enjoy thanksgiving, and have a great week!
Thanks for reading,
type you later,