Nov. 9, 2009 - Every Song
This is a work of fiction. I was listening to Moonlight Sonata and it just....came. So I hope you enjoy it.
I don’t know what brought me to visit the old burned out shell of a warehouse that day, but it changed my life more than I can even begin to tell you.
But when I reached the deteriorating structure, I only vaguely remembered getting there. For a moment I puzzled over why I was there, however, the moment I heard strains of the most heartbreakingly beautiful music drifting from one of the back rooms, I knew. I began to shake and fear urged me to run, but the soft melody pulled me in closer and closer as if the notes themselves were animating my body. When I saw him, something inside me broke, and tears began sliding down my face. Though I had never seen him before in my life, he was dear to me; the exotic refrain resonating from the oddly preserved grand piano he sat at washed through my being, making me feel as if I’d known him my whole life; that beautiful street urchin.
I stood there in complete silence as the last measure dissolved into the dusty air, tears dried on my face, watching him in hushed, sorrowful awe.
Suddenly, he looked up and noticed me, shock and embarrassment frozen on his face. He cautiously moved towards me, one hand reaching up to my face, as if he were about to brush my tears away. He looked to be about nine years old, ash and dried blood caked on his face and matted in his hair. But his hands were clean, as if he hated the thought of dirtying those beautiful white keys he had been lovingly caressing just moments before. I also noticed his eyes; shockingly green with flecks of gold and royal blue.
“What is your name?” I whispered huskily.
“I don’t have one,” he answered listlessly, casting his eyes downward.
Without another word, I kneeled and wrapped my arms around his tiny body, letting my tears flow silently again.
“Hush,” he breathed, stroking my hair, “it will be all right.”
We stayed like that for a very long time, and when the sun began sinking behind the crumbling buildings, turning the sky scarlet, we spoke again.
“Where did you learn to play?”
“Nowhere. I can’t read music,” he said simply, in a tone befitting a much older person.
“How do you get your songs?”
“From my head….they’re there. Always playing.”
“You mean you made up that song?”
“Yes. In a way. You see, I AM my songs. They’re all I know.”
I couldn’t answer. There wasn’t anything I could say. It was if all my words, my entire self, was gone. Absorbed by his aura.
I pulled away from him, staring deeply into his vast enveloping eyes when he began to evaporate. Somehow I knew it would happen and I could tell he always had.
He smiled sadly and placed his tiny warm hand on my face, closing his eyes. A pain shot through me for a moment before it numbed and eventually faded, but I could tell there was something different. There was music drifting through my head, echoing off everything; his songs.
Even now I hear them; all of them, ceaselessly. Sometimes there are new ones. He’s there somewhere, in my head. I dream about him occasionally. But he never sees me. He just sits there at his piano, playing away. And I always wake up crying. Every time I wander the streets I can’t help but check the faces of all the little boys that pass, even though I know he’s not in the world anymore. When I asked him, he didn’t know who he was, but now I do. He was every unwritten song since the beginning of time.
Oct. 29, 2009 - Intelligent Things
Can you guess what happened to my hair since I last wrote here? No? Well, here we go. You know that I bleached it fairly white, using a mixture of straight bleach, hydrogen peroxide, and lemon juice. It seemed to work pretty well, but lately it had been growing out, and because of the contrast between my bleached hair and my unbleached hair, I ended up with what looked like a black streak down the middle of my head. So I decided to bleach my hair again, and see if I could get: 1. my already bleached hair to be absolutely white, and 2. the hair that had grown out to blend in a little better. To this end, I gathered together a few of the things I'd used last time (clorox bleach, large plastic bowl, dishwashing gloves, large rag-towel), and went outside to work on the first step. You have to be outside, otherwise the smell of the bleach will knock you out. (It very nearly did anyway.)
So I put the towel around my shoulders to protect my clothes (which I had made sure weren't ones I was particularly fond of in any case), put on the gloves, discovered that they were both for the left hand, muttered a bit but decided it wasn't worth the trouble to look for a right hand glove, poured a fair amount of straight bleach into the bowl, took a deep breath, and stuck my head in it. (A note: straight bleach kinda burns. You get this interesting feeling, sort of like your scalp is dissolving.) I swished my hair around a bit with my gloved hands, making sure it was all wet, then gingerly pulled my head out of the bowl and wrapped the towel around my hair. The bleach in the bowl had gone all foamy. It was very odd-looking, but I had seen it the last time I bleached my hair, so I wasn't worried. Holding the towel securely to my head with one hand, I picked up the bowl, carried it over to a russian olive, and poured it on the roots. (Theoretically this should kill it, but I'm not sure even straight bleach has a chance against that overgrown weed.)
Then I went back and did it again. I left the bowl upside down on the rocks by the garage door to drain completely (you can't put bleach in your drains--it does bad things), and went inside, carrying the bleach and wearing the gloves. I waited in the garage for a bit, making sure my hair was well wrapped up and wouldn't drip, and taking off the gloves (a feat I managed with difficulty) before I went into the house. I put the bleach away, and then sort of wandered around for a while, waiting for my hair to dry. When it did, I went into my bathroom with a couple mostly empty bottles of hydrogen peroxide, gingerly unwrapped the towel (holding my head over the tub), and poured as much peroxide on my head as I could. I used the gloves to make sure I was getting everything, scrubbing around blindly.
With the towel off my head, I thought, it seemed extraordinarily light. I hadn't noticed the weight of my head when I put the towel on the first couple of times, but now that I thought about it, hadn't my head seemed lighter than usual when I had taken it out of the bowl of bleach for the first time? I was unsure. My head had been swimming from the bleach fumes, and I hadn't been thinking or noticing things properly.
I finished with the second step, and rewrapped my head. It seemed to take forever for it to dry. I went and got the lemon juice out of the refrigerator while I waited. Finally I gave up. Somewhat damp, I decided, was just as good as completely dry. I went back into my bathroom and repeated the process, this time using lemon juice, rewrapped my head, put the lemon juice back, and started waiting for my hair to dry. I wandered about the house, one hand steadying the large pink towel on my head, and thought uneasily about the comparative weight of wet hair to dry.
Eventually it dried enough for me to remove the towel, and I went directly to the mirror. My hair was a dark, tangled mess. I wondered whether the bleaching had worked. It's true that my hair is always ridiculously dark when it's wet, or even damp, but surely it should be lighter than this, I thought. I was somewhat disturbed by this, and went to borrow Mom's hairdryer. I couldn't find it. It turned out to be in a drawer under one of the sinks in BookFreak and AnonymousGirl's bathroom. I turned it on as high as it could go, and set to work. The truth emerged fairly quickly. Under the blast of warm air, my hair dried into a fuzzy, inch-thick carpet on the top of my head. I ran my hands over it incredulously. It felt nice. I felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in my throat. The bleach had dissolved my light-colored hair almost completely. It was still there--on the sides of my head, in the back--but not on the top. I looked a bit like one of those top-bald hippies who refuse to admit that their hair isn't growing in the middle anymore. The sound of the hairdryer covered my mad giggles as I finished drying the longer hair around the sides of my head.
I think Mom considered disowning me when I showed her what I'd done. I asked her if she would try cutting it so the rest of it matched the top, but she wouldn't. I borrowed the razor she uses to trim the boys' hair, put on the one-inch attachment, and attempted it myself. I don't think it turned out too badly. It wasn't what I was trying for, mind you, but even Mom admits that it doesn't look too grotesque. My cousin Michael says I look sort of like Angelina Jolie in 'Hackers'. (Sadly, he's right.) On the upside, I think I'm done with bleach now. I've had enough fun.
Jun. 1, 2009 - Thought Provoking...
The Room by Joshua Harris
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled At My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done In My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't mattered now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?
Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished!"
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
Apr. 29, 2009 - An update that took [] to finish!
I think I shall tell you all a bit about what has been going on in my life these past several months.
I am a high school student, and am really bad about getting assignments done on time. Yes, I am homeschooled, but I'm in a co-op, which assigns mountains of homework for me to accompish. And I am always too lazy to do it. At least when it comes to Biology and Writing. I like doing things on my own time, but in a co-op, I have a time limit, at which I fail. In fact, it may take me a very long time indeed to finish this post, if I finish it at all. [Just now, I was looking for a little icon to put spaceing between the lines, but they don't have one. Thought you would all want to know that.]
It is April 29th, 4:52pm, and I am now going to click "Save As Draft" so that I can get ready to go to play practice. Let us see when I get back to this post, eh?
Apr. 14, 2009 - My father is an amazing man.
Once, many years ago, long before I was born, my father met this group of teenagers who belived in evolution. My father took off his watch and said, "see this watch? This is no ordinary watch. I found this inside a geode. You know what a geode is, right? It's a rock that looks ordindary on the outside, but when you break it open there's crystals. And I found this watch inside one!" He passed it around, and they looked at it in awe. When it got back to him, he continued, "it must have evolved in there! Look, it even has words on it. English words! It says TimeX." Then the kids started to catch on, "oh, you're just messing with us!"
"Why?" he asked sternly, "why do you think that? One cell in your body is far more complex than this watch is. You belive that you evolved from mud or whatever, and yet you can't belive that this watch evolved inside a geode." And as he put his watch back on, the teenagers managed to splutter, "th-that's different!"
Is it? Is there a difference? I don't think so. Do you?
Feb. 11, 2009 - Childhood games.
When I was younger, I would go to my cousin's house every Sunday afternoon, and play games. These games consisted mainly of dressing up as beautiful princesses, locked in a tower by their evil step-uncle Ichabod. And in these games, we would play multiple parts....Count Ichabod, Countess Gizzel, Fair Prince Ferdinand, Handsome Sailor Conrad, random servants, and of course, the two princesses. We pulled this off, by jumping to random places in the room, where we supposed on of the other characters was standing, and changing our voices to match who we had just become. Countess Gizzel's voice was high pitched, and whining, Count Ichabod's was deeper, and nasally, Prince Ferdinand and Captain Conrad's voices were variations on deep, manly voices, done by Justyne or myself. Though, we could never pull this off with straight faces.
Another game we liked to play, was one in which we ourselves were sailors, fighters, and explorers. Of course, our epic battles with newspaper swords, consisted of much leaping around, and causing the intire house to shake, worrying us that we might fall through the floor, into the kitchen. So we made up this song. (To the tune of "Shall we Dance" from The King and I)
Shhaaaallllll weeeee DANCE? Dun dun dun
Onna BRRRIGHT cloud of moonlight shall we GLIDE? Dun dun dun
Shall we CRASH through the floooor, like a couple of bozos,
and shall we make fools of ourselves? Dun dun dun
Or perchance...dun dun dun
Shall we go to the kitchen for a snack? Dun dun dun
We can take the shortcut and go right through the floor and be there in two seeeconds
FLAT.
Remember, this was before we were into double digits....It sure was fun though!
Dec. 6, 2008 - Genius? Or annoyance?
Dragontonge has a...creative mind. Though the contraptions she puts to action seem to be invented purely to aggrivate me!
Take for instance, her Lazer Maze a few years ago. She had strung yarn over every inch of our room! For a couple weeks, I did my best to please her, and manuverate through it without detaching anything. Well, one night as Dragon, Book, and I were sleeping together (Book had had a bad dream) I got fed up with it. Since I was sweltering sandwiched between my elder sisters I had decided to return to my own four-mattress-stacked bed, only to have my path impeeded by the spiderweb. I, being tired, hot, and cross, ripped my way through the yard-and-a-half space between our beds, which, at the time, felt like two miles. When Dragon woke up the next morning she was very displeased with me, and the Lazer Maze came down a few days later.
Now, Dragon has a new invention to torture me with. An Automatic Door Closer. Oh, that sounds pretty cool, to be sure, but look at it!
It is ugly.
I begin to open the door, having blissfully forgotten about Dragon's latest monstrosity, only to be suddenly reminded by the irritating resistance. I also have to keep a hold on the door in order to prevent it from slamming into my head. Once, I made the mistake of letting go while walking through and ended up running into the side of the door. I was on the phone too. Heheh... she said it sounded funny...
"That sounds like fun! I will go ask my mother!"
*smack*
"Aww! Oooh, ow!"
Oh, well. I wonder how long the Automatic Door Closer will last...
Nov. 29, 2008 - A music tag!
So, I thought that this looked like fun...lets see what comes up....
Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play.
Step 3: Strike through the songs when someone guesses both the artist/movie and song correctly.
Step 4: Looking the lyrics up on a search engine spoils the fun; so please do not do it.(Well...maybe out of curiosity, just do not post a comment afterword.)
Step 5: If you like the game, post your own!
1. My best friend gave me the best advice
2. I am kneeling before the father
3. Flowers cut and brought inside
4. Carry eachothers burdens
5. Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead
6. Some say we're never meant to grow up
7. Smaiyaiyaiyai, smaiyaiyai manadhaith thirudi vittaay (Bet you'll never get THAT one! Oy..)
8. Can't help but speak of what I've seen and heard
9. Two views of the locations merging into three or more
10. Welcome to the Planet
11. I open my eyes, I try to see, but I'm blinded by the white light
12. Looked down from a broken sky
13. Did you wake up on the right, or the wrong side of the bed today?
14. I'd like to remember
15. Mahalo nui ia, Ke Ali iwahine, O lili ulani, O ka Wohi ku (Oooh...I doubt you guys will get this one either...sorry about the forign songs...)
16. Facedown with the LA curbside endings
17. Everytime I look in the mirror (Okay, so this song has been done by more than one person, so I will let you get away with just the name of the song. *grin*)
18. Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulder, don'tcha know?
19. Everybody is Kung Fu Fighting
20. Who's that girl with the Bible in her hand21. Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir (Haha!! That's amazing!)
22. In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
23. I dunno nothin' that I haven't been taught
24. There's a man who leads a life of danger
25. And old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day (This one was done by more than one person as well, so, go for the name.) I got something to say...my cousin is GOOD!!!
26. Another day, wheels are turning
27. I'm waking up at the start of the end of the world
28. Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven
29. Never made it as a wise man
30. Climbing on the clouds, dancing on a daydream
Yup! So there you have it! I hope you all can get some of those!
Nov. 24, 2008 - Thanksgiving or Turkey-Day?
Soon, it shall be the last Thursday of the month, and everyone knows what day that is! But...I wonder
what it means to people now? I hear it referred to as "Turkey Day" a lot. Is that all it means to us now? Is
it just a day to watch football, a parade, and eat a big meal? That's not what it used to be. I am sorry for
ranting, but it is something that has been bothering me.
I do not want to sound bitter, but this year, we will not be doing much of anything. Our Aunt, Uncle, and
cousins, who usually come over to our house and have a smashing time, are excluding us this year.
Maybe because our family is to big? I do not really know...and our Grandparents do not want to come
over either, (They are just on the other side of the wall, it would only take them one step to enter our
home, and enjoy Dinner with us) they would rather eat the Salvation Army Turkey Dinner and have our
father come over and eat with them, leaving us fatherless for Thanksgiving. I am sure that is not truly
their intention, they just want to enjoy their son for Thanksgiving, but my father will be recovering from
surgery that day. You see, tomorrow my father is having Surgery...and I am worried. So please
pray for him!
Well....my Thanksgiving will probably be better than it sounds! At least we HAVE food!! And we will have a
father. One who is in pain, but a father none the less. 
And we have a Heavenly Father, who blesses
us everyday. There's a lot to be Thankful for!! So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!
Nov. 8, 2008 - Happy Birthday, CJ!!
So, today is my little sister's birthday. She has only been in my life for four years, and already I cannot imagine what it would be like without her! She is such an amazing little girl, with a crazy personality! She loves to make people laugh, and she is good at it! She knows she is cute, and she uses it to her advantage! She is one of the smartest little girls I have ever met! This is a paper I wrote on her...
I will never forget when my little sister, at the age of two, displayed one of the first and definitely most memorable signs of her character, to which we have grown so accustomed.
One day during the familiar scene of Mom talking with her daughters as she put up her hair, our clumsy mother committed the unfortunate act of stubbing her toe on the corner of the bedroom door. Instantly, her foot flew up into her hands and she began to hop in circles uttering soft cries of pain. My sisters and I were sympathetic, having done the same thing many times before, but Cady found it superbly amusing. Smiling mischievously, she drew the door gently into her own toe, and began to hop in circles identical to the ones performed just moments before. “Oww, oh, owow,” she mimicked sarcastically, grinning impishly. After a moment of stunned silence, we began to laugh at her cruel mockery of our mothers’ former agony, thoroughly pleasing the little elf before us.
The above is her kind of humor. She takes someone's pain, and turns it into something funny. She refuses to let anyone leave without first receiving a hug from her (which makes me late for things sometimes) so that she "won't miss them to much." In fact, she is positive that once she has hugged that person, she will not miss them until they leave her again. One of Book's very close friends left for College this year, and she misses her terribly. CJ loved her very much too, but one day another one of my younger sisters was asking her if she missed "Tasha" and she said very decidedly "No. Because I hugged her before she left, so I don't miss her." I love my little sister!
These are post that I have written about her in years past. I will start from the bottom and go up...
This was when she was 1, I think.
*mysterious voice* She thinks it's safe...but we all know...and now you will to.
It all started when she could just barly toddle about, she tripped over my leg and said, very clearly..."Ow, that hurt!" (more like "Ow! dat hort" but still.)
She can speak in very clear sentences, if we catch her off guard. And she can open doors! No matter how much she trys she can't fool us. I know she opens doors 'cuz my little sister [name here] shut the door to her room, all the way! And when she turned around...the door was wide open, and my baby sister was standing there! *psycho theme*
I also think she might be able to read...but I have no evidence. Yet!
This was later on in the year...
I have seen my baby sister open doors constaintly, so that is fairly normal now, if not annoying. She can also lock up the whole van while we think she is sleeping peacefully in her carseat. (with the the keys inside I might add) Well, enough of that, back to her speaking. She says "baby" very often now, especially since Mom is showing very obviously now. She'll pat mom's belly and say "Baby! bebe" Then she'll point to herself and repeat it. This morning me and my sister were looking at a magazine with pictures of dolls in it. She, (of course) said "Baby, bebe. I baby"
By this time, I am pretty sure she was two.
I was always suspicious of her diabolical plan. But, for the past few days my suspicions are being confirmed.
On Sunday she lunged for the communion plate, just to see if she had us so completely under her powers, we wouldn't do a thing. She was foiled though. Her little stunt was noticed, and was mentioned slightly in Author's post, but only I understood its true meaning.
Also, she puts us under her powers by looking completely innocent after committing a heinous act, and a lot of the time gets away with a mere warning! You can see her evil grin....It sends shivers down my spine....
She gets us to do what she wants! All she has to do is say the word "Juice" and bring us a cup and sippie lid, all nice like, and we'll give her some! She takes advantage of this and tries to drink down the whole pitcher! So you have to trick her into thinking it's all gone! But she has to see with her own eyes, the last of the juice drain into her cup in order to believe me!
But I knew what her real plan was! She wanted to try and drink ALL the juice, So that no one else would get any! So when she had her back turned, I quickly put some of the juice into a different pitcher, and when she asked for more, I emptied that one into her lil’ cup, and thus tricked her into thinking she had polished off a whole pitcher of juice.
Now I am pretty sure she was three...
Remember the sister that was planning to take over the world? Well, I think she's decided to settle for taking over the computer. She is three years old and already she delights in kicking me off so that she can play her 'ABC song' at starfall.com!
Does something seem a little funny to you? She's 3 and she gets online! There's something not quite right about that...
At this time she definitely was three.
Yesterday, my little 3 year old sister announced that she wanted me to take her on a walk, so I told mom that I was going to take CJ for a short walk and that I should be back soon.
Before continuing with my story, perhaps I should inform you that the stretch of road I live on is about a good mile one way, and we are right near the end of it.
So I took little CJ by the hand and we sent off down the road. She began talking up a storm right away. How she can speak clearly enough for me to understand her with that binky (pacifier) in her mouth I'll never know. She would look wayyy down to the stop sign at the far end of the street and say "We goin' all the way aren't we?" I looked down at her in surprise and asked her if she really wanted to, and she assured me that she really did, so we should!
I figured I could do that, 'cause she'd most likely get tired before we got there, right? WRONG.
We walked at a moderate pace down the road waving happily at every vehicle that came our way and before I knew it we were at the stop sign! I then started to turn around, but CJ insisted that she wasn't tired and that she wanted to keep going! So we went onto a road that was a bit busier and continued on with our walk, still waving emphatically. (The reason I agreed is 'cause there is another road that we could take to get back to our house, hence, I could trick her into thinking we were getting farther and farther way, when in reality we were getting closer. Heheh....)
And this is the most recent...
One morning, CJ came to me requesting that I play with her. Wanting to escape my terrible burden of homework for a little, I agreed. Once outside, CJ discovered something that sorrowed her greatly. A heap of dead bark lying by the trunk of our apple tree. "No!" she cried in a mournful tone, "it's not supposed to be like this!" Franticly, she attempted to reattach the bark, pressing it against the bare wood. "Why did the deers do that?" she asked me quietly. realizing that her attempt to undo the deer-inflicted damage was fruitless, she turned to the task of rescuing all the fallen apples, mumbling to herself, "I won't let them all be eatend up."
And that, in a nutshell, is my little sister. She has a lot more personality and excentric behavior that I wish I could convay to you, but I have two cookie cakes to make, a house to clean before our visitors come, and assignments to complete. So, until another day!
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