I Love Writing...

OK, in cause you haven't figured it out by now, I love writing. My favorite type of writing to do is poetry, but I enjoy writing anything, as long as I can think of a topic. On this page, I will include all sorts of things that I have written. If you're looking for anything that I've written about or relating to my beliefs, check out How I Feel About What I Believe. Also, I have a few things on my Xena Page such as a poem and report. Anyways, here's everything else, from poetry to personal narratives, to essays. For your convinience, the things I have written are catigorized below, and are in order throughout the page by the date on which they were written. New things will be added at the top, and if I find any that fit in between, I will put them there as well as put a "NEW" sign next to their name in the list below. I would not recommend printing off this page unless you want to print off everthing that I have written. It is all on this page and could use lots of paper. All of these works are original, and are Copyright as of date written. As always, comments are always welcome, and can be sent to [email protected] or can be written in my guestbook. Thanks, and enjoy.

Poems Live On Loners Untitled 10/7/01 The Play Called Life Description of a Place Heartbreaker Loneliness Outside The Window

Personal Narratives Dialouge Between Renee and the Perpetual Cold Turning Points

Essays DPS Project

Live On
070202

Head spinning--mind whirling
Questioning...Questioning...
What more must I do?
I can't help when I don't understand.
Sleep, my child...Rest your head
But it never comes....
Never comes...
Why is it like that?? What makes it change??
Thought it was good, but that's not the case.
Heartache . . . no break for either one
Will it ever end?? Will this battle be won??
One day. One fateful day...
The smile appears like the sun.
Soon come... Soon come
Can't wait... Can't see more pain.
Live on little one. Live on.
It'll be OK.
All in good time...All in good time.
I promise on this one.
I just don't know how long.

Loners
101601

When you see someone off to the side
Hanging by themselves,
Do you think they're fine?
Or do you judge them from the start
Thinking, "He must be poor,"
Or "He can't be smart?"
Do you know who they really are?
Or anything they're thinking?
Do you see into their heart?
Or do you even care at all?
You have your friends.
That's what matters in your life.
I may be wrong, but I think I'm right.
You care not about others,
Only yourself.
What can I say to show you the way?
I do know how the loners feel.
I, myself, am one, you see.
That's very clear; at least to me.
I know that my friends are worth more than yours,
There may be fewer,
But they're very close.
As for not being smart, you might still ask,
Smart's what I seem to be labled as.
Being a loner has been OK to me
Because I've watched more people
I now can see
How others treat those off in a corner.
They show no regret or remorse.
They just say, "Ignore her."
I beg you to change this;
Start a new fad.
Next time go up and talk
To the poor, excluded lad.
Welcome him,
Smile,
You'll fill him with glee.
I know I'd be happy if it happened to me.
I sit in a corner watching the world go round.
Outside is a smile, but inside's a frown.
A loner is who I will always be.
At least I know I have some friends
Who truly care about me.

Untitled
100701

We all seem so different.
But if I'm not me,
Are you not you?
Maybe if we were ourselves
We'd really be the same.

Dialogue Between Renee and the Perpetual Cold
102600

Renee (after a fit of coughing): Why do I always have to have a cough and/or be congested when I don't really feel sick?

Cold: Because you haven't been taking care of yourself.

Renee: What do you mean? I've been exercising, eating enough, working out, and taking my medication for my allergies and asthma. Why then, to you continually affect me and restrict my activity?

Cold: It is not my fault, but yours. I am here because you do not get enough sleep. You stay up late to read e-mail and chat with friends or do schoolwork, and do not allow yourself enough downtime.

Renee: But I have been working on that. I have been getting to bed earlier and reading my e-mail and such at other times of the day.

Cold: But it is not enough. You stay up until the last minute occupying yourself with things you deem important instead of allowing yourself a little quiet, and relaxing time before you need to go to sleep. Then it takes you anywhere between a half hour to an hour before you fall asleep. What benefit is this bringing about? In the end, you are up later than you were originally. You must cut some things out of your busy life, or schedule them better so that you may have time for them and still have time to sleep.

Renee: Why must you come to visit me, though? Shouldn't my own tiredness be enough to keep me stable? (Sniff) Why do you have to bring your coughing and sniffling to me instead of someone else who does not eat well or exercise?

Cold: Because you don't sleep on your own. When I come, you rest more in an attempt to get better. Once you are rested and I leave, though, you once again deprive yourself of rest. If it were not for me, you would be asleep on your feet on this very day. Furthermore, without rest, your body becomes week to illnesses that can cause worse discomfort and possibly hospitalization or death such as pneumonia, meningitis, strep throat, and many others. I arrive first, however, and make you want rest before you get something that will cause you to be resting for several days. If you would rest enough on your own, I would not have to come and guard you from yourself. You are harming yourself. I am not harming you.

Renee: I can see that you are right. I suppose that I should get more sleep. I've been meaning to do so, but things have been so hectic that I haven't had the time. In fact, I'm going to start out on a new quest. I plan on getting at least nine hours of sleep every night. If I do this, will you go away?

Cold: I suppose that I will, but what difference will it make? You've made promises to yourself before to go to bed earlier that you might feel more rested in the morning, and not wake with a sore throat or a cough, but many a times, you have forgotten this promise in a split-second decision to read "just a little more" e-mail. That little more turns into a little more and then a little more, until you have read a lot more and it's about an hour later than you expected. Since you've already ruined your promise, you then decide that it's OK to do so on other nights, and end up with me there on some morning and wonder where you've gone wrong. So, if I promise to leave you now, why will it change these facts?

Renee: Because I now know where I have erred. I want to work to correct the mistakes that I made so long ago. If I resolve to get more sleep, will you then leave me?

Cold: Yes, but rest assured that if you break this resolution that I will return to you, in order to right your wrong and spare you from great hurt and pain.

Renee: Then good night, for I must sleep now if I am to wake on time tomorrow.

This is an essay that I wrote in response to the movie "Dead Poet Society". If you have seen the movie, than you will probably understand this better than if you haven't.

DPS Project
091800

After watching the movie, Dead Poets Society, there are several questions that come to mind: What could have happened differently? How did people change? Why did things have to end up the way that they did? But there is one question that might possibly be the most puzzling, and/or intriguing...Why did Mr. Keating ask the boys to address him as "Oh Captain, My Captain"? Why not just Mr. Keating, as following in the path of other "traditional" teachers? I hope to answer this question, or at least bring about some ideas as to why this man approached his students in this manner.

At first glance, it appears that Mr. Keating is just using a line from a favorite poem of his. This line is a respectful way to address a person, so it is suitable. Also, since Mr. Keating is an English teacher, it seems to make sense that he incorporates something like this into the boys' daily lives. In a way, it seems as though he just wants the boys to loosen up and look at him in a different way, instead of just as a boring English teacher. When he gives them the choice of names to call him (Mr. Keating, or Oh Captain, My Captain) he seems to want to help them understand that as individuals, they can choose things for themselves.

After looking further into the movie, and also by reading the full poem by Walt Whitman, it seems as though this was a type of foreshadowing for the movie. The first verse of this poem relates greatly to the events that come about in the rest of the movie:

"O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead."

This poem was also inspired by the movie "Dead Poet Society".

The Play Called Life
091800

Life.
An interesting concept.
What are we to do with it?
Who or what are we to be?

We must decide many things along our path:
Where to start,
What to do,
Where to end.

Our life cannot be just an empty shell of want.
We have to do something to fulfill our desires.
We must work to achieve our goals,
And strive to make our own beliefs known.

Life does not ever live itself.
We must contribute to it
And use it to discover
What others have contributed.

"Carpe Diem"
Seize the Day

Learn to live
As if everything 
Has already been written out
For you to do and to be.

However, with the addition of
Your thoughts,
Your feelings,
Your ideas and words,
The lines can be changed,
And your life can be lived as you choose.

Thus says Mr. Keating,
"You are here, life exists,
The powerful play goes on
And you may contribute a verse.
What will your verse be?"

Turning Points
date missing

Have you ever felt like dying, or at least crawling into a deep, dark hole, never to resurface into civilization ever again? I believe we all have these days. When we live through them, they become many of the turning points in our lives.

First of all, I remember the day when I was assigned to write a first person narrative for English class. I thought about topic ideas that we had discussed in class - memories, turning points, tragedies, embarrassing moments...

Turning points! Surely this was something I could work with. The first thought that popped into my head was my little foster brother. While he was with my family, he brought new insights to my life. He had taught me about a child�s innocence, and showed me how it feels to help make a difference in the life of a child. For a moment, I became wrapped in a blanket of joyful memories as I began to write...

�I will never forget the day when he first came into my life...� My mind searched through the cluster of memories; separating and sorting them, so that I could use the best ones to reach into people�s souls and show them who he was, and his impact on my life. As my mind wound down to the conclusion, the last few strands of the blanket unraveled and I resurfaced into reality; came back to the present.

I finished writing, closed my notebook, and threw it in my bag. I was sure that with a little editing this would be perfect for my assignment. It had not been nearly as difficult as I had imagined (or so I thought).

The next time I sat in English class, we worked on our rough drafts, or worked on editing if we had already written them. I reread what I had written earlier that morning. For some strange reason, it just didn�t sound right. It did not quite work for me as one of the most important turning points in my life. The only part that seemed to have any feeling was my conclusion.

All of a sudden, my mind was opened to new possibilities. They rushed over me like a waterfall, flooding my mind with feelings of joy, sorrow, fear, and hope. There was the day I got my first job, the day I found out that my parents were getting a divorce, the day my cousin died, my first day of high school, the first time I walked into a classroom full of so many people that I did not know... The list goes on and on.

I became distraught as I sifted through these memories, trying to find the one event that had stamped my life with the greatest impact. However, there were too many to choose from, and I screamed inside at the thought of never getting done.

Then, it came to me. If there were too many important events in my life that had strongly affected me, then I would have to find some clever way to display them all. I needed a way to show that my life was not composed of one important memory, but of many, that had all changed my way of thinking in some way.

As I sat puzzled, wondering if I would ever complete this assignment, a thought poked its head through the tough skin consisting of memories and worries. It bore an ugly face. However, I knew that this was it! It was a dangerous idea, and I was unsure if it would be acceptable. Many people would have never even attempted to take this assignment from an angle such as this. As I tediously began to shape and form the idea deep inside the recesses of my mind, I opened my notebook to a new beginning, a blank page, and began to write...

�Have you ever felt like dying...�

Description of a Place
date missing - sometime in Fall 1999

When traveling in the depths of Missouri,
You follow the road
Wherever it takes you.
But, what will you see?
The road will swerve and curve
As if trying to escape a giant, slashing beast.
The road cuts its way
Through the mountainous hills
Leaving only walls of rock standing tall
Towering over you on either side.
The layers of rock are ultra-thin pancakes
Composed of various shades of brown.
The wind whistles through the trees
And the branches sway
As if shoved
By an angry, invisible force.
Overhead, a hawk peacefully soars
Searching out its prey.
It engages in an effortless fight
Against the wind.
If you roll down the window,
You will smell the scent of the last rain,
The overwhelming aroma
Of the multitude of flowers,
Or the dusty, smogish smell
From the rocky walls around you.
This is where the road in Missouri will take you.
It is a beautiful, peaceful place
That mankind has once again
Disturbed.

This poem was written after seeing a biography on Laura Ingles Wilder. It is written from her point of view shortly after the birth of her second child.

Heartbreaker
(from Laura�s point of view)
date missing - sometime in Fall 1999

The moment my first child was born,
Was a moment of pure joy.
It was the best event
Inside my life,
Like the cream filling
Of a chocolate candy.
My life was a cup,
Into which she continuously
Poured happiness into
Throughout the years.
	Then,
When my second child was born,
It was like reliving every second
Of that precious moment
All over again.
	But...
The cold,
Heartless,
Finger of death
Reached out to pop
The bubble of joy
That encircled me.
	Life,
	Love,
	And happiness
Spiraled down
Into nothingness.
I was empty and cold,
While my soul ached,
	Cried,
	Moaned.
But the biggest pain;
The worst emptiness,
Was the unclear answer
To the heartbreaking question...
	WHY?

Loneliness
date missing - sometime in Fall 1999

I am locked up and tied down.
Shut away from the world
In a small, somber room.
I feel like a caged bird,
Not allowed to spread my wings and fly.
I sense the presence
Of others around me.
They see not the walls,
Nor my inner self.
Only the outer shell
Of my entire being.
I long to be released,
Allowed to flow
As freely as a river
Through the wide expanse
That encircles me.
My heart is invisible activities
It is strong.
Its love radiates
From my body.
Finding and untieing the ropes
That restrain my hands and feet.
The only thing left
That keeps me
From my awaiting destiny
Is the locked door.
My soul bears the key
That will free me
From this torment
Of perpetual boredom.
Yet my arms alone
Have not the strength
To turn it in the lock.
Someone else must detect these walls.
Their soul must force its way in,
Seeping through the cracks.
Then, with the help
Of a true friend,
I will have the strength
To throw open the door
To the world!

Outside The Window
date missing - possibly 100399

It is a dark, cold day.
I sit here shivering, and try to write.
The sun strains to poke its shining face
Through the ever ominous blanket of clouds.
The wind rustles the trees
And its cold, dead fingers reach out
To chill my bones.
One lone rose holds itself upright,
It�s blossom trying to withstand the sudden chill.
The leaves are like flames,
Burning with yellow, red, and orange.
Yet, when they fall,
They die out,
And become a dry, dark brown.
I watch the seasons change
Before my eyes,
And behold God�s miracle
Of LIFE!