Time for School: Chemistry (2)In tenth grade things got serious. The teacher was determined to eliminate all chances of cheating so to achieve this impossible task she developed about 50 different tests, each consisting of 3 questions, all hand-written by her and thus unavailable elsewhere. Having so many tests meant no one would be able to remember which question was asked where, so you really had to be studying to be able to get good grades. Or did you?Time for School: Chemistry (2)22 minutes ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The teach had the habit of giving tests to around ten people per period and we, through our noble arrogance and bargaining skills, persuaded her to not give us a test during the first period of the year. She gave tests to those who lacked our abilities and got on with her lesson. Unfortunately for her though, she left all the unused tests on her desk, which was on the way to the room exit. Such a novice mistake really. Someone from the Group got the rather sudden urge to go to the toilet and elegantly picked up some tests along the way. What happened afterwa
Grandpa Dad’s cell phone rang, breaking the peaceful silence. Nobody moved; we waited it out. Grogginess held us all in her loving claws. The voicemail ring sounded, and the room lapsed back into silence for a whole five minutes. Voicemail rang again, annoying me.Grandpa5 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Who just calls at 6 a.m. anyway?
Slight fear stirred inside of me, but I quelled it. It wasn’t possible. We were safe and sound in a hotel room in Ohio, save for my little sister’s stomach and Mom’s intestines. Dad dubbed it “screaming diarrhea” because Mom screamed when she sat on the toilet. It made for a very long trip back from visiting family in West Virginia for spring break, but they were all safe and secure as we were, maybe even more so. Grandpa was doing much better, and at 94 with pneumonia, he had spent the first half of our week-visit in the hospital an hour away. He talked to us the night before, and was awake and eating breakfast when we left
Dream 51A bit of an update if anyone is reading this : For the past long while I have had some issues with my memory which have seriously impacted my dream recollection. When I do remember dreams, it is usually a small detail, not enough to have a flowing sequence of events. The dream I had today, though not as full of information as my recollections used to be, was the most saturated amount of recollection that I have had in a very long time.Dream 516 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It began with me being in a small town full of very old homes, the intricate kind with white walls and red clay roofs that you might see in Europe. There was a new years gathering there, my family was there, so were many others. I wandered around before finding my father, who was sitting crooked and acting silly. It was clear that he was drunk. This was an enormous shock to me since I have never seen my father drunk in my entire life (Thank god.). I told him that if he needed to go anywhere that he needs to let me know so that I can drive him. This infur
Hey Man... ch.14Hey Man… ch.14Hey Man... ch.1412 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The sleep apnea test came back negative and I work all weekend cause a bunch of douchebags are gonna see the 300 sequel and a bunch of messy and loud ass kids are bonn see Mr. Peabody.
God, now got to try harder to get them taken out because it's not a nightly threat and what the fuck man.. i don't want to work liked this… cause it's going to be super busy every day and I don't miss that at all… goddamn…
Ways for you to ask me out officially when you get back:
1. *gets on one knee* Sis… will you be my girlfriend?
2. *Laying in bed or playing video games or lying around* Dude wanna date or some shit?…
Is that alright with you?… Are you sad that I felt like we couldn't make it official until you're back for real?.. It's not that I don't like you enough to be eager… I ofte
JOB 14:3A girl sat in her bed under a soft, grey blanket. She had just turned the lights off in the room and began to think about a few happenings in the week or two prior just before beginning to pray.JOB 14:316 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It was late on a Friday night and she was with her mother and step father in their room. They were doing what they normally did on the weekends: listening to music and drinking. The girl's friend was supposed to be coming over, but she hadn't heard from her all night and the clock had just struck to indicate that it was 10:30. Her phone suddenly jerked alive, vibrating violently under her hand on the counter and alerting her of a text.
She quickly uncovered her phone to see that her friend had finally texted her. Moments before that, the girl was having an anxiety attack right in front of her mother. Her breath hitched and her eyes darted around like they were paranoid something was watching them, but her mother didn't seem to notice. She was so afraid she'd done something wrong, but no one
True Story.I went to a pretty decent sized college, with about 22,000 people. For my privacy, your safety, and the people involved, I wont tell you the location. It was my 2nd month in college, and I hadnt really made any friends; just some people I saw often and said hi too in the classroom. However, there was always one guy, mind you he was in EVERY SINGLE ONE of my classes. He had medium length black hair, cut in a kind of grunge rock style. His eyes were blue, but not a normal kind of blue, the kind that just pierces into your soul kind of blue. He never said anything, never spoke a single word actually. Never made a noise, never moved. He was there when I entered the classroom, and when I left he would still be sitting there, unmoving. Finally, I got curious about him, and moved my seat to the back of the lecture hall. I decided I was going to follow him after class and see where he went. I brought my pocket knife and mini keychain flashlight just in case. After class was over at 9:30, everyTrue Story.18 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Day 1: Dreams of The DaysOkay guys,I'll start the "Dreams of The Days". I'll post it in chapters,and... Well, the chapters will be divided by days. Each day corresponds to the dream I had. Since last month he appears in my dreams. Let's start the story. Good luck!Day 1: Dreams of The Days18 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
DAY 1 - Visual Contact
"This was the dream that I met him. This isn't a fanfic,this is the story of my dreams."
I was walking down a concrete bridge, accompanied by a few people I didn't know who they were. I talked to them as if they were my friends.
"They're probably my friends" I was thinking(A/N: Yup,hyper-realistic dreams).
I did not know what to talk about, then I shut down and let them follow their conversation. Then,I stopped following them, and they didn't notice.
"... I probably was wrong. They didn't notice me after I stop following them. So... What am I doing in this place?" I was asking.
Walking down the bridge,I sat on a bench, looking around me. I put my hand in my pants pocket and pulled it ou
2014-065 Ordinary blessingsOrdinary blessing are what keep us going.2014-065 Ordinary blessings18 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
We are used to thinking about the big blessings of Christmas, Good Friday, Easter and Pentecost, which is good, for they are important things to think about. Christianity stands or falls on the resurrection of Jesus. Christmas and Good Friday and Pentecost are important, but Easter is the chief festival of the church year.
If Lent ended with Good Friday, Good Friday with be Death Day and Lent a time of despair. Ordinary blessings wouldn't matter much. We would put flowers on graves to mask the awful emptiness of death and try to eke out some meaning in the vanity.
But Good Friday isn't the end of the story.
And because of that, ordinary blessings do matter.
We see God in the ordinary...
...the beauty of God in the flowers
...the face of Jesus in the poor, the alien, and the oppressed
...the mystery of knowing God in the smile of a child for its mother and father
...promises of creation renewed when the sick get better an
A tale about Lost-In-eyes-of-blueThe following is not a happy story....but its a true one...and it weighs heavy upon my heart. May it bring you a glimmer of understanding.A tale about Lost-In-eyes-of-blue19 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Once upon a time...not so very long ago in the year of 1996, a girl was born in bath tub in the home of a family friend. Born a year and thirteen days after the first child...a second child that had not been a very good idea and was more likely than not: totally unplanned for. Eventually this child, with its large blue eyes and hair as black as the night was taken to the hospital early that very same morning. Premature and fated to nine years of turmoil and struggle, she first experienced the world as a victim to drug abuse. The end result of a couple more into drugs then the health of their unborn child, a couple where getting their next fix was the number one priority.
A whisper echoed through the hospital walls about a child born addicted, a child whose first experience of the world was going to be withdraw. A child who because of this would neve
Fragments of a Cutter - Questions and Answers -Why am I alive?Fragments of a Cutter - Questions and Answers -20 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I’ve asked myself this, and most times, I don’t know the answer. I think I shouldn’t be. But today, I found my answer. No, it’s not my friends or my family, or anything like that.
A horrible guilt that I would face in my death, for my passing would cause the same for another.
I would have to live in eternity with that guilt, knowing and believing that I killed someone. Not just any someone, but the most wonderful, amazing, and beautiful someone I’ve met. A someone with a soft touch, and a sweet voice. A someone with the most stunning brown eyes and innocent demeanor. A someone with a heart so pure that I know I don’t deserve for it to beat for me. A someone that, even though I know that love is unrequited, I love. A someone that has not been without my emotions for even a second since I met them. A someone that is extremely important to me and
2014-064 GrowingToday is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, the forty-days of introspection and repentance leading up to the sorrow of Good Friday and the joy of Easter. Even for non-Christians it's a good time to reflect on the ways we have not lived up to the standards we strive to live by and to make amends to those we have hurt or wronged by our actions. For Christians, the standard is the love of God, and the one before whom we kneel in repentance is first and foremost God himself.2014-064 Growing1 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
We received the sign of ashes this evening. As we filed across the front of the church, Pastor Chris inscribed the sign of the cross with oil and ashes on our foreheads. Sitting in ashes or applying them to ones body is a sign of grief and contrition reaching back thousands of years. It's an external sign to signify an internal reality.
That's one way we grow during Lent; we grow in self-understanding and humility as mature persons who accept responsibility for our own misdeeds.
memoir"Be careful with Leonard," my mother told me. I didn't know why she was speaking of my best friend in such a derisive manner, for despite the fact that I was only sixteen and he was 34, I felt closer to him than anybody else ever before. We hung out by the ruins - the remains of a half-built and then abandoned house in the outskirts of town, a project suffocated by and forgotten among the turbulent political changes on 1989 -; we talked about things like the stars and the universe and old times when people used to wear corsets and swords. He was one of those smart underachievers: a college dropout who could've passed anything with flying colors, provided that the thing had sparked his interest. At the time of our friendship, he often took to drinking and bad company, but still possessed a keenness of wit that I so thirsted for in regards to my peers. No one of my age would understand me, and other adult would pay attention, so he was like a sunbeam in a dark prison cell. As proud as Imemoir1 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
drei.Mit elf Jahren musste ich meine Vorhaut operieren lassen. Falls jemand nicht weiss, was eine Vorhaut ist, es ist das, was bei den Juden abgeschnitten wird. Nicht, dass meine Familie zum Judentum konvertieren wollte, nein, meine Eltern beabsichtigten, weiterhin nicht-praktizierende Protestanten zu bleiben. Und meine Vorhaut sollte nicht abgeschnitten, sondern nur gelöst werden. Ich lag auf dem Schragen, während mir eine Maske mit Schlauch über Mund und Nase gestülpt wurde, und im nächsten Moment behauptete jemand, alles sei vorbei.drei.2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Dabei war ich von Anfang an dagegen gewesen. „Warum muss ich ins Spital“, sagte ich zu Mami, „ich kann doch auch so auf die Toilette gehen“. – „Ja“, sagte sie, „aber wenn deine Vorhaut mit deiner Eichel verwachsen ist, kannst du vielleicht nie mit einer Frau schlafen.“ – „Mit einer Frau schlafen?!“ rief ich voller Entrüstung, „das will ich sowieso nie!&
Theme Prompt - SoliloquyI was thinking about my poetry and some of the stories I’ve written and I realized something interesting. When I write, I bare a small piece of my soul and am usually speaking to someone in particular. At least when it comes to the poems that resonate the most with me when I re-read them. There are a few that I just have no feeling for at all and, if I didn’t know I wrote it, I wouldn’t attribute to myself.Theme Prompt - Soliloquy2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I’ve written poetry to my father, my aunt, my grandmother, my ex, and my friends. Some with good intentions and feelings and some not so good. I’ve written alternately hopeful and sad, longing poems to a nebulous person that I hope to meet in the future. I’ve worked through my emotions for everyone and showed how I truly felt about them all. The gratitude and love for my friends, the sorrow and love for my family, and the love and, subsequently, anger and regret for my ex. Yet I’ve never really tried to work through my own feelings towards m
Hardlee sane:The story of Alice/Helena Shanice LeeI was never a "Normal" kid, I wasn't like those kids in the movies, who were perfect with loving families, or had nice things, I was the kid who's mental health you'd worry about, I was the kid who would cut herself for her own amusement, I was the kid who would cause others pain just to forget mine, that's the kid I was and always will be. I was always the outcast kid, things been like that since I was 5. I was more outcasted when I started cutting myself at the age of 6, and an even bigger outcast at the age of 8 when I started chocking myself, but I couldn't help it, pain was all I knew, to me pain was love, or at least, that's what my parents taught me. They did everything bad to me that you can think of, stuck me in a freezer, burned me, bust me upside the head with random objects, hell I've even been stabbed before. I tried telling people what they did to me, but no one believed me, everyone blamed it on me, and only me, they called me crazy, lunatic, said I belonged in a asylum,Hardlee sane:The story of Alice/Helena Shanice Lee2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Trains of ThoughtThere is a lot to be said for toughness.Trains of Thought2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Like what defines it, and for whom.
A man's tough if he can tear a phone book in half, or bench press a bus, or chew tin cans in his teeth and then spit out nails. He could maybe get hit by a cannon ball and have it bounce off his pecs, or ask some semi-tough person to punch him in the gut, and him not to flinch. Tough as nails.
His physical prowess provides the description.
For a woman to be tough, it's a little different. Hers is all about weathering the storms on the inside. Her punches are emotional ones, still as heavy and still as hard, but the marks are on the inside. She faces the day after loss with a grim understanding that life, that she must go on. I'm sure she can be physically tough, and be able to do everything a man can do, and more. And that too is part of her toughness. That she can be more, do more, feel more, and still manage to drag herself out of bed to do what nee
3.5.2014i cant stop picking my gums anymore until they bleed3.5.20143 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
and i just keep laying here and im too tired to breath
its like i cant get up before ive even laid down
Take Another LookIf you were to take a glimpse into my life, you might not see much on the surface. You might find a fairly anti-social kid who plays too many video games and likes to slack off. However, a closer examination would reveal a kid who is full of passion and inspiration. You would find him loyal and kindhearted to the few friends who he had managed to make. You would see a unique individual who wants to prove his worth. You would see me for who I truly am.Take Another Look3 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
If you were to glance at me in a classroom, you might see a kid who would rather be elsewhere. You see a kid who doesn't want to pay attention to the teacher, and doesn't care about the lesson. Take another look. You see a kid who has unfulfilled potential, and doesn't know how to access it. You see a kid whose mind is racing with thoughts and ideas, but has trouble expressing them aloud. If you were to give him some paper, a pencil, and a little bit of time, you might be surprised by what he can do.
If you were to take a glance at me at