secret weed

8th graders are rather hilarious, I am finding out. In my student teaching assignment classroom for next semester, my 8th graders decided to play a game. Guess the teacher's name game. I could have easily just told them, but that wouldn't have been as much fun. Some of them guess it (or already knew) and they kept yelling it out, but I played the game. We had fun with it.

Now, I got married in April, so I'm not completely accustomed to my new last name. Weed. So I really haven't had any grief with it, but this was one of my first accounts. One student commented, "why can't you tell us" and I said, "because it's secret." So, he got this super smirky look on his face and asked, "so can we call you secret weed?" HA! That was great! Then it started a big class discussion on what words can we pair with Mrs. Weed's last name that would make it funny. So there was secret weed, silent weed, hidden weed, legal weed, etc. etc. I guess this is what I get for picking on my husband when we were dating.

Newly Weds

I'm starting to see what people were talking about a couple of months ago when I was only married for 4 months, we definitely were in the newly wed stage. It has now been almost 7 months and for some reason I've become ridiculously crabby and annoyed whenever my wonderful husband says things that he finds funny. I don't find them funny anymore. I don't mean to say that I don't love him anymore because I do, it's just something else is sitting on me.

It might be the holidays. It is thanksgiving break, both of us are coming out of a rather stressful week of school and we kind of just want to be left alone. I just want to watch my Millionaire Matchmaker, Project Runway, and What Not to Wear in peace, but he's insistent on watching every stinkin' ESPN channel there is on t.v. Obviously we're not used to veging out with each other, but still... GIVE ME MY T.V. TIME! Ha.

It might also be a paradigm shift. I think about a month ago I was just so glad to be around him and sit by him and I couldn't believe that I was married to him. And not that I still don't think those things, but I had this brain blast of, wait, he's already the 2nd longest roommate that I've ever had...(Natalie, you still win). I'm not going to lose him anytime soon, or ever, so what is the big problem? I dunno...it's just a thought.

Today I woke up early, because I'm not used to sleeping in anymore and I read for an hour then made breakfast. Erick was still asleep. I made sausage, eggs, and chocolate chip pancakes and couldn't wait until he woke up. He woke up and we had breakfast together, cute huh? I think this little scene got me thinking about all of this...I spent some Sam time first and then realized, "Hey, why not share my happy mood with Erick?" (which is when I made breakfast) Then, after about an hour of ESPN, that happy "newly wed" mood went away. So, I'm starting to realize that separate Sam and Erick time is vital to keep that "newly wed" mood. As of right now, Erick is gone doing Erick things, I'm making a jello salad for Thanksgiving tomorrow, and doing my homework on my own time: DEFINITE Sam time.

There's a cat in the WHERE?!

Middle school is really funny. Middle schoolers are even funnier! Since I've been doing my practicum at Elkridge Middle School, I have discovered this. I have also gained a heck of a lot of respect for these crazy teachers and administrators that do it everyday. I am sure once I student teach it will be more of an eye opening experience.

Well, today after I finished teaching a good 3 class periods, it was time for me to leave and go back to P-Town. I had fun with my last class, so it ended on a good note. We joked and I taught them how to sound smart by saying "what is that distant tintinnabulation I hear?" whenever they heard a bell ringing.

I went to the office to sign out and I sat down to wait for the wonderful Courtney so that we could ride back together and I heard a commotion going on with the administrators. So, because I am polite, yet curious, I looked down at my phone and caught up on all of my e-mails while I listened to the women chatting. They were talking about a cat being stuffed in a locker. I was surprised, so I stopped to make sure I didn't hear wrong, but sure enough, there was most definitely a live cat that they found in someone's locker! I stared straight ahead and a lady came out and told me what they found. I acted surprised, naturally, and asked to see the cat. There it was, a fully grown cat that had been stuffed in some 7th grade girl's backpack and stuffed in her locker.

I mean, seriously, I wanted to bring my cat to school when I was little, but I was never gutsy enough to bring one. I don't know if I admire the girl or think she's crazy! That poor cat...ha!

Teenage Dream

When I was in high school I thought that I was the coolest person around. I thought I knew everything and anyone who told me otherwise was OBVIOUSLY wrong. I am now coaching high schoolers in swimming and I have realized how hilarious I must have been as a teenager. I have classed teenagers into 3 different categories.

1. Drama Queens/Divas/Divos/etc.

One swimmer on this high school team is the definition of a divo. He has to have all the attention and everyone has to know how tired, sore, in pain he is because he is working the absolute hardest out of anyone. If something hurts he takes it to the extreme. Once he came up to the other coach and me and told us his scapula was ripping apart from his spine. Another time he told us his esophagus was severed or that he was coughing up blood. It was great really, but he was quite serious about it. When he works hard he gets this look on his face where his eyebrows furrow together, his lips pucker out and his cheeks puff out with every breath sounding quite strained. So hilarious.

2. I'm too tough for you

I have had many a swimmer that claims they don't need help and they can do it on their own. False. They are apparently too cool for school, I guess. These swimmers have presented a problem because they don't really try to learn, they think they can do it all on their own. These teenagers can be quite funny as well because they basically show us who is right in the long run...aka the instructor/teacher/swim coach/etc. Teenagers like this are actually my favorite because I have become really good at breaking them down, humbling them, and seeing their true personality.

3. I need my mommy

These swimmers are generally the same as the too tough for you swimmers in that they have the same attitude toward instruction, but they break down easier because really they just want attention and their mommy. I spent a whole practice yesterday being a mommy to a sick boy, 3 girls who didn't want to do their work, and a boy who severely injured his "jewels" with a pull buoy. I was going back and forth between all of these teenagers giving them the attention they desperately called for. Teenagers are very attention desperate. As my mom would say, up until I left the house, when I was upset: "What? Is your attention meter low again? Let's fill it up." This obviously didn't make my pride feel better, but it made me feel better in the long run.

Cookie Monsters

Chocolate, flour, sugar, eggs, salt, baking powder, brown sugar, vanilla, baking soda, soft butter. Mix together. Bake.

It has always been fascinating how such simple ingredients can make something so delicious.

Noon: 24 hot chocolate chip cookies. 12:15 : 1 dozen warm chocolate chip cookies. 12:20: 10 room temperature chocolate chip cookies. 12:25: 5 chocolate chip cookies. 12:30 : 0 chocolate chip cookies.

It is amazing how 24 cookies can disappear in 30 minutes with 6 people in your family and you can't get even one!

Mary Poppins

When I was little my mother would watch generally only 2 things on t.v. : home maker shows or old movies (generally musicals), so I grew up watching both of those things (don't worry I watched cartoons too). When I grew up I wanted to be a famous singer and be in movies with Grace Kelly and Judy Garland, or at least sing like them. I got into singing and loved every minute of it. I got into the various genres and wanted to do more with them, but somewhere along the lines of life I got lost into reality.

On Friday Erick and I went to see Mary Poppins at the Capitol Theater in SLC. I felt like a kid again! I left the theater feeling elated that people still exist that do my version of "real entertainment" (not this Lady Gaga or Brittany Spears kinda crap), the I-can-sing-dance-run-in-place-and-not-be-out-of-breath kind of entertainment, the stuff that the media industry was built off of. It really makes me think, though, where did I realize this so-called "reality" and why did I stop going for my childhood dreams? I know I could have been just as good as those people on the stage, but what caused my life to end up the way it did? I'm not complaining that I have a bad life, because I love it, but still it is very very intriguing.

Slice of Life

One of my dreams was to become a painter or some sort of artist when I was little (that, and becoming a rocket scientist, a chef, a teacher, a singer, a dancer, etc.). I loved looking at different sunsets and objects in my minds eye and trying to figure out how to paint it. I have taken one oil painting class in my whole life and I loved that picture. It was one of my most proudest moments when I completed it. I've tried to paint, sketch, draw, and I can copy certain items pretty well, but they just aren't the same as I picture in my mind. I'm now at the point that I just don't even try to draw or paint them anymore.

This last weekend I had an experience like this. My husband, Erick, and I were hiking the Y on a beautiful evening right at sun set. We stopped to take a break and looked out over Utah Lake and saw one of the many sunsets I have seen in my life, except a little bit more interesting. The sky was lit up bright orange and fading into a deep blue above the misty purple mountains. When looking across the silky smooth lake it reflected a bright pink instead of the orange of the sky. I loved it! I tried to take a picture of it, but it just wasn't the same as I saw it.

I guess that's the beauty of art, it is entirely in the view of the creator. Hopefully some day I will find the time to be all of the things that I wanted to be when I grew up as a child, but for now I will work on my writing. That's the only way I can give my perspective of the world right now.

New Blog

Hello Friends! I have a new blog about Erick and me. You should read it. And follow it.

www.thegrowingweeds.blogspot.com

Thanks!

The Stand

...Here's my most recent story from my grammar class...yes...grammar...

The Stand

I came up with this great idea today and I am pretty sure no one has thought of it before. I will probably start a revolution with it and become ridiculously wealthy. I don’t know if I can do it on my own, I might need some friends. But, if I ask them, I’ll have to share my wealth.

Nope, on second thought, this is my genius idea and I’m going to do it all on my own. I’ll just borrow my mom’s pitcher, table, ice, and cups. She won’t mind. I’ll pay her back much more when I become the world’s first trillionare. Maybe I’ll snag some computer paper and make a sign. I am going to be the richest and most genius fourth grader ever because of my completely intelligent idea of a lemonade stand.

It’s a really good thing my mom is taking a nap. I can use all this stuff without her knowing. Perfect. The alarm system is super sensitive so I have to be careful. There’s 3 items I have to grab without being caught on the cameras or making noise. I have to steal these to get the people off my back. It’ll give me a couple grand. Item one: the mysterious magical diamond incrusted pitcher. Ancient Armanians said that who ever puts water in it and drinks from it will live forever. Nobody believes that stuff anymore, so it’s the easiest to nab so far. No cameras, but surrounded by the cups. Gotta be quiet. Might as well grab the cups, I’ll make more dough that way. Stealthily and easily I made it to the cupboard. So easy. No alarm system. Ok, where’s my list, first item, check!

Second item. Table. Where can I find a table that I can take outside? Suddenly bullets start flying every which way. I’ve blown my cover. The gang found out my identity and I gotta make it out of here. Dodge left, dodge right. Oh good, some covering. A coffee table! Perfect. I’ll use this as my shield against baby face Johnson, slickest sharp shooter gang banger of the 20s.

Next. Paper. She’s not even paying attention. Not even looking. I can just snag the money right from her purse. Simple. Been livin’ on these here streets since I was 4. Mom and pop left me with nufin’. I can keep it up. But, it seems too easy. Way too easy. I’ll do a grab and run. This dame won’t even know what hit her. Grab and run, that’s what I’ll do. Won’ even look back. Got it.

Perfect, I have everything out. I’m ready to make my millions. The sun radiating heavily on my shoulders allow my head to be kissed gently by the heat. It feels good. The blue sky is almost to the point of it looking boiled, but not quite. I can handle it. I’ve been in the sun. We’re friends. It’s been 5 minutes. Nothing yet, but it’s still early. Not even noon yet. People don’t get thirsty until 1 or 2 anyway. I still can do it. These dumb cars driving by don’t even know what they’re missing anyway. I have the best dang lemonade in the city right here. Maybe I should have invited friends to help me. I’m a loner. Total loner. I’ve been alone since the beginning. Them other people can’t handle me because I work better this way. Last person who tried to deal with me I had to dispose of her. You know what I mean by dispose, right? Ha! Didn’t even know what was comin’ to her. That dumpster was sitting there in that back alley, just asking for her. The scream of the gun was so distant. Almost too distant. I gotta make my mils by myself. Only person I can trust. Nobody can handle this.

Cars keep passing by me and the people in them look at me funny, so I just look right back at them. They won’t know what’s coming to them. When I become rich, they’ll feel bad. I won’t give them anything. Glaring back at them, I hold my cardboard sign high. “Need food, God bless.” I may not look like what I used to be, but I have dreams too. The cars fly by my corner while I sit there, the mangy mutt that has been following me for awhile is lurking in my peripheral. Pregnant flies buzz around his matted fur and I constantly shew him away. This is my corner and I have made sure of that. I need this for my survival. It has been almost 3 months that I’ve been here. Rich folks in their Cadillacs and Cameros pass this intersection and throw their bills and quarters at me. I ran into Julia Roberts once two. Nice lady, handed me $20. An old lady who reminded me of a bull dog, she shook her jowls at me and told me to quit doing drugs and get a life. She doesn’t know me. I used to be someone.

It’s been 30 minutes in the summer sun now and my body is starting to drip sweat. I’m getting thirsty. Just one glass, I have to make sure it’s still cold anyway. With a giant gulp the cold fresh liquid fills my every pore from the inside out. The man who offered it was kind, but there was something mysterious about him. It feels good with each sip like my entire body is being rejuvenated with hydration and something else. I can’t quite name it. My body seems like it is floating and I will never be thirsty again. Wouldn’t that be nice, to never be thirsty again. I could get used to it. He was a very nice man, still there was something to that drink. The world is getting black and I lost feeling to everything in my body. Except for my hands and my hands burn. The burning is so extreme that it feels like the very fires of hell are lapping at my fingertips. I don’t know if I can handle it. I was so thirsty. I had to do it. My body needed it.

The sky is so blue today and so clear. The tree my parents planted when they first moved in is huge now and provides the perfect protection and shade from the extreme heat. It touches just the outskirts of my brilliant business. There still isn’t any bite on my new plan. Maybe $2 a cup was a little extreme. I’ll lower it a dollar. The store across the street always claims to have lower prices. I’ll show them. I can sell socks just as well as they can. I just got a new shipment of Nike’s new hydrofit socks. No beating this. I’ll sell them for the price I got them for. I’ll brake even, but there’s not any possible way that they could beat my price. Then maybe people will buy more socks. Then I’ll be rich.

Ok. $1 is a pretty good price. I have to get some bites off of this price. They always say raise the price to the point the people will go to. I’ll just wait a little bit longer and drink another cup. It might get warm. This is still a genius idea. I’m getting hungry, but I know people will love my idea. Oh look, here’s a car. The car drives up slowly to me, rims shining in my eyes. Here’s the big business man that wants to take my idea and make it global. I can see his silhouette in the shadow of the heavily tinted black Lamborghini doors. The window rolls down slowly and a partially drank milkshake drops from some unfriendly hands and thick pinkish brown liquid jumps out of the top of the cup and splatters in a perfect shaped upside down triangle on my newly written NOW $1 sign. I hear a snicker and the car squeals away from the corner of my road. My mind goes numb with rage. I now know that this is going to be totally worth it and I will make millions. If history class has taught me one thing, it has taught me that the oppressed rise with double the force. Take Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr., they both were told they cannot amount to anything or receive the rights they want and they both ended up achieving them through all of the persecutions. I can stand up to a spilt milkshake. I will change the price to 75¢ per cup. This will bring in people and I won’t know what to do with myself. I will be forced to hire my friends to help me. I am going to sit down, fold my arms and wait. This will work.

The summer day is getting hotter and hotter. My head is now feeling like a Thanksgiving turkey being broiled in the oven. It is so incredibly hot and the ice cubes are slowly shrinking in my pitcher. The last penguin in the north pole watches all of the icebergs melting into oblivion and creating problems. He sits and sighs, remembering good times of sliding and swimming in the cold ocean. Now it is getting hotter, almost boiling. Everywhere he turns the fish float up on their backs with glazed over eyes and a stench that could only mean certain death. The iceberg the penguin is sitting on moans as a crack appears in the middle. The penguin scoots to the other side and hopes for the best. He knows that if he leaves to get food, the iceberg will be gone and an opportunity will be lost. It doesn’t matter how tired I am, I need to stay here. Maybe I can run into the house for some more ice, quickly.

The sun shines--I don’t know why it shines, for some reason this sun shines ridiculously hot; this sun shines so hot that eggs can boil on the side walk, fish even brush the surface and turn into fried fish sticks, children play outside and turn into lobsters (literally), smiles fade quickly with the lack of moisture in their bodies, and people become florescent white because of all of the florescent light bulbs they use for their houses. I need to stay out of the sun. A car is outside and when I run up to the table, 5 people are using their own cups to drink out of. I run out and ask them what they’re doing. They snicker and run. Some people really don’t see good things when they’re in front of them.

Protect the booty, that’s what I’ve been told and that’s what I plan on doin’. The captain gave me strict orders to protect this booty. Been found by a treasure map on some deserted island so it’s my job to protect the booty. I know them scallawags on this boat will try to steal some of it, but I have to protect the booty. Protect the booty, the captain told me to, so I have to follow through. I just thought of a genius plan--again--I know, I’m full of them. I will invite my friends to come over to help me guard this thing, I am a hard working person and business man and I need some support and help in creating my lemonade empire. They will protect this from predators and help me spread the word.

Walking down the street, the group looks sly, sharp, and excited? Their trendy sunglasses and clothing make them look like some sort of crew out of the movies. Walking up to me in a half circle pattern, I know that my friends are willing to be my body guards for my enterprise. I explained to them the rules and what their roles are over the phone, so I really expect no funny business. This will snap my business into shape.

After hours of waiting, it seemed, in the heat and my friends who were drunk off of the lemonade, another car stopped at the corner. They rolled down the window and threw 25¢ at me then drove off. I ran up to the coin, snatched it just before it hit the ground and kissed it. I kissed that quarter like it was the first glass fresh water I have drank in over 5 years, like it was gold that I had found after a long journey on a deserted island, like it was my saving grace in a gun fight, like it was my long lost lover, like it was a priceless jewel I just stole from an expensive dealer, like it was a drop of rain from a cloud hovering over my head on this hot day. I grabbed that quarter and held it up to my friends. They looked down at me like I might possibly be the craziest person they have ever met, and went back to drinking my precious liquid gold and chatting. Silly children, they don’t understand the importance of hard work. This idea is genius and I made a profit off of it. No one understands how genius my idea is and totally original, too. I’ll come back tomorrow and try again.

Today God decided to send Noah’s floods again, my lemonade stand is floating down the street. I know that I will make a ton of money today because I have a mobile business. I will be on the news as the world’s first floating Lemonade Stand, or it would if my mom would let me. Parents ruin everything.

The Stance

Walking around campus again at the beginning of summer brought back some funny thoughts.

So, I'm walking around the bookstore spending my hard earned money on school supplies and I run into a friend. Of course. And yes. I have friends. Here's my friend with her bright smiling face walking towards me. Her voice calls out my name and I say hello and we commence in our conversation. After I finish in my errands and was walking home and ran into yet another friend. Yes, I am a very popular person. Then it happened. Just as it had earlier. The Stance. I was about to go, but The Stance isn't something you can just ignore.

Here's what the stance is:

1. The person comes at you smiling and happy to see you. Of course you're flattered by your friend because they say your name and even some times tag some pet name along with it.

2. You walk up with the same smile on, but not as ready to stop and talk.

3. They place their body in front of you in away that the only way to get around them would be rude or you'd knock into them.

4. Then they turn their whole being to you. Now you can't get out for at least 5 minutes and the conversation generally consists of "What have you been doing?" "How've you been?" "What's the year like for you?" "We should hang out sometime!"

The Stance is impossible to get out of without being or pretending you're in a hurry. If that is the case or you just don't want to continue in awkward conversation with a friend you're only friends with when you run into them I suggest running and yelling "Sorry! I'm late!" It works every time.

Schlitterbahn Shades

Geez it's hot out here. And bright. When did this happen? I guess it's what happens.

Yeah, yeah, yeah... don't complain it's hot and bright at least you get to look at everything a couple of shades darker and aren't solid black. Yeah. That's right I'm talking to you. You with the oily nose and eyelashes that are caked with that black crap that swipes all over me. I hope you get zits and your eyelashes fall out with all of your complaining.

Where the heck am I? There's fat people everywhere that really shouldn't be in swim suits. I don't understand lady, why are you wearing a bikini that is 3 sizes to small for you and you are at least 30 pounds overweight for it. Kind of disgusting if you ask me.

Oh and speaking of gross, what's the deal with all of those tattoos on those incredibly large people? Look at that chick, she's got partially nude women on her shoulder blades and that man has a tramp stamp. A tramp stamp? Really? Are you serious right now? Come on man! Grow some...

I really find it quite hilarious what these humans will go through. They wait for hours to ride on a water slide that lasts only 15 seconds max. BAH! Look this girl has been waiting for 30 minutes in the 100 degree weather standing on pavement that looks hotter than it is up here and probably burning her feet off just for a ride that lasts not even a quarter of what her wait was. Don't get it.

Oh, we finally made it to the end I was wondering. You better hold on to me stupid girl or I'm going to fall right off your face. HEY! I saaiiiid hooollllllld ooooooonnnnn.........

Frustration

Can I have my way JUST once?

When I want to achieve a goal,

can I just achieve it for once?

Can I have my way just ONCE?

When a guy walks into the room,

can he be mine first just once?

Can I have MY way just once?

When school gets hard

can I understand it completely just once?

Can I have my WAY just once?

When I think of my way

has God already given it to me just once?

The Other Guy

So this was just a random brainstorm. I could probably go with it more, but I don't really want to right now. :) Enjoy!

Yes, I am that guy. The other guy. That one guy who doesn’t get the girl in the end. It sucks. You hear all of these stories and see all of these movies about these couples that find each other after going through hell in their relationships, and then end up dumping their perfectly fine partner and romantically finding each other. Generally ending up in a long, slow motion, make out session complete with a orchestra and everything. Well, you never really realize what we go through during that scene at the gate of the airplane on your way to a destination wedding, at a train station, in front of a taxi cab, or in the rain after an argument. Do people not understand how really unfaithful this supposed “heroin” is being if she has someone like “the other guy?” I mean seriously, think about it: the girl is finally doing what is good for her and dumping that guy who’s been a jerk to her and settling down with the guy that can support her and love her and give her the life she deserves, but she dumps that perfect opportunity for the loser. By loser I mean that guy who doesn’t offer her any opportunities, but love and some decent sex. What in the world is going through her head? It’s not like the love with guys like me (the other guy) is fake. It’s just as real as the other one. I just don’t understand what’s wrong with these girls.

Periodical Section

She glanced at him from across the large library tables.

Cute. Tall, dark, and handsome type. He dresses nice too. One of those guys you can tell tries to keep his appearance up. He looks intensely at his notes and dell laptop screen, studying, memorizing, reading. The pen in his ear twitches as he raises his full dark eyebrows in contemplation or realization.

The quietness is so loud it's distracting.

She looks at him again. Almost staring. As soon as he looks up, she acts as if she was looking at something else. He feels his warm stare on her face. She contently types more on her computer, making sure he can see her face even more with her extremely useful seat where everything he does is visible. Out of her peripheral vision she notices he's gone back to work. She watches him carefully, prepared to quickly glance out the window at the large grassy hill and slightly budding trees. He looks at her again and her preparation pays off until he gives her a sideways smile and an eyebrow raise.

The couple sitting on the outside hill cuddling in the freezing wind, studying, don't move.

He picks up his things and moves over. Keeping the same look on his face the whole time. He speaks to her in the silent words made for the library and takes the seat directly in front of her. The words don't come to her mouth, but the same expression is sitting gently on her face.

He motions over to the large shelves in the back of the library and mouths that he wants to show her something. They stand up and walk towards the ominous dusty shelves in the back. Her heart thumps loudly in her ears as she slowly begins to realize what is happening. Her stomach twists in knots as he takes the back of her head gently in his hand and pulls her closer. Closer. Until she slowly blinks.

He picks up his things and places them in his backpack and walks away.

Poetry

For Natalie

**Side note: These are pretty much ALL of my assignments from my Creative Writing class. THAT I LOVED! Enjoy

Lunch

Crunch

munch, munch, munch

Gulp-Gasp!

Crunch

“Delicious...”

An Introspective Query

Kyle Green Mirror. Why is it always the mirror that gets to me in the morning? I hate it. All I see is another guy. Someone who is so positively revolting I don’t know how on this god forsaken planet any other male could ever want me. My eyes are crap brown and my hair matches, what is interesting about that? I look the same as every other freaking American on the planet. It’s like when you see a bunch of Asians in a group together, they all look the same. I look the same. Crap, now I have to go and work for “the man” again. It’s a good thing I at least enjoy my job somewhat, now I can really take advantage of those kids in high school who would call me a faggot. While I’m busy at work, they’re sitting in their hell holes playing the very games I create while they munch on another one of mommy’s cookies. Mom, oh crap! I forgot to call her back again. I wonder if Dad knows anything about her talking to me, I guess he assumes she does, but since that fight...ah eff. I need to give up on that. Dang my pours are clogged.

Hatim Smith There he goes again. What is his deal? Does he honestly need to look at himself for that long? What a weird guy. How long have we lived together now? 2 months and he does the same exact thing every morning. Rolls out of bed into the bathroom, brushes his teeth for like 30 seconds, puts on wrinkled work clothes (including his florescent orange tie and dark brown corduroy pants) and thickly framed black horn rimmed glasses, and stares into the mirror for the next 30 minutes. At himself. Nothing else, but himself. He always looks like he’s brooding about something. What is his deal? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him shower. He does kind of stink. You’d think a gay guy would care more. At least I think he’s gay. I do catch him checking me out occasionally. EH! That’s just too far, I really need to find another place to live.

Janet Green Why doesn’t Jim just get along with Kyle? That’s the same fight we’ve had for the past 8 years, since he was 16. Kyle’s gay. My little boy is gay, I’ve accepted that I won’t have any grandchildren, why can’t he just accept it too? Gay...my only son is gay. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. nothing is wrong. I remember when I would make him his turkey sandwiches with the crust cut off and he would immediately take it and squash it until the mayonnaise was dripping out the sides and the whole thing was paper thin. I didn’t think anything was wrong with that, so what’s the problem with him being gay? It’s just like smooshing your sandwiches-- just a preference--but in men... Oh when is that boy going to call me back?!

Jayne Thompson I wonder what Kyle is doing tonight? Probably just watching his scifi movies while he sits on his lovesac eating his puffy cheetos. Dang, I should call him. I wonder if his new roommate is ok? His insecurities generally don’t allow him to make friends very easily. I wish he was closer to Seattle instead of living in Newark. I think he’d be doing better, I don’t know though, maybe he is since the last time I talked to him. I wonder if his parents are still struggling with the concept. Probably. Since Dartmouth, they haven’t been on very good terms. His poor mother, I can still hear her crying on the phone to me telling me to make it be different. I don’t really understand what the big deal is, since the night after we...well after he discovered he was gay, I’ve been ok with it. Perfectly fine. I don’t know what the big deal is.

Learning in College

Introduction

There are a few things that one will learned when college teaches you. How to read, relationships, what not to do, sociology, and where ever there is free food you will find an incredulous amount of students.

How to Read

When I am in school, I generally don’t “learn” anything, per-se, it’s more of a let’s-see-how-many-pages-I-can-fit-in-without-sleeping kind of thing and an I-need-to-finish-this-assignment-so-I-can-pass experience. In reality, the information goes into my head as long as is needed and dumped as soon as the test arrives. The true learning doesn’t come until I’ve graduated with my degree and realize for the first time that “crap, I really didn’t pay much attention in college, did I?” So, in school, you don’t learn important information for life, you learn how to read that important information and hope that those thousands of dollars of debt you are in will hopefully pay off.

**[skip down to where ever there is free food...]

Finding Free Food

Now, picture this, you are now an undergraduate student walking to lunch and outside you see a ridiculously long line that starts in the distance from what looks like...oh yes...I think that is a table. What is the first thing that pops into your head? Food. Freaking free food. Best thing on the planet earth. Forget those quarters that have been sitting in your pocket weighing you down since 10 a.m. You don’t need the vending machine Jose Olé burrito anymore. You get free food. Even if it’s crap. It’s free. Now, let me weigh my opportunity cost here. Judging by that line, I’d say it’s about 30 minutes to the table. Am I really that hungry to sit in line and listen to the people behind me flirt relentlessly or should I just deal with my burrito?

Teddy is SIX!

My little brother

Teddy

Is six today

And

I am twenty-

One

Day the gap wonʼt

Seem

That big and we

Will

Know each other

Better

Start now than

Never

Because Teddy is

Six!

Listen.

Static is all that is coming out of those blasted speakers.

The shiny metallic knobs are turned, and it remains the same.

The volume knob makes it louder, but all that is heard is static.

Annoying.

The tarnished, bent, v-shaped antenna on the top is twisted and

contorted so much just for the same sound renders it useless.

A futile attempt to lengthen it brings out the same result.

Listen

Running Away

As the air goes in and out, in and out of my lungs,

the stress leaves my body with every breath.

As the air goes in and out, in and out of my lungs,

the small clouds of breath disappear with each stride I take, and my stress disappears.

As the air goes in and out, in and out of my lungs,

the cold air strikes at my lungs as I suck in the oxygen for my aching muscles.

Each stride I take I leave a footprint of the cold stress on the frozen ground.

As the air goes in and out, in and out of my lungs,

my legs start to follow the rhythm of my racing heart pumping oxygen in and out of my lactic acid filled muscles carrying away the stress with every beat, and my feet start to follow allowing my stress to disappear.

Rainy Day

Clinching jaw while coercing

through the rain.

Clock clicks loudly clinkering

through the house.

clink

clink

clink

Jaw grows tighter coercing

through the rain.

Rain tinks softly on the

window pane.

tink

tink

tink

Coming home with squishing

feet.

Listening to tiny feet

patter

through

the

house.

The Classroom

As much as I love to

flirt,

I donʼt like to hear it from

you.

Yes,

You.

The girl who giggles

nonstop.

The boy who tries

too hard.

Give

Up.

Nothing is going to happen.

Iʼm trying to pay attention.

You need some serious separation.

Please

STOP!

Substance of Life

Water

Is

Everywhere.

And yet, I am thirsty.

The blue plastic almost brings comfort

To my exhausted muscles.

My fingers fumble to find the strange ridges.

My hands find the surprisingly supple sides,

And they squeeze the substance of life into

My fatigued and enervated sense of being.

The spout slips softly between my teeth

And a new sense of hydration envelops.

My exhausted muscles

Found the serenity in the blue plastic

with the white letters.

Everywhere

is

Water.

Crayons

soo....this was for my creative writing final portfolio. Tell me whatcha think!

I’ve always been fascinated by brand new Crayola Crayons. The first time I got my own set was for my 6th birthday. I loved everything about them, their perfectly waxy cylindrical bodies with their clean construction paper covering that is a tinge lighter than the actual color makes me want to pick up each and every one and feel the smooth glide of the waxy head on the paper.

My mom would always get on to me for being so messy, until one day she finally realized that there was a door to the Robin’s Egg Blue room that contained all of it. I have always been messy. I still am. One thing I am not, though, is dirty. I am most definitely the direct opposite of dirty. Anything that is dirty I make sure and clean it until those Inchworm Green germs and their ancestors are destroyed.

* * *

When I was just a 5 year-old, the troubles started. My parents had always fought, but these troubles were different. They were beyond different. My dad had just finished school and my mom had a job working for a local law firm. My dad got a job at an incredible business and my mom was done with work by around noon. So, my dad would drop me off at kindergarten in the Blue Gray morning and my mom would pick me up in the Goldenrod afternoon. As the school year went by, though, I started to arrive later and later to kindergarten. I would get upset at my dad and cry, but he would just end up yelling at me and telling me that there’s nothing he can do about it. My mom would pick me up at the same time, but each time I’d see her she’d be more and more tired looking. I would constantly ask her what’s wrong, but she would just look and me, pat my Tumbleweed hair, and tell me not to worry about it.

* * *

Each night I spend over 3 hours scrubbing down my apartment. My room never gets touched. Everything else in the apartment gets so scrubbed that it permanently smells like lemon Pinesol. I take the Lemon Yellow liquid and squirt it into a bucket, take a new sponge out of the package, and scrub my kitchen, walls, bathroom sink, toilet, tub, shower, and floors until I feel satisfied and dump the Raw Umber colored water outside and throw the sponge in the dumpster. When I walk back to my apartment, I generally have to leave my front door open for 5 minutes until it smells normal again. As much as I hate the smell of cleaner, I have to do it. Then, after I am done, I walk into my messy room and climb into my unmade bed.

* * *

One day I was so late to Kindergarten that my teacher pulled my dad aside and told him she was concerned about my constant tardiness. She wondered if there was anything she could do to make it easier for me to get to school on time, because if I continued in being tardy I would miss too many days of school and have to be held back a year. A lot of what she was saying didn’t really make sense, but my 5 year old self understood perfectly well that “held back a year” meant that all my friends would go to first grade and I wouldn’t get to go with them. My eyes welled up with tears as my dad told my teacher fine, and walked out of the room without even giving me a hug goodbye. Somedays my dad would act like this, he would come out of his bedroom the most depressed and sadistic person on the face of the earth. Other times he would walk out of his room happy as a clam and acting like the cloudy winter light peeking through the windows were instead Unmellow Yellow rays of sunshine. Those were the days when I didn’t care if I was late for school. Those were the days when he’d take me to get doughnuts and a Barbie Doll before school, so we’d be late and happy on purpose.

* * *

For some reason when I walk into my room, I can feel a sort of peace. The Tropical Rain Forest walls bring just the right lighting so that I can sit down and relax just by looking at the walls. Tropical Rain Forest has always been my favorite color, it’s so warm and deep. Everywhere else in the apartment gives me a headache. The White walls with the Macaroni and Cheese cabinets under the florescent light messes with my eyes and I can only stay in the living room/ kitchen combo only long enough until I’m done with whatever I’m doing. Maybe I should paint in there too. Actually, maybe its the florescent lights. They always give me a headache. I think that the world needs to permanently get rid of florescent lights. They only do two things: cause people to look washed out and give people headaches.

* * *

This trend continued for the rest of the year until I was in first grade, then I was able to ride the bus by myself. Now, things started changing, heavily. The only time I would see my dad was on his sunny days and on the Saturdays when we’d go and visit his office for lunch. I would always play with the tape and paperclips while my little sister would scribble on his computer paper. This would continue for half an hour until my mom would come and pick us up. The whole time my dad not saying anything, if it was one of those days. The rest of the days, I would get home from school and my mom and little sister would be either making cookies or creating some new arts and crafts until dinner. Then around 8:30 we’d go to bed, generally not hearing my dad come home.

* * *

I feel bad for whoever I end up marrying someday. My clean-freak side does generally scare relationships away, so maybe I won’t ever have to deal with it. I have had roommates in the past, but they’ve gotten in the way. Humans really are disgusting things. I couldn’t deal with them. One would leave her dishes in the sink, all the time. I’d ask her to clean them until one day she looked at me and told me that a sink is to hold dirty dishes, not to just stand there disinfected. I looked at her, raised my eyebrow and went into my room. She didn’t stay very long. Another roommate I had would always drink the water directly from the faucet when she would brush her teeth and leave toothpaste all over the faucet head, which would gross me out. So, I would put a clean paper cup with her name on it each night until she got the hint. When she did finally understand what I was telling her (I would clean the faucet immediately after she brushed her teeth) she got really offended and moved out the next month. It was a pity, I actually liked her.

* * *

One night I decided to stay up to see my dad come home. My mom tucked me into bed and then while she was putting my little sister to sleep I snuck out of my room and sat on our Manatee leather sofa until I fell asleep. I woke up when my dad pulled into the driveway. I looked at my Mulberry Barney and Friends watch that I got for my 6th birthday and tried to tell time, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Right then, my mom walked out of the hallway, so I threw our Violet Blue, Tickle Me Pink, Mango Tango and Black afghan over my head and curled up underneath. While looking through the holes and holding my breath I successfully remained unnoticed. My mom walked into the kitchen table and pulled a chair out noisily and sat down. The hot air was stifling me, and I was getting desperate for fresh air. The same time I created a small opening with my toes, my dad walked in.

* * *

I really should clean my room, but I don’t have time. Between work and cleaning the rest of my apartment I’m tired by the time I am free. I guess there’s always the weekends. The weekends are my heaviest cleaning day of the week. In the morning I wake up at 7, go to the gym for an hour, eat my breakfast consisting of granola and yogurt, and begin. I start by wiping down the Eggplant couch, then move to shampooing the Desert Sand carpet after vacuuming, then I wipe down all the walls and ceiling, and move to the Kitchen counters, stove, sink, fridge, pantry, and garbage can, then to the bathroom sink, toilet, tub, and mirrors. After all of that I wrap it up with a really long cleaning of the floors. I open the windows, put on my coat, and go to lunch or dinner--depending on how long it takes me. The whole time hoping a friend might call me.

* * *

My dad walked right passed me into the kitchen. My mom started with small talk, mainly talking about his day and what happened during her day. The Raw Sienna table clacked under my mom’s fingers as she strummed them in the awkward silence. “Have you been doing it again?” “Doing what?” “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” “No, I don’t think I do.” “You know they’re going to catch you.” “No, they won’t, you’re crazy, you know. There’s nothing wrong with what I do. It makes me happy, makes me forget.” “I thought I used to make you happy and make you forget. You have daughters, what do you think will happen if you get them involved in your little ‘happy time’?” “Nothing will happen, and don’t you DARE bring the girls into this. I’m under control, do you understand?” After he said this, I crawled over to the corner that separated the living room and kitchen. Still under my blanket I peaked through the holes and watched as my dad, in his white button up shirt and Razzmatazz tie pick up my mom by the elbows and shake her. “This is all your fault you know, you caused my problems. You’re always gone. And if you’re here you just sit there and blab on and on about your day and your problems. What about my problems? I work all day to provide for this family and all I ask for is something for me. I found the stuff that helps me get away, and now you’re telling me I’m not allowed?!” “Look at you! Look at you! Your skin is sagging, you have bruises on your arms, and you’re constantly depressed.”

Looking at this scene I started to whimper. I realized that my parents would realize that I was there, but I didn’t care. They both heard me and made their way toward the hall. My dad looked at me with a look that I will never forget. It was a mix of terror and detachment from the world. His face went from Cerise to Fern and back to Cerise red again, and I became scared looking into his eyes with dark circles of Vivid Violet underneath. Through my cries, he picked me up by the waste, shook me violently, and through me against the trash can causing it to tip over. I looked around and everything was covered in the Yellow Green raw egg and flower leftovers from the cooking adventure earlier in the night. My mom went to go help me through screams of terror as he smacked her across the face causing her nose to break and the Radical Red blood to go over the entire kitchen floor. My dad looked at what he had done and ran out the door. After that day we never saw him again, mainly because we moved but most likely because my mom won’t allow him to see us.

* * *

My apartment is a disaster, even though I clean it every day. I know it is clean, but for some reason I can’t ever allow it to feel clean. As much as I spray down the trash can, and scrub the tile floors until I can see my reflection in them, I can’t ever allow it to be clean. I wish everything was like brand new Crayola Crayons. It would make things a lot easier. If life was as clean and pristine as a new crayon I wouldn’t torture myself like this and get anxious every time I see a single speck on the floor.

one.

"You've got to promise me, Sage, you won't tell."

   Sage looked up from her paper at her squatty, rather pretty, friend, whose deep brown eyes were looking at her intently. They kind of reminded her of a cow's eyes, not that Dayna looks anything like a cow. They're just really big and brown. 

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. I won't tell." she said, not really knowing what she agreed to not tell. Dayna comes with drama. Sage discovered this when she got into college. Drama is Dayna's middle name. Every week she'd come in with some knew boy and how she thinks he's "the one." What is the one anymore? All of this crazy view of "the one" kinda drives one insane after awhile. 

Sage looked at the clock on the kitchen wall of her apartment and realized it was time for class. She ran into her messy room and grabbed all of her books and glanced in the mirror at herself to make sure that she wasn't too horrible looking. "You never know who you can run into" she thought to herself. Sage's six foot-one inch person stared back at her. She glanced at her slightly auburn-ish hair, adjusted her bra, then got really close to the mirror and looked at her poors. "Dang poors, no matter how much money I put into you you still like to explode into violent volcanoes of puss." Then she ran out of the third floor apartment and started on her way up the giant stares to class. 

Walking to class was always a calming thing for her. It was then where she could think of whatever she wanted and imagine whatever she wanted. It was usually her thinking of some sort of relationship that she wished existed, mainly because that's what happens when you go to a school where everybody and anybody is either married, engaged, or dating. Kinda annoying. She would always remind herself though that she doesn't want to get married, after she daydreams, there's so much more to do with life still...

A tall man walks behind her and steps on the back of her shoe. Everything goes flying including her tall, lanky self. He stops picks up her books, and gives her his hand. She looks at him. The guy who helped her is extremely good looking! She grabs his hand and he glances at her, mumbles an apology, and still holding her books, walks her to class. 

She walks into the building and the mysterious man vanishes in to thin air with the bell. Sage sighs, and walks into the basement classroom. She takes a seat in the second to last row of the florescent lit room and settles in. Her teacher's lisp sticks out and that's the only thing that she listens to. Then his mouth slowly starts to disappear until all that's left is the "ssss"--or "ththththth" in his case--his eyes slowly get closer and closer until he only has one and the white board fads behind him into nothing-ness. He is now just a floating head. A floating "thyclopth" head. 

"Brriiinggg!" The bell rings again and she walks out of the windowless classroom past her balding teacher and back into the jam-packed, body-odor, hallway. 

"I really need to pay more attention..."She said to herself. 

Walking back down the stairs to her apartments, she decides that she doesn't want to daydream anymore. It gets in the way, and is completely unreal. So, she counts. She would count how many steps it takes between each overgrown crack in the sidewalk. Her long legs stride in beat to the blasting radios passing by on the street below and she has to have three steps between each individual crack. Three. It had to be three, or at least each foot had to have the equal chance of being first to step into the concrete square. "Squares," she'd think, "they're so easy...why can't everything be that equal and easy, does that make me a square? Am I boring like a square? Ok...no more thinking! I'm tired of thinking...that's all I ever do..."

She walks up the two flights of stairs making sure that her feet got the same chance of being the first to step on the first step. "I'm really obsessive-compulsive...should I have this looked at? I'll talk to Wade tomorrow..." 

Everything she'd think of would end in an ellipse. Nothing was concrete, everything just faded into a series of three dots...

She walked into her apartment and flung herself on the couch, backpack full of books and all, and reached for the remote in the middle of the living room floor. Dayna walks in glares at her and says "don't you ever do anything productive with yourself?"

Sage tunes her out, once again, and turns into zombie mode. Some sort of rerun of a  basketball game is going on. "Basketball is good and mindless," she says to herself. Television and movies are the only things that keep her from thinking. They allow her to glance into the imagination of other people. She doesn't have to think, just watch. Nice and simple.

Her backpack slowly gets wiggled out of, without disturbing her position, and finds its way on the floor with a thud, along with her size ten shoes. She adjusts herself more into the crevice of the couch and gazes, glassy eyed at the screen full of noise, yelling, and little people running back and forth with the burnt-orange ball.

The time flies by as she becomes more and more zombie-like. Just a nothing. Dayna walks in and out, complaining about something, but nobody is or wants to pay attention. A commercial for some sort of beer came on along with a violent ring from her cell phone. She groaned as she pulled herself up from her position to grab her phone from across the room. 

"mmm-ello?" She managed to get out.

"Sage, what are you doing tonight?"

She closed her eyes, furrowed her eyebrows and opened her eyes again. "What?" She said.

"What are you doing tonight?" 

"Oh, I don't know yet, why?"

"Eh, it's just a Friday night and I thought you'd like to do something."

"Is it really Friday already? Oh, yeah...I guess it is...Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Well I was gonna go to this new place out on 9th street, it's supposed to be pretty good."

The deeply foreign accented voice kept explaining about this new hip place and she just kept thinking "I like hip, maybe it'd be good if I get out. I like to get dressed up every once in awhile...but these dang zits..."

"So, what do you say?"

"Ok. That'd be fun, I've been a little too boring lately."

The voice chuckled low and soft while saying, "ok. I'll pick you up at around 8?"

"Sounds good."

The soft click from the other side of the call commences and her mind starts up again. "Did I just get asked on a date? Huh. That's interesting..."

Wednesday Rain

The strangely consistent drizzling continues throughout the afternoon. I walk to class with my snake skin print umbrella and look at all of the other students in their different colored coats and umbrellas. 

Rain always makes me relaxed, and want to just curl up in my down comforter all day with a movie and hot chocolate. That's actually probably what I'll do the rest of the day. It's Wednesday and I don't have swim practice this afternoon so I can do that. Wednesdays are always weird days to me because I only have a morning of lifting those iron things that people call "weights" and a small amount of yardage, and because I don't have to swim in the afternoon I want to look a little bit more human. Which doesn't make any sense to me though because I don't really see anyone all day unless I go to the library, but I don't really have to because I caught up with everything. So I dress up for myself and my self esteem. Either that or it's because I think maybe some random guy will see me and ask me out...HAHAHA yeah right.

The other athletes in "study hall" are just kind of sitting there. Trying to study, but at the same time resisting the urge to talk to each other. It doesn't work very well though. The constant jabbering never dies down.

I should know. I do the exact same thing every time I come in. It's like the thought that you're trying not to say just builds and builds until it explodes and everyone around hears your "all important thought" when it really doesn't matter. People really don't get much done. Not at all. They're really all just on facebook trying to delve into each others lives. 

The rain is still going and going. The sidewalks aren't as crowded as they are when the rain isn't there. The hundreds of little puddles splash my jeans as I walk home in the rain with my snake skin print umbrella.  

Morning time

This story is kinda boring...sorry. I just don't have any weird story on top of my mind. So I wrote how my morning has been. Minus the pee soaked toilet seat that I sat on, I guess that's what happens when you have a 2 year-old potty training little brother.

I woke up this morning to the sounds of my family moving about the house. Like always. It was the first day of school, for them anyway, I don't start for another week. My little sister was going to be a sophomore at the high school down the street that I had the unfortunate event of graduating from, my mom was going into her tenth year of teaching at the same high school, and my little brother was going to kindergarten. That was the weirdest thing. Teddy and kindergarten. He's only 3! Wait...no I guess he's 5, but it seems like he should still be 3.

Anyway, I looked at my phone/alarm clock to see what time it was and it was 7:02. I was kind of annoyed. I stayed up until 12:40 last night watching t.v. and then later than that because I'm trying to get over this weird summer cold and I couldn't stop coughing. But, I got up anyway to see Teddy off. I didn't have my contacts or glasses on, so I couldn't see anything. My mouth was coated with some sort of goo from my cough, but I figured I was going to go back to sleep anyway, so I don't have to brush my teeth. Just yet. It was Teddy's first day of school, I could sacrifice my comfort. I don't think he really knew what was going on, but I found him on the couch watching some sort of cartoon on PBS. He had his motorcycle shirt on with his basketball short and his socks pulled up as high as they'll go underneath his Transformer Velcro strapped shoes. His hair was pushed to the side, like he always does. I think he copies how my dad does his hair, which makes Teddy look like a really short old man. Teddy takes after the Morgan side of the family like I do, so we look very similar. It makes me reminisce of the old days when the hardest time you faced was going to a new school and worrying if you'll find friends.

Then I went back to sleep until 10. Which is awesome, once school starts I can't sleep in that long. 6 am practices every morning!

Then I woke up, I walked into the bright teal bathroom that my sister and I painted this summer and squinted at myself through my sleepy blurry vision, and put in my contacts. My face was still kinda peely from my chemical peel. I guess no swimming for me today! I brushed all that gunk from my mouth and washed my face. I grabbed some Fruit loops, turned on the t.v. just for some background noise, and sat down with my laptop. My sister's annoying little chihuahua-thing came up and sat by me, begging for some of my food. Ugh, he's such an annoying little rat dog, but he is a snuggley dog. I guess I can deal with it. So, I cracked my toes and settled into my giant comfy couch and got ready for a nice long session with my facebook, hotmail, and blog with PBS kids going in the background. Mostly because I'm too lazy to find the elusive remote.

Disappear...

The sun beat down on my head. It was hot outside. Very hot. I put my hand on top of my dark hair that was pulled back into a pony-braid; the top of my head was probably hot enough to cook an egg. The hard and cracked ground I've been walking on for about 6 hours now was probably hot enough to cook a well-done steak. "Man I'm hungry," I thought simultaneously with my stomach, "when was the last time I'd eaten?" I had eaten about 4 hours ago when I passed the small village. I'm starting to get more familiar with this alien terrain: dirt, dirt, a dried weed, and more dirt.

I'm looking forward to camping tonight. My pack is getting heavy. I have my small one person tent, my gallon water bottle, and a couple of dried astronaut food packs. Although the desert is really hot and everything is really brown, there's some sort of beauty about it. It's starting to turn into evening and the sun is slowly setting. The colors that were missing from the desert light up the sky. Orange, pink, blue, and a touch of green streak across the sky. The clouds seem to interrupt the color and put some sort of color that I can't really put a name to. It's like a dark pinkish green. Then the colors slowly drop to the horizon and mix with the cooling desert floor making it look like a pool of water standing in a nameless shape on the ground.

I think it's about time to start preparing for camp. I'll need some twigs to keep away the creepy little animals that are out and about at night. So I pick up random dried out weeds, making sure that they are especially dry. This is where I'm going to stop for the night. I take my pack off of my back, the cool night air gently kisses the spot where it's been sitting all day allowing my back to gather sweat. I pulled out my little tent that doubles as a cot, and started my fire with my flint. It's little, but it'll keep me safe enough. It's about time to sleep, I need to get up a little before dawn. I crawl into my tent after I've had my meal, and start to drift off to sleep.

I haven't been able to sleep well at night since he was taken. It's unsettling. The screams keep ringing in my head, and pictures flash across my eye lids of him. So beautiful, so young. Why him? I need to find him and find out why.