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10.31.2002
it all starts as a joke, but then things go to the extreme and cops are called...actually, I don't even know if it was a joke because we weren't the ones who did it... *(for all of you who are lost, aaron's car got toilet papered and he thinks lacey, shandra, kari, and I did it although we didn't)* Lik any normal person, he sought out revenge. ONLY, he sought it on the wrong people. Actually, he went to the extreme and threw a redneck bomb in shandra's yard. He toilet papered one of my trees and threatened to do something to Lacey. Now, I am waiting for a call from lacey telling me what shandra told the police. It is pretty bad that we have to call the cops on each other because of a little seasonal fun. I swear though...if any of us three get in any trouble, aaron is going down. Now the only thing on my mind is revenge. That is right aaron, revenge....when you least expect it.... i will get it. It won't be soon. Hell, it might not even be this year, but don't forget because I won't
*Happy Halloween to all those who enjoyed themselves*
Care Bear @ 10:13 PM | comment
cmharrison@mckendree.edu
10.28.2002
last one for tonight--
History is all some one has to look back on, but there is a time in everyone's life where they want to go back and undo the past. A time that ruined something or a time were they royally messed up. My day came recently. I had not ever been a troubled child before. Admittedly, I did things that I should not have, but I also did many things right. Sure...I made a mistake, we all do, but the horrible part about it is that I am not sure I would not do the things I did. I would not get caught. I know that much, but I can not honestly say I would not do it if I could do it all over again. Maybe that is bad and I have not fully learned my lesson, but it is the truth.
There is something else. In eighth grade, I broke a boy's heart, Matt's. I do not know how that would have turned out, but I know I would do so many things differently. He treated me with so much affection and care, but I just smashed his heart to pieces. Sure...it was a long time ago, but I still feel guilty.
I think everyone has something they would like to go back and change. Well we can't so get over it. We can only use our time to make up for it. Some situations (such as the latter) won't ever be repaired. I, however, will eventually earn my parents trust back. Probably not to the extent that I want, but eventually.
Care Bear @ 9:40 PM | comment
cmharrison@mckendree.edu
yet even more--
Whenever I write successfully, I usually show it to friends or family. I would have to say they are my best critics because I never got any bad comments from them. That is probably why creative writing came as such a shock. I was so used to being raved about that I forgot to take the critism too. I write the best whenever I am on my computer, specifically my blog. There is just something about this writing that gives me inspiration. I could write twenty pages on here, but only write one. I also don't do very well on subjects I don't find interesting. For example, in English, I had to do a paper about Thoreau. I just couldn't bring myself to say anything interesting because there wasn't anything interesting to say. Basically, i turned out to be the worst paper ever. No joke. I also write pretty well when I feel strongly about something. If an event or feeling comes about in my life, I turn to the computer...my blog. It helps me figure things out. It also gets my writing out there for people to comment. I feel a swelling sense of pride when some one compliments on my blog...I am totally for constructive critism, but the good comments make me feel great. Actually, the good comments are the ones with critism. Without them, I wouldn't right very well because I wouldn't know when I was doing bad. I can write in all situations, but for some reason the computer makes it flow. I can type as I think and don't have to ponder ever word because it just comes naturally...flowing from the fingers...escaping from the brain. I am sure my fellow bloggers can relate.
Care Bear @ 9:16 PM | comment
cmharrison@mckendree.edu
More creative writing--
The envelope trembled in her hand. The four by nine stark white container seemed unusually thin. Maybe she was just getting worked up about nothing; size didn't matter. Chelsea had been waiting on the letter in her hands for over two months. College. What a foreboding word! She had applied to many, but this school was the one she wanted to go to more than all of them. She still wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She had spent months before graduation exploring the different careers. At one point, English had appealed to her the most, but soon that fantasy was lost and replaced with another. Finally, she had decided that the university she got into would determine her career. This particular college would lead Chelsea into forensics. A sweat formed on her brow, but she hastely wiped it away with the clammy back of her hand. It had been a long time since she had felt this nervous. Slowly, her hand crept across the pale envelope and began to tug at the seal. The phone rang and interrupted her thoughts. BRING! She wanted to just ignore it, but what if it was a matter of life and death? BRING! Her parents were out of town...maybe that was them? BRING! However, Chelsea could not bring herself to turn and answer the phone. The noise disappeared to the back of her clogged mind. Right now, she was focusing on the thing of mystery in her hand. "Just do it," she muttered to herself. With hope, anxiety, and avengence, Chelsea ripped into the paper. Her breathe became staccotto as she pulled the crisp paper from its' envelope. This was it. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest. As she unfolded the paper, her name came into sight and she froze. "It'll be great," she reminded herself. Chelsea read the first line and sighed deeply..."Dear Chelsea Gates, Congratulations! You have been accepted to NorthWestern." Everything came into focus as she closed the envelope back up and laid it upon the counter.
Care Bear @ 5:20 PM | comment
cmharrison@mckendree.edu
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