Do you ever just sit in your room and cry? Do you ever feel like nobody cares, nobody wants you? Do you ever just break down and simply want to leave everyone behind. To become someone different and unbreakable? Do you ever just imagine a life without friends, because friends let you down?
Theoretically if you have no one in your life, there's no one to let you down. No one to destroy you. No one to reject you.
Do you ever wish you lived in a big city, where you could from your old life, where no one could find you, where no one even noticed you? To live a life where no one knows you, to simply restart. Where you can be yourself, where you can change, whatever you want.

Every life...

Every life is beautiful. There is a lot of advocates for Right to Life and such saying things like that. While I am strongly against abortion, myself, I think that we also need to think about people a little older. Like teens. Teens that are trying to commit suicide.
I strongly believe that every life is beautiful. That includes both the unborn, and the born.
This is something that has been on my mind for several months, and recently brought back up, because the topic of suicide struck a little too close to home. There is a girl in my life that is struggling with a lot of things right now, and she recently confessed to her friends and family that she has attempted suicide in the past.
This particular girl is a few years older than me, and I have know her all my life. When I was little I really looked up to her. But in the last few years she became someone else. Someone she's not. Someone that I didn't want to be. And I'll admit, I judged her. I judged her friends, what she wore, and the path she was taking. But it didn't occur to me that maybe what she needed was a loving friend and most of all, God. And that is what every one needs.
Too often we judge people without knowing or caring about their story. We don't know what they've been through, and we judge them. They don't need judgement, they need God.
So what I'm trying to say is maybe we can spread the love of God, and the love for life, not only to the unborn, but to everyone. I'm not saying the babies aren't important, but if we only focus on their life while they are in the womb, they may be born, and grow up to be a teenager, and kill themselves before they can do what God meant them to do.
So I will leave you on this note: EVERY life is beautiful. And that includes you and me.

Apologies & Ramblings

   Sorry that I haven't posted in a long time. Not that I have much of a following... I've been really busy this summer, and life has been absolutely crazy. Think everything good and bad that's ever happened to you...times ten. Okay, maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but I've had a lot of stuff happen since the beginning of May or so. 

   A cousin had identical twin girls, and then on the same day, a great uncle had a stroke while in Nebraska for his sister-in-laws funeral *this sister-in-law is not a relative of mine* and then within two days of this, Uncle Ted's brother, Charlie, took a turn for the worse in his two year long battle with cancer. Four or five days after Uncle Ted's stroke, he passed away with his wife, and three sons with him. Around a week or so later, Charlie died. After going to both their funerals, one of which was downstate, life started to get back to normal.

   Until my grandma's house sold. She was looking at a few condos, and then somebody came up with the brilliant plan that she should build a house on our property. We have twenty acres, so it wouldn't really be a problem for her to build a house somewhere on the property. She thought about that for a while, then decided, no, she would rather be closer to town. A few weeks later, no, she would rather be on our property. And it went back and forth. A few weeks ago, she found the perfect condo. It is beautiful. It's in town, and it's a duplex. She bought it, and the last week or so has been spent helping her move. I have probably helped for 20+ hours already. In fact, just Tuesday, I unpacked four boxes of food into her pantry in less than two hours. I was working hard. 

   And now I have a bunch of chores to do around the house, because we spent two days at her condo and one at her old house working, so I couldn't get anything done around here.

   So bye for now.

A curious memory

I remember one year at VBS (Vacation Bible School) I think 2006 or 2007, one of the days' lesson included a strange little skit that has always stuck out to me. One of the helpers crawled in to the room begging for water. "Water, water!" he cried.
The teacher finally gave him a bottle of water, and he dumped it on his hair and started combing it with a comb from his pocket. The kids laughed, and then the rest of lesson was something about using the gifts God has given you PROPERLY.

Just food for thought...

Writers block

Writers block isn't real. It's just an excuse for not writing. In truth, I say I have writers block, but really, I don't. I don't WANT to write. But I also DO. I don't want to write because I don't want to lose everything again. I do want to write because I believe it is what I was meant to do. I think that's the reason that I have some of my wacky dreams. Because I was made to write. Those are just inspiration. Or a reason to keep on pressing on. The other day, I was really unhappy. I have days like that, days where I miss my grandma and my grandpa more than the world, days where I regret doing something, days when I just want to kick something HARD. I have lost so much, but yet, there's so much more I COULD have lost. Like my house. All my family. My LIFE. I could have died when I was born. And since I didn't, there must be something I need to do yet. I just need to put my all into life, accept that I WILL have days that I'm depressed, and keep on keeping on.

Big Fitz~Anniversary of the sinking~Edmund Fitzgerald

 R.I.P. to those on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Alphabetical list;
3rd Mate: Michael Armagost
Porter: Frederick Beetcher
Oiler: Thomas Bentsen
1st Assistant Engineer: Edward Bindon
Mantainence Man: Thomas Borgeson
3rd Assistant Engineer: Oliver Champeau
Porter: Nolan Church
Watchman: Ransom Cundy
2nd Assistant Engineer: Thomas Edwards
2nd Assistant Engineer: Russell Haskell
Chief Engineer: George Holl
Deck Hand: Bruce Hudson
2nd Cook: Allen Kalmon
Wiper: Gordon MacLellan
Special Mantainence Man: Joseph Mazes
1st Mate: John McCarthy
Captain: Ernest McSorley
Wheelsman: Eugene O'Brien
Watchman: Karl Peckol
Wheelsman: John Poviach
2nd Mate: James Pratt
Steward: Robert Rafferty
Deck Hand: Paul Riippa
Wheelsman: John Simmons
Watchman: William Spengler
Deck Hand: Mark Thomas
Oiler: Ralph Walton
Cadet: David Weiss
Oiler: Blaine Wilhelm
All Names and Occupations courtesy of S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald Online
Once again, rest in peace, 'at the bottom of Superior's ice water mansion'. (Quotation marks are lyrics from Gordon Lighfoot's The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald)

Something Cool

   This doesn't actually have anything to do with writing, but yesterday evening I discovered that my laptop has a built in microphone. It is very cool, because I put the computer on a setting for being able to here what the microphone is picking up, and now I can hear the keys clicking, among other things, through my headphones. YAYAYYAYAY!

Johanna

A strange story

   Mm kay, so I checked out Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine, and was doing some of the writing exercises, and here's one of them. The prompt was "Think of a boy and girl you know. Picture them as adults. Imagine they are forced to marry each other. Write what their lives would be like. Write their dinner-table conversation on their first anniversary."
   *This is a fictional story about real-life people. Their names have been changed to protect their innocence.

   Once upon a time, there was a couple that had been forced into marrying each other. Their lives completely normal.
   The husband was Blake Wallace, and he worked for a company called Apple. He developed new iPods, iPhones, iPads,  and more. His wife was Glory (Fall) Wallace, and she was a writer, had published three books, and was writing a fourth. On their first anniversary, their conversation went a little like this.
   "So, Blake, what did you work on today?" Glory asked.
   "Not much. Just a hologram app for the old iPod touch that was discontinued five years ago," he said, glancing up from his iPad. "What about you?" he asked.
   "I made progress on my novel," Glory said, gesturing to her Microsoft laptop. (side note: the kind of laptop is important)
   "You still have that hunk of junk? I could get you the newest MacBook if you wanted it," Blake said. Glory shrugged, returning to her potato salad.
   Blake got up, after finishing his dinner. "I'm going out to the deer blind," he said. It was hunting season, and Blake was an avid hunter.
   "You should make an app for attracting deer." Glory laughed Blake smiled, grabbing his vest.

   It's kind of short, but, oh well. Andrea, have you done it yet?

Something I wrote for English loooong ago.

   Today is King Glad’s birthday. Tonight there will be a huge banquet. My mother is the cook, so I know there will be roast lamb, salmon dip and wheat crackers, fruitcake and cheesecake, sweet pickles, and last but not least, the most delicious cheese in the world. My guess is the King’s daughters will be wearing those violet velvet dresses, and his son will be wearing his red suit. Well, I must go get my bonnet and corset from the laundress, my sister. I am giving the King a scarlet blanket and a hatchet cabinet. My father is sleeping, so I must be quiet. Farewell.

   I wrote this so long ago, and I wasn't very wise in the way of historical info.

49 questions about me. (AGAIN!)

1. High heels or boots? Boots!
2. What time did you get up this morning? Seven thirty. UGH!
3. What was the last movie you saw at the theater? Courageous!
4. What is your maiden name? This is so obvious.
5. What is your favorite TV show? Don't ask me this.
6. What do you usually have for breakfast? Fruit or cereal
7. What is your middle name? Ha ha, I'm not telling.
8. What food do you dislike? Peanut butter. (Blech!)
9. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Blessings. (Laura Story)
10. What characteristic do you despise? Bullying?
11. Favorite clothing? Purple shirts!
12. Anywhere in the world on vacation? Norway.
13. Are you an organized person? Look at my room. (NO)
14.Where would you retire to? No idea!
15. What was your most recent memorable birthday? This last one. It was awesome.
16. What are you going to do when you finish this? Watch the Olympics. 
17. Furthest place you have ever been to? Detroit, MI or Sault (SOO) St. Marie, Canada
18. Person you wish you could meet? Gabby Douglas or someone on the Women's Olympic Basketball team.
19. When is your birthday? Sorry, that's personal.
20. Are you a morning person or a night person? Night.
21. What is your shoe size? 8 1/2 or 9.
22. Do you own any animals? No, but I hope to get a dog soon.
23. Any news you'd like to share? I'm going to the beach tonight?!
24. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? A writer.
25. What is your favorite flower? A rose.
26. What day on the calender are you looking forward to? My birthday.
27. If you were a crayon, what would you be? Purple. It's my favorite color...
28. How is the weather right now? Cloudy.
29. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My mom when she was at work.
30. Favorite drink? Sprite or cherry juice.
31. Favorite Restaurant? Anywhere that has ice cream!
32. Hair color? Brown with dirty blond highlights... (natural!) P.S. it's curly too!
33. What was your favorite toy as a child? No idea...
34. Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter? Summer! I love to swim!
35. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate.
36. Coffee or tea? Herb tea.
37. Wish you were still young? I am!
38. Do you want to get married? I'm not sure...
39. When was the last time you cried? I don't know.
40. What is under your bed? Boxes.
41. What did you do last night? Hiked.
42. What are you afraid of? Breaking my neck.
43. Salty or sweet? Sweet.
44. Best quality you have? A good writer?
45. How many years at the current job? I don't have a job. 
46. Favorite day of the week? No idea.
47. Favorite movie?  Courageous.
48. Have you ever had a crush on anyone? That's for you to wonder and me to know...
49. Do you like finding all this stuff out about your friends? I think.

Stories are in the mind, not the book

   "But I've only got so many story starters in this book!" I whine, turning to face my friend. She glares at me, pointing at her temple. I think about what she means, for several moments, then come to the conclusion that she wants me to use my imagination. She smiles when I point to my head, then my notebook. I jot down a few things, then head to my laptop, which sits upon my desk, and start hammering on the keys. "Must you be so loud?" she questions, glowering.
   "I guess not," I say as I type, lightening my touch upon the keys of my keyboard.

   Several minutes later, the printer whirls into motion. "You're done already?" my friend looks up from her book, startled by the sound.
   "Well, sort of. I have come up with a title, yet," I smile, reaching over to the printer to pull the paper that has my story on it. I hand the paper to my friend, beaming proudly while she reads it. She grins, "This is pretty good, Anna." Beth corrects a spelling error, and scribbles a title at the top of the page. I reach for the sheet, and return to my computer to revise the page. I smile at what she had inserted for a title. Freedom in the Field wasn't a bad name for the story I had just outlined with my words. I was going to write the whole story, of course, but this was all I would do today, as my friend and I had only one more hour before we were going swimming, then she would go home.

A quick glance

   "Vanessa, it's time to go to bed! Get your light off, now!" Mom calls from outside the bedroom that I sit in.
   "O.K., Mom," I reply. I'm not tired, and I don't want to go to bed. I stare at my pegboard. It is cluttered with cards. I glance at my bedroom door. "Why do I still have those playing cards stuck with packing tape on the door?" I ask myself. My eyes travel around the room, taking in the flowers I painted, my shawl, a calendar. I see a sketch I drew on the wall, my filthy dresser, a second calendar, my lava lamp, a baseball cap. Shifting my position, a poster and a third calendar appears. I glance at my grandmother's painting. It isn't of her, it's one she did. Finally, I view my own picture, the one of me with a butterfly on my nose.
   "Vanessa, what did I say?" Mom questions from outside my bedroom.
   "To go to bed," I sigh as I get up to turn my light out. I switch the light switch, flick my radio on, and say goodnight to my room. I whisper a prayer, something about thanks and safety, then lie down and doze off.

Olympics?!!??

Wow, it's time for the Olympics already.

Mysterious

   "In this land, there's more legends then people!" croaked the hunchbacked, salt and pepper haired woman.
Scary, huh? I thought so.

BUBBLES!

   You've probably all played with those bottles that have the bubble solution. I know I played with those for years. (I still do, if I can find one of those things) The point is, we all know what it is like to blow some bubbles and then pop them. And we would get mad when someone popped our bubbles for us. Or when the bubble solution didn't work. So now, some people will say, "Don't burst my bubble," or "Sorry if I broke your bubble." I like bubbles, think they're fun, and like it when you don't break mine.

Memorial Day

   Memorial Day isn't just a day for having a BBQ, or a picnic. Memorial Day is when we remember those who died fighting for our freedom. I recall seeing a photograph that had a caption "Freedom isn't Free". That is very true. Anyways, the point of this blog post is that we should remember those who fought for our country and died doing so. Before I moved to my current house, I had a neighbor. Her name was Elaine Buffenbarger. I was great friends with her great-granddaughter, and Mrs. Buffenbarger herself. Mrs. Buffenbarger had a husband who died about 5 years ago on Memorial weekend. He fought in one of the wars, so technically he was a Veteran. I still think of him and what he did for my country, every Memorial Day. I know I normally put stories on here, but I guess I'm just venting a lot. Today I challenge you to think about what the men and women in the Army, Marines, Air Force, Homeland Security, United States Coast Guard, and the rest of those forces do for our blessed country. Just do that for me. Please. Now if you're in a different country than the United States, and you don't what I'm talking about "Memorial Day", I still challenge you to think about what your country's army is doing for your country. Goodbye for now.

The travelers- Part 2

   “What’s your name, miss?” the beggar girl asked me as we strolled towards my home.

   “My name is Victoria Jensen and I am twelve years of age, and the daughter of Mister Arthur Jensen and Missus Rosalind Jensen née Baker,” I explained, forgetting this beggar knew nothing of proper etiquette and introductions.

   “Hmm. My name is Mary Jackson. I’m 8,” the girl explained.

   “Pleased to have your acquaintance, Miss Mary,” I curtsied.

   “Likewise, I’m sure,” Mary repeated what so many ladies on the street would say to new friends.

   I laughed at that. Mary scowled, but kept walking.

   When I reached my home, I opened the front gate. “Enter, Lady Mary,” I bowed, sillier than ever.

   “Victoria, why are you doing this for me? You’ve never even met me before today!” Mary broke out of her beggar ways.

   “Wait, you’re an eight year old beggar, why are you talking like a proper lady all of the sudden?” I questioned.

   “Because I’m not a beggar. My uncle owns the general store,” she sighed.

   “What’s wrong?” I asked.

   “My uncle says that I should not affiliate with persons of the upper class. I do so long to be a princess though!” Mary Jackson complained.

   “Well, has your uncle adopted you?” I questioned the girl.

   “No, not properly, miss,” Mary replied.

   “Than it won’t be against code for my mother to attempt to adopt you,” I smiled. I led Mary through the gate, up onto the porch, and through the front door. “Mother, I’m home! And I’ve found a girl for you to adopt!” I announced my presence.

   “Oh, she’s perfectly lovely!” Mother proclaimed. “Although she is a bit smelly,” she whispered in my ear.

The Travelers- Part 1

   As I walked down the dusty road, in my fancy purple dress and shoes, I saw a beggar girl crouched at the edge of the road. "Hey-ho, miss! Buy a handful of flowers for jest a dime!" she called.
   "Girl, what makes you think I have a dime? I've never seen you before, where did you come from?" I asked questions.
   "Miss, I guessed you 'ad a dime, 'cause you've got such a pretty dress on. I wish..." the girl trailed off at the end.
   "You wish, what?" I questioned the beggar.
   "I wish I 'ad a dress like that. But if I be having one, it'd get stolen, sure 'nough," the girl mused.
   "Do you have a family, girl?" I asked.
   "Nope, I'm an orphan. Jest trying to stay out of the orphanage, I am," she explained.
   "Come with me, I want to show you something," I said.
   "I'm coming!" she dropped her flowers and ran towards me.

A princess story- Part 10

   Evelyn, Lily and I walked the halls until we reached the courtyard, where my parents and Lady Aquilla would have their carriages.
   "They're over there," Lily pointed to a carriage.
   "Grace, I thought you were in the carriage!" my mother shrieked as Evelyn and I ran to meet my mother and my father.
   "I'm not Grace, I'm Evelyn," Evelyn calmly said.
   "Evelyn?" My father gasped. "You know your sister, Sabrina?"
   "Father, I am Elise, not Sabrina," I replied, as Lady Aquilla stepped out of her carriage.
   "Father? What are  you doing here? I thought you were in Germany!" Aquilla asked.
   "Aquilla, you are Sabrina, a Norwegian princess. I am the Norwegian king, also your father from Germany. Evelyn, I am your father also, and you are a Norwegian princess, and this," my father beckoned to the carriage, and my sister Grace stepped out, "is your twin sister Grace."
   "What?!" all of us girls shrieked.
   "It's true, girls," Mother smiled, sadly.
   "Whoa, all this is so strange," Lily spoke up.
   "Brit Nilsdatter?" Father turned, with a look of shock on his face.
   "No, I'm Lily Olesdatter, her daughter," Lily replied.
   "Well, you look and sound just like your mother," Father sighed.
   "Father, who is Brit Nilsdatter?" I questioned. Why would my father recognize a mere servant from the British court?
   "Aunt Marit's maid, from when I was a little prince. Brit was the same age as I, and we were friends. How ironic that Brit's daughter is your friend," Father explained.
   This was all very strange to me at the time, but now I am Queen Elise, as Edward's mother died in a wreck a couple months ago, and the King has been dead for quite some time. I have accepted the strangeness of this whole thing, and Lily is one of my lady-in-waitings, and Sabrina, Evelyn, and Grace are back in Norway with Mother and Father.

The End

A princess story- Part 9

   On the carriage ride, I spoke to Lily. "What do you think about this whole thing? I'm dreadfully perplexed."
   "I'm sure that Lady Aquilla is your sister. I mean, it only makes sense!" Lily replied.
   "Hmm, I suppose we'll find out when my parents get here for the wedding. About the wedding. I don't know if I like Prince Edward or not, but I guess my opinion doesn't really matter in this situation," I mused.
   "Yeah, sure. What is your sister's name?" Lily asked, quite off topic.
   "I have 3 sisters, one died at birth, and she was Evelyn. There is Grace, who is Evelyn's twin and there was my twin, Sabrina," I said, dreamily.
   "Evelyn? I know a maid named Evelyn, she doesn't look exactly like you, but very similar and she's from Norway," Lily gasped.
   "Wow, this is getting stranger by the minute! Can you have Evelyn meet me in my room tonight?" I asked.
   "Sure, Elise, I will try," Lily jumped out of the carriage as it rolled to a stop.

   Sophie the housekeeper came running out of the kitchen and ran over to the carriage. "Your Highness, Prince Edward wishes to speak with you about something. He is waiting for you in the throne room," she explained.
   "I see, Sophie. I am on my way over now," I hurried out of the carriage and into the castle. I sped down the castle hallways until I reached the throne room. I knocked, was told to enter, and I walked in, curtsied in front of the prince, and asked, "Yes, Your Highness?"
   "Elise, your parents are coming, as they have been for over two weeks, and said they met a messenger with a message from you earlier today. They say that they will arrive in less than a day," Prince Edward explained.
   "Oh! Thank you so much for telling me, I did send a message to them," I curtsied again.
   "Elise, please don't curtsy, I do hate it awfully," Prince Edward smiled.
   "Oh, I do apologize," I returned the smile.
   "You may go, now," said the prince.
   "Goodbye, Edward," I turned and left the throne room.
   "Goodbye," Edward laughed.

   Later that day, I told Lily to bring Evelyn to me, to see if we truly resembled each other.
   "Your Highness," Evelyn curtsied, and I gasped.
   "Evelyn, you look exactly like my sister Grace!" I referred to my younger sister, who was 12.
   "The name does sound familiar, as if my father had spoken of her," Evelyn smiled.
   "Princess Elise, your parents are here," Sophie knocked on my door.
   "I'm coming!" I told Sophie. To Evelyn I said, "Do come with me. I would appreciate it!"
   "Princess Elise, Lady Aquilla has come, and is waiting for you," Lily told me from outside the door.