Personal Writing: My Dog Oso
.... cream. At that time I was delighted, as the trip to the corner store was an epic journey, which I had never taken on foot, only by car. I did not notice or care that Jake, normally tyrannical, dictatorial, and abusive, was being unusually nice to me that day
Well, after the saga of the corner store ended, I was seated by my mother, who gently, nicely, and calmly told me that, Oso, after 16 years, was dead.
I knew what death was, my grandfather had just passed on that same month. I just did not realise the exact implications of it. I asked my mother to do what all mothers do best and explain (parents have all the answers).
.....
|
|
Personal Writing: A Devoted Teacher
.... was intertwined with so many others. He was like your best friend and your father, all in one. He spent his time away from work with family and friends.
Mr. Wang died of a heart attack in his classroom. Everyone was shocked. We felt sorry and sad to lose such a wonderful and caring human being.
Nineteen years past, we still remember his smiling face and his wise eyes, especially the knowledge and skills applying to the mathematical questions that he gave us. Each time we speak about him, it’s almost as if he were in the flesh. He did not disappear. He lives in our minds forever.
.....
|
|
Creative Writing: The Tiger And The Tree
.... on the ground, like Turtle, Elephant, Ox, and Donkey, they all stood near big hollow logs. All of the monkeys and birds who lived in the trees quietly sat in the branches and waited for Rabbit to arrive.
Soon Rabbit did show up, carrying a large, thick rope. He ran across the field and made a lot of noise. "Oh, my! Oh, my!" he shouted.
Tiger sleepily opened an eye and growled, "Why are you making so much noise, Rabbit? Can't you see I am sleeping?"
"Tiger! You must run! A big wind is coming that will blow everyone off the earth!" Just at that moment, the animals hidden in the forest began to make a great racket
Eagle and St .....
|
|
Personal Writing: "Lost In The Mess"
.... wire, swaying with the slightest breath of air. An overwhelming stench, sweaty tennis socks, last night's dinner, or the mildewed plant, I couldn't figure out where it came from. Spider webs neatly spun where the walls and ceiling meet gave a gloomy feeling to the whole room. Shoes more shoes then I ever knew I owned scattered carelessly. Hiking boots, tennis shoes, pumps, sandals, and more everywhere. The trashcan exploded with junk mail, candy wrappers, and soda cans. Sprinkled around the trashcan's perimeter, pencil shavings of every color. Dirty laundry around the laundry basket and under the basket, but conveniently, th .....
|
|
The Rain
.... of our noses as the water sluices down the windows. Moving the car ever so cautiously, my father pulls into a truck stop to wait out the rain. Making a mad dash through the small rivers that are forming in the parking lot, we all pile out of the car and into the cool sanctuary of the diner. We are allowed to order anything we want, this is vacation, all the rules and regulations of home seem to have lost a few clauses. We do not drink soda pop with our meals at home, the rules say you have milk, water or tea - Dr. Pepper is fast becoming a good acquaintance of mine. The rain stops as suddenly as it started, we watch steam rise f .....
|
|
Personal Writing: Rock Climbing
.... both about how bad my legs were getting cut from the brush, but also about not slipping on the sandy trail. The mile long hike, downhill, was nothing but a warm up for me and my brother who are avid backpackers and trail hikers.
When we reached the bottom there were signs of past water flow through here during the winter months. Then the water would be six feet deep and ten feet wide. We crossed over the rocky river bed and headed to the intermediate climbs off to the left. Both my brother and I are avid boulders (climbing without ropes) so this nothing new to either of us. Nathan went up first, so I could watch and ge .....
|
|
Personal Writing: Death
.... of an emotional reaction to the news. However, I knew that her death would devastate her mother. I doubt any parent takes the death of their child well, a parent never expects to witness the funeral of their child.
My family is invited to the funeral, and we assure the couple we will attend. The following morning my mother, brother and I embark on the trip. It was held at Rosehills in a little white chapel on a hill. We park in a sea of tightly parked cars and walk towards the chapel. I see my aunts outside holding hands, shedding tears, and one depending on the other for support. Their eyes are red from prolonged crying, .....
|
|
Creative Writing: The Nightmare
.... Often
mortals have asked why the wolves follow me and
why I allow them to do so. Ours is a symbiotic
relationship. I feed them, and they clean up after me.
Simple, is it not? One cannot just leave all of those
corpses and torn parts afield, now can one?
Our relationship has endured for thousands of years
and will continue as long as there are men who cower
in the darkness, afraid for their mortal souls and of things
that go crunch in the night. There are those who teach
fear and limitation to the gullible mortals who attend the
school of mysticism on Sunday Mornings and eat stale
crackers and guzzle watered down grape juice w .....
|
|
Creative Writing: "The Sin Of Cinderella"
.... sin of Cinderella is her ongoing, untreated codependency.
Where has Cinderella been this past decade? Why has she been in denial while the rest of America worked on its’ inner child, adult child and dysfunctional family issues? It’s clear she’s missed John Bradshaw’s series, "The Family." Obviously, she hasn’t boned up on codependency, let alone, women who love too much. If Cinderella had stayed current, she wouldn’t be covered with ashes, still trying to please an impossible parent. In fact, she might not be marrying the Prince. It’s crystal-clear, as clear as a glass slipper, that Cinderella is a candidate for rec .....
|
|
Personal Writing: Son's Trip To The Emergency Room
.... his wrist and panic raced through my body with the fear that he would bleed to death before I could get him to the hospital. As quickly as I could, I grabbed him from the floor and ran to the bathroom to get a towel and wrapped it around his wrist. I flew out the door and down the street to a neighbor, bare feet and all. I pounded on the door like a maniac and screamed "help, my son is bleeding to death." She let me in and took Travis from me. Her boyfriend, Bill, who happened to be friends with my boyfriend, was at ther house. She handed Travis to Bill so she could calm me down. I was shaking like one single leaf left on a .....
|
|
Personal Writing: About Me
.... grew and the milk from their cows. In my eyes, this kind of life is very fulfilling. There was always something fun to do and I was always spotted playing with the cows and chickens.
Farm animals are only one type of animal I adore. I own three dogs, a bird and two degu, (which are like hamsters). I just love any type of animal, big or small. Their eyes are so innocent and their hearts are filled with love. They don’t judge by looks or grades, but solely on the size of your heart. I get very downhearted and angry when I see any animal being abused in any way. I feel that anyone who feels they have the right to abuse an animal sh .....
|
|
Personal Writing: Jealousy And My Friend
.... at her and tell her how nice they look on her.
Finally, she’s most jealous of my other friends. She’s constantly telling me ridiculous things about them in hopes to turn me away from them. God forbid me spend time with them one night instead of her. It was also pretty much impossible to have a boyfriend. She used to tell my boyfriend so many lies and when a break-up actually occurred from it, I confronted her. She admitted to being jealous of the time I spent with him and apologized.
I still ask myself today, “How can a person be so jealous of the stupidest things?” My friend is very beautiful, she has a boyfriend, and sh .....
|
|
|
