White Paper

Blank, silly, lifeless
Your days are grey and your nights are black

Your face holds no pink cheeks nor colorful eyes 

Can you not feel the Red apple blossoms and their scent filling the lungs of the 

Orange breasted birds as they flee silently into the Yellow sun beams, 

warming faces and snouts, and beaks of the animals on the

Green soft Earth we've beaten and driven insane, and the blanket of 

Blue smooth sky that provides a crayola Violet sunset, lightly painted with delicate hands

while Indigo mud heals the broken bones of the wild?

But you are so white, so transparent, and pale

Your emotions are 50 shades of an monochromatic color
Light grey, grey, grey, grey, white

You give no inspiration as you sit on your other white face

I try to fill you with rainbows of imagination and freedom

But you, my paper, you absorb only grey
You give only false light, and
On your own you accumulate to a white nothingness

A white noise heard by a artist who's stuck.

Babysitting, Responsibility.

I am the queen of babysitting, the ruler of all things babies, dogs, cats, and even humans in their 30's! I am the monarch of teenage responsibility AND then some. But what I've learned in my unpaid career of sitting and watching is that I can't sit and watch everyone, and I need to stop worrying about the but-what-if'-I-don't's, and every other little detail. I've come to figure I can't be responsible for everything, and I should not make myself feel as if I should.
    The story begins on a morning so bright and charming that it lit the match of happiness as soon as I popped out of bed. Well, I began my morning by splitting the job of getting my baby sister dressed for school with my mother. Then screaming and yelling at my little brother to listen to our mother (you'd figure she'd be doing this) as I'm getting clean, dressed, and pretty for school myself. But as you would imagine, little brothers are little brothers and I have to spend 30 mins yelling at him to comprehend "get dressed". When I am done I began my morning journey across the street to awaken my boyfriend from his slumber so he'll be ready for school. He didn't come to school..... lately, when does he ever, and that was the last straw! I got so fed up with getting mad because it was my responsibility to do things for the benefit of other people and not being recognized, or them not even listening to me when THEY gave me that particular responsibility. So I came to the permanent conclusion that even though I have, even the slightest to full, responsibility of almost everything, I cant babysit everyone. I can't hold their hand, and I can't worry about everything. TAKE A LOAD OFF WILL YA, LEACIIE!!

I also realized that this little story will probably only make since in my head no matter how many times I revise, lol.

Art

A - Anytime I need a rest from the world, I draw. Anything. I start with a line, some dots, a circle, a square and then I slowly drift away; into the swirling, tangled up land of Art. Problems start to disappear along with reality. Then I'm home.

R - Reality doesn't stand a chance against my pencil, my pen, or marker. Especially my eraser. Once it hits the paper it all becomes history, it's dead, my struggles are erased completely, and I'm happy once again in that land of art. My world and my happy place. 

T - Taking away the pain. Perfect two, my music and art. Earbuds go in, pencil meets paper and my heart flutters and chills run down me and once again I'm happy. Once again my smile returns, and my soul feels good. 

You Haven't Heard from Me In A While

Hello Blogger, It's been more than a while since my fingers typed to you and made sweet stories. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to neglect you. I didn't mean to hurt you or make you feel unwanted. But I changed you up, fixed your layout and made you beautiful & ready to create with me again.

The life On An 8th Grader: Advice & What to Expect for The New 8th Grader

8th Grade

   We've all been through 8th grade. In fact, I'm still trying to survive through it. The last year of middle school, no actual school work now, and 5 days left until summer fun shakes our hands.

   But seriously, this grade wasn't a breeze. Much work, gossip, despicable teachers and we spent countless of days dealing with it. And now you 7th graders get to steal a year long taste of 8th grade! Here's what you'll need to look forward to!

Work

  I know you don't like it, no one does. But those 5 math problems and 20 pages of your 7th grade class novel won't kill you like 8th grade work will. 5 short assignments most of them seeming like college level work.  I can't complain though! So many easy assignments come also.  Essays are the worst! We don't have a limit on them but still.. Who really likes essays anyway regardless of the length? Then comes the EOGs: Science, Math and Reading. Don't think that because you use your strategies that it helps. Well it does, but it doesn't seem like it to an 8th grader. And you shouldn't forget your end of year exams. You thought it was over? Don't kid yourself! You're grades are your life line. Don't have good grades and turn in your work on time? You might as well just rip up your homework and projects then kiss your middle school graduation goodbye.

Principles

Well in 7th grade, your principle is sorta sweet and innocent to you right? I mean.. your new to the school and you barely know the rules so he should be nice right? NO. In 8th grade, you are basically the ruler and superior grade. There's only two grades in my middle school anyway, so when you get to 8th, he or she we expect the most out of you. It's a softer military school to you in 8th grade. Especially with a principle like mine.

 

Teachers And Their Pets

I wouldn't get excited about your teachers! When you meet them, they are pretty nice, but some... some are tricky. They'll have high expectations, give tons of homework and treat their 'teachers pets' with the highest respect. Unlike you who will just drown in the waves of homework while the 'pet' is drooling suck-up slobber and acting 'good'. Try not to be a teachers pet though, your classmates will thank you and your physical health will too. Bullies don't like teacher's pets to well.

Cliques

You thought that they were only in movies. No no no. They're real, and they're in middle school as well in high school. I bet you already knew that though, huh? In 8th grade, you'll fall in the hands of a clique. The jocks, peps, emos, and others. Jerks, smarties, and undercover druggies. You probably already have a small clique in 7th grade, and that's not even comparable to the 8th grade cliques. We're in large numbers. And most of the time, we're all against each other.

Advice: Must Read!

Hey! Don't be scared about 8th grade! You'll make it through as long as you:

• Wear your uniforms correctly
• Don't be a teachers pet
• Don't slack off
• Get with the right people
• AND don't get bad grades!

Try to have a good year next year. Don't worry about the scary things, and just focus on the positive. See you in high school. :)



Zombie (Part 3)

A new partner, huh? After what I've seen I'm not sure if I need another life in my hands. Or is it my life that's in his now. I popped a cheese ball in my mouth which muffled my voice.
"Is there anybody else here but us?" I said.
"No, I was thinking you had some people with you."  He said.
"No..." My eyes started to tear up and my bottom lip began to quiver. Jumping around like a grasshopper. Not being able to hold it in any longer, I busted out in tears.
"No, I've been driving myself, parents dead, brother and sister.. DEAD." I tried to suck it up like a 'big girl', but the salty droplets of sadness kept flowing from my eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry I-"
No, no. It's okay. I'm just the emotional type, you know? I cant kill a zombie or even a deer for dinner without sobbing for ten minutes." I said, trying to sound a little funny to lighten the moment. Thane grabbed me and gave me a giant hug.
"Shhhh. Just hush." He whispered. His voice was so comforting then. "I have to tell you that while we're in this position, I should snap your neck... You aren't supposed to know I'm here." My eyes widened and I jerked away from his grip, but he held on tightly to my arm.
"Um.. please don't kill me. I wont tell a soul. I mean, I cant even tell anybody anyway!" I pleaded.
"You can stay." Just like that? Seriously? This guy just threatened my life!
"Yeah, um okay."
"Come on I'm about to make the food."

   It was night time and Thane was making a fire for our food. The leafs he was rustling behind me made me jump from paranoia. I guess I could trust him, but I wasn't so sure about him. Something about the way he smiled or the way he'd look at me, made him awkward. But I didn't linger on the thought. He lifted a heavy branch and I noticed a big scar on his arm.
"Hey.. uh." I stuttered trying to shake out the nervousness from my voice. Where did you get that?"
"The branch?" He yelled back in confusion. "I got-"
"No, durh. I'm talking about that scar. The one on your left arm." I felt weird calling him names already, considering I've only known him for an hour or two. But he seemed comfortable around me. I guess not to many zombies have a taste for him, because he doesn't come off as a paranoid guy.
"Oh. Um.. Uh. Sooo..." You could tell he was trying to cook and prepare his story by the way he stalled. "Were you born with it? What is it." I demanded. His stalling was aggravating me.
"Just come sit by me and I'll tell you a long boring story about my life." He grinned. I came over, and sat on the branch which was more like a giant log, and he began.
"When I was 15, my mom and dad were arguing about whether we should move to another country when the quarantines started. I had no clue what was going to happen. I came downstairs, and their voices started getting louder and louder. Then the Isolators came, and busted through the door. My mom screamed like she was being killed, and my dad..." He paused for a minute.
"No! Don't stop telling!" I begged. 'Please continue!"
"My dad, uh. He was shot." A thin, long stream of tears spilled on his cheek. "The Isolators grabbed him and shot him straight in the head. BAM. That was the end. One of them took my mom and I never seen her again. Well, the scar on my arm came from an Isolator also. He snatched me up, and the knife on his gun punctured my arm and sliced it open."
"Wow. It's nice to know" I sounded highly sarcastic. "I mean.. I didn't mean it that way. What I meant to say was that it's nice to know a little bit more about you. And I'm sorry about your mom, and dad. That kind-of sounds like my story. But, how old are you? 18?" Questioning so much, I felt like I was a game show host, and he was the nervous, sweaty contestant.
"I'm 16. Working and hunting made me so buff." He said, trying to brag. I rolled my eyes at him and let out a short laugh.
"So I see you are quite conceited, huh?" I smirked.
"No not really, just thought I need to make you smile. You seemed put down after I told you my story."
"Cool. I'm fine, but we need some sleep."
   We walked inside the little store, and he showed me the way to what looked like an office. I made my self comfortable, killing spiders from under the blankets and inspecting the rest of the back rooms.. paranoia. When he finally laid down and I trusted my self not to shoot at any small noises, I put my bowie knife under my pillow and my military knife in my lower pocket on my cargos, then rested my head and fell right to sleep.
   The next morning, I stumbled out of my sleeping quarters and found Thane in the another room that he was sleeping in. It was more crowded than the one I was in.
"Hey," He said in a low voice. "I was thinking that maybe we should get out of here, you know? You have a car, and there's a little gas station about 3 miles away from here that we could fill up the tank with. I have a bunch of 1 gallon gas jugs that we could fill up too."
"I was thinking that exact thing!" I was really. I'd been hopping from place to place before The Society was formed. It's hard to break that habit. Especially if you think there's a troop of zombies and Isolators after you all the time.
"That's great. I'll go get the jugs, and you sit here and wake up." He smiled. He was very excited to leave out of here. "Oh yeah. Go start the car and pack up on food. I mean literally try to fit every crumb of food in this place in the car!"
"I will." I said, sounding as slow, and tired as a slug.
   As I was loading the car, I noticed a thick black substance coming from underneath the car and a low humming noise. I didn't acknowledge it until the the front of the car began to smoke. Thane came out with the jugs.
"Laura! Get away from the car!" He demanded. WHOOSH, BOOM! The whole car exploded with half our guns, and most of the ammunition. My ears were ringing and I was in complete shock. Thane was shielding me with his body.
"Oh, my, God.." I said. "What the- how and why?"
"Listen, I have a couple camping bags in the room farthest back of the store. Go and fill them with what ever you can. I'll get the guns, but you need to hurry."
"Why-"
"GO, NOW!" He shouted. Gathering food into the 3 backpacks, I cleared rows of supplies. I ran back outside with the heavy luggage.
"Hey, I got the supplies, now tell me why my car just burst like a bubble, and why you yelled at me!" I questioned. He'd put the fire out with a couple of fire exstinguishers and he was studying the car.
"Somebody did this.. I mean, this couldn't have been an accident." He explained.
"But how? I was out here the entire time filling the car with the supplies!" I said in confusion. "Seriously, it's impossible for someone to slip by me that quickly!"
"Laura..." He paused, thinking. "Someone knows we're here."













  





(This is Part 3 of Zombie)
P.s This story will be continued!

My Roots.

I am a mixing bowl of cultures
A swirling tornado of faces
I am a marble sculpture
Dotted with many races

I am "diverso da molti."
I'm not the same
I'll "nie wie jemand anderes zu sein."
I have my own name

A Latin first name and a Irish last
My cells are camouflage
not in a way of blending in
but to stand out like a colorful collage.

I'm not you.
Nor am I me
But I'm the product of a diverse family.
-Leaciie-

The Word We Live In - A Wake Up Call

Look at  yourself. Have you noticed our society? Our media? Look at how these little girls are comparing their young bodies to plastic play mates. Not even fully developed and worrying about life, and who will accept them.

"Mommy? Will I look like her?" she questions.
"Yes darling, just as beautiful."

But no. No little girl will ever grow up to be those 'beautiful' women that elegantly pose in the magazines, and float through the T.v screens and sing on the MP3s.
Little boys staring at the bottles of there their daddy's cologne shaped like a mans body. Hoping, and wishing that maybe one day they'll be just as strong. Just as built as that bottle. The media that we follow is so fake. We wake up and stare at our bodies and think of the pencil thin women, and the praise they receive. So many modifications, and makeup we don't realize is there. Makeup and modifications we will never have. Besides, who wants to risk the sake of their natural beauty for BOTOX or implants?
These 'Barbies' do. You're not a Barbie, you're not a model. You will never be. So what are you? You're beautiful. And boys, you are handsome. And let no one tell you differently.

I love food
I love me
but not the color teal :(

That’s all about me
Y’all know me anyway
I’ve told about my self
Now please go away

-Leaciie♥

Sometimes, School is cruel.

That is ultimately the lesson known by students worldwide.
   Sometimes homework is given in abundance. Sometimes school work isn't present and boringness seeps in. Sometimes the cold class air smacks your face like a fist.  Sometimes bullies terrorize kids. And sometimes, principles stomp and scream for no reason.
   Sometimes, school is cruel.
   And always, when it is, we act the same way. We get attitudes. We mope and groan, we finally wake up and socialize, we work. And we drag our self around. This is the price of being a teen.
   But what if you did this every single day?
   Surely some tired, aggravated student could be forgiven for thinking it is always this way, after months and years of writing and drawing maps, charts and yelled at by short substitute teachers, these 5ft 3in substitutes. Surely, our parents at work, coming home to listen to our school tales at the comfort of their thoughts that they are glad to be out of our situation, are tempted to believe the same.
   Bad enough, school programs are lame. Bad enough kids are bullied everyday and some to scared to ask "Can you help me?", of being governed by people they barely know. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the school year what we learned we wont remember, we don't care to remember, our young minds don't want to remember. So what's the point?
   Sometime, though, you have to wonder if all this information being temporarily programed in our brains, will be used later.
   After the 90's, when most of us were born, after daycare, the first school year when we only colored and took naps, when 2nd grade brought kiddy books, after 3rd grade brought us our first EOGS, and 4th grade a field trip we actually enjoyed, after all that, comes this wave of boringness - and a cut of funds that take out some of the important parts of expression, like art, like they did last year to my school. So we somewhat retaliate. Some of us who's life rested in the class. Then we get in trouble for fighting for what class we actually liked.
   Sometimes, school is cruel. But what else are you going to do? As a teacher said "we'll right you up if you do that again, or if suspension is necessary, then that too." Even less have we the ability to say what our parents told us to say when the time comes: Tell them too call me if it's such a problem.
  We are hamstrung by rules, and limitations, so we can only do what we always do, only wish this school year was over. And watch, amazed at there life, as our parents lounge and party, the thing we can only wish we could do at our age without the lingering guilt of "I didn't do my homework."
   Worry about grades. Get mad and aggravated at teachers. Wish that our parents life were ours. Keep pushing forward. And show our parents and teachers and guardians that we are miserable.

THERE WILL BE MORE ZOMBIE! :D

Um hi everybody! I am, just to let you know, going to continue the zombie story. It's going to be a long one. Maybe for now on I'll just keep continuing the Zombie story for all my blogging challenges, and when we are assigned stuff. This is just the beginning. Maybe I'll even turn it into a book :) Hmmmm... I'll think about it.

Zombie (Part 2)

Our society has struggled to survive the past months. 23 kids and 9 adults suffered and died. I feel terribly ill, and even more terrible for letting precious assets of this large family die.
   Making my way to one of the last standing houses we had, I gathered some kids. Kissing each of them on the forehead and wishing them luck with life. They giggled and laughed, and played around me. Then I let them be. When I arrived at the steps of the home, I knocked on the dark water-damaged door. A old, and limp man with a long, snow white beard appeared at the door way.
"Who are you?"  he forced out with short breath. I could tell he was dieing of thirst and hunger. His legs were thin, and his knees were knocking. It was obvious his wispy beard tickled his face delicately by the way he twitched his lip.
"I'm Laura, I'm a new comer of 3 months. I've been observing this establishment."
"And why are you here?" he questioned. His eyebrows reverted to a frown.
"I'm in  need of weapons, and I heard you have them." I tried hard not to sound demanding.
"No I-" I stopped him mid-sentence.
"Look, don't lie to me old man. If you want your life, and your health restored I suggest you give me weapons. For I am not afraid to take them forcefully." I felt the tension rise, and felt sorry for what I had said. But the man hesitated no longer, and invited me in.
"So whats here" I said.
"I have many weapons for you. Oozis, Aks, knifes, daggers, swords, grenades. I have it all. But 'all' comes with a price that I hope you're willing to pay young lady."
"If I can afford it, I will by everything." I grinned. It surprised me how a man of his age, around his late 70's, knew well our modern weapons.
"Good, we should have no problem with business. I do see however, that you look weak. You are a mess. Threatening a old man for his only defense." He murmured, trying to sound as infuriated as possible.
Pulling my knife from my back pocket, I slammed the old man against the thin wall, and held the sharp knife to his throat.
"You listen here. I've lost my family, almost my life, traveled night and day. I fought countless COUNTLESS waves of zombies along the way. Just to save thoughtless, stubborn old men like you. You will no longer disrespect me. This isn't MW. You cant start over when I slice your throat." I didn't expect him to know what MW was. His eyes widened.
"I AM SORRY! For I have w-watched my family p-p-perish. I sleep alone, and dream of d-death. I have sat b-back and seen our young men and woman fall at the hands of these demons. I am s-sorry for my w-words!" He stuttered.
"No, I am sorry." I said in a low voice. Slowly, I cut a thin line on his neck. Just enough for him to bleed. I grabbed two Aks, a new Desert Eagle, three daggers and a bow with arrows, and some crates of ammunition, threw 5 dollars on the crooked table and left.
   I dragged the weapons to my car, and said goodbye to the place I called home for such a short time. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know who I would meet along the way. And I didn't know if I would return. Crying was the only solution. I nearly killed an old man who knew no better but to curse at his enemies and those who harmed him.
   I've been driving for about two or three days, and made it approximately a couple hundred miles away from the camp. I came along an old and rickety store. It was decent. Better than the zombie infested places I've been. There was a fowl smell coming from behind the store. Shoving some ammo in my cargos, I snatched up an Ak and dagger. I prayed.
"Lord, I don't ask you for much, but please PLEASE don't let this be another wave of flesh junkies."
And with that, I jumped out the Hummer and crept to the building. When I made it to the side of the store, I peeped around the corner only to see a little girl, about 5, eating a dead dog. My muscles became less tense and I walked around the corner.
"Little girl that's not.." She caught me off guard and screeched. The little brat came for me, so I grabbed the Ak and as soon as she opened her mouth, begging for a bite for my flesh, I shot her in the throat.
I let a slow deep stream of cold air fill my lungs then exhaled. I used what energy I had left to drag myself back around to the entrance of the store and wiped a tear off my cheek. I killed a little girl. It wasn't her fault she was turned.  Inside the store there were rows of food. I'm guessing it was an old Quick Stop or convenient store. I was smiling ear to ear when I went back to the car to grab a duffel bag. I found it when I was scavenging through other cars. I threw the bag over my shoulder and entered the building. There was huge amounts of goodies, all to myself and they're free! As I was stuffing the bag, I was stuffing my face making sure to get every crumb in my system. And that's when I saw him.
"HEY!' he shouted. "Those are mine. Who are ya'? What-a-ya doin' here?"
"I'm Laura. I-I came here for supplies." I walked towards him in slow and small steps, lifting my hand in a sign of peace.
"Are you a, uh, one of them?" I hope he was referring to a Isolator and not a flesh junky. Isolators are the scientists who search for infected people and pull them away from their friends and family.
"An Isolator or zombie?"
"Are you either?"
"No sir. I'm normal. I'm not affected I just needed supplies." I said calmly. I tried to show the most respect. He's a big guy with a big build.
"Good." He sighed. I'm Thane. Who sent you?"
"No one. I guess I'm sort-of a loner." I looked at the ground hoping he would get the hint that I wanted to join him.
"Not anymore." He said with a grin. "You got a partner. A flesh junky partner."

( This is Part 2 of Zombie (Part 1)
P.s. This story will be continued!

Hunger Games Movie Review

I thought the Hunger Games Movie was really great. I watched it 2 times at a movie theater and I still jumped when The Muttations jumped out of the bushes. The characters were just as expalined in the book, and all the acters did a good job. And the tributes costumes were AMAZING! Thumbs up :)

When I Space Out -Poem

When I space out
Oceans are pink, and cupcakes fall from the sky
Angels are on Earth
and sparkles carelessly fly

When I space out
I don't even notice my ear to ear smile
Every thing floats away
Just like the blue Nile

When I space out
Birds sing and chirp in my ears
Music plays
and in my eyes, no one sheds tears

When I space out
I hear the buzz of a tattoo gun
Old drawings, new drawing
My new ideas have begun!

When I space out
Imagination takes place
I fly past the stars
Because when day dream

I'm in outer space.

Novel Blog Out Thingy - My Group Discussion

My group is reading a novel called Rx written by Tracy Lynn. It's about a student who is doing really well in school and is taking Ritalin ( an ADHD drug ) to help her study and stay focused. She isn't even diagnosed with ADHD but she feels this drug will help her. She goes to parties with she stoner friend, and the pretty girl. Soon she starts dealing persrciption drugs.
She has a flipped personality. With her parents she is a very good child who studies a lot, but around her friends she is a party goer and drinks. This is what my group discussion revolved around.
We talked about Schizophrenia, and being Bipolar. Me and my group were thinking that maybe Thyme ( main character ) had Schizophrenia or she may be Bipolar. But the more we talked the better we understood that maybe she acted this way because she doesn't want to show her parents what she is like with her friends, or maybe she is trying to please everyone by partying withe her partying friends and be the smart child for her parents. And eventualy selling and trading drugs for others.

Don't Be Scared. Hold My Hand - Poem

Little baby you've been born.
I see your twinkling eyes I've longed to stare into.
My little sister.

Little baby, this world is so cold.
There's heart break and lies but little baby I know you'll be bold.
Don't be scared Hun, don't cry.
Because Ima' tell you the truth
Little baby I won't lie.
No.. I won't lie to you.

When you see Big Sissy cryin',
don't be scared.
It's when you, when a tear kisses your soft cheek
that I will be there every minute, second, day, night and week.
I'm your guardian angel even when I'm alive
I'll be your teacher to help and teach.
To make you strive little baby

I will be here for you
I don't care if my body is damaged and my bones get weak
I will fight for you little baby
And help you reach the dreams you seek.

This world is cold little baby
And I know you'll be bold
But Amorah
You'll eventually sink in the quick sand
But don't be scared little sis'
Hold my hand.

- To Amorah Alexandria
From your Big Sis', Alycia
Ti amo bambina. <3

Drag and Drop

See the full PicLit at PicLits.com

Zombie (Part 1)

It's October. I'm sitting on the corner of Clemson and Doberman Avenue. I checked the schools, the hospitals, all the houses my feet could carry me to. But nobody, not a soul was left.  The zombies got Jen and Rick. Mom and Dad... Lily and Tim. They're gone too.

My loaded rifle sat to my side with the AK positioned on my back, and the Desert Eagle hanging off my side. I'm almost  out of ammo and food is sparse. I rewrapped my wound and used the last bit of neosporin I had left. Luckily, I got to Dr. Lenards during the evacuation. But the zombies got him, so I have to be careful with the few shots of  vaccine I have. I lay my head on the closest rock, and covered my self with my dad's old army jacket, and dozed off.

As I awakened, I heard a low and gritty moan. Slowly, I turned around with my hands ready to scoop the gun off my hip. I jerked the gun out it's satchel and rose it upward. BLOAW! I shot a zombie in the middle of it's forehead, and warm goopy guts flew in my face. About a dozen more were making their way towards me. I'm the only fresh flesh alive within a 100 mile radius now, and they're ready for a feast. I ran to a Hummer and climbed in. The leather was stripped from the seats, but that didn't matter to me. The keys were still in the ignition, so I took the driving skills I barely had and put them to use.

When I was able to get the Hummer running, the flesh junkies were trying to invade the car. I switched gears and stomped on the gas. To throw them off the car I started swerving left and right as if I was dodging bullets. My technique worked though, and the zombies were flying off the car. One busted the window sheild and I shot it's head off. Another climbed throught the right window and I ripped his arm off. A horrible shriek spilled from it's mouth. I was sick from the excitment and had stopped the car.

 When I regained a bit of strength, I drove for an hour or two so I could perfect my driving. I ended up going for 2 days straight with no sleep or food, just pure Adrenalin was keeping me awake. I turned on the radio hoping for a signal. A broadcast came on.

"Anyone, anyone out there. We are the Survivors Nation. If you can hear us, please come. Woodhaven Blvd, NY. In the old bakery."

I stopped the car and inspected it for weaponry, and maps. It was my luck! The whole trunk was full of weapons and ammo along with a map of  New York. I drove for hours on end, day after day, night through night. Only stopping for supply refills.

 I arrived at the old bakery, and was welcomed by my new family. I was searched for bites and signs of infection. Even though I was bitten, they still invited me into there home and cared for my wound. The vaccine I carried in my blood was cloned and used on everybody within a 100 miles of the bakery. In time we built a barrier around the vaccinated area and a new society was formed.

(This story is continued.. )

My Best Friend Tony ( :

My best friend's name is Tony. Tony, and I have been best friends for 2-3. We met through my cousin which is his friend also. As soon as we talked, I knew we would be the best of friends!
   We are always on the phone talking to each other now. We have conversations about the silliest things! And we also occasionally talk about life situations. He's a big help when it come to that. No matter what it's about I can always come to Tony! .
   TonyBear (that's what I call him) is like a big brother to me almost. He's one of the few people I can trust. He's always there for me when I need him and I will always be there for him too. When I cry Tony is there, when I'm just sad Tony is there. When I need help, Tony is there! It's the same for him too. Without em' I don't know what I would do with myself. He puts me back on track and straightens me out when I need it!
I believe that I have made the best choice in the world to be friends with TonyBear. I love my Bestie! <3

ELA Showcase ( ;

My three favorite posts are! :
Me and the Tattoo Gun , Music Is My Life - Poem , and My Most Favorite Time In My Childhood. These are my favorite because my writing sounds, and flows so much better. Also, I'm more descriptive and in detail with my writing, and it's deeper.
*Ex. 1: I loved those tattoos so much , the sparkles and the intricate lines swirled all around the deep colors . - Me and the Tattoo Gun.
*Ex. 2: Turn up the amps
give me a mic
Let my vocals fill your head - This line from Music Is My Life - Poem showed how I was really getting into my writing.
*Ex. 3: The thing I most cherished about her room was the big, blue, rough carpet that blanketed the floor next to the calender and the huge rocking chair. - My Most Favorite Time In My Childhood. I believed this line shows how detailed I'm getting.


A post that most reflects my creativity is The Hunger Games Melody. I had to really think about the lyrics with my friend Katlyn. I normally do not write songs, because my creativity is reflected in my drawings and poems. But I believe this shows it even more, because to write a decent song you have to be super mega creative!


I've grown as a writer! My best piece to represent this is The Hunger Games Research Project. While writing this this post, the class learned how to put links to our resources that we got information into the research paper (which will be showed in the post, just click on link). I learned something new and so I believe that's one of the many ways I have grown as a writer.          

The best example that I am a thinker/learner is Hunger Games Poem Project. I think this shows I am a thinker because this poem was extremely hard to write. The reason for this is because even though I write poems, writing a poem based on a given topic such as a book is hard for me. It's kind of hard to explain but I really had to think a lot about the rhyming words, and keeping it all on that one topic. I also had to use words related to the book, and find words that rhyme with them that also go with the book!
*Ex.: Trying to hold your sanity is hard to do,
when vicious opponents are after you.