About a week ago I began writing a blog about how much I have changed over the past few months. How I have changed both for the better and for the worse. It was already a really long blog, and I hadn't even finished yet. I got so lost in my thoughts that I just had to quit for a while and come back to it. But then I realized I was writing it pretty much just for myself, because I wanted to convince myself that I had become a better person. The truth was, I really didn't even want anyone else to see it. That blog will probably sit in my drafts forever, never finished, never published. Because maybe, after all, I haven't changed so much. Maybe I'm still the coward I've always been. Afraid to speak. Afraid to let people in. Afraid to reveal myself. Maybe some things never change...

I feel like I should say something, but I really have no idea what to say.

Jack and Jill

We've all heard the story of Jack and Jill,
and how they went up a hill to fetch a pail of water.
When Jack falls down, breaks his crown, and Jill comes tumbling after.
But this rhyme leaves the reader unfullfilled, for such crucial details it leaves out.
For we don't even know how the journey began, or even how Jack's stumble came about.
It all began on a bright summer's day when Jack was summoned by his father.
He felt slightly afraid and his hands trembled, for his dad was a man in which one shouldnt bother.
Now don't get me wrong, he was a wonderful man filled with love and compassion.
But he was the sort of father, who if you failed to obey, you knew you were in for a lashing. When he timidly approached he found his father waiting with a bucket in hand.
He pointed to the East and said firmly yet softly, "Son, this is my command."
He continued by saying "Take this bucket, and together with your sister, climb the hill in the East."
Once you have passed all obstacles and reached the top, you will find the River of Peace.
I want you to fill this bucket to the rim and bring it back here to me.
If you do what I ask and you do it correctly, then your reward you may see.

Now Jack was a smart boy and knew not to question his duty and further. So with the bucket in hand and Jill by his side, he ascended the hill never dreaming it may lead to murder
At first the task seemed so simple, they felt wild and free
Until suddenly it was as if they could barely breathe.
The came upon their entrance of the Forest of Desparity.
At once, every happy feeling or emotion had vanished.
As if they would never smile again, they were terrifyed. Even too afraid to panick.
They were surrounded by cold, foggy mist whishpering torments in their ears.
"You are failures. You will never survive. Your feet will never reach the top!"
Then Jack looked down to find Jill's eyes filled with tears.
But he suddenly remembered the task that lie before him. He musn't give up. They must proceed!
He then took a deep breath and said to himself, "I will not have my father ashamed of me"
The continued for what seemed like hours, in what felt like quicksand beneath their feet.
All their failures and shortcomings rest upon their shoulders, and they felt bruised and ever so beat.

But soon they learned that perseverance pays off, when a ray of sunlight shone through ahead. They proceeded even faster until they landed in a feathers, as soft as a bed.
When Jill opened her eyes, she couldn't help but laugh and stare.
For Jack did look rather funny with feathers in his hair.
Jack then looked at her with a grin But it was mostly because he was able to smile again.
They layed there for a while enjoying the scene that surrounded them, But they both stood up knowing there was work to be done.
So they began with a slow walk, then dashed into a run.
Jill was cooled by the wind in her hair, and Jack by the glistening sweat rolling down his temple. Once again everything seemed to them so beautifully simple.
The suddenly halted when out of the corner of her eye, Jill spotted an innocently majestic lamb lying by her side.
She cautiously approached, but the lamb seemed welcome by any visitor nearby.
She petted it softly, and Jack joined in. The animal did not seem at all shy.
After a few moments had passed, Jack came to the realization that sheep do not travel alone.
The poor thing must be lost or abandoned, or somehow found its way from home.
Enthralled by its beauty and peaceful nature, they decided to carry it along.
Maybe they would find its flock, at least they certainly werent doing anything wrong.
So Jack picked up the lamb, and they proceeded until nightfall forced them to make camp.
They slept on the ground which was warm only hours before, but now was cold and damp.
They fell into slumber until Jack was awoken by hot air blowing on his neck.
Where the lamb had once laid was now an ugly wolf-as if it had been in a fight or a reck.
It stared at him menacingly then charged toward his face.
When the claw hit his skin, Jack knew it would leave a scar that would never erase.
But, surprisingly, the wolf did not again strike.
Yet Jack somehow knew this was not the end of the fight.
It took the bucket for the water, and clenched it between its jaw.
Jack sprinted after him and began to follow.

Jill wept as she slowly followed behind, not knowing which direction they went.
She felt useless, questioning her own existance or why she was even sent.
She had been alone before, but had certainly never felt as alone as this.
She continued to cry when she met someone who made everything make sense.
"Why are you crying, dear one?", a voice came from behind.
She turned around swiftly, and what a surprise she did find.
It was a well-dressed lad, and ever so handsome!
Paralyzed by shock, she just stared at him while blinking.
She didn't know what to say, or even what she was thinking.
He went on to tell her how beautiful girls such as herself shouldnt spend so much time in misery He boosted her self-esteem and did simply anything he could to make her feel less weary.
Jill was not entirely sure what love was, or how it felt; but she guessed it was something like this. They gazed at each other and leaned in to kiss,
but after the release- She was horrifyed to find him running into the forest, never again to be seen.
She felt heartbroken but knew this had been a distraction.
Now she was reminded the nobody cares of her turmoil, and it was time to take action.

Meanwhile, Jack continued until eventually he found himself alone and lost.
He felt a terrible brother for he abandoned his sister, and the price to pay would be of high cost. He placed himself down upon a moss-covered rock, and reviewed the adventure over the last day.
He attempted to postulate a plan in his mind, but couldn't see past his own dismay.
As he sat, he began hearing a quiet thumping noise coming from behind.
It gradually grew louder and he saw people running-people unlike his kind.
They appeared savage and with a murderous look in their eyes.
But he did not stay to examine, for these people were much larger than his size.
He ran until his feet could carry him no more.
Even still he continued until suddenly through the air he soared.
He had tripped over something, but what could it be?
He tried to move forward but did not get very far, for little did he see-
his foot was stuck in the pail his father had given him just one day previously.
The pail did not look the same, for now it was dented and beat.
There was now one thing he knew, and that was that he must reach the River of Peace.

He was unsure which direction he was heading, so he let his feet carry him instead.
The vicious army behind him still followed, appearing as if they had not been fed.
Jack had never experienced an adrenaline rush like this before.
He WOULD make it to the top, by this he swore!
Then at last he saw only a few yard straight ahead-
A river, streaming so peacefully. He had made it just like he said.
Along the river bank, he spotted a young girl.
He rushed by her side, picked her up, and gave her a whirl.
Im sorry for leaving you, he began to cry.
"No time for apologizing now", she replied. "We must hurry or we will surely die!"
Jack took the beaten bucket, and filled it high.
And with Jill's hand in his other, they charged into the night.
It was now a downhill run, they were sure they could make it.
But the savages still followed, and their lives were forsaken.
"Not much further", he yelled. "I see our cottage in the distance"
What he didn't know is that the savages were given assistance.

In midair as he lept, an arrow pierced through his back.
He fell to the ground, and Jill followed behind as the bucket of water splashed.
It was a double-ended arrow, and the other end went through Jill too.
Their journey was now over. They were finished. They were through.
Their bodies were now connected by the arrows in between,
But the cuts went deep, and they went through clean.
The catastrophe happened not far from home, so their father rushed to the scene.
He began weeping mournfully, and fell down to his knees.
He saw the bucket beside them, it was empty indeed.
But instead the children were dripping with water from the River of Peace.
And it was true that they had never looked so peaceful as now that their lives had ceased.
As the grown man cried he said, "My son, my daughter, in you I am well pleased."
From his eye, a single tear dripped upon Jacks lips.
After of moment of time, he felt his son's grip.
Their father knew now this fight was not over, so he cried even harder.
Soon his tears streamed all over his son and his daughter.
At last they were awoken by their father's loving compassion.
All their fears and strife were now in passing.
The arrow wounds on their bodies healed in a moments time,
But the scar from the wolf would be something to always remind.
They hugged and they kissed, and they wept a little more
Until finally they made it back to the cottage door.
I tell you, this sotry was written so that one may never give up,
and will always remember that there is nothing so pure as a Father's love.

~*Elizabeth

1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.
4 One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, O LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.
13 I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27

From Casey's Point of View

So I started writing this story. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it. I started it a certain way, and now it's heading in a different direction. But anyway, this is the beginning of it.

Casey Cronan seemed like the average 8 year old girl. She wore her long golden hair in braided pigtails to school everyday. She played hopscotch and jumped rope with her friends at recess, and ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crust cut off. Every night when she laid her head down and closed her dreary eyes, she dreamed of being a princess dressed in an elegant pink gown. However, Casey was far from ordinary. Casey noticed more than most kids her age, and she understood the realities of this cruel world we live in better than most adults.

Casey waved goodbye to her neighbor Mr. Foreman as her dad pulled out of the driveway to take her to school. Mr. Foreman was an elderly man with little hair on the top of his head, who was always ready to share a cup of hot chocolate over a warm conversation. He was the only one who really understood Casey for who she was, and was the only person who Casey truly trusted. On most days after school Casey would run to Mr. Foreman's door and wait impatiently for him to come out and sit in the chairs on the front porch and tell her stories from his past. Sometimes Casey would share stories too. Each evening when dusk came and darkness began to swallow what was left of the sunlight, Casey knew it was time for her to walk across the yard back to her own home. Whenever Casey would stand up to leave, he would look into her sparkling blue eyes and whisper ever so softly, "Remember who you are, and don't ever let anyone try to change that." Casey heard this nearly everyday for the last two years, but was still not entirely sure what it meant. All she knew at this point in her brief life was that she was different than most kids, and that Mr. Foreman was the only person including herself who knew why.

Like most evenings when Casey shed her coat by the front door, she entered her house to find her dad in the office on his phone. She sat quietly by the door and waited for him to end his conversation. However, Casey's dad worked for the government ans was a very busy man. At the age of six, Casey already knew all about taxes and I.R.S. agents because that was all her dad knew how to talk about. It wasn't that he wasn't a good father. He tried his very best to provide for her every need, but sometimes it was the things she needed the most that he neglected. It was times like these that Casey wished even more that her mother was still around, because the truth was George Cronan didn't know how to be both a dad and a mom. Casey's mom was murdered in her own home about five years earlier. Although Casey was only two years old at the time, she knows more about the catastrophe than anyone would ever give her credit. Casey was the only witness of the murder, and the images of her mother's brutal death are some that will remain with her for the rest of her life. Besides her own majestic blue eyes, these visions are really the only thing Casey's mother left behind for her. Sometimes in the dead silence, she can still her the shriek that was her mother's last cry. A plea for help. And because Casey was merely an infant, there was nothing she could do to save her mom. She thinks about these things daily, but rarely does she ever speak of them. Casey was strong, and although she lived nearly every second of her life in fear, she never let her fears consume her. Mr. Foreman was the only one she really ever talked about these things to, and he always seemed very intrigued. She thought his may have something to do with why he always told her to remember who she is. She wasn't sure. But if there is one thing she knew, that she learned from her own mother's death is this: You can't trust anyone.

Sometimes I feel like I'm completely lost. Sometimes I feel like everything I've spent my life living for is completely and utterly useless. I spend all this time searching myself to figure out who exactly I am, what I stand for, and what I believe in; then I sit here and question myself. I ask myself if it's really all worth it. Is it worth my own thought to try to decide what I believe, when nobody really knows the right answer to anything anyway? Is it worth swallowing my pride to reach out to others when I only get a slap in the face in return? Is it worth staying up all night to study for a test that I end up failing anyway? It's like I'm at that point where I'm so close to the end, yet everything is pressing down on me to the point that I just want to drop it all and give up. Like a runner in a marathon who has been jogging a steady pace for miles, and just when the finish line is in sight he thinks he can't make it any farther. Or maybe he just doesn't want to finish because, after all, running is what he does and after the race is over he just won't know what to do next. I read a John Steinbeck book a while back Cannery Row. At one point there was a guy in the story who they said had spent a major part of his life building a boat. Somebody asked why it was taking so long for him to build the boat, because it really wasn't that big or extravagant and didn't seem like it would have taken that long to build. The guy talking about it replied that he really finished the boat a long time ago. The truth was he really didn't like the water, he was afraid of it, but his enjoyment lied in the building of the boat so that's what he spend his time doing. He never considered the job finished.


I guess that's kinda how I am. I spend all this time anticipating life after high school. I wanted to grow up so fast and just get out of here. I wanted to leave this all behind and start a new life. And although part of me still does, now that the time is so quickly approaching I don't even know what to do with myself. I've spent all these years "building my boat", but now I don't even know if it will be able to withstand the rough waters. Like the character in Cannery Row, I'm scared of what's out there because so far, the comfort of my own home is all I know. But I guess it's up to me now to take a deep breath, face reality, and realize that although I may not have much of a past, I do have a future. Because the truth is, all I have to do is look around me and remember all the incredible memories to remind myself that it really is all worth it. Even the pain of leaving everything behind becomes bearable knowing that memories are something that take a long time to fade. I've seen through myself that life comes in Seasons. Even though today is cold and dreary, tomorrow I may wake up to sunshine. It's up to me to seize the day and make the best of what it is instead of soaking in self misery.

~*Elizabeth

I really don't like AP World History. Its bores me and stresses me out. However, while skimming through the pages of my history text trying to find reasons why the Roman Empire fell so I can write this essay that I should have written yesterday instead of 10:00 tonight, I read something that caught my interest.
I think it's good to look at Christianity through they eyes of an unbeliever. Sometimes that means looking at it through someone who hates Christians in general. Other times it means just looking at it as someone who is apathetic towards the matter. My history book is written from a non-Christian (supposedly) unbiased perspective. I started reading about early Christianity in Rome and for some reason I found the description of Jesus and his followers to be stunningly beautiful. Here are some snippets from the text:

"The Christians formed their community around Jesus of Nazareth, a charismatic Jewish teacher whom they recognized as their savior. He was a peaceful man who taught devotion to God and love for fellow human beings. He attracted large crowds because of a reputation for wisdom and miraculous powers, especially the ability to heal the sick... Jesus' crucifixion did not put an end to his movement. Even after his execution Jesus' close followers strongly felt his presence and proclaimed that he had triumphed death by rising from the grave. They called him 'Christ,' meaning 'the anointed one,' the savior who would bring individuals into the kingdom of God. They taught that he was the son of God and that his sacrifice served to offset the sins of those who had faith in him. They taught further that, like Jesus, the faithful would survive death and would experience eternal life in the spiritual kingdom of God. Following Jesus' teachings, the early Christians observed a demanding moral code and devoted themselves uncompromisingly to God...Christians refused to honor the Roman state cults or revere the emperor as a god. As a result, Roman imperial authorities launched sporadic campaigns of persecution designed to eliminate Christianity as a threat to the empire. In spite of the repression, Christian numbers grew rapidly...The remarkable growth of Christianity reflected the new faith's appeal particularly to the lower classes, urban populations, and women. Christianity accorded honor and dignity to individuals who did not enjoy high standing in Roman society, and it endowed them with a sense of spiritual freedom more meaningful than wealth, power, or social prominence. It taught the spiritual equality of the sexes and welcomed the contributions of both men and women. And it provided a promise of future glory for those who placed their faith in Jesus."

Maybe its because I'm a dork, but this just really got me thinking. In the midst of persecution and martyrdom Christians stood strong the most. Christians were respected as people who did not compromise their beliefs, and now many Christians are looked at as nothing more than a bunch of hypocrits. Today, we don't have to worry about being fed to lions or burned to death for what we believe, yet we do not stand out like the early Christians did. I think a big problem is the fact that the term "christian" has become watered down. Its cliche' and too many people claim it. The early Christians were not merely Christians, they were followers of Christ. It makes me want to examine myself and see if I really am as devoted as I should be.

~*Elizabeth