tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86312751279183779622024-03-12T16:20:38.545-07:00What Should I Write?!?This is a blog I created to post stories on. I figure, when I grow up, I might be an author, and I just feel like posting them here. I won't post much, but when I do, get ready, because I DO NOT write short stories. :-) I might not even post stories. They might be book reports or small things I have to write for school. It might get a little boring, but try to enjoy it :-).Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-14875441562643412692010-03-23T18:06:00.000-07:002010-03-23T18:18:20.804-07:00Cassidy the Egg-Laying Hen: A Ballad<div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">Well...first off, let me warn you, if you're a very strong chicken lover you may want to stop right here.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">_____________________________________</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">We had to write a ballad for English.</span><br /><object height="295" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/se9rfWucgeY&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/se9rfWucgeY&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="295" width="480"></embed></object><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">Piano Man by Billy Joel is a perfect example of a ballad. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">Actually, as I wrote my ballad, I played each line of this verse at a time and then modeled my line after it...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0); font-style: italic;">It's nine o'clock on a Saturday</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0); font-style: italic;">The Regular crowd shuffles in</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0); font-style: italic;">There's an old man sitting next to me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0); font-style: italic;">Makin' love to his tonic and gin</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">Without accent marks on my own, though, I can't really explain how it should be pronounced. We were to write the poem in ABCB pattern and use Quatrameter and trimeter...I picked chickens to write about because I wanted to keep it simple and not too in-depth to think about.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">It turned out sorta sad and, umm...not so much gruesome as just...disturbing? Maybe. I personally think it's well-written, but it's gonna be really weird to read it aloud to my class....</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">Oh well. They should know I'm not quite normal by now. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">And so, without further ado, my poem...if you want to match the first verse (or whatever verse) of piano man to my poem you'll be able to figure out the accenting...but there's no need. It's fine without it, too.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">(Also....I've never had a chicken named Cassidy...and we don't slaughter our chickens (not ourselves, anyway, and we don't eat them) but we did have a chicken die last week. Fiona #1 (#'s 2, 3, and 4 are still alive ;)), rest in peace)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Just step in the mind of a chick a bit</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Yes, I do mean a bird</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The small, yellow fluffy kind </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The ones whose mind’s a bit blurred</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Born with so little in their brain</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Yet always so full of joy</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Not a care to be seen inside of them</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Considering that they’ll be destroyed</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Their life begins in a hatchery</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Where millions like them begin</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">It’s big and it’s loud and it’s boisterous</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">They’re each sorted into a bin</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />One wee little chick named Cassidy</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Is put into a crate</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Other little birds are with her too</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Fulfilling the thing we call fate</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Through trucks and planes she’s shipped along</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">She winds up at a farm in Kentucky</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">She grows up to become a layer hen</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And thanks God that her life is so lucky</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />A few years pass and her laying slows</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">She thinks it’s her time to retire</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">This peaceful thought flees from her mind</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">When the farmer appears with a desire</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />He picks her up and carries her out</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Of the coop she’s come to love </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Her mind’s filled with fear and anxiety</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">When she finds that she’s not so beloved</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />They find the stone of no return,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">She heard of it time and again</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Now Cassidy’s head is on the block</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And she wishes she wasn’t a hen</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Her short, puny life flashes before her eyes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And she knows life will come to a stop</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The blade of the ax flashes quickly down</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And Cassidy’s a regular crop.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Such ends the life of a brilliant hen</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Her egg laying was so divine</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Cassidy’s soul is now in peace</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">We thank her for being so fine</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-51525437889817612422009-01-12T17:25:00.000-08:002009-01-12T17:33:50.669-08:00Fog<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I was never made to write poetry...I don't really mind reading it too much, but I'm terrible at writing it myself. In 6th grade we had to write a "poetry book" and mine was...horrible...but anyway, we were told in English to compare an emotion to a thing, like a window, leaf, grass, crayon, etc. This is what I came up with; my measly attempt at poetry...I know, I shouldn't try again...lol:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">The fog is there as soon as one gets up</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">in the morning.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">It hits as soon as the blinds open, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">wiping away the innocent feelings of sleep.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">Gray, damp, lingering</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">A sheet of feeling that hides other, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">sunny emotions.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">The fog lifts as the day goes by,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">hidden beneath the sun of distractions,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">but it always comes back in the mornings.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">Depressing.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Optimism is scarce in the fog of guilt.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Disclaimer: I don't actually feel guilty about anything...I merely thought of guilt when I thought of fog, and, voila, there's the poem...I guess I could of thought of allergies, but that would have lead me to writing about Claritin Clear, so no-go...</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">:D</span></span><br /></span></span></span></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-40469643233878815002008-12-07T17:55:00.000-08:002008-12-07T17:56:53.904-08:00Ummm...yeahhhhh<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:130%;" > I'm just posting this because idk I am...it was on my other blog...it wasn't meant to be "writing blog" worthy, but oh well.....<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Picture a girl going out for a trail ride, bareback. She heads out onto the trail and doesn't get more then 15 paces before she hears shrieking. She thinks instantly that it sounds like a chicken. A familiar chicken. But surely it can't be a chicken of hers, seeing as how her chickens have been gone now for one full week. She decides it must be a turkey in distress. She urges her horse forward at a trot and peers through the trees, trying to see. Suddenly, movement catches her eye, and the girl spots a very frightened chicken running through the snow covered wood, followed by a very mischievous young cat named Gronemeyer. The girl screams like she's going to die, yelling like crazy to stop the stupid cat from killing the one chicken that made it away from the slaughter man's hands the week before. She hops off her horse, and without really thinking, she snaps her horse's reins to a very small tree branch and races through the woods. The cat is now sitting, content to watch the show, under a tree, while the chicken runs around, bewildered. The girl follows the chicken through the woods. The chicken ambles along, just out of reach of the girl, until the chicken goes just behind the trunk of a tree. The girl stands on the other side of the trunk and peeks around the left side of the trunk. There is the chicken, peeking back at her. The chicken moves to the right side of the trunk and peeks around. So does the girl. This process continues itself as the girl contemplates how to snatch the bird. She decides she has no other choice, and as the bird peeks around the right side of the trunk another time, the girl grabs the bird's tail feathers. The bird cries out, but the girl grabs her and hugs her to her chest. Survivor has been found.</span></span></span><br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-71921746833312500462008-09-24T17:55:00.000-07:002008-09-24T17:57:01.380-07:00Miss Daisy-Mae--a Memoir<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, this is a memoir I had to write recently for English class...Actually, I'm handing it in tomorrow...I'll try to remember to let you know what grade I get...<br /><br /></span></span></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Squish, smush, snort.<span style=""> </span>These sounds met my ears as she cantered around me in the mud and snow.<span style=""> </span>It was blustery cold that day, April 17, 2007, the day my dream came true.<span style=""> </span>You could find me standing in a small corral at Storie Stables, a private horse farm a little out of the town I lived in.<span style=""> </span>This place, the place my 12 year old eyes first laid eyes on her, was windy, bitterly cold, as it was the last winter storm of the year.<span style=""> </span>The weather seemed to have decided to work really hard at freezing everything solid and turning the world all white for the last time before spring hit.<span style=""> </span>In the midst of this storm my mother brought me here to take a look at a horse whose “For Sale” ad I’d seen on the internet.<span style=""> </span>She was a cute little horse, still fuzzy with her winter coat and chestnut brown, with a crooked, penguin-shaped white stripe down her face.<span style=""> </span>She was a stubborn, feisty little mare, but I was a stubborn kid, and wouldn’t admit that she was a tad bit more to handle then I was used to.<span style=""> </span>Anyway, here we were, the horse and I, her cantering in a circle around me, driven along by my repeated <i style="">snaps</i> of the whip.<span style=""> </span>My eyes and body circled around and around watching her nimble legs navigate the slick, muddy footing.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">My horse-back riding Aunt Daniela rode the dark-colored horse and had quite a ride, as the mare refused to do half of the things asked of her.<span style=""> </span>Soon, I mounted her, expecting an equally challenging ride, but instead the little horse calmed right down and listened to me, as if she knew it was important.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">The world was quiet, white, and cold until Jean, the owner of the Quarter Horse I rode, asked “Would you like to try her outside?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Sure,” I responded, nodding bravely.<span style=""> </span>Tears welled up in my eyes as my mother’s voice broke the stillness:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">“Should I write a check?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>I’d taken riding lessons since I was a little four year old riding a welsh pony.<span style=""> </span>Did I want to have my own horse?<span style=""> </span>Well, that’s like asking a man about to die of hunger if he’d like some bread!<span style=""> </span>Ok, so maybe not <i style="">that</i> dramatic, but it was close.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Of course</i> I wanted a horse!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Sitting astride the little mare, I grinned, hot tears running down my chilled cheeks, and nodded.<span style=""> </span>All those years of wishing for a pony over the candles on my birthday cake had paid off.<span style=""> </span>My dream had come true:<span style=""> </span>Daisy was mine.</p> <br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-16367936535518794202008-09-15T18:35:00.000-07:002008-09-15T18:38:27.390-07:00The Second Industrial Revolution<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p>This is one of those essays I wrote that I'm posting on here pretty much for my own way of preserving it, because I don't think it's interesting enough for people to want to read it...anyway, I had to write this about the Second Industrial Revolution for social studies...it took hours to write...ugh..I'd say, all together, 3-4 hours writing...spread apart on 2 days. :-/ lol </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The time of the Second Industrial Revolution was a time of growth in the United States:<span style=""> </span>More inventions were made, which made life easier, and these inventions had a great effect on the world then <i style="">and</i> now.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>The Second Industrial Revolution was sparked by the creation of the railroad.<span style=""> </span>During the Civil War, railroads existed and were helpful in bringing supplies to troops, but they weren’t very reliable as they would only go on for as long as the owner of the railroad had land.<span style=""> </span>When the owner of the railroad ran out of land, the railroad would end, and people would have to move the things from the railroad to another railroad.<span style=""> </span>People did realize, however, how well a railroad could work if they were all connected.<span style=""> </span>They found that they could make money from the people using their railroad and riding on the trains, and soon people connected their local railroads together.<span style=""> </span>Railroad barons, like Cornelius Vanderbilt, bought small railroads from owners and consolidated, or connected, them together to make a large railroad.<span style=""> </span>Through the help of immigrant labor, a transcontinental railroad (a railroad that goes all the way across the country) was created, made up of the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific railroads.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The railroad companies began competing for their customers.<span style=""> </span>They would offer rebates, or discounts, to people to use their railroads.<span style=""> </span>People would use their railroads because of the rebates instead of other railroads, so other railroads would offer rebates.<span style=""> </span>This was the process which continued on-constant competition, as each railroad fought to give the best prices.<span style=""> </span>For the normal person to use a railroad sometimes these prices were fine, however, farmers had a problem.<span style=""> </span>They wanted to be able to ship their products places to sell, but they didn’t have the money to pay the high prices the railroad companies asked for.<span style=""> </span>This made them angry.<span style=""> </span>Railroads were also the reason that small factories shut down.<span style=""> </span>They were no longer needed because larger factories produced goods and now had the means to transport them far and wide.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The creation and use of the railroad offered new opportunities for people, like creating jobs and making travel easier.<span style=""> </span>Steel workers became much more needed and used as they created the steel for the sides of the railroad tracks.<span style=""> </span>Lumberjacks were also more common, as they made the tracks for the railroads.<span style=""> </span>Coal workers produced coal to run the trains on the tracks, too.<span style=""> </span>Immigrants were given the option of working on the railroad, and they were the sole creators of the tracks that soon ran across the country.<span style=""> </span>The railroad also caused many more people to settle in the west, as it became easier to go out west on a train instead of in a stagecoach or wagon.<span style=""> </span>In all, railroads were one of the biggest factors in the start of the Second Industrial Revolution.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The Industrial Revolution wouldn’t have been the same without 3 very important men: John Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, and J. Piermont Morgan.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >John Rockefeller was the leader in the oil industry.<span style=""> </span>He invested in an oil refinery for himself, and used the profits he made from this one refinery to buy other refineries, until he owned every single one of them.<span style=""> </span>This monopoly (owning all the businesses in an industry) erased all competition-he controlled everything, and he made record profits.<span style=""> </span>He named all his refineries together The Standard Oil Company of Ohio.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Andrew Carnegie was the leader in the steel industry.<span style=""> </span>While traveling in England in the 1870’s he learned about the Bessemer process and when he came back to the US he created a steel mill in Homestead, Pennsylvania.<span style=""> </span>He produced steel and sold the steel to railroad owners and builders.<span style=""> </span>Very quickly, Carnegie was earning a large profit, and used it to buy out rivals.<span style=""> </span>He bought iron mines, railroad and steamship lines, and warehouses.<span style=""> </span>At this point, Mr. Carnegie owned everything he needed to produce steel: the means to get iron ore to make steel, railroads and ships to distribute the steel, and warehouses to store it in.<span style=""> </span>He was a great example of vertical integration (owning everything you need to create a finished product).<span style=""> </span>In 1892 he combined all his single businesses into the Carnegie Steel Company.<span style=""> </span>By 1900 he produced more steel then all of Great Britain.<span style=""> </span>Carnegie believed that he had the duty to help improve society, so he donated over $60 million to towns to build libraries all over the country.<span style=""> </span>Andrew Carnegie had a major impact on the second Industrial Revolution.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >J.P. Morgan was the leader in the banking industry.<span style=""> </span>In the 1890’s Morgan and his friends invested money in the stock of troubled corporations.<span style=""> </span>They won seats on the boards of directors because they were stock holders and from there they directed companies in a way that avoided competition and made money.<span style=""> </span>Morgan ended up gaining control of most of the nations major rail lines.<span style=""> </span>Then he began to buy up steel companies and he put them together into one large corporation.<span style=""> </span>By 1901, Morgan was the head of the United States Steel Company (which included Carnegie Steel) and this was the first business in the US to be worth more then $1 million.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >During the second Industrial Revolution many inventions were created that simplified life.<span style=""> </span>Some major inventors were Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Henry Bessemer, George Eastman and George Pullman.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Thomas Edison created the light bulb using electricity in 1878.<span style=""> </span>The light bulb made it possible to create light at night without the hazard and struggle with a candle and matches-just a flick and the light was on.<span style=""> </span>It could also be used to send signals or messages with Morse code, or a light to show when a machine was one, etc.<span style=""> </span>Even now people use the light bulb for many things.<span style=""> </span>Almost every household in the US has lights now.<span style=""> </span>This invention could be one of the most treasured and important of them all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Alexander Graham Bell created the telephone in 1876.<span style=""> </span>The telephone was a device that could be used to talk to people, no matter how far away they were, and was faster and easier then a telegraph, which could only send one message at a time, and messages had to be short because they were “sent” using Morse code.<span style=""> </span>Bell modeled the telephone after the telegraph-he used a human voice instead of Morse code-and it worked.<span style=""> </span>A person’s voice could be carried through wires to another person, near or far.<span style=""> </span>This made talking to people and communication easier, and connected people and kept them in contact because they could talk whenever they wanted.<span style=""> </span>They could send news without having to wait for letters to arrive to people, which the letters would, by the time the other person got it, most likely be outdated.<span style=""> </span>Now, in the 21<sup>st</sup> century, people still use it as a main source of communication, and can talk and do business with people all the way across the ocean, all because of Alexander Graham Bell.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Henry Bessemer thought up the Bessemer Process in the 1850’s, which made it possible to produce steel cheaper and easier, but so that it was still strong and sturdy when it was made.<span style=""> </span>Steel was used more often because of the Bessemer Process to make skyscrapers, nails, screws, needles, and pins.<span style=""> </span>Today, steel is used for buildings, machines, cars, and more. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >In 1888, George Eastman invented the camera.<span style=""> </span>A camera can take a picture of something-people, places, objects, anything really and be looked at for years to come.<span style=""> </span>Before people had to have huge cameras and only people who were professionals could take pictures.<span style=""> </span>Photos were rare.<span style=""> </span>Eastman produced a camera that any person could use to take photos.<span style=""> </span>People could take photos of anything, any time, without a big hassle.<span style=""> </span>These days pretty much everyone has a camera and it is used for a profession, hobby, and to savor memories.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >George Pullman is the reason sleeping on a train was and still is comfortable.<span style=""> </span>Pullman designed a “sleeping car” in 1857, which was a train car that people could ride in overnight and sleep in comfortably.<span style=""> </span>It made overnight train rides more enjoyable and less bothersome.<span style=""> </span>Nowadays, sleeper cars aren’t used as often, but when they are used, we can thank Pullman for making train rides overnight so fun and comfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The Second Industrial Revolution didn’t make everything wonderful.<span style=""> </span>It created new jobs for people-working in factories, for instance.<span style=""> </span>People and children at young ages could work in a factory, however, the conditions were not safe and people were not treated well.<span style=""> </span>One example of this is the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >On March 25, 1911, a large fire broke out in a New York City factory.<span style=""> </span>A factory called the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory was housed in the Asch building on the top three floors- floors 7-10.<span style=""> </span>Over 500 women and children between the ages of 13 and 23 worked in the factory, producing clothing all day long.<span style=""> </span>Women worked in rooms that were locked from the outside by the owners of the factory, in an effort to keep women working.<span style=""> </span>Supposedly, the fire was started by one of the owners of the factory throwing a cigarette butt into a pile of fabric, which caught on fire.<span style=""> </span>In any case, the top three stories were on fire in a matter of minutes, and the women were trapped inside the locked rooms.<span style=""> </span>Fire hoses and ladders couldn’t reach these top stories and women began to die.<span style=""> </span>There was an elevator with a man inside that ran it, and this man went up and down, trying to rescue women, however, the elevator could only occupy 10 people at a time.<span style=""> </span>The women who couldn’t make it down the elevator ended up having to throw themselves out the windows or die burning in the flames.<span style=""> </span>Women who jumped died from the fall.<span style=""> </span>Other women threw themselves down the elevator shaft, thinking they could save themselves, but they died as well.<span style=""> </span>Altogether, on that fateful day, approximately 146 women, most immigrants from Ireland and other countries, died.<span style=""> </span>This tragic accident was an eye-opener for women’s, and worker’s rights.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The Pullman Palace Car Company in Pullman, Illinois rented out houses to it’s workers, and ran food and supply stores that workers bought from.<span style=""> </span>Altogether, workers relied on the Pullman Company for their whole life-in a sense, they were slaves.<span style=""> </span>In 1893, the company decreased wages by one fourth without making changes in rent, fuel, or other costs for living.<span style=""> </span>The workers tried to speak to the company and have prices changed, but when the company didn’t listen, workers went on strike.<span style=""> </span>President Grover Cleveland sent troops to the Pullman town, and they opened fire on a group of strikers, killing approximately 30 people. This was another sad event, all because workers were trying to get their rights.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >During a labor rally in Haymarket Square in Chicago, in 1886, a bomb exploded among a group of policemen as they tried to stop the rally.<span style=""> </span>The bomb killed seven police officers and injured seventy people.<span style=""> </span>The incident was known nationwide and damaged the view of the growing labor movement.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The Second Industrial Revolution increased the amount of immigrants and immigrant labor in the country.<span style=""> </span>Immigrants came to the United States and ended up having jobs in factories or other places where they didn’t receive fair treatment and pay.<span style=""> </span>Immigrants worked in factories like the Triangle Shirtwaist factory and helped make the transcontinental railroad, which was the main cause of the whole industrial revolution.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" >The Second Industrial Revolution was started because of the Central and Pacific Railroad.<span style=""> </span>It increased immigrants and immigrant labor.<span style=""> </span>It also was a cause for people to realize worker’s rights.<span style=""> </span>Inventions were made and life changed drastically.<span style=""> </span>The Second Industrial Revolution was a time of growth and learning in the United States of America.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-68168970669742554972008-05-19T18:01:00.000-07:002008-05-19T18:07:29.771-07:00I'm Taking a Risk of Embarrassment<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">This is a moment of udder </span>embarrassment<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">...See, around last January, or maybe earlier, I really don't know, I started a story just with the first two lines of this one...I thought maybe I could use it in another essay or story later...then one day, when I was bored, I added to it...today I re-read it, added a bit, and I have decided to risk complete </span>humiliation<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> by posting this story, written on a whim...it's just really, really cheesy...or maybe it's not and I just think so, but anyway, here it is...feel free to give constructive </span>criticism<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">...or just </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">criticize:</span><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >"I will NOT chew my nails, I will NOT chew my nails." Kaitlin thought, as she headed down the hall, dodging other students who were mingling with their friends, as she headed to her English classroom. </span><i style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Jeez, people really need to get time management classes </i><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >, she thought, as she glanced at groups of kids still talking together, when there were only a few precious seconds left before the next class started. Shouts of "Hey, Taylor, do you have a piece of gum?", and "Yo, Matt, can I borrow a pencil?" filled her ears. Kaitlin saw her friend, Naomi ahead of her, and she ran up to her, "Hey, Naomi, what's your next class?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "Health, ugh, such a bore," Kaitlin's tall, olive skinned friend answered with a sigh.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "Haha, I have English! Much better-oh, wait, no it isn't , I have a test today! Oh, shoot, I forgot to study! Oh, I'm thinking of the Social Studies test, I didn't study for THAT, but I did the English guide." </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "No worries, there's a sub in Social Studies, so no test! Good luck! Tell me later how the English test was!"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "I will, bye Naomi!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >Kaitlin entered the class, annoyed to find that she was late. She slipped cautiously into her seat, knowing that any minute her teacher, Ms. Mooney, would scold her for being late, but looking up after she sat down, she found that her teacher wasn't there. They had a substitute. </span><i style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">YES!</i><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > She thought joyfully, realizing she was free of being yelled at. Class was uneventful, and Kaitlin continued through her day.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >Kaitlin stared anxiously at the clock: </span><i style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Just 2 more minutes....one minute....50 seconds...20...10...</i><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >BRING! The loud whine of the school bell filled the air, signaling that school was over. Kaitlin bolted out of her seat, her blue backpack swinging on her shoulder. She jogged through the hall, skipped quickly down the school steps and onto the sidewalk. She turned a a left at the street corner, and sprinted down the street. Slowing after a few moments, she grabbed a granola bar out of her bag, opened the package, and biting into it she planned her next few hours. </span><i style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">Okay, when I get to the barn I'll take Poncho out of his paddock, groom him, saddle up....Maybe Naomi will ride with us today. We could take a nice little trail ride, maybe jump the stream a little...Oh, but Checker's, Naomi's horse, is lame...darn woodchuck hole. Hadn't he stepped in it, we would be riding today...well, she may be able to rent out a horse, we'll see....<br /><br /></i><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >After a 15 minute walk, Kaitlin arrived at the stable where the horse she was leasing, a brown and white paint pony, Poncho, was kept. She slowed to a walk as she walked into the stable yard, remember the "No running around the horses" rule. She stepped into the stable's storage room and put her backpack into one of the many mini lockers that were used for the rider's belongings. She traded it in for her helmet and jeans. Turning from her locker she met the cold stair of fellow rider Annabelle Tailor. Annabelle was a skilled rider and owned a pure bred Thoroughbred gelding named Kingston, King for short. Kaitlin smiled icily back at her, remembering the argument they had had the day before. They had had a discussion over horse feed. Poncho was fed normal, feed store brand sweet feed, but Annabelle had been throwing a fit over the fact that Kingston wasn't getting high quality, expensive show horse feed. Kaitlin had kind of lost her temper, shouting about how she was so spoiling her horse, and it wouldn't kill him to eat regular food. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "So, out to ride your little pony?" Annabelle asked dryly. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >"Yes, I am out to ride. How about you, going to ride her spoiled, 'perfect' horse? You handle him so well-love the way you let him go galloping yesterday and lost the reins-such a great horse." Kaitlin turned, knowing she had won the argument, and headed out the door. She met up with Naomi in the aisle. "Hey, are you going to ride today?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > Naomi sighed "No, I don't have time, I have to ice Checker's hoof, and hand walk him a little, and clean his stall, and make him a bran mash, and probably be stuck cleaning tack, or lugging hay bales and water buckets...oh, but I really want to ride!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "Hmmm...well, I guess you can't really get out of that stuff, huh? If you want you can hop on Poncho after I ride today to cool him off while I clean off some tack or feed Checkers. Do you want you?" Kaitlin asked, hoping it would cheer her friend up.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "Yeah...yeah, that's a good idea, thanks...as long as you don't mind."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" > "No, of course I don't! I'll probably be back from riding around 4:30, so check the arena around that time!" Kaitlin said, and after saying a quick goodbye to Naomi she headed to the tack room, grabbed Poncho's western saddle and bridle and hurried to his stall.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >>>>>>>TO BE CONTINUED.....EVENTUALLY<<<<<<</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-49769323553596690752008-03-06T18:11:00.000-08:002008-03-06T15:12:26.060-08:00Dear Agnes:<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This is a 'letter' I had to write for Social Studies. We're learning about the Industrial Revolution, and the Transportation Revolution, and I had to pretend I was writing a letter to a friend in a neighboring town and tell them about a railroad that was built in my town. It's cheesy on purpose, don't worry. Here it is:<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />Dear Agnes, June 26, 1816<o:p></o:p></span> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Have I told you that a railroad has been put into our town? It has!<span style=""> </span>Our town decided to let a railroad be put in, and it’s been very good…well, for the most part.<span style=""> </span>The big dairy here in town is doing very well now because it has a siding right next to their barn, so instead of having to put their products into wagons and moving them to a station, the train is right in their backyard!<span style=""> </span>The government had to put the rails into people’s properties, so because they were intruding on their property, they paid the people money, so not only does the dairy have an easier job of loading the trains, they were given money, too!<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This railroad business hasn’t been all good, though.<span style=""> </span>One man had to have his house and barn torn down because the railroad designer had no other choice but to go through his home.<span style=""> </span>He was paid as well, but in my opinion, it wasn’t enough to lose an entire home.<span style=""> </span>The small store had to close down as well because too many people were purchasing goods from large factories that ship their goods in with the train, and they weren’t relying on the store anymore.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">There is also a large cow farm that had some trouble with the train station being in town.<span style=""> </span>One thing is that the railroad cuts right through their farm road, and through their cow’s pastures.<span style=""> </span>Just last week a train was going through town and a coal from the firebox of the car landed on the family’s roof during the night, and the whole roof burned!<span style=""> </span>The family also claims that the cow’s milk hasn’t been as good as before the railroad came into town.<span style=""> </span>The good thing for them is that since they now have a railroad near them, they can ship their milk out to other towns and sell it, which means that they make more money.<span style=""> </span>I’d bet that your city has been getting milk from our town!<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I like the railroad.<span style=""> </span>I’m just a regular, living in town, and I love that I can get so many products from big cities that I would normally have to travel a long way to get! It’s wonderful!<span style=""> </span>It’ll also be much easier to visit you my dear-I can just catch a train to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Allentown</st1:place></st1:City>, where you live!<span style=""> </span>I bet I could be there 3 times faster then going by wagon.<span style=""> </span>I’ve heard the trains are SO much better to travel with then by stagecoach.<span style=""> </span>It’s very fast, and it has seating areas, and dining.<span style=""> </span>It’s probably very expensive, but it’s much better then traveling 5 hours with Jack and the wagon.<span style=""> </span>Poor Jack gets very tired of pulling all that weight the whole way, so I have to take time and rest the poor horse throughout the ride.<span style=""> </span>This railroad has certainly been a good investment.<span style=""> </span>Faster, smoother, safer, cleaner, the list goes on and on.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style";"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">I’d have more to say, but I must go now. I believe I just heard a train whistle, so I’m eager to go out and see if the train’s brought in any new products.</span><span style=""><span style="font-family: courier new;"> </span> </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">That's it!......</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-68511160904650715932008-02-29T20:56:00.000-08:002008-02-29T18:43:08.951-08:00What's the Deal with Cloning?<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I had to think about posting this because there is so much controversy around the issue of cloning. I had to write an essay for science class about 3 weeks ago about my view of cloning. I will post it below. I got a 100% on it, by the way. It's called "What's the Deal with Cloning?:</span><br /><br /></span> </div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="">People, every day, are discovering and learning new things, and one of these new discoveries is cloning.<span style=""> </span>Scientists have figured out a way to clone, or make a copy of, embryos, that could either be placed in a women’s womb to grow a baby, or be used to extract stem cells in the early stages of development, to be used for therapeutic cloning.<span style=""> </span>However, there is controversy around cloning because using the embryos for therapeutic cloning takes away lives.<span style=""> </span>If the egg used to make the embryo was fertilized naturally, it would create a human being.<span style=""> </span>Using it for therapeutic cloning squashes the chance of a person coming out of that embryo.<span style=""> </span>That is pretty much destroying a person’s life, and that person <i style="">deserves </i>the chance to live.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>If people did begin to clone other people or animals, there is a high risk that the baby born will have health issues, or die younger then normal.<span style=""> </span>We suspect this because that’s what happened to Dolly the sheep, a sheep clone created by Ian Wilmut in 1996.<span style=""> </span>Dolly was born pretty healthy, but it took 275 tries before her just to make her.<span style=""> </span>She also developed arthritis at a young age, which does not happen to naturally born sheep.<span style=""> </span>She aged faster then most sheep, and her life was put to an early end when she was 6 years old, because she developed progressive lung disease, and the scientists decided to euthanize her.<span style=""> </span>This is a short life for a sheep, whose life span is between 8 and 13 years.<span style=""> </span>One might question, after hearing about Dolly’s multiple health issues, and short life span, if we should really clone! Do we really want to clone humans? Destroying embryos until we get a real, healthy human, and putting it at risk of having diseases and a short life?<span style=""> </span>Think about it.<span style=""> </span>Obviously, it would be irresponsible to clone humans.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Many also question the use of stem cells for therapeutic cloning.<span style=""> </span>Stem cells are cells that are created in the early stages of the development of a human.<span style=""> </span>They are cells that can virtually become ANY cell.<span style=""> </span>People want to take eggs from women, “trick” them into developing by using electricity or chemicals, and take the stem cells from the embryo.<span style=""> </span>Yes, these stem cells could help many people, but they’re also <i style="">killing</i> other people’s chances of living; the people that <i style="">could </i>be created if the embryos were allowed to keep growing.<span style=""> </span>If the people that would be created could talk, don’t you think that they’d say “Let me live!”?<span style=""> </span>God created these people to live and breathe, so we shouldn’t have the right to clone them.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="">Imagine a future where parents who want to have children can chose their children’s traits.<span style=""> </span>Sounds wonderful, right?<span style=""> </span>Wrong!<span style=""> </span>You see, Jack and Lisa Nash, of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Englewood</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Colorado</st1:state></st1:place>, had a ‘designer baby’ born to them in 2003, a little boy named Adam.<span style=""> </span>The Nash’s first child, a daughter born in 2000, was diagnosed with a rare genetic disease called Fanconi anemia.<span style=""> </span>They needed to do a bone marrow transplant for Molly, or else she would die.<span style=""> </span>The only problem was, they didn’t have tissue identical to Molly, so they couldn’t do the transplant.<span style=""> </span>To cure this they created Adam.<span style=""> </span>With the help of a doctor, they created several dozen embryos and chose one with the proper genetic characteristics, like the correct tissue type that Molly needed.<span style=""> </span>The transplant went well, and Molly is now a healthy child, as well as Adam.<span style=""> </span>This was all wonderful for the Nash family, and families with similar problems, but what happened to the other dozen embryos the Nash’s didn’t choose?<span style=""> </span>They were most likely disposed of.<span style=""> </span>Lives, dozens of lives, were just thrown away, because they weren’t good enough.<span style=""> </span>What if people do that in the future, but not for medical issues?<span style=""> </span>What if they do it just so they can get the ‘perfect’ child?<span style=""> </span>More and more embryos will be thrown away, and more lives wasted.<span style=""> </span>More lives, people that want to live, but are tossed away like a bruised apples, apples that would taste so good, if people would just look over that one blemish.<span style=""> </span>Creating ‘designer’ babies is a selfish and unjust act.<span style=""> </span>God created people to reproduce naturally, and to be pleased with what they get.<span style=""> </span>We don’t need ‘designer’ babies in our society.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><span style=""> </span>Although cloning may help some lives, overall it just destroys lives that should live.<span style=""> </span>Scientists shouldn’t clone people because, like we realized with Dolly, there are many complications and there would not be many years of existence for the people who result of cloning.<span style=""> </span>They would also be seen as ‘outcasts’ in society because they weren’t created the way other people are, and this would separate the connection between people.<span style=""> </span>If every person was a clone, the diversity that makes the world so interesting wouldn’t be as large.<span style=""> </span>Creating embryos for their stem cells is dangerous work, and kills lives.<span style=""> </span>So, unquestionably, cloning should not be allowed.<span style=""> </span>It would create a twist in the world that is certainly unneeded.</span></span></p><br /><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Please, after reading this, if you are against cloning, please don't leave a crazy comment. I realize that cloning does have pros, but in this essay I wrote of the cons, and I stated my opinion. Please leave it at that.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-21333796671180423912008-01-31T20:17:00.000-08:002008-01-31T17:32:53.873-08:00Make Sure You VOTE in the New York Primary!<div style="text-align: center;"> <p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic; font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is a letter I had to write for Social Studies to our town newspaper. The goal was to convince people to vote in New York's primary on February 5th. GO VOTE!<br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Why don’t people vote?<span style=""> </span>I’m only a kid, but already I can see reasons why people <b style="">should</b> vote for our country’s leader!<span style=""> </span>We need to vote to make sure a leader gets chosen who is rightly suited for the job!<span style=""> </span>The said leader must know how to keep <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> safe and how to run it properly.<span style=""> </span>He or she must see not only what he wants for the country, but what us, the citizens, want, too.<span style=""> </span>These things should be their goal!<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Our president makes huge decisions for the <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">United States</st1:place></st1:country-region>!<span style=""> </span>You should go out and vote in the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">New York</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">State</st1:placetype></st1:place> primary on February 5<sup>th</sup> to make sure that a person gets picked to be the leader who will make the correct decisions!<span style=""> </span>The decisions that the president of the country makes, believe it or not, can and will affect you!<span style=""> </span>And if it for some reason doesn’t affect you, it will affect others-neighbors, spouse, children, friends, etc.<span style=""> </span>You want them to be happy, right?<span style=""> </span>Then you need to get out and vote, and make a difference in our country, and in the lives of others.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Besides, don’t even think about complaining about things in our government unless you voted, because otherwise you’re complaining about something that could be different.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:14;" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" >If you vote, you have a chance of living a happier life because you know that you are in good hands. If you are able to vote, go do it, on February 5<sup>th</sup>, and make a difference in you life and other’s. Let’s pull together and make a difference!</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:14;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> </div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-19850092223883605422008-01-14T20:38:00.000-08:002008-01-14T17:40:08.821-08:00Militia Puts a Bold End to Shay's Rebellion<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I wrote this for a Social Studies project about Shay's Rebellion. I was supposed to act like a reporter. Here it is:<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">The talk of the town yesterday afternoon was the end of the rebellion-Shays Rebellion. Daniel Shays, of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:city st="on">Pelham</st1:city></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:state st="on">Massachusetts</st1:state></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">, started his own rebellion along with farmers from three other counties in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">Massachusetts</st1:state></st1:place></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> last September (1786), in response to the American government raising the tax for farmers. Shays, a farmer himself, served in The Battle of Bunker Hill and the Battle of Saratoga. Farmers were still growing crops during the recent war, and the demand for their products was high because of it. In an effort to make as much money as possible, they bought more land, animals, seeds, etc., using loans. Now that the war is over, the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Massachusetts</st1:place></st1:state></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> government has raised their tax, to recover war debts.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> Farmer’s who can’t pay the tax are having land taken away. This has angered the farmers, including Shays, and they started a revolt. Armed with pitchforks and other farm tools they closed down courthouses in the western part of the state, thinking that if there were no courts they wouldn’t be taxed. The government threatened to kill anyone they captured who was a part of the revolt, but this didn’t faze the Americans. This made it worse. Last month, September, the rebels forced the state supreme court in the town of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Springfield</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> to shut down. Coming back a month later, they hoped to shut down a federal weapons warehouse. Yesterday afternoon, January 1787, troops held a battle with them, and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on"><st1:state st="on">Massachusetts</st1:state></st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">State</st1:placetype></st1:place></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> thinks this has put an end to it. We will see. They will continue to capture any rebels if they should find them, and hopefully this will put a stop to all this havoc. For now, Shays’ Rebellion seems to have come to a pause.</span><span style=""><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> </span> </span></span><br /></div></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-15182336975652185412008-01-04T20:03:00.000-08:002008-01-04T17:06:51.240-08:00Book Review on Bread and Roses, Too, by Katherine Paterson<p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I recently (December) had the task of reading a book for English, and having to write an online book review for it, with a recommendation included. I read the book "Bread and Roses, Too" by Katherine Paterson. I really liked it. Since I have nothing to post otherwise, this will be it. I warned you that I might post boring book reviews! :-) Below is my review and my recommendation.</span></span></span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Katherine Paterson’s “Bread and Roses, Too” is a historical fiction book that takes place during an infamous strike during the year 1912, in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Lawrence</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Massachusetts</st1:state></st1:place>.<span style=""> </span>The main character, Rosa Serutti, is a young Italian girl who lives with her mother, older sister, Anna and younger brother, Ricci, in a cramped apartment, that is barely heated, and that they have to share with other people as well.<span style=""> </span><st1:place st="on">Rosa</st1:place>’s mother and sister work in the one of the town’s factories, which is owned by a very wealthy man by the name of Billy Wood.<span style=""> </span>Rosa’s father had died a few years before, which caused <st1:place st="on">Rosa</st1:place>’s other family members to work in the mills.<span style=""> </span>They make very little money, and they have hardly enough food to live.<span style=""> </span>In the book, Mr. Wood suddenly lowers the amount of pay that the mill workers get, and this causes a strike.<span style=""> </span>No one will work anymore.<span style=""> </span>The strikers are even standing up to armed military boys, and <st1:place st="on">Rosa </st1:place>is petrified to find that even her mother is striking</span>.<span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place st="on"></st1:place><span style=""> </span>The author shows that <st1:place st="on">Rosa</st1:place> is afraid for her mother and sister by writing:</span><br /></p><div style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">She wanted to cry out a warning to Mamma, to Anna, to everyone.<span style=""> </span><i style="">What are you doing here?<span style=""> </span>They will kill you.<span style=""> </span>You’re nothing to them!<span style=""> </span>Nothing!<span style=""> </span></i>But the screams were strangled in her tight throat.<br /><o:p></o:p><span style=""><br /></span><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>In the midst of it, <st1:place st="on">Rosa</st1:place> meets a boy named Jake Beale, who also worked in the mills to earn money for his father and himself.<span style=""> </span>As he also striker, he chooses to live in the streets to avoid his cruel father, and he goes to drastic measures to survive.<span style=""> </span>When Rosa is sent to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Vermont</st1:place></st1:state> to stay with another family away from the strike, Jake sneaks on the train and begs to go with her.<span style=""> </span>She agrees, but half-heartedly, for she fears that the boy holds a terrible secret.<span style=""> </span>The author does a great job with this book by leaving the reader at an edge, waiting to see what will happen, and makes you curious to hear more about this awful time in American history.<span style=""> </span>This book is wonderful, and it captures you and keeps you reading it up to the end.<span style=""> </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(51, 204, 0); text-align: center;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Recommendation:</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(51, 204, 0); text-align: center;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I would most definitely recommend this book because I enjoy history and a little bit of adventure, or struggle, and this book really gives the reader adventure.<span style=""> </span>The way the characters have to live fascinates me, and it I find it interesting to see how the world once was.<span style=""> </span>It also makes me thankful for the good life that I live.<span style=""> </span>Though the book is kind of gruesome at parts, it really engages you and makes you feel like you are really living through <st1:place st="on">Rosa</st1:place>’s life.<span style=""> </span>I just couldn’t put this book down.<span style=""> </span>It came with me everywhere!<span style=""> </span>This book is different in from other books partly because of where and when it takes place.<span style=""> </span>I’m sure not many people know about the time in American when the strike happened, and because of that it makes the reader eager to read the book because they are curious.<span style=""> </span>It does include some unpleasant content, and one bad word every now and then, so I think I would recommend this book for readers twelve years old and up. I think people who enjoy a little adventure, realistic fiction, and historical fiction will, without a doubt, enjoy this book.<span style=""> </span>I certainly did!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"> </span><span style=""><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"> </span> </span></p>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-84289216581623694362007-12-31T18:25:00.000-08:002007-12-31T15:25:23.657-08:00My Apologies<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hello! I'm sorry I haven't posted any new stories, I searched for my 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> grade stories (which, as far as I know, were good back then, although if I read them now I'd probably find them boring) and I couldn't find them! They were supposed to be in my parent's loft-thing, and I had my brother help me up to find them, but all I accomplished was getting myself all dusty! I'll have to look for them in the basement, but I've checked before, and I'm pretty sure they aren't there. SO, you'll have to wait until I write a new story.<br />Have a Happy New Year! Did you know that RIGHT NOW it's already 25 minutes into the new year in Germany?!? Pretty cool, huh?<br />Check my horse's blog, I have a cool slide up there. It's at <a href="http://ridingdaisy.blogspot.com">http://ridingdaisy.blogspot.com</a><br />Leave a comment there, too!<br /></span></span></span></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-21842624771999050382007-12-23T21:05:00.000-08:002007-12-23T18:05:57.095-08:00Merry Christmas!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeirPvDhezUZtg3xRqK01-bx6aO3vAFSn1dhbhNi8pt7pntxtmEeztPsq7gxKUXtIxXewVMh4pd__CIL_z_wXMg212XXln0LGFv-yoE_rr0arDZFZq6HHRXWIPeGJlYgCzbGIOhQlQfoY/s1600-h/merrychristmas.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeirPvDhezUZtg3xRqK01-bx6aO3vAFSn1dhbhNi8pt7pntxtmEeztPsq7gxKUXtIxXewVMh4pd__CIL_z_wXMg212XXln0LGFv-yoE_rr0arDZFZq6HHRXWIPeGJlYgCzbGIOhQlQfoY/s400/merrychristmas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147322905228025650" border="0" /></a>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-9492868176276644992007-12-01T20:05:00.000-08:002007-12-02T12:12:27.811-08:00The Words that Changed her Life<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I wrote this story just this week. In our ELA Workshop class at school everyone was assigned the task of writing a "Betrayl Story"; A story on middle school betrayl between either friends, parents, siblingings, etc. I wrote this story. I normally don't write so depressing stories, but I had to, so here it is. (It was supposed to be a "Short Story". It's five pages. Is that short? lol)<br />It's called "<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">The Words that Changed her Life"</span><br /></span></span></span><div> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I know, it was hilarious!” Lilly </span><st1:place style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" st="on">Carmichael</st1:place><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> cried, as she tried to control her laughter.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Yeah, it was, and the way Sabrina looked when the chocolate milk soaked through her pants!<span style=""> </span>It was great!”, Lilly’s best friend, Kasey Welch, added.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The two friends were discussing that day’s lunch episode.<span style=""> </span>The most popular girl in school, Sabrina Cleary, had been dosed with a carton full of milk because of an ignorant boy who didn’t notice the milk tipping as he was throwing his lunch tray away.<span style=""> </span>The two 7<sup>th</sup> grade girls didn’t like to laugh at people, but this was just too good for them to ignore.<span style=""> </span>It was the highlight of the bus ride home.<span style=""> </span>They had been giggling joyfully the whole time.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“I heard someone got a picture of her with her totally surprised face on their cell phone, and they’re going to put it in the paper!” Kasey gushed.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>I don’t know, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…I mean, it’s okay to laugh over, but in the paper?!?” Lilly said uneasily.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>I guess you’re right…Oh, here’s your stop!<span style=""> </span>Bye Lilly, call me later!”</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“I will, bye Kas’!”</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Lilly gathered up her flute case and her backpack and stepped off the bus.<span style=""> </span>It was raining, so she ran quickly up to the front step of her quaint yellow house.<span style=""> </span>She stopped by the door to pet her orange tiger cat, Marley, who was sitting on a chair<span style=""> </span>under the porch roof and watching the rain.<span style=""> </span>“You make sure you go in soon, bud, it’s getting dark!”<span style=""> </span>She told him, and, with one last stroke on his soft fur, she headed into the house.<span style=""> </span>She stopped and dropped her bags on the ground and sighed, basking in the smell of warm muffins that her mother must have baked, and taking in the cheery red and green Christmas decorations.<span style=""> </span>She loved her mom and dad.<span style=""> </span>Her mom’s name was Stephanie, and she was a petite woman, with honey blond hair just like Lilly’s, and was very joyful and helpful all the time.<span style=""> </span>She was president of the Parent Teacher Organization at school (PTO), and she loved to plan parties and dinners for their family friends. Lilly’s dad’s name was Mark, and he was a tall, blond haired man.<span style=""> </span>He worked<span style=""> </span>at the local winery, and came home around 5:30 or 6 o’clock every night.<span style=""> </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Lilly walked straight ahead through the front hall, past their comfy lounge, as she liked to call it, on the right, and a guest bed and bath on the left.<span style=""> </span>She entered the kitchen and grinned at her mom, who had splashes of batter and flour all over her face.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hey, Mom, you look great!” Lilly joked, laughing.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“What, what’s wrong?<span style=""> </span>Is there something on my face?!” Her mother asked, oblivious.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yeah, just a bit of flour, batter, and blueberry juice.<span style=""> </span>So, is it blueberry muffin day today?”</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Mmm, hmm, I thought you might like some!<span style=""> </span>I know how you love blueberry!”</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Thanks, Mom, I’m gonna take a couple up to my room.<span style=""> </span>I have to study for a math test tomorrow and do the math homework, and the social studies teacher, Mrs. Perry, assigned tons of work, too”, Lilly told her mom, as she grabbed two muffins and a water bottle from the fridge and headed back down the hallway to the stairs.<span style=""> </span>The upstairs of their house wasn’t very big.<span style=""> </span>There was Lilly’s room, her mom and dad’s room, and two bathrooms, one connecting to each of the two rooms, as well as what Lilly’s mom called the “workroom”.<span style=""> </span>It was where they did all the ironing, planning, studying, etc.<span style=""> </span>Lilly picked up her bags from where they lay at the bottom of the stairs and ran up them, eager to finish her homework so she could read the new book she had found at the school library that day.<span style=""> </span>Lilly turned left at the top of the stairs and entered her well organized and decorated room.<span style=""> </span>She threw her things onto her comfortable, full sized sleigh bed with the pink and lavender striped quilts that matched her walls.<span style=""> </span>Glancing at the clock that hung over her mahogany wood desk on the opposite wall, she thought <i style="">Wow, it’s almost 5:30 already! Boy, I’d better get started!<span style=""> </span>Dinner’s always at 6:30 and I have a lot to do.<span style=""> </span></i>She took out her social studies folder and her math binder and headed over to her desk.<span style=""> </span>She flipped on her purple fringed desk lamp and sat down in her purple twirly chair.<span style=""> </span>A lot of things in her room were shades of purple.<span style=""> </span>It was her favorite color, which was why her mother had worked so hard the theme everything in that color.<span style=""> </span>She flipped the switch on her iPod speaker and twirled the volume dial up.<span style=""> </span>Broadway music floated out jovially.<span style=""> </span>Her mother was a Broadway play fanatic, and it was catching.<span style=""> </span>Lilly was getting used to listening to the lively, fun music.<span style=""> </span>She took out her math homework and got started.<span style=""> </span>She dove into the algebra work with enthusiasm, like an eagle pouncing on a mouse it just spotted on the forest floor.<span style=""> </span>She worked diligently, thinking through each step of the problem carefully.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Isolate the variable…I want ‘X’ by itself…now check…oops, it’s negative 5, not positive…</i>Suddenly she heard something.<span style=""> </span>Loud voices drifted into her room.<span style=""> </span>Familiar, unhappy, angry voices.<span style=""> </span>Even thought the voices were muffled, and hard to understand, Lilly knew who’s they were.<span style=""> </span>Her parent’s, precious mom and dad, were bickering <b style="">again!</b><span style=""> </span>Lilly always tried to ignore the fighting.<span style=""> </span>It had started about three months before.<span style=""> </span>First it was only every other day, a small annoyance her parents had over each other because of something that normally wouldn’t matter, but one of them would fight over this little thing, anyway.<span style=""> </span>Stuff like who left the cap off the toothpaste, or took the last piece of bread, when there was a whole new bag in the freezer.<span style=""> </span>It had, over the weeks, progressed to a fight every day, long quarrels that would end with her parents not talking to each other for a couple of hours, just assuring Lilly it wasn’t her fault, that it was the other parent’s fault.<span style=""> </span>Telling her “Oh, Lilly, it’s all Daddy’s fault”, or “Honey, Mommy’s just being a little rude, but I’ll stick with you”.<span style=""> </span>Lilly tried to drone out the voices bye turning up the volume, but it didn’t work.<span style=""> </span>She finished her math work and started her socials studies work, but she couldn’t concentrate on the Stamp Act, or George Washington, and who won the certain war.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Wait, did they stop?...I don’t hear them anymore!<span style=""> </span>Maybe it’s getting better!<span style=""> </span>That was a fast fight.<span style=""> </span>Not as long as all the other ones…<span style=""> </span>When I think of yesterday’s quarrel, oh man!<span style=""> </span>Mom forgot to put a kiwi in my lunch bag, and I happened to say it, and Dad blew up at her.<span style=""> </span>But they aren’t fighting now.<span style=""> </span>Maybe-</i></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Honey, would you come down for a minute?”<span style=""> </span>Lilly’s mom’s voice rang in her ears.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Coming!”<span style=""> </span>Lilly ran down the stairs, hoping beyond hope that her parents wouldn’t be mad at each other, hoping like a little girl hopes she’ll get a pony for Christmas.<span style=""> </span>She entered the comfy lounge, where both her parents were sitting.<span style=""> </span>Her mom patted the fancy fabric on the seat across from her.<span style=""> </span>Her mom sat in the love seat, with her father, and Lilly sat down in the maroon armchair indicated.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Lilly…we have something to tell you…”, Lilly’s dad’s voice sounded anything BUT happy, “Your mother and I haven’t been getting along very well lately, I’m sure you’ve noticed.<span style=""> </span>We had a chat today and we decided that…that…”, he uttered the words softly, “We’re getting a divorce”.<span style=""> </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Suddenly Lilly’s world shattered.<span style=""> </span>Divorce!<span style=""> </span>The word rang through her head, ringing, over and over again, chanting, bullying her.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Divorce, divorce, divorce, divorce.<span style=""> </span>NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!<span style=""> </span></i>Lilly felt her world attacking her all around, like she was in a battle zone.<span style=""> </span>She was battling crying, fighting the urge to cry and scream and yell at her parents, WHY, WHY, WHY?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!<span style=""> </span>She thought of people in school whose parent’s were divorced, how miserable they seemed at times…</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Honey, I know this is very hard for you, but we only want what’s best for you.<span style=""> </span>We will try very hard to make it as easy and possible.<span style=""> </span>You and I will move to-,” Lilly cut her mom off:</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, stop, I don’t want to hear the details!<span style=""> </span>Please!”, and with that Lilly burst into tears, big, fat tears, that gushed down her cheeks like the <st1:place st="on">Amazon River</st1:place>.<span style=""> </span>She stood and fled from the room, running blindly up the stairs, as the hot tears clouded her vision.<span style=""> </span>She stormed into the safety of her room, turned the lock on the door handle and let herself sink into her mattress, staining her blankets with tears.<span style=""> </span>She lay like that for a long time, crying and trying to think the whole situation over.<span style=""> </span>After awhile, she didn’t know how long, she pulled herself up and took her phone off it’s holder on her bed stand.<span style=""> </span>She dialed Kasey’s very familiar number.<span style=""> </span>She let a huge sob go as Kasey’s happy, calm voice drifted sweetly into Lilly’s ear.<span style=""> </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hey, what’s up?<span style=""> </span>Have you done your math homework yet?<span style=""> </span>It’s SO hard!<span style=""> </span>I don’t know number 12, can you help me Lilly?” Kasey stopped talking when she heard the quiet sobs echoing through her receiver.<span style=""> </span>“Lilly?<span style=""> </span>What’s wrong, oh no what happened?!?!” She paused, worried, waiting for Lilly to speak. </span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Kasey, my parent’s are getting a-a-div-divorce!<span style=""> </span>They just told me!!!<span style=""> </span>Mom and Dad were fighting and now, oh now!!!!!!!”<span style=""> </span>Lilly let the phone fall onto the mattress as she grabbed her fluffy, lavender pillow off the bed and breathed in the smell of it.<span style=""> </span>She heard Kasey talking through the phone:</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, Lilly, that’s terrible, I’m coming over, I’ll be there in a few minutes!”<span style=""> </span>She sputtered, and hung up the phone.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Indeed, in a few minutes she heard the frantic knock on her door, and a voice that sounded like Kasey’s calling her.<span style=""> </span>Lilly managed to pull herself up and unlock the door.<span style=""> </span>Kasey caught her in a tight embrace, and Lilly thought to herself <i style="">Thank goodness Kasey’s here!</i><span style=""> </span>She and Kasey talked for a long time, crying together, and then Lilly’s best friend suggested a sleep over.</span></p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">“Yeah, that’s a good idea, and I’ll bring my homework and help you with number 12”, Lilly croaked, through chapped lips and a red, tear streaked face. She smiled up at Lilly, glad to know that she had a friend to help her through this. No matter what happened now, she always had Kasey, and things would be okay. </span></span><i style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >I’ll be fine.<span style=""> </span>I’m going to be JUST fine…</span><o:p></o:p></i></p><br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8631275127918377962.post-27584311387066480352007-11-30T20:43:00.000-08:002007-11-30T17:45:20.344-08:00My First Post-Shrek Contest<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hey, it's my first post! I will paste a short(short, lol) scene below that I wrote for a class at school. We watched 30 seconds of a scene from the Shrek 2 movie, and had to write it in novel form. Here goes!<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">From November 2, 2007:</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span> <p style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >T</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >he creaking of the onion carriage’s wheels and the clip-clop of the two white horse’s hooves on the pale cobblestone pavement met Donkey’s ears as he gazed at the fairytale-like kingdom spread before him.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >He pranced around anxiously at the smell of well cooked cuisine wafting around him, setting a tranquil, hypnotized look in his eyes.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >It was a gorgeous, humid summer day with a beautiful, baby blue sky speckled with picture perfect white clouds that seemed to be made of 16 thousand tons of cotton, hanging over the city.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Luscious, vibrant green grass lined the roadside, setting a sweet smell into the air, and well kept, emerald colored pine bushes dotted the countryside.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >The chariot moved along like a tap dancer, over the rolling hills, and Donkey peered up at the sky overhead.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Bedazzled with the look of it all he breathed, “Woooow!”</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Ahead of their cart he spotted the delicately fashioned gate leading into the city, standing tall like a soldier waiting for the next command.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >An intricate, mahogany wood carved sign, the writing in the stone entrance, half covered with grape vines, and the lettering on the mountain beyond that seemed to touch the horizon all seemed to shriek the kingdom’s name proudly: “Far Far Away!”</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >They passed under the stone wall, with the orange and scarlet dyed flags above waving brilliantly in the lukewarm mid afternoon breeze, silhouetted against the sky.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Donkey tried to take in the sights all at once: the Starbucks coffee sign proclaiming it’s world famous coffee, the people selling maps off their small wooden pushcarts, the billboard that read “For all your happily ever after, Fairy Godmother”, but he was distracted by a large wagon rumbling by pulled by a team of horses.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Taking notice to an especially elegant, chestnut brown horse up front he called “Hey good looking, we’ll be back to pick you up later!” and grinned, letting his cracked, dirty gray teeth show.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >They took a turn and moved down the next alleyway, and Donkey began to get quite hyper, as if he had drank twenty cups of coffee for breakfast and was having a caffeine kick, because of all the sounds overwhelming him from all around. He heard the whirr of a well dressed policemen curtly blowing through his whistle to let people cross the street, the yelling of venders standing in front of stores trying to sell their items, and, even louder now, the melodious commotion of horse’s feet stepping in rhythm up the road.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Impressed by it all he shouted, “It’s going to be champagne wishes and caviar dreams from now on!”</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Shrek, meanwhile, had taken it all in and was dumbfounded at all the things going on.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >His comment, “We’re definitely not in the swamp anymore…” seemed to demonstrate the way he felt.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span></span><br /></div>Mellimaushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16673715214541094159noreply@blogger.com4