"Tesser"ing Feet...

   I spent several minutes yesterday laying on my bed with my feet extended upward toward the ceiling...
       My goal was for my feet to shoot upward and touch the ceiling and, hopefully, to stick there (kind of like spider man). My theory was that if my legs and feet could move around the space and time between my legs and the ceiling my feet would be able to touch my ceiling in the space in between my fan and the wall. My feet would "Tesser" for lack of a better word (for explanation read "A Wrinkle in Time"). Needless to say it did not happen... no matter what sort of motivation I gave my feet, space, or time. And, unfortunately, I don't think that practice makes perfect in this case.
                                                          -KC-

Cap and Frown...

     It's the last day of school for me. I have cleaned out my desk, turned in all of my papers, now all I have to do for the next two hours is play around on my computer.
We watched a movie in class, Joyful Noise... but it's over. I really have reached my limit of productive things to do today so I have decided that I am going to write about graduating. I'm not graduating this year, but my best friend Krista is. She has taken the ACT several times, applied to schools and for scholarships, and even purchased the cap and gown. The ceremony is actually tomorrow.
We are pretty much useless at this point in the graduating process because all we can do is bawl... I will be alone for my senior year this August and she will (hopefully) be at College of the Ozarks or OBU. Both of these schools are several miles away. Like a couple hours drive in a car... long enough to sleep during the drive but not far enough away to fly... the frustrating torturous middle.
I made her a scrapbook and we are even having a party at her house. We are gonna watch movies and exchange gifts and eat and cry like little babies.... It's gonna be so much fun! Cannot wait... :(
I can't imagine when it is my turn. I can't see myself in college and out on my own. I say that I can't wait to get out when I'm around my buds... but I'm not so sure. I couldn't even keep my goldfish alive...
And I am getting really crappy advice... My aunt told me that when I move into my first apartment that I should keep like a baseball bat or something handy... this scares me. No... no advice I have received has calmed my nerves...
All I know is that this next school year is gonna really stink...
                                                                          -KC-

"...I'm not all there myself."

Cheshire Cat: If I were looking for a white rabbit, I'd ask the Mad Hatter.
Alice: The Mad Hatter? Oh, no no no...
Cheshire Cat: Or, you could ask the March Hare, in that direction.
Alice: Oh, thank you. I think I'll see him...
Cheshire Cat: Of course, he's mad, too.
Alice: But I don't want to go among mad people.
Cheshire Cat: Oh, you can't help that. Most everyone's mad here.
[laughs maniacally; starts to disappear]
Cheshire Cat: You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself.

Much Madness is divinest Sense

By Emily Dickinson 1830–1886 Emily Dickinson

Much Madness is divinest Sense —

To a discerning Eye —

Much Sense — the starkest Madness —

’Tis the Majority

In this, as All, prevail —

Assent — and you are sane —

Demur — you’re straightway dangerous —

And handled with a Chain —

 

 My grandparents are very curious people... as I've told you, I live in a small town in Oklahoma called Westville. I have to say, and I might be biased, that I think for a small town we are doing a pretty good job of beating the stereotype... However, there are a few of us, most of them older, that have trouble adapting to the times. My grandparents are two of them. My papa still has my grandma wait on him, and he makes sure that I am aware that my duties as someones future wife will be to wait on them like Grandma does him.
Now don't get me wrong Grandma is just as bad. I was going to wear converse to my Jr. Prom... until she found out. I got a ten\fifteen minute lecture about how this was unlady like and inappropriate. They are very old fashioned.
So, this in mind, I suppose that it shouldn't have surprised me when, after I told them about a book I had just read (the main character had schizophrenia), they blanched.  You see I loved that book, and, believing that all of us are a little crazy\mad in our own way, related to the main character. This worried them. They didn't say exactly why, but I assume that it is because they don't want me associating with "different" people. They really are the product of their generation.
I am not sure what their definition of madness is... I think that it is someone who is different than they are. Grandma saw a lady one day on T.V who was bald, by choice, and went on about it off and on for like thirty minutes. She just couldn't understand why a woman would shave off all of her hair willingly. I tried to explain that some people do that, but she just wouldn't listen to me.
Now, I love my grandparents. I don't agree with them most of the time, but I love them. However I have to disagree with them on this. I don't think that crazy people are so rare.
You see, I think that we all are quirky, my grandparents included.
In Much Madness is Divinest Sense Dickinson is basically saying that the definition of crazy depends on those who buck the system... those who are not in perfect step with the majority are the crazy people. And in one of my favorite books, Alice in Wonderland, The Cheshire Cat has an interesting opinion. That everyone you talk to is crazy. Some more than others, yes, but everyone, all the same. And by the end of Alice's journey, you can find a little bit of madness in her as well.
I have found that the weirdo's are usually the wise ones.
There is a quote that I love by Mark Twain that says this,

Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.

This quote relates to the poem by Dickinson. Maybe the best side to be on is the one that everybody turns their nose at. Now, some could use this as an accuse to do crap-head stupid stuff, but you know what I mean when I say that following the crowd usually isn't a good idea.
What about Robert Frosts, The Road Not Taken?

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.      

 Am I a cheesy kid or what? Its true, I am, but here's the thing. This is still true. I don't know how many times I let someone else get bashed because I couldn't break from the mold. I think that most of us do this. But I suppose that this makes sense, most of us would be the majority...
                                                                     -KC-

Chill Pills and Burnouts

      I have always had a strange way of looking at life. My thoughts are almost never lined up with the thoughts of others. If you ever need an out-of-the-box, no-question-about-it-its-unique opinion on an issue, ask me. I CAN deliver... Most usually I over think things and end up with a crazy over the line answer to my problems... this only stresses me and the people around me out. The hardest thing for me to do is to just let myself chill out and not worry about things. I see other people do this at school and places, true most of them have like D's and F's in classes, but they don't even worry about that! Some people can be successful and never try hard... I am not one of these people. For an almost Seventeen year old girl, you would think that I would be less of a spazz than I am. Sometimes I really think that I am an old lady trapped in a teens body.  However, I have been training myself to be a little bit calmer. Aside from the important stuff where you have to be at least a little stressed or your not doing it right, like school, I am forcing myself to take a chill pill. Take last weekend: Our town was having a burnout. It was loyalty day. For those of you who don't know what loyalty day or a burnout are let me explain. Loyalty Day is where all the country folk in the small town of Westville get together, set up booths and stands and sell various items, for instance, our church set up a grill and a couple of ice chests and sold pop, burgers, and hot dogs ( raising money for camp). Then all the guys and a select few girls get their trucks and vintage cars with nice rims and destroy their tires and drive like maniacs to impress their potential mates and\or to make other dudes jealous (this is the burn out part).
I was set up with my church, making change and keeping track of the money. It was awesome, I got to sit there with a big bag of money, pretend I was rich, and I didn't have to leave my lawn chair. I had a Pepsi and a hot dog... I was a happy girl. Then I realize I hadn't seen my little brother. I shouldn't say little, he's fourteen and going on six feet. Not quite there yet. Anyway, earlier that day he had stalked off with his band friends near the front door of the school to get his saxophone and walk to the community center for the parade portion of Loyalty Day (he was marching). I assumed that he would find our booth after marching and help us (he had to raise money for camp as well). He did not do this. As if this wasn't enough, I realized , with a start, that his cell phone was at home charging next to the T.V... He didn't have my dads new phone number memorized. At this point I was on the verge of hyperventilating.
Several explanations as to where he could be floated into my mind:

1. He has been kidnapped, and like the main character in my new favorite T.V show Awake, I will have to use clues from my dreams to find his location. I will also have to purchase a gun and learn how to shoot because the perpetrator must be delt with.
2. He is out behind the school kissing some girl... (I will also need a gun for this one).
3. He has found a way to contact my dad and is now safe at home in his bed, playing bloody video games and fighting dragons... (this is the least likely)...

Just before I had decided to go to walmart and get a gun, then google how to use it, I saw his best friend walking down the street in the crowd of people, his sister at his side. They were eating funnel cake and laughing about something. Then it hit me. Why isn't Lawrence (my brother) with him? If Lawrence were going to hang out with someone at the parade\burnout it would be this kid. So, of course, I yell at Jesse (the friend) to come over to my booth. My best friend Krista looks at me like I am crazy... this is probably true. I have often considered that my quirkiness is more than that... topic for another day.
I should tell you that I had never met this Jesse kid before this moment. I just knew who he was because Lawrence pointed him out at school. As his head turns to see whose yelling at him the kid spots me and looks at me like I have grown a third head and reluctantly, with a tight grip on his sisters arm, walks slowly toward the crazy lady in the lawn chair.
Once he is a safe ten yards away from my chair, far enough away that he can run if I attack but close enough that he can hear me talk at a normal human volume, he says, "Yeah?"
I respond with a breathless, stress filled, "Wheres Lawrence?"
"I don't know, I guess he went home."
This was not good enough for me. "You guess? Did you see him go home?"
"The last time I saw him he was getting in the car." My heart stopped. I was trying to remember walmarts number for my gun purchase.
"What car?"
At this point, Jesse sighs, so much for my first impression. "Your car. He slid the front seat by your dad, so I'm gonna guess it was your car." His words dripped with sarcasm. I didn't like this kid... he was rude. However despite my irritation with Mr. Snot bag relief flooded through me. I thanked Jesse and he almost ran with his sister in tow... So see? I'm getting better... I never would have been that calm in that situation before I decided to chill....
                                                                           -KC-

Where Does Wisdom Come From?

     "Some things don't matter much. Like the color of a house. How big is that in the overall scheme of life? But lifting a person's heart--now, that matters. The whole problem with people is...they know what matters, but they don't choose it...The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters.”
― The Secret Life of Bee's by Sue Monk Kidd

                               I absolutely love this book. I have just finished it for the millionth time. Really it is a book everyone should read. Every girl anyway. There are some really amazing life lessons in it, its like even the simplest things seem profound when coming from the mouth of August Boatright. As an avid reader, you sometimes come across a character who is so real and to whom you can look up too. I have come across a few of these that I love. August Boatright in The Secret Life of Bee's, Alice Henderson in Christy (Also a book everyone needs to read), Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird, and lastly, this is probably the one you will find most silly before I explain, Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter series. These four characters are my all time favorite characters in my all time favorite books. These books are all very different with very different messages, but there is a central and key theme that resonated with me in each and every one of these books. Love. Now, if you have read one or two, if not all, of these, then you may understand but I think that I need to explain myself somewhat. These characters all have something in common. They have a person or group of people who almost, if not outright, idolize them. They are great and wise and they are savvy to the secrets of the world. You could not imagine one of them doing something ridiculous and stupid. Their hearts are conceivably pure and they are just plain impressive to all us screw ups.
Bu that isn't why I like them.
The reason that I love these characters is not because they are perfect, on the contrary, I like them because they aren't. August Boatright lived in a messed up, broken situation. As the oldest of three sisters she was placed into the position of leader. She delt with a sister who is emotionally broken, a sister who is bitter, and is confronted with an even greater struggle when Lilly Owens comes to town (I wont say any more for those of you who haven't read it), as you can see, she is probably stressed. However, she takes it in stride. She responds calmly and speaks truth to those in need of it. Certainly a wise woman. As the quote says, no matter what emotional state it puts her in, August Boatright chooses what matters. From the outside she looks perfect, on the inside shes not. Nothing is.
And for Alice Henderson... She is a highly wise and thoughtful. She is a Quaker who hands wisdom and truth out like candy. Like it is a wonderful life changing secret. Which it is... To Christy Huddleston, she is perfect and knows about life. The perfect Christian. However, when Alice was younger, a teen, she was raped by a man who was supposedly wise and revered for his theological knowledge. She had his baby and spoiled that baby to the point of her running away from the life Alice lived. She wasn't perfect at all. But she was wise... it didn't diminish her knowledge.
Atticus Finch needs no explanation and if you haven't read it you need to get on the ball. However just in case: He is a good father and he is really a good man all around. But he lost his wife and is no stranger to pain and loss and questioning life.
Lastly Albus Dumbledore. If you haven't read the book you have seen the movies (which aren't as good and don't give you as much info) and you know the feeling Dumbledore gives off. He is old and wise and... well... basically, he knows whats up. But he wasn't always like that. He could be responsible for the death of his sister, he was very full of himself as a younger man, and he used to be power hungry (if you didn't know any of this read the books :) hehe). Yet he knows quite a bit and seems like the perfect man. Caring and loving.  
So how do these people who had messed up lives and broken families end up being known for their wisdom and ability to love? How did they turn out so right when you, if your like me, see yourself screwing up and lashing out at every turn? And how can we end up like them in the end?
You see, I look up to these characters. I would be happy if I could age like Alice and find myself like her in the end. If I could be a parent someday like Atticus, or teach about life like Dumbledore, or love like August Boatright I would be beyond content. But how do you gain wisdom? How do you become like that even in the midst of a messed up life like Alice and August, buried in deep pain like Atticus, or covered in a thick and suffocating guilt like Dumbledore? I myself have experienced a buffet of all of these things and more. I have been able to sample the whole selection and find that the last thing I feel is wise.
Is there a secret that we're not being told? Are there magic words you have to whisper? I don't think that there is... Personally I think that pain breeds wisdom and making mistakes give you answers. I think that we all, at some point, face the truth or our lives and have to accept what's there. We can take our mistakes and move forward, always changing, or we can let ourselves be pulled into doubt and self loathing. We can accept life and the crap it throws at us, or we can just give up.
The message here, I believe, is not, "You need to be perfect to be wise, and you can never mess up.", but "There is no perfect on earth. Wisdom is the opposite of perfect. If someone is wise, you can bet that they know pain. And, unfortunately, pain is a part of life."
So, earlier I said that the word love was the message that resonated with me. It may seem simple minded and naive of me but I think that love is required for everyone and the world doesn't work without it. All of these characters are wise, but, and I think that these two characteristics go hand in hand, they love people. Alice volunteers her time and dives right into the messy, sad parts of the world so she can help. She exposes herself to the pain of others and feels it with them.
Dumbledore is like this as well. He sacrifices of himself for others and he believes in the good of people, a form of love. Atticus loves and August certainly loves beyond reason.
Maybe in order to become wise we have to love and sacrifice. It seems that we must become selfless. A difficult task indeed... But ,really, would it not be worth it?
                                               -KC-

The Beef Jerky Conundrum

            Beef Jerky has to be the most disgusting looking food ever. I look at the gross looking little pieces of dried out beef and I think, what is in this? It can't all be beef... It can't. But then I taste it and stop caring because its amazing.  I say this because a friend of mine gave me the last few pieces out of her bag and as I was sitting there, with my Pepsi and bag of jerky, a question began to gnaw at my mind. What was that little white packet in the bottom of the bag? It clearly says do not eat... I got that much, I'm not retarded, but I searched all over that little packet and could not find it's purpose anywhere on its surface. So, of course, and out of boredom more than anything else, I went on a cyber-adventure! I automatically assumed that it was too keep the product fresh, but there had to be more to it than that. It was toxic, so I couldn't ingest it... what was it made of? My second thought after "What was it?" was, is it safe to eat beef jerky? Could it give me cancer or poison my bloodstream? If it is toxic then why is it in the food? This was certainly a conundrum worth looking into. So, like any true member of the 21st century, I turned to Google. I entered a few keywords into the search engine and pressed "Search". I was rewarded with 5 sites trying to sell me beef jerky, 3 sites, including a blog, telling me how to make beef jerky, and finally I found a link titled, "Silica Gel Packets: How Dangerous are these Inserts?".
"Silica Gel packets, eh?" hmmmmm...... So I I clicked on the link. I discovered that the gel packets are found in everything, including dry foods, shoe boxes, cell phones, camera cases, cat litter, medicine bottles, etc. I'm seriously thinking of taking beef jerky out  of my diet at this point of my cyber-adventure.I felt this way until the article stated that the white stuff was okay. If, for some reason, you decided to eat it anyway (the chick who sued McDonald's and the guy that is stupid enough to eat it anyway could get together) it would only cause you to be extremely thirsty and would most likely not cause you any severe medical harm. However, my theory is a little bit more out there. Did any of you watch that episode of Dr. Who back in the Tennant days called "The Waters of Mars"? For those of you who haven't let me clarify. In this episode, Tennant goes to mars in the future. The people on the planet are being infected by a water creature that inhabits its victims and makes them crazy for water. It was gross in a cool way! They shoot water at the uninfected, thus infecting them. They become dried out and... hmmm... I'm having trouble explaining it. Here's a picture. I realized that these symptoms are just like those of the monsters on this show.The people on Mars who got infected were explorers. They were astronauts in space. Of course they were eating

Gross, Huh?

dried foods. Maybe it wasn't an alien that caused these people to turn into monsters... Maybe it was the Gel packets in their food... (Insert gasp here).
Really though... It makes perfect sense. These monsters were incredibly thirsty. The article I found clearly states that the main symptom of ingesting the gel is extreme thirst, also the gel is used to keep the product dry and fresh. Do you see this guys face? Defiantly dried out...
I think that I am onto something here! Can you imagine? I bet the creators of Jack Links feels stupid now...
Its almost enough to make me stop eating beef jerky. But lets face it. I'm a consumer. Here's an example, I absolutely hated the first Halo game. I thought that it was boring and, I'm sorry for all you fans, dumb. But I continued to buy them, assuming that the next one would be better. I did this for years and when ODST and Reach came out I bought those too. Why, you may ask? In a word, tradition. I had all the others. Why not buy these too (You should know that I ended up loving Reach)? So, when I am told that Coke will dissolve my stomach and give my ulcers, I continue to drink it, when I am told that the movie version of Hunger Games sucks I buy the six dollar ticket and watch it anyway, and when I realize that beef jerky will cause me to become a water obsessed, ugly monster... I eat it anyway. I mean really, it might actually be cool to be a monster. Who knows what monsters think about? Maybe they like it...
Nah, who am I kidding, unless your the rich evil villain like Lex Luther, you probably don't enjoy being a monster. This really is a vicious circle isn't it? Is there no way for me to win besides eating soggy jerky?! Is there no end to the horror!
So there you go folks... Eat jerky at your own discretion!
                                                             -KC-

"The Hills are Alive..."

         Just in case your wondering, yes... I did go home and watch old episodes of Fringe. Writing about just it put me in a Fringe mood. I tried to figure out what mine and my brothers doubles names would be. Like Olivia's double is Folivia and Walters is Walternate. How could you do Kacie?... I have no idea and I came up with nothing... If ya have ideas post em!
      Did any of you play with the zipper on Google yesterday? Because it distracted everyone, including me, in my class at ICTC for a full five minutes. I hate to admit it, but I am very easily amused...

So I have more of my story written, I will put it below as always. I had some trouble with this next excerpt because that was as far as I had planned. What you are about to read is new... There was no outline for it (honestly there hardly ever is) and was the product of several cups of coffee, brainstorming, and my crazy imagination. Oh wait... I guess nothings new... never mind.

Before I get into the story, however, I would like to talk about something. I don't think I've ever talked about this, but I am attending High School and a Tech School. I go to Westville, OK Public schools and Indian Capital Technology Center in Stilwell, OK (ICTC). I absolutely love  ICTC because despite the fact that I am a teen I get more freedom and responsibility. The teachers at ICTC expect me to be responsible and I, weirdly enough, love that. However, unfortunately, I still have to attend High school. No getting out of it. So, of course, I still have to take EOI's (End of the year Instruction). They suck. I don't know how many of you reading this have to take them, but they really are awful. At Westville, you are required to pass a certain amount of EOI's before you are allowed to graduate. They are hard and boring and I really do hate them. I always take a book for when I finish my test and I always end up reading for an hour and a half... It's really boring. Anyhoo, back to the point. I had to take one today. It was the essay portion of my English test. Writing has always come naturally to me so I have never failed an English or essay assignment. I always pass with flying colors and receive an above average score. I also end up sitting there board, reading a book for about two hours.

 Actually before I say this you should know that the pamphlet the teachers read before the test says not to discuss the test to anyone... I don't remember signing anything but who knows i could have... read at your own discretion, hehe.

Now you can Imagine my surprise when today I get a stupid prompt (the subject I have to write about) and have absolutely not idea how to respond to it or how to put it into five paragraph format. You see I was told before the test that it would be a persuasive essay. I would have to give three reasons why i like or did not like\want something or why I think that we should do something different.. Its always something like that... This was an Expository essay. I had to write about how I would use a years vacation from school in between high school and college. How do you put that in a five paragraph format? Intro, body (3 paragraphs), and conclusion... I ended up putting three things that I would want to do (in this case places that I would want to travel), then my body was a paragraph per place (Italy, Ireland, and Austria), then my conclusion. The conclusion is always the hardest part for me.             

The Hills are Alive..."

I decided that I wanted to eat amazing food in Italy, to just hang out in Ireland (I love their accent), and then I wanted to run around on the hills like in The Sound of Music in Austria and sing, "The hills are alive, with the sound of music" at the top of my lungs.It would be a pretty good year, however, I'm not sure if I met the requirements for the essay...
        Untitled still has no name can ya tell? I just don't know (sigh)...
Here it is, Untitled Continued:
             Annie was ushered into the room quickly, the hands of her nurse pushing firmly into her back. She forced her thoughts about the girl to the back of her mind as fear pushed it's way forward taking over control of her concentration and her thoughts.
She saw the nurse from earlier. She wondered about the girl he liked and if he had gotten to see her during his lunch hour. By the expression on his face, she doubted it. Dr. Sinclair was there as well, which scared her even more. She was put into a chair and told to remain quiet. All of their voices (out loud and otherwise) were frantic and busy and stressed out. She wondered why until she picked out one voice, the burger guy. His voice was panicked... but not like everyone else's. He was more nervous than confused. He kept looking around and peaking over his shoulder every once in a while. She usually tried to avoid reading peoples thoughts if she could help it, but this time she pried into his mind. He stole her file. He was planning on looking through it and seeing where she came from! She couldn't contain herself; she bounced in her seat, her eyes growing wide... He could tell her who she was! She tried to catch his eyes but he wouldn't look her way. In fact he avoided eye contact with anyone. He had stolen her file... why was  he interested in why she was here? She saw images of Sinclair and the nurse, Ethan, discussing her vision of the little girl, which hadn't stopped, the girl was still there beside her, Sinclair had made Ethan mad because he planned to make money off of her. Of course Annie had always known this. It was practically all he thought about when he was around her. At first, before she had gained the ability to read minds, she'd misinterpreted his joy. She thought (she was young) that Sinclair had just liked her. At that time she was cooperative, when she had realized other wise, she just stopped. He hadn't liked that. So he made her. He used cruel methods to make her behave, like electric shock and revoking her meals... he was not above starving someone to gain the results he wanted.
After a stern look from her nurse she resumed sitting still and being quiet.

                Sorry, that's all I have at the moment. Thanks for your time :)!

                                                                          -KC-

My Brain Sucks at Chess...

           I just did something bad. Well, bad for me. It doesn't really affect anyone else. Here's the excruciating and painful story. Reader discretion is advised.
I will begin by telling you that I love the T.V show 'Fringe'. When our love affair began it wasn't one of those instances where you see the commercials, think, "Well that looks good.", watch it and love it. No, I thought that it looked stupid and uninteresting when it first came out. I was unimpressed and just never watched it. My brother, on the other hand, watched it and loved it, so when it came out on DVD he rented the first season and watched the episodes ten billion times apiece. He eventually won me over and got me to watch an episode with him while we were eating lunch. From the first time Peter Bishop (Joshua Jackson) hit the screen I was hooked. After I got over how hot Peter was I realized that I was enjoying


Joshua Jackson

the story line. Holy crap I was getting into it! Well, of course my first instinct was to pretend like it was awful in front of my brother. I could not let him know that he was right. But I had to finish the season because I was officially hooked. So what could a girl do but wait until her brother was asleep and steal it from his movie shelf in his room? Needless to say he caught me. I got over the embarrassment and finished the season in less than a week. Then came season two and season three. The show was filled with crazy ups and downs and drama and some really disgusting and graphic murders\biological warfare stuff... Walter came into the show and instantly became my favorite character (this was in season one)! Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) was my second favorite, what girl doesn't support the super strong and smart female lead? As you can see I was addicted.

Anna Torv

John Noble

    Now the last episode that I saw was the conclusion of season three. I'm not sure why we didn't watch season four on T.V but we didn't. I guess there was never time, and by the time they began five It was too late... I was too far behind.
     The painful part is that four days ago was Friday, and Friday is when Fringe comes on. I watched it... I experienced a very weak moment and I just couldn't make my finger push the channel button on the remote. It wouldn't budge. For that five seconds of indecision my finger remained poised above the button, my brain saying, "Change the Channel... NOW!" My heart saying, "Just watch long enough to see if Peter and Olivia are back together..." And so it went for five whole seconds. A heated chess game between my heart and my head. My heart won. I watched the entire episode. Beginning to end. It confused the crap out of me.
And, of course, it doesn't end there. In the episode I watched last Friday Peter and Olivia's daughter (I knew they got together) and her friend got Walter and Peter out of a block of amber, the Observers took over earth (I'm convinced that cows are in cahoots with the Observers), and I was going crazy!!!!! Ingrid (their daughter) has to be influenced by cortexiphan like Olivia in some way because she was able to hide her thoughts from the Observers... My theory is that the drug is somehow hereditary and is in her bloodstream too. Also, and I cannot stress enough how much this confuses me , William Bell is back...?!? How the heck did that happen?! Wasn't he dead the last time I saw him? Ummm... yes... yes he was. The last time Bell was in an episode I've seen he was in Olivia's consciousness. He made her drink soul magnates or something and his soul was drawn to her by the sound of a bell. You can see how far behind I am. So what happened? Did they reanimate his body somehow? Because that was all of William Bell, not just his soul, that I saw stuck in amber.
          As most of you know, once you have begun doing something your not supposed to, stopping gets harder and harder... like the proverbial child, looking through poorly guarded Christmas presents in his parents closet, I couldn't stop looking for updates on Fringe. I googled it... that has to be the most often used phrase of Americans today. "Google it"... Our answer for everything.
I found way more information than I needed. The web does not save you from yourself. It enables you... big time. I found a full overview of Fringe season one through four. I was happy until I realized that I was spoiling the whole thing.
And in order to stop myself I decided to blog about it. And here we are.
You have undoubtedly realized by now that I have no willpower. I am a weak, weak, woman. I will probably have to go home now and watch some Fringe re-runs to pacify myself.
                                                                   -KC-

We All Love a Good Pretense...

“There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying.”
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

I'm not  sure what sort of impression I give off as I write on this blog. So some of you may be surprised when I tell you that I absolutely love a good Sarah Dessen novel. For others, it may not surprise you at all, and I'm going to work on the assumption that if your reading this, you care. I think the main reason that I love her books is because she is very real. Her characters go through a ton of crap and some of them, if not all, make bad decisions, however, they come out of it... I wont say okay or the same... but they are more mature and they learn from the circumstance. We all know that life sucks and crap happens, but we don't always take the time to learn from it. I love the fact that Dessen novels give you permission to yell and kick and scream, but show you that light at the end of the tunnel. And there is one.
When she writes a story, you will always find yourself in a character. Always. I do every single time. And half the time it isn't even the main character or even her friend, but the ones on the side. All of the characters are real. In "Keeping the Moon" I most related to Mira... I just clicked with her character and felt a connection to her story.
The reason I even bring up Sarah Dessen novels is to tell you that I just finished one. It was titled 'Just Listen'. It was amazing and, though it was not my absolute favorite (The Truth About Forever was my favorite), it was compelling and satisfying just like all the others. The quote that I entered above really caught me though.
Specifically the part where she says, "There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart..." At first I read that and didn't understand it at all. "The world gets quiet..." What on earth did that mean? The world is never quiet... But then I thought about it. She isn't necessarily talking about the world as I was thinking about it. With cars speeding by and an overabundance of people and things and hurts and issues... I think that she was talking about when you struggle and hurt, you lie and you hide, you deny and you ignore life (the world she was describing) and then suddenly life catches up with you. You find yourself tired and sick of running, the truth is out. And that is when you have to look at yourself, your heart,your intentions, your actions, your character, and the product of your struggle and think about it. Do you recognize yourself? Is the person that's there the same as the one you have been pretending to be? If you had only the real you to go by, only what was left after every pretense is stripped away, would you know who you were? Would others? And even more, does any ones opinion matter but your own?
Who do you answer to?
I thought about these things and had no answer. I mean, I'm a Christian, so I try to live for God and to walk by his principles. Try being the operative word. I will not tell you that I am perfect. I'm a sinner just like everyone else, I don't claim to be anything better, God doesn't ask me to be perfect... but when I thought about this quote, when I consider my own failures and secrets, I wasn't sure where I was in it all. Whether or not I would be able to recognize myself. There is a part of me, deep down, that feels that I wouldn't. The truth is, despite how others view me, despite the image I try to give off, I have done like the characters in a Dessen novel. I have kicked and screamed and yelled at God. I have questioned and spit in the face of everything that I always claimed to be. I walked off on my own and still pretended to be the good Christian Girl who is never wrong. In essence, I have walked the path of the hypocrite. But once I strip down to only me. Once I see myself as I really am and I look at the bare minimum, only what's there, I realize that perfect isn't what God or anyone else that matters to me wants. Being perfect is not what will help me in life. Perfection is a myth. Like August Boatwright in "The secret Life of Bee's" said, "Theres nothing perfect. Only life."
So once the façade I create has slipped away, whats left? Theres me, the girl who likes to wear old lady sweaters with matching knit vests, in her worn out but amazing high top shoes all together with her robot shaped ear rings. She has short hair, and a love for writing, living for God as best she can. Giving him what she has... Theres the girl who loves to  garage sale on Saturday afternoons with, you guessed it, her Memah, and the girl who loves reading, well, anything. She has a temper and a big mouth and an abundance of other flaws, she loves simple things, and is a sucker for a good sappy novel, she's me...

                                                                -KC-

Tap Tap Tap... Is this thing on?

 Lets play a game.

I'll say a word\phrase then you fill in the blank with the first word\phrase that pops into your head.

Okay, ready? Here goes

Prom:

High School:

Drivers Licence:

Okay have you filled in the blanks? Now let me give you the answers.
Prom: Would be awesome if I could drive.

High School: Sucks. Because I cannot drive.

Drivers licence: Need one. So that I can drive.

Prom is tomorrow. My best friend, who I am going with, is 18. She has no licence. But not because she is a bad driver. Her mom just wont take her to go get it. We are going to prom with another friend of ours. She can drive. But she cant go out of the small town of Westville, OK. Westville only has three restaurants that were nice enough to ditch the drive through window. Other than a couple fast food places, 3 nice places to eat, the school, a movie rental place, and cows, we have nothing. Aside from churches. I love Jesus, but for a town as small as ours we have way to many churches. No one can agree on anything so inevitably our churches split off to become two churches. Its like small town biology. In fact the only after prom party that will be Alcohol and sex free will be held at my church. We will be going. I will be sleeping on the couches in the youth room. There is this amazing chair that squishes in when you sit in it. Its like a cloud. I absolutely love  it. To be completely honest I have trouble staying awake during lessons when I get to sit in it. It's the chair everyone argues and fights over. In fact me and a friend of mine have this competition going to see who can get to the chair first. She is winning because I have an inability to show up anywhere on time, let alone early. So she gets to church early, she gets the chair. It sucks.

Anyway, back to my driving... actually, my lack thereof. I can haul stuff out into the Field with my papas truck, but even that is illegal. I could get in trouble for it... if the police officers hadn't been teaching their own children to drive like that before they had a licence as well. We never lack Idiosyncrasy's in Westville. However, I cannot legally drive on the streets of Westville without a licenced driver in the passenger seat. As you can see my dilemma is this, What on earth can we do in Westville before prom? We will eat at Melly's. Try to guess what type of food they serve. Really, you wont guess... Its Mexican. I don't think anyone in Melly's is actually Mexican. Again, Idiosyncrasy's... Westville makes no sense... but we have fourish hours to kill so we have to do more than just eat.

Now, I should tell you that I am a Junior, and my 18 year old friend is a senior. This is her last year and then I will be all alone surrounded by people that I consider merely 'friends'. Needless to say there will be no one that I 'click' with... no BEST friend. Just, acquaintances. Nice people, just not overly exciting and fun. It's going to be depressing. So this is our last big thing together before we hardly ever see each other. Obviously not a night that is appropriate for throwing rocks at trees to kill time. Our original plans were to go to Fayetville (the closest town with a coffee shop and a good movie theater), play Laser tag, eat at Penguin Ed's(they have awesome fried pickles), then drive back to Westville for prom. It was going to be fun until Kristen's parents told her she couldn't leave town. Now we could be bad kids and not listen, but that hardly ever works out for anyone.  So we wont do that. THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING! I could lie about my age forge some documents and get my licence tomorrow. But that plan depends on a talent for forgery, an ability to look older than I am, and, again, someone to drive me... crap (also this is reverting back to being a bad kid, which I already scratched off my list as a possibility). So we will probably end up throwing paper wads at the backs of peoples heads in Melly's, going back to Krista's place and watching dumb movies... Yay!

I suppose we could go to sonic for ice cream after. I could get a coffee. My goal is for you to read sarcasm thick in the words on your screen. I couldn't feel more derisive than I do right now. Well, I probably could. There have been several instances in my childhood where I say things before thinking them through. I will always be this way... this is as true as a law of nature. Just as gravity pushes on the earth Kacie Davis will be sarcastic just to the point of being hateful. You would not believe the amount of people I have offended. Like this girl who was in my 6th grade class in Watts public school in Oklahoma. She got mad at me because I put boiled eggs on my salad. She said boiling an egg was committing chicken abortion against the chickens will (her parents were lovely people as you can imagine). So of course I, and how could I not really?, speared several large pieces of egg onto my fork, brought it to my lips and sighed with a smile as I chewed and swallowed. I looked into her horror stricken eyes and said,"That is the best chicken abortion I have ever tasted."

We haven't spoken since the seventh grade. I cant figure out why but I don't think she likes me.

Any way you are fully updated on my prom dilemma. Any ideas post em' below :)! Thanks for your time!

                                 -KC-

 

                           

From One Alienist to Another

      Do you ever wonder why, working on the assumption that Aliens are real and T.V is an accurate documentation of them, they don't just sue us for offending them when we fight back? They would probably win and they could most likely  get a few people willing to be personal pets to make up for our wrongdoing and injustice against there race. They could call us Alienists.
I'm sorry but the stupidity of people baffles me. I actually heard someone use the phrase Alienist. How do people come up with this stuff? Even if Aliens are real, which I am really not convinced of, as cool as that possibility may be, they are undoubtedly laughing at us. I bet they have their governments system more organized than ours (they usually are advanced in the movies). I'm sorry if this makes me an Alienist, but if beings from outer space attack the earth I'm saying attack them back! Maybe, just maybe, they aren't friendly... I don't know what gave it away... maybe the shooting and the requests to harvest our body organs... its just me, but really... come on.


Don't trust him...



This ones okay...



       Any way I have more of my story written. I am no closer to coming up with a title than I was the last time we had this discussion. I'm not sure why coming up with a title is so hard for me. I just can't think of anything, not even a place holder. Seriously though, if you have any ideas get a hold of me. I would LOVE to hear them! My e-mail is at the top of this page, if ya got something e-mail me or comment on this post.

Alright, more of Untitled coming up!

                                                                         Untitled Continued:

Finally the nurses, Sinclair, and himself decided that in order to understand the girls mind more thoroughly they would have to go directly to the girl herself.

Ethan called her nurse and began setting up the equipment. They were going to administer another test. Dr. Sinclair was very adamant about finding the root of Annie’s visions. Ethan had always assumed that the patient’s best interest was at heart here, however, he now knew that this was false. If the word money slipped out of Sinclair’s mouth one more time Ethan was going to lose it. He was fishing through her files for her previous test when he saw it. Her admissions form was sitting in her file, beside her medical history and profile. He wasn’t sure what the law was on peaking if he worked with her. He assumed he could probably get into serious trouble. His curiosity was overwhelming and he wasn’t sure he could help himself. Why wasn’t Sinclair answering any of his questions? If she was an average patient like he claimed then why was he so excited about this recent development? Her seeing visions? That didn’t seem like an unusual thing around here. Was it not possible that she was just schizophrenic? It was possible to develop a disease even after you have been tested for it. There was something going on and Ethan knew it was wrong. There was a reason that Sinclair was so adamant about keeping the girls identity a secret, and there was a reason that he was so obsessed with her. This was why Ethan took the file. That was why he slipped it into his pocket and lied about its whereabouts. This was when his plan began to form.

                                                                        ~ ~

The girl wasn’t going away. She stayed in Annie’s room with her, although they didn’t speak. She was a very unusual little girl. She didn’t seem young, despite the way she appeared. She seemed like she knew about life. But that didn’t fit her age. She had the look of an adult rather than a child. She was unnerving and comforting to Annie simultaneously. Regardless of this place she was also goofy. Annie wished that she could be that way. Happy in spite of the grey walls, the loneliness, and the treatments that always seemed to hurt. This was why she figured that the young girl wasn’t a patient here. She was much to chipper. Exuberant was a better word. She was always beaming, or playing... Most of the time both. While in Annie’s room she had pulled out of her pocket a piece of chalk and drew on the floor. Annie had protested but the girl didn’t seem to hear her. She drew flowers and hopscotch squares on the floor. It was after she drew the squares that she decided to notice Annie. She’d beckoned Annie to play with her. This was what the nurse had walked in on. Annie hopping around the room alone attempting to fit her feet perfectly into invisible squares. When asked for an explanation she had stated simply, “The girl and I are playing hopscotch.” This was noT received well. Annie’s nurse had taken her to the main lab for impromptu testing. This didn’t make sense to Annie. She had already had her test that day and there were never two. Once a week that was how it always was. Therefore this abrupt change frightened her. What was wrong? Was it about the girl? She knew after the exchange With Sinclair and the nurse that she was the only one who could see her. Did that mean that the girl wasn’t real? Annie had never considered it but could she possibly be going crazy? Was the girl only in her head? This option gave Annie a strange sense of comfort. They couldn’t hurt her. That had been her greatest fear. That they would take the smile out of the girls eyes. Like they did with her. The second this thought popped into Annie's mind a feeling of possession ran through her. She didn’t know specifics but she knew it was true. She used to be like that little girl. Happy.  

Hope you enjoyed :)

                                               -KC-

Dark Shadows Returns!

As you can see I completely changed the way my blog looked. I have upgraded from books to space! I thought it matched the title better :)!
Okay so my brain is about to explode with happiness! The new Tim Burton movie coming out is Dark Shadows! I love this show. The one that I know of is a Soap Opera from the 80's. My dad brought a copy of the series home one day out of what I can only presume was Nostalgia and I ended up watching it, thinking that it would be some thing where I made fun of it, dad would get mad, and we would never watch it again. I loved it! The box stays in my room because I watch it so often.


Ben Cross as Barnabas Collins

Anyway, yesterday I was watching The Voice (also a top notch show) and saw the trailer for Dark Shadows, being remade by Tim Burton (a director second only to Joss Wedon)... (Just in case your wondering, yes.. I am a Brown Coat)-Extra points to those of you who understand the Firefly reference without googling it!!!


Johnny Depp as Barnabas Collins

So you can see why I am so excited! Its going to be awesome. My classmate Mahalie Mathews is less than ecstatic, however. She doesn't see the appeal having never watched the show. My best friend Krista Dress just wants to laugh at it because she thinks that it is stupid. My other friend Kristen, as in everything, could care less. The only person as excited as I am is my dad. He can't wait. Don't get me wrong I know this movie is by no means going to be serious. Its a comedy. However, it will, at least, have a conclusion. The ones I watched ended on a cliff hanger and it bugs me to this day. In the last episode Victoria Winters came back from the past, knowing that Barnabas Collins was a vampire, they shared a stare and the screen went blank. It. Made. Me. So. Mad. I was furious! They did the same thing with the remake of V. Did any of you watch that show? Another SciFi series, I'm afraid. But still amazing. It was on FOX I believe. There were aliens who came to earth in "peace" but of course they weren't. Fox ended that, and Firefly and I was ready to crack some skulls. The producers who ended firefly are on my list of people who need to pay for their horrible deeds.
So as you can see I have an extreme disrespect for people who end series's for no good reason!
In conclusion I hope you will be in the theaters with me watching what promises to be a Hilarious and amazing movie! Thanks for your time!
                           -KC-

While Drinking my Peanut Butter Shake...

I have realized that I'm not sure if this story, "Untitled" :(, is going to be a short story or a novel. I can't really see the conclusion yet. I figure it'll go like it always does. I will write until the end comes. You see I don't set out with the end or even the middle already figured out. I will suddenly get a good idea or some moral dilemma that intrigues me, and I will make a story around it. It will come  as it comes and there isn't really a time frame... And yes, sometimes I will start like four things at one time and then forget about them. Environmentalists probably hate me because I use up so much paper. If trees were people I would be a notorious murderer. I really do waste a whole lot of paper. But now that I have a laptop I waste computer space and I loose flash drives. I still like writing things down in journals and notebooks. The outline for the last story I wrote took up two notebooks.... but I digress. Anyway I have, although I'm a day late, more of my story. Here you are,


                                         Untitled (Continued)
    

As the Doctor left the office he passed right beside the young girl bumping into her on his way out. She gave him a cute scrunch of her nose. It was meant to be angry but it had the opposite effect. It made Annie chuckle under her breath. There was a small moment in which the two just stared at each other. Curious expressions were on both of their faces and it lasted a few minutes until the girl started walking toward Annie. All but one of the nurses had left the room, Annie personal nurse was the one who remained. She had a stern face and was always frowning at Annie for some reason. The nurse motioned for  her to get up and follow her out to her room. After her weekly check- ups Annie usually returned to her room where she read or slept. Never anything more. She liked reading though; it was her favorite pass time (despite the fact that it was her only pass time). She thought that she could remember reading before she was brought here, but as always those memories faded into the cloud of her mind and vanished with all the other things she wished she could hold onto. Today was no different. She got up and walked toward the extended arm of her blatantly board nurse. As they headed out, the nurse in front and Annie behind, part of her mind wondered if the little girl would follow them. She did. The three women navigated the halls with ease. Even the little girl seemed to know where she was going. This didn’t make any sense though; the girl had never been to Annie’s room. She didn’t even know her. There was something about that girl, however, that suggested she did know Annie. It was eerie and uncomfortable but it made Annie want to talk to her more, to figure out how or if she knew her. This girl, however strange she was, gave Annie hope. If  they knew each other maybe she knew her family outside this place. Maybe she was even part of her past. This prospect was exciting and scary all at the same time. There was a chance that her past was painful. Or it could have been wonderful. Annie just didn't know.

                                                                     .....

"Savanna. The pretty girl at the burger place. Her name is Savanna." "She doesn't know your name either. Ethan... It's Ethan."

He could not get the words out of his head. Ethan Hayes walked through the halls, his clipboard and pen in hand. He was due in the lab again for an analysis of the patients brain activity during the check up. They always did this and always came up with the same results. Testing had concluded that the patient was sane, but the incident where she'd seen the little girl in the corner was troubling. Ethan knew all of this as he walked down the hall. These were the things he knew he should be thinking about. But he couldn't focus on them for more than a minute before his mind went back to her voice and her eyes as she read his mind. She was trapped. She had appeared as if she wanted to stop when she'd spoken to him, but he wasn't certain that she could. When the nurses and scientist were first hired they were required to take several classes and read a few memo's about not getting attached to the patients. He was very well trained to be detached and aloof when it came to the people they used for experiments. He forgot all of that the second he saw her tired eyes and her sad voice. She did not want to be here. One thing their supervisors were quick to assure them of was that the patients were not here unwillingly. Most of the patients were orphans or abandoned. This one was no different. She probably had no where to go. She was most likely adopted by one of the scientists. That was what they did in some cases. Adopted the child then brought them here. Ethan had a growing desire to see the girl again. To hear about her situation. See if she had any family. There was no legal reason she couldn't leave. The supervisors would throw a fit though, after all the money they'd invested in her. He knew it was wishful thinking... she was just another orphan. He still hoped for her, however.

                                                              -KC-

Sitting In a Desk Chair Far Far Away...

I have a brand new idea for a story. I have written a few chapters of a different, unrelated, book I'm working on. I don't expect these to get published really, I just have a story in my head that needs to get out. I want to see if I can do it. It has been an idea of mine for years. I have rough drafts from when I was in Jr. High and it has evolved so much it's hardly the same story. But really that has nothing to do with this new idea... only to say that after six years it feels weird to try working on something totally different. They are not even remotely similar. My first one is lovey and VERY girly... this one is Science Fictiony (I do believe I just made up a word) and has, at least in my head, seeing as how I only have a rough draft and the beginnings of a story, a Ted Dekker novel sort of feel to it. Its darker and more serious. Who knows, certainly not me, what will come of it.
 The setting is an old, seemingly abandoned, building. No one ever goes there. The children are scared of it, because like all old houses in any-town USA, it is haunted... ooh.... but really it isn't (don't we all have those haunted rooms in our houses or towns? For me it is my memah's attic). The adults hate it because of various reasons, mainly because of the man who used to live there when they were children. He was the scraggly, mean old man who locked his door on Halloween and took the baseballs and Frisbees that landed on his lawn, so, licking their wounds, parents all through the town avoid it and shun it as a means of revenge against the man that inflicted their ugly childhood memories. And as a result, the house goes untouched. No one knocks it down, no one buys it, and, as run down and sorry as it is, it stays. If ever you were to enter the house you wouldn't find anything out of the ordinary. It would look just like any elderly persons home. Rugs on the dust covered floor, lace doilies on the counter tops, mason jars stacked neatly under the sink, rockers, perched in the living room open and waiting for its owner, sitting diligently in front of the outdated television with the antenna wrapped in aluminum foil sitting on the top. You walk further into the halls and nothing seems amiss until you stop and listen carefully at the final door of the house. That is when you hear the hum of machinery and the plop of careful steady feet smacking a linoleum floor. You smell the faint trace of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant and under the hum you sense voices. You are curious but almost always your fear causes you to retrace your steps through the house. You never say anything because everyone would think your crazy and, for a long time, the mystery goes unsolved. The prologue of my story is going to begin down in the heart of that basement, surrounded my the smacking feet and the bustle of a science lab. No title yet... if you have any ideas feel free to give me suggestions. So, here is what I have so far. I have left out the description since I have already given it to you...

                                                       Untitled
            The only sound that Annie was absolutely sure she was hearing was the buzz of the lights and machinery over her head, surrounding her. Other than that she couldn't be certain that what she heard was real or just in her head. Well, sometimes what was in her head was real, but she didn't have the energy to keep it straight. The things she heard were mostly voices... there were always voices no matter where she was. That was why she wasn't sure. Words would come out of the doctors' mouths and she would have heard the same thing in their heads just before they spoke. Her main doctor, Dr. Sinclair said that this was a good thing.. she personally didn't think so. Sometimes it gave her a headache... hearing things... she would feel like passing out or worse. She would get sick, but when she told the doctors they said that it was only an adverse side effect... a bug. They would dismiss her and move on. She was always monitored. Like in jail. Maybe this was jail. She didn't remember doing anything so bad that it would warrant prison, but who knew. Maybe she was a bad person, a murderer, and had just forgotten. She forgot a lot things. That was her problem. With all the voices, mixed with her own voice, then her desire to remember who she was and where she came from, she couldn't remember anything that the doctors told her. They thought that there was something wrong with her. She supposed that they were right. She was crazy. She had lived here in the lab for as long as she could clearly remember. There were small snippets of a life before, but they were little and quickly fading. Being replaced by this world, in this small lab. By needles, and voices that were not her own, and by doctors and tests and by dark. She was beginning to doubt that there was a life before this. Where she was normal and the only thing that lived inside her head was herself. She even sounded crazy. She could never talk right. It came out jumbled and mixed up. Nothing she said made since anymore. Not even she understood it half of the time. But the Doctors and scientist would nod their heads excitedly and scribble in their notebooks and look at her like she was a goddess. She smelled beef. Like on a hamburger. The nurse checking her vital signs was hungry. There was a pretty waitress at the burger place. He was finally going to ask her out. And Annie couldn't care less. She saw a picture of the girl in his head. He wasn't sure what her name was but he was too afraid to ask.
"Savanna." She heard the name pop out of her mouth but wasn't sure where it came from.
He looked up at her with a curious, scared look on his face. "What?"
"Savanna. The pretty girl at the burger place. Her name is Savanna." She wished she would stop but the words wouldn't stay in. "She doesn't know your name either. Ethan... It's Ethan."
He slowly rose from his kneeling position and walked backward. "How on earth..."
Just as, Annie was sure, he was about to make a run for it Dr. Sinclair walked into the room. He was a very intelligent man and was successful in his Field. People described him as one of the greatest minds of his day. That was where the good qualities ended. From errant thoughts locked up in his brain Annie had discovered that he was married with three children two in high school the other in college. He had one or two girlfriends on the side and was very fond of meeting them on the nights he went out for "milk". He knew that Annie knew all this and that is what made him scary. That was why, unlike all the other patients, she was not allowed to go outside. She knew too much. She could ruin him, and despite the fact that, outside of this lab, she was helpless, he would not let her out of his control. His peaked his horn rimmed glasses from behind his clip board and flashed a daddy grin that didn't reach his eyes. It was understood between them that he didn't like her. but to appear the ever helpful and caring Doctor, this "I care about your well being" ruse had been developed. She played along with a small smile of her own.

That is all I have so far... Thanks for taking the time to check it out :)!
                                                                         -KC-

Pondering and Potato Chips...

Okay so I'm eating potato chips here in my classroom at ICTC in Stilwell, OK... and I'm doing a little thing called pondering. A really gross, albeit poetic, side of me wants to compare it to cud chewing... the difference being that my cud is metaphorical and the chewing is mostly my aforementioned pondering. How about I go ahead and tell you what I'm am thinking about. A couple of weeks ago I began this thing called a quote book. It was inspired by a character from a Karen Kingsbury novel ( I love Karen Kingsbury). She would take her favorite quotes and write them in this journal. Now, I will say that I tweaked the idea a little and turned mine into a sort of scrapbook (Scrapbooking is my second favorite... right behind Karen Kingsbury novels) and there isn't a theme to the quotes, there are some that are inspiring, but then there are funny ones as well. You see I am sort of a nerd, meaning that I like things like video games and scifi shows like Star Trek and Dr. Who. The result of this is that I wanted to put in quotes from my favorite evil robot GLaDOS, and funny things that River Song said in Dr. Who. So far there is no Star Trek... Yet. That could very well change. The point is that most of my quote book isn't inspiring or heart felt like it's name sake. It's dorky and very much "me"(It's crazy, almost bipolar, and there is no theme... yup, me in a nut shell). So, knowing this you can imagine that it was a shock to find a meaningful quote that I loved. This is it, "You have never lived a perfect day until you have done something for someone who can never repay you." by Ruth Smeltzer. I read this while aimlessly looking around on the Internet, you know how you can be looking for one thing then end up somewhere completely different? That is what happened. I was just about to move on to the next pointless page or to update my facebook status when the meaning of that quote hit me square in the guilt bone... What do I do that I don't expect to get payed back for? I tried to think of things. And I decided that I help my little brother Lawrence out. But I realized that I certainly expect my brother to help me because I help him. Then I thought how about school? I want to become a Lawyer... I will end up helping people and that has to make me worthy to forget about all the other things I could do, as if helping others is an extra credit assignment that we can shirk, then I realized that this was lame, too... I will get paid for my job and the second something happens in my school that I don't like, I will complain. I started to panic over the fact that my list of good deeds was pitifully short and shame settled in. Like the story I posted, We Danced, I have this sneaking suspicion that our faults sort of camp out in our hearts after we commit them... like they never leave us. It's easy to taste the proverbial apple... putting it away is usually the hard part. So what was I supposed to do? Walk outside for an hour until I found a hobo and buy him a burger? Then I could go back to my self-centered routine... I could finish my chips and call it a day... I could even go so far as to call it a successful one. So why didn't that seem like enough? It just seemed like everything I did was for me. I washed the dishes for my dad, but really I did it because I wanted to have bowls for cereal the next morning (we go through bowls fast).I have started running, but that is because I feel bad, and I could loose a little weight... there are WAY too many I's in those sentences! I thought about the running thing and considered all the malnourished kids who could stand to gain weight. A sad little picture of how I imagined prim from the Hunger Games ran through my mind. What was I doing? Was I so dependant upon my own little world that when I thought of hunger I had to dredge up some memory from a fictional book? As if the world didn't have enough. I would love to tell you that I have changed my ways... that I now volunteer and spend all my time feeding the hungry. But I don't. I have just told all of you that I'm sitting in an air conditioned building eating potato chips right now! However, there is a question I want to present you... and me. Will we stop walking around with blinders on denying the truth? Will we see the needs around us and accept that although it may be difficult it is our job to stand? Become the hands of those that can't reach and the feet of those who can't walk? What will it take to get us out there? To get us to taste and smell the abrasive skin of the world and embrace it... believing that we can make a difference?
                                                        -KC-

We Danced : Short Story

Okay so here is my first short story. It is called "We Danced" and is my favorite! I got the idea for it at a summer camp two years ago. It is based off a skit that several of the students preformed, so credit needs to be given to the students from Tiger mountain summer camp for coming up with the idea that made this idea! I should preface this by saying that it is religiously based. I am a Christian so most of my work is going to have a biblical message.

We Danced My beginning was filled with beauty. My creator made me to belong with him, and I never questioned that. Being with him was my only dream, and it was fulfilled every day, whenever I wanted. Because ,as inconceivable as it was, he wanted me even more than I yearned for him. He taught me how to dance. How to walk , how to run, and he kept me safe. He was my father. My shield, my fortress, my safe haven, and friend. He was my savior. Protecting me from the world. I didn’t know anything other than the joy he gave me. No pain. He was always on my mind and I always on his.
 One day as we danced, as he was teaching me his ways, a stranger came by us. I had never seen this man before and I was curious… I asked my creator why he had never shown me this man before and he told me it wasn’t safe. I became angry and backed away from my precious creator. In my mind he had lied to  me betrayed me. I pushed my creator away, and turned cold, even as tears ran down his cheeks. I was bitter and walked off alone.
  I sat by myself and thought about what had happened. I almost convinced myself to go back… to apologize and see of he would take me back… I even stood to go. Then the stranger came to my side. He saw the tears on my cheeks and wiped them away. He told me how beautiful my dancing was… he told me that my creator was jealous. He didn’t want me to know other pleasures of the world because He didn’t want me to leave him as he knew I would once I tasted it. He asked me to take his hand. I hesitated for a moment… there was something in his eyes. It was unsettling, and uncomfortable. But it was deep down. Under layers of wonderful promises. My creator came to us. He was standing a few feet away. He asked me to come back. He wanted me safe. But the stranger whispered in my  ear.
  “You remember how he lied to you about me. He doesn’t want you to leave him. But only because he knows you’ll never want to come back. He doesn’t want you to know. He doesn’t want you to enjoy the knowledge I can give you… he wants it all to himself.”
 The anger I had dismissed earlier came back stronger than before. Its intensity surprised me. I looked my creator in the eye and told him I had to leave.  I reached for the strangers hand and we left  him there.
 My time with the stranger was wonderful. Memories of my creator and prince were all but forgotten. Only small reflections and  remembrances would come, but always with the sting that betrayal leaves behind. My new prince had wooed me, and he held my heart now. He was my life, I had dedicated everything to him. I thought of myself as very mature and cultured now that I knew the secrets my old creator had neglected to tell me. And acted happy when my new prince beckoned. But deep in my heart I knew I was wrong. I knew what I had become. Dirty and slimy. That my old creator had been right. I realized that maybe this life was a mistake. Sometimes my new prince would become angry with me. He would yell at me and call me names. I would ignore him and pretend that everything was normal. And when he was gone I would remember the lessons my creator taught me the most. I would feel guilt in my heart and wonder why I had left. I knew my creator had never yelled at me like my new prince did. But my memories of my creator were fading…I had to see him. Before I completely forgot.
  I approached my new prince and asked him if I could leave and go to my old creator. I missed him and needed to apologize. This angered my new prince. His real flesh began to show. He was ugly and frightening. He became a monster.
“You’ve broken his heart! You’ve sinned against him! You think he’ll want you back after that? You have chosen me. Now you have to stick with your choice.”
 The truth gripped my heart and wouldn’t let go. I was slime. An awful person who had no right to the life I had been given when I was first created. My creator had even warned me that the life out side was
dangerous …I couldn’t go back and face him now. He would only laugh. Spit in my face. That was what I deserved. So I cried. Sin, who was no longer my prince, left me there weeping, laughing at my pathetic blubbering.
 Life had stopped being a familiar dance. I had now begun to forget the dancing my creator thought so beautiful. Even as my memory grew weak, I did remember some things he said to me. “I will never leave you”, “You can always come to me”, “I will forgive you”. He has said those things before I left him. And now they would come back like small whispers. Reminded myself that He couldn’t possibly mean them now. So I sat there wallowing in my sorrow. I tried to imagine what I would do if my creator tried to take me back. Would I run to him? Would he take me once he had seen what I had become? My mind was to tiered to think. I couldn’t function now. Why didn’t he come save me? The thought that he knew I was here and knew how I was feeling, That I needed him yet he didn’t come get me, infuriated me. It angered me to the core, and burned inside me. Maybe this was all his fault, maybe getting away from him was for the best. The guilt I felt was just guilt for him. Having his heart broken. It wasn’t my fault I had moved on. I thought about the way Sin beat me. How he would dance with me and make everything seem so clear and right and safe, then scream at me and call me names. I had to get out. My creator wouldn’t take me back, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go back, but I couldn’t stay here. So I walked. As I walked I saw beautiful creation. But I also saw ugly, horrible things. And I knew that the creator had made both. I ached at the knowledge that my creator was the creator of all. It hurt to see all of the pain in this world. I walked for miles. Farther and farther from Sin. Farther and farther from my creator. Leaving familiarity long behind me. Abandoning it. These many miles away from my creator showed me the reality of the world. And I despised it. Somehow this added to my pain. Seeing all that the creator had abandoned. Pain grew as I walked and when I found myself trudging through a wood I saw it take form. A poor old man weeping. He was sitting on a fallen oak tree, his face buried in his hands. He sobbed quietly but his shoulders shook convulsively. And he moaned. I was frightened, and I looked behind me. I gasped when I saw his figure. Sin was following me. Always there. Fear rippled through me and as he did  he took form also. Fear was big and strong overpowering. He looked troubled. He stood tall behind sin. I turned back around to look at Pain. If I talked to him would he follow me like sin? But the distraught look of the poor old man moved me forward. I put my hand on his shoulder and instantly memories flooded my mind. All the times I had been hurt. All the time I felt pain slice through my heart. I saw all theses things and anger grew. Anger at the pain and the ones who caused it. Me, Sin, fear, my creator. Anger gave way to bitterness, and as pain rose and took his place behind fear, Bitterness took shape and molded itself to my heart, securing his place in line. We walked out of the forest, I, in the lead, my faults following diligently behind. I walked and thought about what had happened to me. Thought of what I had become. I was no longer the perfect lover of my beloved creator. I was dirty and naked, unworthy of any love. Shame took form, but stayed close during my travels whispering in my ear. I needed love. But could never have it. I needed acceptance but didn’t deserve it. I thought back to my creator. Remember with yearning the adoration in his eyes as we danced. The love in his eyes as he taught me. Remembered how proud he looked as I caught on to his ways and learned new things. He treasured me and I had left him. “I love you even now”… It was a faint whisper. I thought I had misheard. Was that my creators voice? “You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all of your heart” His voice again. Those things he had first taught me were coming back. He loved me! I had to find him! But I couldn’t remember my way back! I looked all over and searched desperately for him. I asked people walking in the streets, “Have you seen my creator?” “Do you know where my beloved is? He is waiting for me!”
I remembered that I had begun to walk the opposite way from where I had last seen him. So I turned and ran. Sin, fear, Pain, bitterness,  and shame still following and clouding my memory.
 I passed through the forest, and the sad and beautiful creations, all the while hoping I was not wrong. That he still cared for me. I ran. I doubted. Then I stopped. What if I’m wrong? What if it was just my imagination? What if he pushes me away? Doubt took form, worry lines etched in his forehead. He took his place behind Pain. But I took off running again. I had to know. I needed to hear it from his lips. As I ran I saw the place I sat after leaving my love the first time. I stopped. He sat there. My creator…He looked up and smiled. He knew why I was here. He loved me. I ran to him but didn’t make it far. My faults knew what I was doing. Shame whispered in my ear, “remember why your no good.” Sin came up beside my, “remember who you chose”, “Pain touched my heart, “He wont want all your baggage”, Fear encircled my chest, “He wont want you back. What if he laughs at you?”, Bitterness took his turn “Remember what the world looked like? Why did he let it fall? Why did he let you fall?” They all came at once, pushing me down blocking my view of my beloved. I screamed for my creator. I screamed for them to stop for them to leave me. I sobbed and screeched. Crying in pain I yelled desperately, “Jesus! Jesus save me!” My beloved ran for me. He pushed all my self inflicted faults away. My eyes were squeezed shut, blocking my  view of the demons. When his arms lifted me from the dirt and cradled me the ice in my soul melted away, bringing cleansing tears of peace down my cheeks. We sat like that for quite a while. I lifted my head and looked at him. Shame poking into my thoughts. He shook his head. He whispered what I had always longed to hear. “I love you even now.” He released me and stood to his feet. Then he lifted me by the hand with him. He took my hand and led me to the place where he created me. And then…
 We danced.

Remember, if you have any comments or opinions contact me. My e-mail is on my page, or find me on Facebook!
  -KC-