Girls Coach Girls Run (GCGR)

Hey everybody!

Last year, me and my best friend Amanda participated in a program called Girls Coach Girls Run, also known as GCGR. It is a great 18 week program for younger girls to learn and create bonds with older girls.

What happens is some juniors in high school who participate in this program meet every Thursday night for two hours with the program directors. With the participants, the directors go through various topics that girls and women alike face everyday, which includes dieting, exercise, body image, self-esteem, friends, boys, and assertiveness. Healthy ways to go about each topic are discussed and brought to the table as well as various solutions to sticky situations.

Next, the juniors get into groups and teach the same program, though slightly modified for the younger girls, to eighth grade girls. This occurs for another six weeks, for two hours every Thursday. When this part of the program is completed, the girls have made bonds and friendships and learned a tn about themselves!

The girls split into a few groups which include about four juniors and fur or so eighth graders. Each group is assigned an elementary school in which they meet twice a week for two hours twice a week right after school. During this six weeks, the juniors and the eighth graders work together to teach the, more kid friendly, program to a larger group of fourth graders. Each day, after a piece of the program is taught to the younger girls, all the girls go for a run. (This usually took place outside unless the weather forbid this.)

At the end of the 18 week program that gives participants 50 hours of community service, a 5k race and picnic is held and awards are given. This is a great program that teaches young girls about self-image, exercise, health, and forms many bonds and friendships.

This is all of us girls stretching before the big 5k! The circle around the older girls in the middle, which is made up of all the eighth graders and fourth graders, is too large to fit into the picture. And, there are tons of families all around watching and taking pictures! The pictures don't do a good job capturing the excitement, the love, and the music!

These are all the juniors that participated! I'm in there somewhere! The two directors are kneeling in the front of the group. Love and miss these girls!
 

GIRLS COACH GIRLS RUN <3

purple rain



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chocolate covered strawberries

I just found this picture in my picture folder on my computer and thought I'd share. It just looks sooo delicious and I'm so jealous of myself right now for having eaten them all already (but hey, god only know when I took this picture..so maybe I shouldn't be jealous that I don't have these exact strawberries right now)! But yumm yumm yummmm!

SMILE!

A few summers ago, my friend and I made our own little person! This particular friend of mine has this beautiful dark redish auburn hair (some call her a "ginger" however she is smack in the middle of being a brunette and a redhead) which everyone loves. My hair dresser was fascinated! So, on my knee we drew a smiley face with 100 proof sunscreen, which is extremely thick. Then using her beautiful curls, we gave our smiley hair - and voilà! - we have our own mini person!


Below is the succession the original picture took before it became the sentimental and beautiful picture that it now is, the final copy. Hope you find it as entertaining as we did!

The Placement

Now She's Real!

Friendship

Isn't she beautiful? This is a post for my friend Carley, who I love a ton! *So we can always remember the good times that we've created together (even if it means getting flipped the bird because you NEEDED to show me how good your spitting aim was from the ski lift chair...on some girls head right in her part. Thanks again for that!), friends for life.

As always, Purple Rain

Books

I live in my dreams and
die in my waking moments.
I thrive in the tragedies but
suffer my everyday routine.
For life is excruciatingly boring
with no pain, no terrifying
adventure to break up the
normalcy. I would gladly live in
a book - and not just a fairytale book,
but any single one! - since it
would supply me with my needed
dosage of tears and thrill and
fear and anger and happiness!
Yes! That is what I need, a
whole array of emotions laid
out sporadically like splashes of
rainbows to ensure that
my emotional needs are
always met. But here!

Here in this world of normalcy!
Nothing extravagantly ludicrous
occurs. I am stuck for
countless days in a slow
routine of nothingness. I can feel
myself fading away, my life disappearing.
How can one live without liveliness?
But suck me into the pages of a
rich novel! I would run through the words,
from cover to cover, praying for the end to
never come. And yet I still pray for the
same everyday. Dragging out
each damn syllable for everything
it's worth. I yearn for the passages
of endless poetry, to live in
the lives of people whom I have
never met, yet feel as though I know -
I am that person, that girl running
down the street. That man standing
there is my friend, friend from childhood.

So yes, I live in my dreams. I
feel more alive in my sleep
than when I'm up and living.
What a backwards web I have spun!
I want to be in a surreal painting,
where strange things are not so
strange and normal things are not
so common. Should a blue sun seem
so unorthodox? Or purple rain be gasped
at? And why is it so weird to think a green
moon might be pretty? I would
rather like a colorful world
with secret missions and spies
dragging me around to hidden
passageways. And torture! I
can do with some of that! If it makes
the tears and the beauty all
the better, then so be it! Bring
the pain and the suffering, for
I want to experience it all and have
richer experiences because of it.
I want to starve and bleed and
cry myself to sleep. I want to run and
fall, only to get back up. I want to
endure all the pain which I can, and then
some more. And finally, I want to find
love of my life, the perfect man.
And I want to enjoy it all,
every single feeling I can possibly feel.
I want to triumph thorugh
the impossible and find the answers

of the Earth.

Implant me in a book, and watch me fade away.
Erase me from this existence which means
much less to me. I need to fly far from
here and find the things I yearn for.
See, if you cannot give me the life I need
in order to live a real life, than I shall find that
book I speak of and read indefinitely. I
will let my life waste away if I can stay reading,
since my mind will drift and wander far
and out there is far enough. Leave me in an empty
room and I will live in that book and live
on and on forever in that clever hook.

Celebrity

Who is your favorite celebrity?

Comment here which celebrity is your idol, whose style you love the most, or who is your down right favorite!

Which ever celebrity has the most comments about him or her, I'll research and dig up as much dirt and facts as possible along with style tips so you can be just like that person or talent tricks so you can master the same career that that person may have.

I may do a sample on a celebrity I find interesting.

Hope you comment!

purple rain :)

sweet green flowers

The Nymph Echo

This is the painting that the poem below is inspired by. It is beautiful and exquisite, yet it has hints of mysteriousness to it. It's an amazing painting!

"MoMA | The Collection | Provenance Research Project | Max Ernst. The Nymph Echo. Paris 1936." MoMA | The Museum of Modern Art. 2010. Web. 20 Dec. 2011. <http://www.moma.org/collection/provenance/provenance_object.php?object_id=79316>.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a poem inspired by the painting:

 “The Nymph Echo” by Max Ernst

Oh wanderer, have you stumbled

upon more ancient green? Whose

hands grip and grab at the

barren Earth! What life it does

take, the goddess dancing in the

middle! Was it placed there? And

if so, with a motive? Or did

random, sporadic chance bless us

with such mesmerizing fertility?

And as the yellow ball sinks

down below, and dark blue

ceilings crush down from above,

what more green could one

ask for? More hands reach out

from the giant leaves. Come nymphs!

They beckon you to come and

spread your magic all around!

More is needed, much, much, more.

But here, all I see is just an echo

for only few flowers live to talk of

nymphs. And their colors seem faded

about their dancing dresses. The

fingers that I see are very strange

and mysterious to me. Are they claws?

Ripping at all the remaining life?

Or are they dainty, long and elegant?

There to stimulate growth and prosperity?

More mysterious is what those

hands belong to, there hidden

away in the darkness behind

the vines. The yellow eye on the

stem, the orange face, innocents of

the worlds. There a cradle rocks

blue buds to sleep, how sweet!

More youth than one would have

thought, more birth, more life.

Is that a green lion climbing

way back there, near the hidden

lady? barer than the Earth?

And a lizard basking in the shady

undergrowth hanging near the

snakey body of the bird

nosed stem of the featherless fowl. Yet

so pronounced against the sky, reaching

from the darkness. Oh nymph, give it life!

As always, this post on this blog is by me. Every single blog is by myself, the creator of this blog. I hope you like it :)

Role-Model Worthy Stars List #1

1. Katherine  Heigl = classy, beautiful, funny, and sincere. What more could we ask for?

2. Halle Berry...I have two words for you, Cat Woman

3. Selena Gomez <-- She's HILARIOUS

4. David Beckham

5. And his wife, Posh Spice

6. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt --> for being so generous to countries in need

7. Leonardo DeCaprio --> and not just for being so handsome ;)

8.Hugh Jackman

9. Alyssa Milano = an amazing, and often over looked, activist

10. Brian Dennehy

11. Meg Cabot, Stephenie Meyers, and not to mention J. K. Rowling: for writing life
                                                                                                  changing novels!

12. Jennifer Aniston - Thank you for staying strong and showing us that we can too

13. Rihanna --> Girl, you might be crazy, but you show us that it's OK to be who we want

                         to be. You definitely aren't afraid to show it!

14. Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, and Katy Perry --> All strong, proud, confident women. They
                                                                   are beautiful in their own, different ways,
                                                                   and we love it! Why can't there be more of
                                                                   you?

Summer Flashback

Ah, I miss the warm sun and super blue water. Sand in between my toes, spraying sunscreen, soft wind. Oh summer days!

SURPRISE!

My two dogs and my sisters' two dogs loved the gardening box on wheels we got our mom, that we couldn't stop them from jumping in! We decided to help them play a little peek-a-boo :)

Guess Which One's Me

A family friend and I a few years ago. I love looking back on pictures and seeing how different I look, how much I've changed!

Accidental Picture

A few years ago I wrote this on my sister's hand and while I was swinging around my camera, I snapped a picture. I was so surprised when I realized that I actually got something in the picture!

I think it's pretty cute :)

World of Impossible

Failing winds blow the mind
just as tigers rip it.
Colors burst like popped balloons
right when trails are lit.

The burning brush and orange embers
eat away the natural scene.
No more homes of nests to see
and now the bushes - far too lean.

The only scents
were swept away,
So here life awaits
yet another day

When stairs are never ending
in skys much too high,
for life goes on in this world of impossible
since everything is just a lie.

Idea 2: Seasons; Realization

After five long, exhausting days away from home, Lara sat on the Grey Hound bus with her group of "colleagues," so-to-speak. They were en route back to their hometown, in an northern east coast state. It was a semi-small town located on the water, Long Island Sound to be exact. The eight hour ride was drudging and quite dreadful. 1:34 was the exact time the bus began it's journey home. It was also the moment that Lara saw something she had not seen for a very long time.

All the anxiety that she had had over the past few years was gone. In fact, she had not felt the anxiety for one minute throughout the entire trip. Something about being away had, in a way, cured her of her inner demons. Cured was not the right word...temporarily relieved her of them. Lara would not have been feeling them attempting to crawl back into her mind, her stomach, her chest, if she had been cured. They would not being scratching at her sides, begging to get inside her, only to cause havoc, had she been cured. But, for now, she was still able to enjoy a time without fear and anxiety, for she was still temporarily relieved of these monsters. She realized, for the first time in her life, that she wasn't a normally anxious person. No, her house and family provoked these problems from her and being away was the best way to take care of her illness.

This realization did two very distinct things to Lara on the long, extremely boring and exhausting bus ride home. The first of which may be more obvious than the other. She instantly dreaded the idea of returning home, which can be expected. Then she did something a bit more dangerous. She shut down.

Not dangerous in the physical manner, but dangerous in the life ruining way.

THIS NEEDS TO BE EDITED BIG TIME, SO DON'T LAUGH PLEASE! LOL I'LL EDIT IT/ADD TO IT ASAP

Idea 2: Seasons Intro

Hey guys! So Idea 2: Seasons is a new idea I have gotten and instead of writing this one in a notebook and re-reading it a million times before I post each piece (like I did for my first Idea), I am just going to wing this one! So each post under "Idea 2: Seasons" will be kind of like improv.

As always, give me criticism and your thoughts! I would love to get some feedback!

Character Deaths

Good news!

The character that I was so upset about dying, in a previous blog, has not died! Michael Grant has found a way to keep her alive and totally revive her, hurray!

Although this has made me extremely happy, I still have not discovered why authors kill certain characters off!

I guess my journey to find the meanings of character deaths will have to continue!

Where I'll Wait

When the moon decides to show,

and the fog rolls though

On the top of the hill,

that's where I'll wait for you.

When the moon decides to show,

and the fog rolls though

On the top of the hill,

that's where I'll wait for you.

When the moon decides to show,

and the fog rolls though

On the top of the hill,

that's where I'll wait for you.

Peace

Death of Characters

Right now, I am reading a novel, the third from the Gone series by Michael Grant, called Plague. Within the three novels that have already been published, many characters have died. This is credited to the sickly, twisted plot that illustrates a tragic and horrifying dystopian society. In this regard, it is extremely necessary for characters to die or be murdered; what kind of gruesome world doesn't have deaths?

However, I am confronted with a very difficult realization in this particular novel, for one of my favorite characters is about to die. Plague is only the third book of this series which Grant plans on becoming a six book series, which means this loved character is dying only half way through the storyline. I can not, for the life of me, understand why this girl must die. She plays a crucial role and has a tough, yet calming personality that only few dislike. If she dies, which is a definite future event, there will be an empty spot where her character has been in which cannot be replaced by anyone else.


The whole point of that rant:

This raises a question, however. Why do certain characters have to die in novels, shows, and movies?

Sometimes, a meaningless character passes away in a show and it has a valuable message or meaning, yet it doesn't provoke strong emotions for the viewer. This is probably the most common form of death in entertainment. It is used solely to display a message, a point, a symbol, or even to get a reaction out of the viewers.

Other times, either a main character or secondary character is doomed. Most often it is for being too heroic and self-destructive. Is this to tell readers and viewers not to turn to heroism because it kills? That saving other peoples' lives can easily lead to his or her own death? Or does the author create a character that is impossible to dislike, and then write their death in order to upset the reader purposefully?

I can think of countless novels, movies, and shows where people were created to my liking and then written off for infuriating reasons. I cannot be the only person in the world who has experienced this and felt so passionately about the death of a character!

What is your thoughts on why amusing characters are killed or destined to die? Even if a character isn't the best person, even if he or she is a "bad guy" character that you have learned to like, why did he or she have to be removed from the story?

Why?

SYMBOLS

In every English or writing class I have ever been in, every teachers and student and article we had read discovered symbols in each piece of literature we've looked at. At times I went along with this, and other times I just sat back and wondered where the hell they got the idea that the chair in the corner of the room symbolized the solitude of an old man who was only mentioned in the story, not actually in it.

I have been wondering for years whether symbols were real or not. I juggle this idea with myself every time I pick up a book; I can see both side. And if symbols are real, are all of them intentional? Or are some so deeply twisted into the authors thoughts and feelings that she or he creates them subconsciously? Which raises another question: Are the subconsciously created symbols even symbols at all? And if not, are there even such things as symbols?

Through my own writing as I experiment on this blog, I want to see if I ever have the urge to create a symbol of some sort just through my writing instincts. Additionally, I want to know if anyone, other than myself, noticing anything they believe might be a symbol while reading my writing.

So please, if you stumble upon this blog anytime, and see this, please read what I have written, and comment as much as you want/can. I want to hear the good and the bad comments, and the comments discovering potential symbols or lack there of. And anything else you can think of: suggestions, likes, dislikes, tips, anything and everything!

Thanks :)

Idea 1: Goodbye; trance

I read the letter to myself over and over again on the bench in the park that was pushed into the Earth next to the river, perfectly shaded by the gorgeous weeping willow that was in full bloom. The wind blew by from time to time, the tree's graceful, long arms sweeping to and fro.

I sat in that very spot listening for hours upon hours to the hushing and gurgling of the river for a few hours, reading and rereading, contemplating and imagining. And I cried. The words were figures, slowly twirling and leaping about the park, gliding across the river. I could reach out and touch each word, feel the warmth, the sting, the wetness. Each figure I touched provoked streams from my eyes, provoked a stinging in the over flowing pools. They circled the bench, climbed the willow, splashed in the water, taunting my brain. And yet I stayed put to study each form, for they were not intangible, but instead very real. Like black hieroglyphics, they moved across the grass in no particular order, taking over the land around me, slowly, yet like rapid fire with balletic movements. The chaos caught my eyes, it hypnotized me. The shapes were intriguing especially with the patterns that my mind created from them. I was mesmerized as I sat there staring at the words that had come to life.

And somewhere in that time, that incredible retreat, my eyes had decided to cleanse themselves. The tears, they poured out of me just the way the waterfall of colored emotions flowed out of Iliana. And as they poured, I begged the God that I don't believe in for mercy. Oh, how I begged that late spring afternoon. The pain that the beautiful dancing figures implanted in my chest was not completely unbearable, but just under that. The pain was just to the point where if there was anymore, I would not be able to live with it, but yet I could. So I begged and pleaded with a power which I had once grown to believe to be fake. I had had no intention of spending my whole afternoon alone, on that bench, on the far side of the park. The tan I acquired was unintentional as well. My stroll had turned for the worse the second I saw that small purple bottle floating down the stream, bobbing, turning, nodding at me.

I remember clearly feeling an attraction to the glass container, it was beautiful. But more than that, it was as if the bottle wanted me to lift it from the current, it was calling me. So I lowered myself and reached my arm out. I didn't have to try to catch the bottle, it came to me. That was the moment I saw the folded up paper, bent and contorted to fit, behind the purple, iridescent bottle. Instinctively, I sat on the wrought iron and wooden bench and twisted the small cork out. I couldn't help but feel that I was in some scene from a show or movie, going to release something epic, about to witness all the consequences of this moment of curiosity, both good and bad. Half of this assumption was correct, the half about me reaping the consequences. The epic part? Not so much.

That was when I found myself slipping the paper out. Don't ask me how, because still, to this day, I have no idea how my large fingers fit into the extremely tiny mouth of that bottle. The letter and myself had a pull to each other of some sort. That's all I can come up with. I moved like a zombie, in a trance, unfolding the paper to the realization that it was a letter. I remember getting as comfortable as I could on the bench in the gentle sun, listening to the music that the wind, willow tree, river, and birds all made for me.

And I read.

I read the letter that was written in the most beautiful script anyone has ever seen. Not one paragraph went by without the provocation of my tears. That was how I came to spend that whole Sunday afternoon on a bench, in a park, by the river, under the willow, with the sun, and a wonderful tan to go with my puffy, red eyes.

The thing was, I could not get that woman's words out of my head. They spun around and around my skull reminding me of all the emotion that was jam-packed into the letter. Maybe it was too much for me and I went into shock for those hours, since I can't remember everything that went through my mind for those long hours. Or maybe I only thought a few things, that, like Iliana's words, circled around in my mind continuously.

Name Means

The names signed by the woman in "Goodbye" are Greek names.

Iliana = bright

Iona = purple jewel

I plan on the names and their significances playing a role later on in the story if I can remember to and create a deep plot. This is a really big step for me in my writing because this far in my life I have never created an entire story, not to mention weave different, almost hidden, elements into it.

If anyone has any suggestions on how I can do this, please feel free to comment and let me know! I welcome any kind of criticism, good or bad!

Idea 1: Goodbye; letter

I have never had to face life alone, as a single force, with no back up. My love, I have been so blessed and cursed by loving you. One thing I have not been is regretful. I would never have lived if it were not for our love. I would not change a thing in our past, for I have heard that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, and because of you, I agree wholeheartedly. Don't ever think I regret the years that passed with us together. But I need you to know every thought, every feeling I am having. I cannot hold back if I am to let the memory of us go and to honestly say goodbye, to set myself free. I'll regret not getting this message across forever if I do not tell you now. So, I am blessed, my love, for having had you in my life, for learning love and happiness, but I am cursed, for losing you kills me deep down inside. Maybe that is the worst of all. For I have died within, but my body lives on. I have died inside, with you, but I have to learn to live again. Each step of my resurrection is a step away from you and a stab to the heart. Coming back to life means reliving every detail I miss so very much. It scares me so much, love. I have held onto you for this long to avoid all the excess pain but the time has come, dear, to move on.


I have a long, excruciating trip ahead of me, as do you, love. I am ready now, I think, I hope, I need. I wish this was not the way we had to depart from each other; I wish we never had to say goodbye. With these hopes and wishes, I have denied the end of our story. I have neglected this final chapter, keeping the series of events that have led up to our final hours together as close to me as I possibly could. I cannot be bitter, dear, for I know you would want me to be happy. But these long, lonely years have left a mark and I have been bitter, even cold at times. It is tough here without you, my love. And I didn't imagine it any other way. But imagining and living are two very different things. Which is why I am here. I am removing this cloak of bitterness and watching it float away into the clouds. I am taking all these lovely memories and storing them where they will live on forever but cannot haunt me, and I am releasing you from my iron grip, the hardest task I will ever finish. This is goodbye, but not a forever goodbye, a fr-now-goodbye. There will always be a place deep in my heart that is dedicated strictly for you, dear. And in a way, my whole heart is still yours, for if you were to open our door and walk over to me, you would take up all the space in my chest, no matter how long it took you to return.


Farewell on your journey, my one and only true love. Our souls will reunite, and I will be awaiting that day. But, until then, I must move on, my dear, create a new life for myself where I can breathe again without the pain. I must learn to live again, to be myself, the one you set your eyes on so many years ago and fell madly in love with. Oh, I miss those days!


Here I go again, love! Please do not let me dwell! Push me on, push me away from this house, this chair, this bed, these curtains. I need to move on and out, if only to allow you to do the same.


Now I bid you adieu one last time, dear, and this time I mean it. Wait for me when all has settled down and you have found peace. When I find those very things myself, and I take my final breaths, I will come join you to spend eternity in everlasting, immortal love atop the clouds.


Goodbye, my dear Jason. Find peace and happiness not matter where it be, up there in the heavens.


                                                                            With more love than you can imagine,
                                                                                 Iliana a.k.a. Iona <3 





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Idea 1: Goodbye; broken

I've thought about death before, many times. You know, which way hurts the most and which is the most peaceful. And, how will I die? Where? When?


I've even thought about suicide. Quite often, actually. I've never actually considered it, just thought. I don't completely understand why someone would ever want to kill him or herself, or why he or should would be able to go through with the act. On the other hand, I do understand the why part, at least, I do lately. Sometimes it just seems like it would be so much easier to end it and not have to live in so much pain. It's this internal pain that brings the thought, not the physical pain. Times like this make me think about these things, these horrible things.


Without you here, I feel this complete emptiness. It's one of those pains deep inside you that you cannot simply get rid of. I think it stays forever. This one doesn't feel like it will ever go away. And if it at least fades, it will only fade to the backround and linger on until my heart stops beating.


And now, do you see why the pondering of death and suicide come about for me? I do not know how to go on with this dark, burning abyss in my chest. In simpler terms, I do not know how to live without you. After years, decades, of life with you, how can I?


Ending this life would mean an end to this complete and utter misery. It would be a doorway to a far less gruesome universe. Even if heaven and hell do not exist above and below this very body my soul inhibits; even if souls are just figments of our imagination therefore having no where to travel after death, death seems like it would be better than this immortal pain.


It hurts. It immobilizes. It kills. And I never thought this day would come, you being gone and all. You know I am no poet, my love, but the feelings inside pour out of me like a waterfall of colors. Each color a different emotion bursting out. If only I saw colors anymore. Too many have thrust themselves from me into the rapids of my rainbow waterfall, only to leave me now with a world of gray hues.


Once I saw color, I did, just like everyone else. But my world has warped and twisted in this mess. Yes, love, my eyes have transformed in order to make sense of this colorless hell. Which, may I add, is worse than the bright burning fury so often depicted in art as the devil's home. This dull, everlasting underworld doesn't offer and kind of physically painful retreat from the burning, imploding ache in my chest. Physical pain would distract me, and would be much more bearable. It provides no excruciating distractions from my inner turmoil, instead leaving me subject to thought.


I don't mean to guilt you, dear, only to explain. I am not trying to provoke sympathy or sadness from you, quite the opposite. I am trying to say goodbye. But in order to do so, I have to let go of all the baggage I have been holding on to. I have not wanted to let go, but at this point, when contemplating suicide has become ritual, I see that I must. I cannot go on living without coming to terms that our relationship is over, for now, until we meet again, if we ever do. As the song "Landslide," by Fleetwood Mac, says, "I've been afraid of changin' cuz I've built my life around you." The infrastructure of my life has been designed for you, not me alone. I have been petrified of the consequences I might encounter if I live without you. The walls might collapse, the roof may cave in, the streets will probably crack, and the foundation will bulge. The support beams will crumble or melt, the buildings will be left as piles of crumbs being swept here and there by the wind. The oceans will be tempestuous, clouds gray and crying, lightening striking. The gods angered by the misuse of my own little world, furious that I built it for you, but use it, instead, for other things. And I'm afraid that in that perishing world, up in the devastated sky, all I will see is my heart breaking, being punctured, ripped, tugged, smushed, dripping, and the drops of blood turning into the clear rain drops which then turn into my own tears. My world was not built over these years to work without you, dear. For that, I am afraid. I am afraid of facing the future without you by my side, right where you always have been, to help me through any troubles I might stumble into.




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Intro

Hey world!

Hopefully people are or will be reading this and commenting on my many future posts! I'm starting this blog to help better my writing and self-discipline. I searched and found this idea for my senior project when my mom gave me the idea of caning a chair...pretty dull, in my opinion. So - since I love writing - I've decided to create a blog.

Within it, I will make a point to blog either short stories or a longer story in pieces at least once every two weeks. I hope I will blog in addition to this small requirement that I have set as well as connect myself with the rest of the world, and maybe even improve my vocabulary and my use of it.

I would love to get comments, good and bad, on what people think of my blogs!

Thank you!