Dogs are Vicious Beasts

I've always hated dogs. They're just creatures that have disturbed me since the begining of my existence. I despise them, and they totally freak me out. If they weren't so ferocious I would be responsible for killing like 50 of those animals by now. They are truly animals that shouldn't be allowed to live on this earth. They are horrid. But anyway, I've hated them for as long as I can remember, and today's experience only made me want to round up all the dogs in the world and throw them in a pit of flaming razers, and then dip them in salt water and watch them die a slow and painful death. You probably think I'm cruel, yes, but wait until you hear the tale of a terrible beast about the size of a watermelon.

For the past 15 years of my life, I have made it a habit to avoid and even run from any dogs that cross my path. I just can't stand their disgusting licking tounges when they pretend to like you, when really they're probably thinking,"Hmm...I'd better get a quick lick of this meal before I decided to dig in!". I hate their wagging tails and ugly faces and claws and barks (ohh, I've wanted to club so many dogs that just wouldn't shut up), and how their owners treat them like innocent babies. Ok, so maybe not all dogs are entirely evil, because I have met some dogs that the devil has loosened his grip on, but it's always a rare occasion. And I don't know, maybe it's just me and dogs hate me, because they seem to have their owners fooled. So my friend Amanda (bless her poor, corupted soul) has this possessed dog that looks more like an over-grown balck and white sewer rat (sorry Amanda, but I really don't like him right now). He has a spikey collar that suits him well, and little fangs, and I swear he has red eyes! I've never liked Porthos (doesn't that name just sound evil?), in fact, ever since I first met him I've hated him and tried to stay away from him and his corruptions. I always kept my distance and stayed away from him, because I swore if he ever licked me I would get tested for lice and fleas and rabies. He was full of pure evilness. Until recently when Amanda and I began walking home to her house in the afternoons for lunch. Whenever we'd go there to eat or just hang out, Porthos would actually come up to me and roll over for me to scratch his belly and pet him (oh, what a truly cunning act of evil), and appear to be innocent. Me, being the stupid dog hater that I am, fell for his act, and actually thought he was a decent animal. So today we walk home like usual, and I pet Porthos and rub his belly like usual. No problems there. Then, after school I come back over, and there the little Hitler is, all curled up on the couch like some little bunny or whatever that stupid dog thinks he is. I sit down on the edge of the couch, and he kind of comes over to me, and I pet him, like normal. Nothing happens, and I sit there for a minute or two, before I turned and pet him again. Then, for no reason in the universe, this evil possessed dog flips around and freakin' bites my hand! I was bleeding, and had that little Satan's teeth marks in my skin! I swear, if I have to have a scar from that beast for the rest of my life on my hand, I'd rather burn it off. I mean, if I was teasing him, or he didn't know me, or I was hurting him or petting him weird or scaring him, I can understand why he might get offensive. But I seriously didn't do anything to the little mongrel. I guess he just decided it was meal time. I mean, I thought Amanda fed her dog, so I'm pretty sure he didn't bite me because he was hungry. He's possessed I tell you! I hate that dog, and I will never touch that beast again for the rest of my life. If he ever dares get near me again I will kick him to high heaven, or maybe bite his paw off for no reason and see how he likes it!

The Renaissance Fair 2010

Ok, ok, so this last Saturday I went to most fun fair of the year! I'm not even just saying that to make this blog exciting - it really was a blast! The Renaissance fair is a fair held just past Ogden, Utah every year in woods off a little dirt road. Everyone dresses up as either: Royalty, maidens, lords and ladies, pirates, celtic dancers, fairies, gypsies, knights, jesters, trolls, gnomes, dwarfts, or anything else medevil or Reniassance they can think of. My friend Amanda and I dressed up as fairies, and our other friends Matthew and Mav dressed up in chain mail, and we went together. It was a blast! When you first walk in, people welcome you, talking with "ye's" and "thou's", and it's just really exciting. Following the map, you can go to the swamp, the jousting court, the petting zoo, the royalty tent, Jack Sparrow's ship, into the woods, across the moat, and many other activites. But the best of all has got to be the chain of merchants. Merchants from all over Utah, and elsewhere gather at the Reniassance fair and sell their wears and goods to the many intruiged customers. I love the merchants. There are over 100 little tented shops where you can buy almost anything you can imagine. People come there with the most random, cool stuff. I always bring like 40 bucks to spend, 'cause I know there's gonna be all sorts of cool stuff I won't be able to buy anywhere else. They sale furs of all sorts, armory like chain mail and weapons and stuff, food, the favorite being the gigantic turky drumsticks you must eat with only your two hands, jewelry such as celtic rings or gypsy earrings, hair extensions, handmade crafts made by only the best and most artistic, bags, books, costumes, beadwork, instruments, masks, dishes, glass balls, mirrors, glass spiders, horses, decorative speciaties, massages, and who knows what else. You just have to find it. Now this may all seem ordinary, but just imagine all these items all origanal and unique. I bought the most amazing things there. My first buy was an adorable celtic heart ring to go along with my dancing career. I then bought a handmade on-the-spot string bracelet custom made with my name embroidered into it with a faded rainbow. Then I got these dream catcher earrings with feathers in the middle, and last a yellow sparkly flower ring to match Amanda's. It was a total blast! We got our picture with Jack Sparrow, and I swear, he acted, looked, sounded and talked just like Johnny Depp! He was amazing! You know how Jack walks around all weird, like he's totally out of it? This guy was a pro at it! I was laughing my head off when he said,"'scuse me, love." He was the best of the best! He even had the hand actions and way to hold the gun down! HAHA. We followed him and laughed our heads off. If anyone has the chance to go next year, DO IT!!!

Epitaphs

Today I though I'd talk about epitaphs, or a summary statement of commemoration for a dead person. We had to write these for my english class while reading The Spoon River Anthology. Here's mine.

Epitaph of a Dead Memory
by Alissa Rosado P4

"At last at rest," the reverend ended,
and all dressed in black they went home
with the solid realization and frightening memory
of the dark sunken eyes and the bright scarlet throat.
Of the faded yellow hair that once had fingers ran through it,
or of the swollen, close eyelids with diamonds underneath.
Of the boney old hands that once clutched the chains of swings
with fingers that once filled the space between another's -
and on the fourth was worn a dream that never came true.
Why then, did she wear it?
The once rosy pink cheeks were now bleached an icy winter white,
with the lips painted as red as fresh blood for the services.
The ears that once held dainty daisies behind them could no longer
listen to the sounds of happiness and love,
or have a phone pressed against them, listening to
the voice of a lover
until the star silently slide behind the clouds like ghosts.
But this night was indeed different, no stars out tonight -
just the endless black hole that served as the pit
for the beautiful broken memory,
now forever dead and gone.

I thought it was pretty good, hehe. I really enjoyed writing these, because you are telling a person's life story in a creative, and kind of indirect way. You can just give hints or clues about what happened in their life, and leave the rest up to the reader, or connect two or more epitaphs. That's what I found really intruiging about the Spoon River Anthology. There was up to like 7 epitaphs that were all connected or centered around one event, each epitaph giving a different angle to the situation, telling another side to the story. We also had the chance to play the Spoon River Anthology game in the computer lab. It was very much connect to the book, but you had to walk around, solve mysteries and set souls at rest so they could move on to the next life. It was kind of funny and weird, but everyone seemed to like it even though it was a little cooky. Haha. We had to mount our epitaphs onto a gravestone that kind of connected to our epitaph, and I made mine into the shape of a star, since the name of my person was Lucinda R. Star, and stars were also mensioned in the epitaph.

Now, I hate to point fingers, but I just had to share this, since it left my laughing my head of for about 15 minutes straight. My "friend" (haha just kidding), Taylor Stringham, forgot our epitaphs were due, so he hurried and wrote down whatever came to mind first, and this is what he came up with:

Is life worth it? Oh I spent my life in that factory Oh I hated that place Life was good before the factory came when I married my wife she told me she loved me but told her mother she did not then the day I got ill my temperature as high as the sun my wife didn't care for me then the day I was well once more I went to a mountainous place that's when I found my wife didn't care at last it was over.
-Taylor Stringham 2010
Attempt at an epitaph in Mrs. Anderson's 9th grade English class

I don't know about you, but I thought it was pretty hilarious. Anyhow, that's enough about ephitaphs for one day! :)

Life of An Irish Dancer

Well, I have had about ZIP time to write lately, so I am doing like 3 posts right now! TEE HEE! What can I say, I'm a busy girl, and the reason I'm so busy is what I'm about to write about. So let me fill you in: Being an Irish dancer requires dedication and desire to work hard and get the job done to perfection. The judges in irish dancing are more particular than you could possibly imagine. If your poodle socks aren't the same height, glued to your skin, or bright white, you lose points. If your skirt length is too long, short, wide, or tight, there goes some more points. If the top portion of your dress doesn't fit right, or isn't fancy enough, deduction. Your wig needs to have crisp curls, your bangs must be slicked back, your crown in position, and no fly away hairs. Your shoes must be tied right, with no bunny ears from the bows, and if they come off that's a major point loss, especially if it flies off while you're dancing and fatally hits someone in the audience or (even worse) the judge. And I haven't even gotten started on the dancing part yet. Posture and arms must be tight and remain position at all times. Your chin can't be too high or too low, must always be straight forward, no slumping your shoulders, back straight, and arms tight down at your sides. Your foot work must be so precise. If you miss a step, do it sloppily, or get off time, those are major portions of bad. Your make-up ideally must match your dress, and your number must always be visable, tied on tightly with a matching ribbon, or clasp around your waist. Kickpants under your dress must match, and be the right kind. Those are the basic requirements for solos.

Teams (figures) are more difficult in some area's and easier in other. Instead of focusing on complex steps in teams, you are focusing on unison and sharpness, dancing as one. Everything about every member of the team must match. The wigs, the socks, the shoes, the dresses, the kickpants, the crowns, and the dancing. The team that can make themselves most look and dance like a "single dancer" are most likely to win. Like in solos, your feet must be turned out and crossed. Leaps must be high, tight and fast. You must be graceful when you need to be graceful and attack when you need to attack. When wearing hardshoes, you must get all the tapping sounds down loud and clear. You must stretch your legs and move across the floor. You must be better than everyone else to win. You must be sharper, higher, most graceful, most exact, more crossed, louder, and tighter in everything you do. Only then can you win metals and trophies to advance to the next level and eventually become a champion and dance in World Championships around the world.

Here are links to videos of examples of solo and team irish dances:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Va83mW2t3yc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OraC81Mc1WA&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5FEJAa-3aA&feature=PlayList&p=96D80290C894CDAD&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

Saturn

Here's an essay I wrote about Saturn for one of my classes. I thought it was pretty good writing, and Saturn is one of my favorite planets. One day, it would awesome to travel into space...but maybe that's just me.

My magazine article (Wonder Worlds) is all about Saturn’s surprising moons that are revolutionizing the search for life beyond Earth. It’s all about a researching group called Cassini, funded by NASA in exploring Saturn and all its moons. So far, 61 of Saturn’s moons have been discovered. Cassini has also discovered that two of Saturn’s moons are spewing water vapor and ice into space. Could these moons possibly support life? Could there be aliens somewhere on one of Saturn’s moons? This is what Cassini, NASA and many other scientists are researching and trying to figure out.

In 2005 while exploring the Saturn system, the Cassini spacecraft discovered that Enceladus and Cryovolcanoes (two of Saturn’s moons) were shooting jets of water vapor and ice into space. They believe that these two substances may have come from an underground water source. They also discovered that the debris contained ammonia, which is a “potent antifreeze” that could keep water in a liquid state even at the deep-freeze temperatures measured on the moons. That could mean that these moons could have a chance of supporting life –aliens, perhaps. The Cassini has also explored another one of Saturn’s moons – the Titan, and in 2005 when they released a probe to explore the moon, it revealed muddy, Earth-like river channels and a pebble-strewn surface. Even after all their wearisome adventures, the Cassini is also planning on exploring two more of Saturn’s moons, Dione and Lapetus, which may also be emitting gases from their surfaces, and have underground water systems.

In my personal opinion, I think that it is very possible that there may be other life on Saturn, or one of its moons. This article has a lot of logical information, and I also have had interest in extra-terrestrials in the past. On several occasions I have researched pictures and alien sightings just for fun. I have found all sorts of pictures that really got me thinking. With the rise of technology I believe that we will one day find a way to prove our theory of aliens. I have always believed that there were aliens somewhere out there, even before I read this intriguing article.

This article was written by real scientists with real equipment and knowledge. Even besides these scientists, there are hundreds of others researching these kinds of things. I’m pretty confident that all the discoveries and theories these scientists have researched are somewhere close to true. “It was striking how familiar those images were for such an alien place,” said Scientist, Elizabeth Turtle. There have been thousands of sightings, and scientists have been constantly exploring planet after planet and moons. I am aware that there is no certain proof, but there has been enough evidence that I can safely say that I believe extra-terrestrials exist.

In conclusion, this article was very intriguing and interesting to read. I am actually very glad I had the chance to read it. It gave me a new perspective on several things, including where aliens may be found. I have also learned a lot about Saturn and its moons. I never knew that Saturn had 61 moons (maybe more), and that they may be a place that is able to support life! Hopefully in the future more articles about this subject will come up, and I will be able to learn even more about what these amazing scientists are researching each day.

SPANISH!

As some of you may know, I am taking a Spanish 3 class this year with Profa Turneau. Although it's not my best subject, I like spanish, and here are some examples of spanish paragraphs and their translations. There arn't that great, but I'd say they arn't that bad for only being in Spanish 3.

Hada Madrina By Serena Rosado Clase 6
De pequena, me gustaba hacer magica. Cambie a un pricipe en una rana. Mi madre, una bruja, estaba muy orgulloso* de mi. Mi padre, un mago, hizo mi varita* magica. Mi varita magica es de color rosado y azul con destellos*. De pequena, tome clases de otra hada madrina. Ella me enseno a cambiar las cosas* y volar*. Mi madre dice que cuando soy mayor voy a llegar a ayudar a las princesas. Ella me dijo que tenia un sueno que me ayudo a una princesa llamada Cenicienta. Solo se que voy a ser un heroe de verdad, cuande voy a mas clases.! No puedo esperar hasta que llegue a ser un hada madrina professonal!
1) proud 2) wand 3) sparkles 4) change things 5) fly

Translation:
As a child, I liked to do magic. I could Switch to a Prince into a frog. My mother, a witch, was very proud of me. My father, a magician, made my magic wand. My magic wand is pink and blue with sparkles. From when I was small, I took classes from another fairy godmother. She taught me to change things and fly. My mother says that when I'm older I will get to help the princesses. She said she had a dream that helped me a princess named Cinderella. I just know I'll be a real hero when I go to more classes.! I can not wait until I get to be a professonal fairy godmother!

Alissa era una persona muy especial. Ella era muy obediente y jugueton. Ella gustaba ver cines y escuchar musica. Sus padres fueron Janae y Francis Rosado. Fueron muy pacientes y carinosa. Alissa siempre contaba chistes y hacia travesuras. Ella era muy comical. Sus mejor amigos era Rebekah, Amanda, Sierrah, y sus hermana, Shealeen. Alissa le encantaba tomar fotos y escribir. Su actividad favorita era el baile. Descanse en paz.

Translation:
Alissa was a very special person. She was very obedient and playful. She liked to watch movies and listen to music. His parents were Janae and Francis Rose. They were very patient and loving. Alissa always telling jokes and playing pranks. She was very comical. His best friends was Rebekah, Amanda, Sierrah, and his sister, Shealeen. Alissa loves to take pictures and write. His favorite activity was dancing. Rest in peace.

Me encanta bailar. El baile es genial. Es muy divertido y agradable. Podría hacerlo todo el día. Voy a bailar dos veces a la semana. El nombre de mi maestro es Amy. Ella es increíble. Ella es muy buena en la danza y me enseña mucho. El tipo de baile que me gusta hacer es bailar irlandés. Muchas personas no toman la danza irlandesa, pero yo sí. Es divertido por encima de cualquier otro tipo de baile. Es divertido y cultural muy. Deberías probarlo alguna vez. Es más difícil de lo que parece.

Translation:
I love to dance. Dancing is great. It is really fun and enjoyable. I could do it all day long. I go to dance two times a week. My teacher's name is Amy. She is amazing. She is very good at dance and teaches me alot. The kind of dancing I like to do is Irish dancing. Many people don't take Irish dance, but I do. It is fun above any other kind of dance. It's fun and very cultural. You should try it sometime. It's more difficult than it looks.

Spring Break

Man, I have been super busy these past few weeks with school and dance and all sorts of crazy stuff, but I'm finally getting myself caught up on stuff! I worked super hard the last part of third term to keep my 4.0 streak (which I did! yay!), as well as keep up in dance since we have compititions coming up soon! Hopefully in these next few compititions I will be able to move up to a champion level! I'm almost there! But anyway, this week is Spring Break, I wake up ready for tons of fun, and there are piles and piles of snow outside. What the heck!?! This is April for heaven's sake! Ugh! I hate snow so bad. That's mostly the reason that I hate living in Utah - the weather the just spoils everything. And watch, next week when we have to go back ti school its going to be super warm outside. Uh - it makes me so upset! Grr! But Spring Break - I totally can't wait, and here's some of my [evil] plans:

So first of all we are driving up to visit my cousins and grandma in Alpine. Now, my cousin Mariah who is also 15 is very much like me - very mischievious and full of fun and always looking for trouble. We love harassing my grandma's old neighbors or freaking people out up in the mountain paths were they live. Then (the best part of all) I think I've told you that they live in the most giant house you will ever set eyes upon. It really doesn't even look like a house! We like to make fun of the "cleaning people" that come and clean her house and telling them they "missed a spot", or investigate on this creepy mexican dude that roams the halls of there house. We also like to camp out and just talk or tell funny stories and mostly plan pranks and other fun stuff to do. We also enjoy not going to bed, and just roaming the neighborhood and knocking on people's windows or climbing onto their roofs and stomping around, and just being annoying teenagers having a good time. My counsins have this huge ugly, stuffed, real life turkey that they really want to get rid of, but don't know what to do with it. Mariah and I volunteered to be the ones to find a new home for it. This weekend when we drive up there to visit, we're planning on leaving that ugly old turkey on my grandma's neighbor (Rotten Tooth Guy)'s porch, and having someone hide in the bushes with a camera. It'd going to be awesome!!! Tee Hee! We also have a life time supply of Silly String hidden away, so there's many possibilities there, too. We might write creepy messages in the snow with it, or trap some oldy inside their house! We also might hide in the bushes along the mountain path and jump out and spray random people walking calmly by...

Literary Analysis for Great Expectations

I figured I might as well post my Literary Analysis for Great Expectations on my Blog as well, since I thought it was pretty good. It seems pretty long since I had to had in the lengthy passage from the book to write about. I hope you enjoy it!

The Dickens novel Great Expectations was a fascinating and intriguing love story, about a young boy who falls in love, tastes the bitter hate and revenge of the world, and discovers many things he never noticed before, such as the kindness and charity of a true friend. This books shows that revenge is truly not the answer, and will only make things much worse than they started out to be. As Pip grows and goes on with his life, he meets many people who thought the only way to be satisfied was through revenge and trickery, but in the end discover in a most dreadful way, that they were indeed very wrong.
“Putting Miss Havisham's note in my pocket, that it might serve as my credentials for so soon reappearing at Satis House, in case her waywardness should lead her to express any surprise at seeing me, I went down again by the coach next day. But I alighted at the Halfway House, and breakfasted there, and walked the rest of the distance; for, I sought to get into the town quietly by the unfrequented ways, and to leave it in the same manner.

The best light of the day was gone when I passed along the quiet echoing courts behind the High-street. The nooks of ruin where the old monks had once had their refectories and gardens, and where the strong walls were now pressed into the service of humble sheds and stables, were almost as silent as the old monks in their graves. The cathedral chimes had at once a sadder and a more remote sound to me, as I hurried on avoiding observation, than they had ever had before; so, the swell of the old organ was borne to my ears like funeral music; and the rooks, as they hovered about the grey tower and swung in the bare high trees of the priory-garden, seemed to call to me that the place was changed, and that Estella was gone out of it for ever.

An elderly woman whom I had seen before as one of the servants who lived in the supplementary house across the back court-yard, opened the gate. The lighted candle stood in the dark passage within, as of old, and I took it up and ascended the staircase alone. Miss Havisham was not in her own room, but was in the larger room across the landing. Looking in at the door, after knocking in vain, I saw her sitting on the hearth in a ragged chair, close before, and lost in the contemplation of, the ashy fire.

Doing as I had often done, I went in, and stood, touching the old chimney-piece, where she could see me when she raised her eyes. There was an air or utter loneliness upon her, that would have moved me to pity though she had wilfully done me a deeper injury than I could charge her with. As I stood compassionating her, and thinking how in the progress of time I too had come to be a part of the wrecked fortunes of that house, her eyes rested on me. She stared, and said in a low voice, "Is it real?"

"It is I, Pip. Mr. Jaggers gave me your note yesterday, and I have lost no time."

"Thank you. Thank you."

As I brought another of the ragged chairs to the hearth and sat down, I remarked a new expression on her face, as if she were afraid of me.

"I want," she said, "to pursue that subject you mentioned to me when you were last here, and to show you that I am not all stone. But perhaps you can never believe, now, that there is anything human in my heart?"

When I said some reassuring words, she stretched out her tremulous right hand, as though she was going to touch me; but she recalled it again before I understood the action, or knew how to receive it.

"You said, speaking for your friend, that you could tell me how to do something useful and good. Something that you would like done, is it not?"

"Something that I would like done very much."

"What is it?"

I began explaining to her that secret history of the partnership. I had not got far into it, when I judged from her looks that she was thinking in a discursive way of me, rather than of what I said. It seemed to be so, for, when I stopped speaking, many moments passed before she showed that she was conscious of the fact.

"Do you break off," she asked then, with her former air of being afraid of me, "because you hate me too much to bear to speak to me?"

"No, no," I answered, "how can you think so, Miss Havisham! I stopped because I thought you were not following what I said."

"Perhaps I was not," she answered, putting a hand to her head. "Begin again, and let me look at something else. Stay! Now tell me."

She set her hand upon her stick, in the resolute way that sometimes was habitual to her, and looked at the fire with a strong expression of forcing herself to attend. I went on with my explanation, and told her how I had hoped to complete the transaction out of my means, but how in this I was disappointed. That part of the subject (I reminded her) involved matters which could form no part of my explanation, for they were the weighty secrets of another.

"So!" said she, assenting with her head, but not looking at me. "And how much money is wanting to complete the purchase?"

I was rather afraid of stating it, for it sounded a large sum. "Nine hundred pounds."

"If I give you the money for this purpose, will you keep my secret as you have kept your own?"

"Quite as faithfully."

"And your mind will be more at rest?"

"Much more at rest."

"Are you very unhappy now?"

She asked this question, still without looking at me, but in an unwonted tone of sympathy. I could not reply at the moment, for my voice failed me. She put her left arm across the head of her stick, and softly laid her forehead on it.

"I am far from happy, Miss Havisham; but I have other causes of disquiet than any you know of. They are the secrets I have mentioned."

After a little while, she raised her head and looked at the fire again.

"It is noble in you to tell me that you have other causes of unhappiness, Is it true?"

"Too true."

"Can I only serve you, Pip, by serving your friend? Regarding that as done, is there nothing I can do for you yourself?"

"Nothing. I thank you for the question. I thank you even more for the tone of the question. But, there is nothing."

She presently rose from her seat, and looked about the blighted room for the means of writing. There were non there, and she took from her pocket a yellow set of ivory tablets, mounted in tarnished gold, and wrote upon them with a pencil in a case of tarnished gold that hung from her neck.

"You are still on friendly terms with Mr. Jaggers?"

"Quite. I dined with him yesterday."

"This is an authority to him to pay you that money, to lay out at your irresponsible discretion for your friend. I keep no money here; but if you would rather Mr. Jaggers knew nothing of the matter, I will send it to you."

"Thank you, Miss Havisham; I have not the least objection to receiving it from him."

She read me what she had written, and it was direct and clear, and evidently intended to absolve me from any suspicion of profiting by the receipt of the money. I took the tablets from her hand, and it trembled again, and it trembled more as she took off the chain to which the pencil was attached, and put it in mine. All this she did, without looking at me.

"My name is on the first leaf. If you can ever write under my name, "I forgive her," though ever so long after my broken heart is dust - pray do it!"

"O Miss Havisham," said I, "I can do it now. There have been sore mistakes; and my life has been a blind and thankless one; and I want forgiveness and direction far too much, to be bitter with you."

She turned her face to me for the first time since she had averted it, and, to my amazement, I may even add to my terror, dropped on her knees at my feet; with her folded hands raised to me in the manner in which, when her poor heart was young and fresh and whole, they must often have been raised to heaven from her mother's side.

To see her with her white hair and her worn face kneeling at my feet, gave me a shock through all my frame. I entreated her to rise, and got my arms about her to help her up; but she only pressed that hand of mine which was nearest to her grasp, and hung her head over it and wept. I had never seen her shed a tear before, and, in the hope that the relief might do her good, I bent over her without speaking. She was not kneeling now, but was down upon the ground.

"O!" she cried, despairingly. "What have I done! What have I done!"

"If you mean, Miss Havisham, what have you done to injure me, let me answer. Very little. I should have loved her under any circumstances. - Is she married?"

"Yes."

It was a needless question, for a new desolation in the desolate house had told me so.

"What have I done! What have I done!" She wrung her hands, and crushed her white hair, and returned to this cry over and over again. "What have I done!"

I knew not how to answer, or how to comfort her. That she had done a grievous thing in taking an impressionable child to mould into the form that her wild resentment, spurned affection, and wounded pride, found vengeance in, I knew full well. But that, in shutting out the light of day, she had shut out infinitely more; that, in seclusion, she had secluded herself from a thousand natural and healing influences; that, her mind, brooding solitary, had grown diseased, as all minds do and must and will that reverse the appointed order of their Maker; I knew equally well. And could I look upon her without compassion, seeing her punishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this earth on which she was placed, in the vanity of sorrow which had become a master mania, like the vanity of penitence, the vanity of remorse, the vanity of unworthiness, and other monstrous vanities that have been curses in this world?

"Until you spoke to her the other day, and until I saw in you a looking-glass that showed me what I once felt myself, I did not know what I had done. What have I done! What have I done!" And so again, twenty, fifty times over, What had she done!

"Miss Havisham," I said, when her cry had died away, "you may dismiss me from your mind and conscience. But Estella is a different case, and if you can ever undo any scrap of what you have done amiss in keeping a part of her right nature away from her, it will be better to do that, than to bemoan the past through a hundred years."

"Yes, yes, I know it. But, Pip - my Dear!" There was an earnest womanly compassion for me in her new affection. "My Dear! Believe this: when she first came to me, I meant to save her from misery like my own. At first I meant no more."

"Well, well!" said I. "I hope so."

"But as she grew, and promised to be very beautiful, I gradually did worse, and with my praises, and with my jewels, and with my teachings, and with this figure of myself always before her a warning to back and point my lessons, I stole her heart away and put ice in its place."

"Better," I could not help saying, "to have left her a natural heart, even to be bruised or broken."

With that, Miss Havisham looked distractedly at me for a while, and then burst out again, What had she done!

"If you knew all my story," she pleaded, "you would have some compassion for me and a better understanding of me."

"Miss Havisham," I answered, as delicately as I could, "I believe I may say that I do know your story, and have known it ever since I first left this neighbourhood. It has inspired me with great commiseration, and I hope I understand it and its influences. Does what has passed between us give me any excuse for asking you a question relative to Estella? Not as she is, but as she was when she first came here?"

She was seated on the ground, with her arms on the ragged chair, and her head leaning on them. She looked full at me when I said this, and replied, "Go on."

"Whose child was Estella?"

She shook her head.

"You don't know?"

She shook her head again.

"But Mr. Jaggers brought her here, or sent her here?"

"Brought her here."

"Will you tell me how that came about?"

She answered in a low whisper and with caution: "I had been shut up in these rooms a long time (I don't know how long; you know what time the clocks keep here), when I told him that I wanted a little girl to rear and love, and save from my fate. I had first seen him when I sent for him to lay this place waste for me; having read of him in the newspapers, before I and the world parted. He told me that he would look about him for such an orphan child. One night he brought her here asleep, and I called her Estella."

"Might I ask her age then?"

"Two or three. She herself knows nothing, but that she was left an orphan and I adopted her."

So convinced I was of that woman's being her mother, that I wanted no evidence to establish the fact in my own mind. But, to any mind, I thought, the connection here was clear and straight.

What more could I hope to do by prolonging the interview? I had succeeded on behalf of Herbert, Miss Havisham had told me all she knew of Estella, I had said and done what I could to ease her mind. No matter with what other words we parted; we parted.

Twilight was closing in when I went down stairs into the natural air. I called to the woman who had opened the gate when I entered, that I would not trouble her just yet, but would walk round the place before leaving. For, I had a presentiment that I should never be there again, and I felt that the dying light was suited to my last view of it.

By the wilderness of casks that I had walked on long ago, and on which the rain of years had fallen since, rotting them in many places, and leaving miniature swamps and pools of water upon those that stood on end, I made my way to the ruined garden. I went all round it; round by the corner where Herbert and I had fought our battle; round by the paths where Estella and I had walked. So cold, so lonely, so dreary all!

Taking the brewery on my way back, I raised the rusty latch of a little door at the garden end of it, and walked through. I was going out at the opposite door - not easy to open now, for the damp wood had started and swelled, and the hinges were yielding, and the threshold was encumbered with a growth of fungus - when I turned my head to look back. A childish association revived with wonderful force in the moment of the slight action, and I fancied that I saw Miss Havisham hanging to the beam. So strong was the impression, that I stood under the beam shuddering from head to foot before I knew it was a fancy - though to be sure I was there in an instant.

The mournfulness of the place and time, and the great terror of this illusion, though it was but momentary, caused me to feel an indescribable awe as I came out between the open wooden gates where I had once wrung my hair after Estella had wrung my heart. Passing on into the front court-yard, I hesitated whether to call the woman to let me out at the locked gate of which she had the key, or first to go up-stairs and assure myself that Miss Havisham was as safe and well as I had left her. I took the latter course and went up.

I looked into the room where I had left her, and I saw her seated in the ragged chair upon the hearth close to the fire, with her back towards me. In the moment when I was withdrawing my head to go quietly away, I saw a great flaming light spring up. In the same moment, I saw her running at me, shrieking, with a whirl of fire blazing all about her, and soaring at least as many feet above her head as she was high.

I had a double-caped great-coat on, and over my arm another thick coat. That I got them off, closed with her, threw her down, and got them over her; that I dragged the great cloth from the table for the same purpose, and with it dragged down the heap of rottenness in the midst, and all the ugly things that sheltered there; that we were on the ground struggling like desperate enemies, and that the closer I covered her, the more wildly she shrieked and tried to free herself; that this occurred I knew through the result, but not through anything I felt, or thought, or knew I did. I knew nothing until I knew that we were on the floor by the great table, and that patches of tinder yet alight were floating in the smoky air, which, a moment ago, had been her faded bridal dress.

Then, I looked round and saw the disturbed beetles and spiders running away over the floor, and the servants coming in with breathless cries at the door. I still held her forcibly down with all my strength, like a prisoner who might escape; and I doubt if I even knew who she was, or why we had struggled, or that she had been in flames, or that the flames were out, until I saw the patches of tinder that had been her garments, no longer alight but falling in a black shower around us.

She was insensible, and I was afraid to have her moved, or even touched. Assistance was sent for and I held her until it came, as if I unreasonably fancied (I think I did) that if I let her go, the fire would break out again and consume her. When I got up, on the surgeon's coming to her with other aid, I was astonished to see that both my hands were burnt; for, I had no knowledge of it through the sense of feeling.

On examination it was pronounced that she had received serious hurts, but that they of themselves were far from hopeless; the danger lay mainly in the nervous shock. By the surgeon's directions, her bed was carried into that room and laid upon the great table: which happened to be well suited to the dressing of her injuries. When I saw her again, an hour afterwards, she lay indeed where I had seen her strike her stick, and had heard her say that she would lie one day.

Though every vestige of her dress was burnt, as they told me, she still had something of her old ghastly bridal appearance; for, they had covered her to the throat with white cotton-wool, and as she lay with a white sheet loosely overlying that, the phantom air of something that had been and was changed, was still upon her.

I found, on questioning the servants, that Estella was in Paris, and I got a promise from the surgeon that he would write to her by the next post. Miss Havisham's family I took upon myself; intending to communicate with Mr. Matthew Pocket only, and leave him to do as he liked about informing the rest. This I did next day, through Herbert, as soon as I returned to town.

There was a stage, that evening, when she spoke collectedly of what had happened, though with a certain terrible vivacity. Towards midnight she began to wander in her speech, and after that it gradually set in that she said innumerable times in a low solemn voice, "What have I done!" And then, "When she first came, I meant to save her from misery like mine." And then, "Take the pencil and write under my name, 'I forgive her!'" She never changed the order of these three sentences, but she sometimes left out a word in one or other of them; never putting in another word, but always leaving a blank and going on to the next word.

As I could do no service there, and as I had, nearer home, that pressing reason for anxiety and fear which even her wanderings could not drive out of my mind, I decided in the course of the night that I would return by the early morning coach: walking on a mile or so, and being taken up clear of the town. At about six o'clock of the morning, therefore, I leaned over her and touched her lips with mine, just as they said, not stopping for being touched, "Take the pencil and write under my name, 'I forgive her.’”
(Great Expectations, pages 419-429,Chapter 49)
This extraordinary passage for the book relates when Pip returns to Miss Havisham’s household, still heartbroken about Estella being married to another and Miss Havisham’s cruel revenge on males. When he arrives, however, he is startled to find Miss Havisham asking if she may do him the favor of giving him 900 pounds for Herbert “secret salary” sort of deal. After quickly agreeing to pay the money if it would cause him to feel more at rest, she asks if there is anything else she may possibly do to serve him, and asks him if he is unhappy. Pip assures her that there are other reasons he is unhappy besides her and Estella (referring to Provis and those complications), and then says to him, "My name is on the first leaf. If you can ever write under my name, "I forgive her," though ever so long after my broken heart is dust - pray do it!". She then begins to beg for Pip’s forgiveness, and is obviously disgusted with herself for what she has done to Pip. She told him that the last time he came to visit her and Estella, and cried and told of his love for her, she had at last seen what she had been doing for so many years, and was mortified with herself. At the end of this chapter, Miss Havisham’s dress catches fire, and is severely burnt , as well as Pip’s hands and arm, from saving her from the flames.
This passage was very significant to the book because of its telling and also showing that revenge is a distasteful route to take. You may feel satisfied at first, but it will always come back to bite you in the butt, and can never just hurt the person it was intended for. As Miss Havisham expresses her horror with herself and what she has done to Pip and Estella, you can feel the pain and anger going on inside both of them, and how much Miss Havisham’s early decision for revenge was a wrong choice. At the end of the chapter when Miss Havisham catches her dress on fire, it is symbolic to her soul, and what sort of state her life and mind are in. She is angry at the world and wants nothing but fiery revenge. It is also symbolic as Pip’s hands and arms are also burnt, showing that when someone chooses to be always burning and evil inside, it also affects other people, and burns other people.
The imagery and description of this passage is so rich and filled with feeling that it really just an exciting chapter to read. The way Dickens tells this part of the story, you can really feel the heat and tension and remorse. I don’t think the characters really hide any feelings in this chapter, so it’s all thrown out there plain and with a lot of passion. The imagery is perfect, in the sense that you can really see the image of Miss Havisham running at Pip with wild eyes and old tattered wedding dress aflame. You can see Pip frantically pulling the spidery table cloth away to cover the dying old woman, and hear her muffled screams of terror and pain. It’s really just those extra, unexpected little details that Dickens throws in there that give you that perfect imagine and description in your mind. When Miss Havisham or Pip talks, you can feel their insides burning or softening, since like I said, no feelings are really hid in this passage. This rich detail really helps magnify the theme of revenge and how terrible it can end up to be, and the symbolism of the fire is truly awesome.
The voice in this passage is really magnificent. It is two main characters unfolding and coming undone to express their true feelings from deep within their souls. One of the reasons I chose this passage is because it is a very strong point in the book, when things start to pick up, and the theme of the book is expressed to its fullest. The real theme that revenge is a harder road to take stands out as Miss Havisham begs for Pip’s forgiveness. It also proves how strong Pip is, how calm he is able to be during this upbeat chapter, and how easily he will forgive Miss Havisham after so much suffering. At the beginning of the chapter it does say that looking at her lonely appearance he almost felt pity for her, but didn’t after remembering all the pain she had caused him, but he seems to soften after listening to Miss Havisham’s frantic pleas. However, the narrative voice in this passage was also very strong in describing what was being felt, and how things were unfolding. The tone of the passage as a whole is full of heat, and strong feelings of pity and compassion. At times it is very desperate and then dies down to a calmer pace, and then speeds back up again at the end of the chapter.
This passage truly is one of the peaks of this book, with strong words and feelings. When reading this passage for the first time, it really testified to me that revenge is a sick thing. Revenge may not always be as extreme as Miss Havisham used it, but it can never bring good, and you will end up like the broken Miss Havisham in some way, shape, or form. It’s just no use, and no good. The power of this passage and the morning and want for forgiveness, or to go back and tell themselves what they now knew, and to go back and redo everything is very strong and meaningful. This part of the book can really speak to you and your own life, how you’re living, and learning from the character’s mistakes and realizations. This passage totally ties together the theme of revenge and the feelings and results of certain behaviors.
In conclusion, Great Expectations was a very touching book for me. I thought it had an excellent story line and excellent teachings and morals. The story of Pip’s love for Estella and Miss Havisham’s awful revenge and Joe’s and Biddy’s unconditional love for Pip teaches us to be loving and gracious in our own lives, and not to seek revenge when we are hurt, but to compromise, not to end up like Miss Havisham. It teaches us that if we take our time to do simple acts of kindness, it make come back to us later with a huge blessing, like Provis did for Pip. It was an amazing and touching story, sure to be remembered by me. I have learned a lot from its teaching and mistakes of the characters, and I know it has really affected my life.

The Window continued...

Here is more to the novel I am workig on writing...

As if to make all the matters of her childhood worse, shortly after moving into her new little house the woman discovered at her six month check-up that she had inherited the deadly family cancer. It was slow and unforgiving, moving from the feet, through the legs, and after weakening the abdominal organs, it attacked the heart. At sixty-seven years old, the woman seemed to feel it upon her more and more each day, causing sore feet, to numb ankles and finally a walker, then a wheelchair. Each week she reported to her personal doctor, dreading the same news each time – there was still no cure. She begged the scientists, saying she would readily pay any amount, even showing them the money…but they just couldn’t figure it out. But she didn’t want to die! She had once loved to invent, and imagine, planting and skipping, sometimes running through the fields behind her home, and riding the horses she had secretly purchased until the day was done. But that was all over now. Pretty soon she wouldn’t even be able to stand. What a life this is, the old dying woman often thought to herself. What a life.
None of this woman’s neighbors ever bothered or dared to visit her, but if they had just taken one chance to step inside her house, they would have been instantly filled with amazement and insist upon visiting longer. Its _____ style was most pleasurable, with cute little tables and chandeliers adorning each room. The curtains matched the couch pillows, and dainty little pots and pans hung from a ______ above the kitchen counter. In the living room beside the welcoming fire place a coffee table sat with a silver tea tray, holding crumpets and some of the best tea you’d ever sip. A bookshelf on the right wall spilling over with books of all sorts would catch your attention, and then you would look up as her ____ clock chimed on the mantle. Out the side door you would find a miniature green house the woman had once constructed herself, with secret herbs and strange flowers from many faraway lands. The backyard was more like some sort of sanctuary, with rows and rows of rose bushes and vine covered arches.
In the back rooms of the magnificent little house, you might find a pancake making machine, or possibly a mechanical letter sealer. All the woman’s many inventions she thought up years ago when healthy and well would be lined up against the wall, with tables of acids and experiments in the center. To the side, a small kitchen, and the whirring of a coffee maker preparing a hot cup for the once industrious inventor. The open basement window would reveal an experimental garden blossoming in the window well, and as you looked up at the little chimney puffing smoke, you would realize that it certainly was a comfortable little place.
But no one did visit her, so this woman was left to enjoy it all alone, which she had no problem doing. She had learned to rather dislike all people after her dreary childhood, accidental fortune and tragic disease, luring greedy people to follow her everywhere she even thought of going. And now escaped from them and all alone, she didn’t have to deal all the worldly people, and she had no intent upon becoming acquainted with anyone. And that was that.
So aside from all of her reading and thinking and studying her old inventions, after some time alone, this woman couldn’t help but to notice her neighbors…peculiar people, and the most interesting things they did. She realized that when one can’t walk, the world is a whole different place. She soon found herself constantly watching them all through the perfectly polished glass of her favorite window, just wide enough to admit her wheelchair, and not alter her lovely view of the neighborhood.
Perched in her big black chair at her large upstairs bedroom window, with misty green curtains laid softly at each side, she watched them. She studied their every move. She observed who they talked to and how, and the things that revoked certain feelings. She observed the things they bought and why, and what time they left their houses for what reasons. Their neighborly or personal disputes were never missed by this woman, bestowing upon them the icy glare of a lonely old, crippled woman. But behind the ice, the eyes melted until they were almost in tears. She watched them fight and cry and laugh and play – it was all just too interesting. Some days she realized what she was doing, and wondered if she had gone crazy, watching all her stupid neighbors, people she didn’t even know…and yet, she knew them. And the more she watched, the more she began to wonder if her lonely, reserved life was really what she wanted after all…
As if to make all the matters of her childhood worse, shortly after moving into her new little house the woman discovered at her six month check-up that she had inherited the deadly family cancer. It was slow and unforgiving, moving from the feet, through the legs, and after weakening the abdominal organs, it attacked the heart. At sixty-seven years old, the woman seemed to feel it upon her more and more each day, causing sore feet, to numb ankles and finally a walker, then a wheelchair. Each week she reported to her personal doctor, dreading the same news each time – there was still no cure. She begged the scientists, saying she would readily pay any amount, even showing them the money…but they just couldn’t figure it out. But she didn’t want to die! She had once loved to invent, and imagine, planting and skipping, sometimes running through the fields behind her home, and riding the horses she had secretly purchased until the day was done. But that was all over now. Pretty soon she wouldn’t even be able to stand. What a life this is, the old dying woman often thought to herself. What a life.
None of this woman’s neighbors ever bothered or dared to visit her, but if they had just taken one chance to step inside her house, they would have been instantly filled with amazement and insist upon visiting longer. Its _____ style was most pleasurable, with cute little tables and chandeliers adorning each room. The curtains matched the couch pillows, and dainty little pots and pans hung from a ______ above the kitchen counter. In the living room beside the welcoming fire place a coffee table sat with a silver tea tray, holding crumpets and some of the best tea you’d ever sip. A bookshelf on the right wall spilling over with books of all sorts would catch your attention, and then you would look up as her ____ clock chimed on the mantle. Out the side door you would find a miniature green house the woman had once constructed herself, with secret herbs and strange flowers from many faraway lands. The backyard was more like some sort of sanctuary, with rows and rows of rose bushes and vine covered arches.
In the back rooms of the magnificent little house, you might find a pancake making machine, or possibly a mechanical letter sealer. All the woman’s many inventions she thought up years ago when healthy and well would be lined up against the wall, with tables of acids and experiments in the center. To the side, a small kitchen, and the whirring of a coffee maker preparing a hot cup for the once industrious inventor. The open basement window would reveal an experimental garden blossoming in the window well, and as you looked up at the little chimney puffing smoke, you would realize that it certainly was a comfortable little place.
But no one did visit her, so this woman was left to enjoy it all alone, which she had no problem doing. She had learned to rather dislike all people after her dreary childhood, accidental fortune and tragic disease, luring greedy people to follow her everywhere she even thought of going. And now escaped from them and all alone, she didn’t have to deal all the worldly people, and she had no intent upon becoming acquainted with anyone. And that was that.
So aside from all of her reading and thinking and studying her old inventions, after some time alone, this woman couldn’t help but to notice her neighbors…peculiar people, and the most interesting things they did. She realized that when one can’t walk, the world is a whole different place. She soon found herself constantly watching them all through the perfectly polished glass of her favorite window, just wide enough to admit her wheelchair, and not alter her lovely view of the neighborhood.
Perched in her big black chair at her large upstairs bedroom window, with misty green curtains laid softly at each side, she watched them. She studied their every move. She observed who they talked to and how, and the things that revoked certain feelings. She observed the things they bought and why, and what time they left their houses for what reasons. Their neighborly or personal disputes were never missed by this woman, bestowing upon them the icy glare of a lonely old, crippled woman. But behind the ice, the eyes melted until they were almost in tears. She watched them fight and cry and laugh and play – it was all just too interesting. Some days she realized what she was doing, and wondered if she had gone crazy, watching all her stupid neighbors, people she didn’t even know…and yet, she knew them. And the more she watched, the more she began to wonder if her lonely, reserved life was really what she wanted after all…
As if to make all the matters of her childhood worse, shortly after moving into her new little house the woman discovered at her six month check-up that she had inherited the deadly family cancer. It was slow and unforgiving, moving from the feet, through the legs, and after weakening the abdominal organs, it attacked the heart. At sixty-seven years old, the woman seemed to feel it upon her more and more each day, causing sore feet, to numb ankles and finally a walker, then a wheelchair. Each week she reported to her personal doctor, dreading the same news each time – there was still no cure. She begged the scientists, saying she would readily pay any amount, even showing them the money…but they just couldn’t figure it out. But she didn’t want to die! She had once loved to invent, and imagine, planting and skipping, sometimes running through the fields behind her home, and riding the horses she had secretly purchased until the day was done. But that was all over now. Pretty soon she wouldn’t even be able to stand. What a life this is, the old dying woman often thought to herself. What a life.
None of this woman’s neighbors ever bothered or dared to visit her, but if they had just taken one chance to step inside her house, they would have been instantly filled with amazement and insist upon visiting longer. Its _____ style was most pleasurable, with cute little tables and chandeliers adorning each room. The curtains matched the couch pillows, and dainty little pots and pans hung from a ______ above the kitchen counter. In the living room beside the welcoming fire place a coffee table sat with a silver tea tray, holding crumpets and some of the best tea you’d ever sip. A bookshelf on the right wall spilling over with books of all sorts would catch your attention, and then you would look up as her ____ clock chimed on the mantle. Out the side door you would find a miniature green house the woman had once constructed herself, with secret herbs and strange flowers from many faraway lands. The backyard was more like some sort of sanctuary, with rows and rows of rose bushes and vine covered arches.
In the back rooms of the magnificent little house, you might find a pancake making machine, or possibly a mechanical letter sealer. All the woman’s many inventions she thought up years ago when healthy and well would be lined up against the wall, with tables of acids and experiments in the center. To the side, a small kitchen, and the whirring of a coffee maker preparing a hot cup for the once industrious inventor. The open basement window would reveal an experimental garden blossoming in the window well, and as you looked up at the little chimney puffing smoke, you would realize that it certainly was a comfortable little place.
But no one did visit her, so this woman was left to enjoy it all alone, which she had no problem doing. She had learned to rather dislike all people after her dreary childhood, accidental fortune and tragic disease, luring greedy people to follow her everywhere she even thought of going. And now escaped from them and all alone, she didn’t have to deal all the worldly people, and she had no intent upon becoming acquainted with anyone. And that was that.
So aside from all of her reading and thinking and studying her old inventions, after some time alone, this woman couldn’t help but to notice her neighbors…peculiar people, and the most interesting things they did. She realized that when one can’t walk, the world is a whole different place. She soon found herself constantly watching them all through the perfectly polished glass of her favorite window, just wide enough to admit her wheelchair, and not alter her lovely view of the neighborhood.
Perched in her big black chair at her large upstairs bedroom window, with misty green curtains laid softly at each side, she watched them. She studied their every move. She observed who they talked to and how, and the things that revoked certain feelings. She observed the things they bought and why, and what time they left their houses for what reasons. Their neighborly or personal disputes were never missed by this woman, bestowing upon them the icy glare of a lonely old, crippled woman. But behind the ice, the eyes melted until they were almost in tears. She watched them fight and cry and laugh and play – it was all just too interesting. Some days she realized what she was doing, and wondered if she had gone crazy, watching all her stupid neighbors, people she didn’t even know…and yet, she knew them. And the more she watched, the more she began to wonder if her lonely, reserved life was really what she wanted after all…

The Window

Here is a novel that I have started writing:

The Window
A single rain drop, a single footstep would snatch her from her sleep, and the closing of a mailbox or the snip of a hedger would draw her attention from her studies. She watched people so closely she sometimes felt as if she was living their lives, or knew them personally, though they’d never spoken. She could predict people’s next actions, or sometimes if she was bored, plan out Mrs. Hendrickson’s predicted day activities, almost always right on target. She could tell you when Mr. Frier took out the garbage, depending on what mood he was in, and imitate the exact way little Paula Lou poured her puppy Skipper’s dog food on Mondays, as well as Wednesdays. If you asked what kind of flower was growing in Miss Turner’s kitchen window sill, she could easily tell you it was a bright golden sunflower or a miniature yellow rose bush, every other year.
Each and every person, family living in her cul-de-sac lived their lives so unobservantly, never knowing just how closely they were being watched. It was all a bit creepy, yet strange and magnificent in such a sense that I’m quite sure many of those neighbors would have enjoyed sitting down with her, and having her tell them all she knew about their lives. I’m sure she would have done quite well at a job of ‘Watch Woman’ and guarding people’s houses, or a secret agent letting the police in on every act of criminality in the city. Yes, she would have done quite well at those jobs indeed. But she had no need for work – she never did like associating with people, and in 1960 she inherited one of the biggest fortunes known to man.
Now a normal person would have spent this fortune on each and every pleasure they could imagine, filling their numerous houses with books and clothes and dolls of all sorts, being so greedy and selfish that pretty soon they wouldn’t be able to stand living with themselves. But no. This woman was much quicker and slyer to fall into such a trap as fame and fortune. She tricked old Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Jackson, looking back at her on that filthy green paper and those chalky scraps of metal. Because she had a rare thing among people now-a-days – she had an imagination.
I’m not meaning to say that this woman never spend her darned money on anything, no. She spent it alright, but on books and antiques and strange pieces to build up her imagined mechanisms. She filled her little cottagey house with such things that would make you believe you were walking in a dream, beholding the wonders of a genius. You might say she was Einstein’s second cousin, or George Washington’s great, great niece – but you’d be wrong. Her ancestors were never spoken of by her, and she had removed herself from everything and anything to do with her relatives. Her father had been a carnival worker, as a fire-eating clown, and her mother had chose to stay home and learn to skip rocks on her pond and such things rather than go to school. They’d married after two days together, and after having a child, killed both themselves robbing a bank unarmed in broad daylight. Their baby rotted away in an old city orphanage for years, until her great-grandfather died riding his motorcycle off a canyon at ninety eight years old, after hearing that he would soon die of a painful family cancer. All of his money saved from winning the Olympics countless years in a row was given to her at the age of eighteen, and she didn’t share with any of her stupid relatives, leaving them to stop relying on other people for their livings. How she was so ingenious, nobody knew – but we figure that after so many generations of stupid, something clicked and an amazing baby was finally born.

The Strangest Secret

Many scientists and researchers around the world disagree on many, many things. However, there is one thing that they all unanamously agree on, and that is The Strangest Secret. The Strangest Secret states that you become what you think about. Let me repeat that, YOU BECOME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT. How? If you think about failure, you will fail. If you think about succeeding, you will succeed. Al you need to do is set goals and think about your success with these goals. Just like ships, humans need to have goals or destinations in mind. If you send a ship off with a captain and crew to steer the boat, and a sure destination in mind, the ship will likely reach its destination safely and successfully. Likewise, if you send a ship off without a crew, captain, or any destination, it will sink, or end up on some deserted island and rot away. This is the same with humans; we need to have a destination in mind, or else we will end up lost and deserted. But remember, YOU WILL BECOME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT. Your mind doesn't care what you plant in it - you can plant a seed of failure, or a seed of sucess. No matter what you plant, your mind will grow it and give it back to you. Sucess, failure, or whatever it was that you planted. It even states in the scriptures that a man "shall reapeth what he sows". It's all how you think about things, set goals and work up to them. Think about all the differnt quotes of famous scientists or in the bible that state the same exact thing: YOU BECOME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT. In the bible it says that whatsoever a man shall believe it shall be brought unto him. Bruce Lee said “As you think, so shall you become.” Jim Rohn said “Success is what you attract by the person you become.” Henri L. Bergson said “Think like a man of action, and act like a man of thought.”. There are so many quotes out there that state what's known as The Strangest Secret, yet hardly anyone knows about it. That's why its strange, and called a secret. I bet that if you walk down your street and ask every person you run into what the secret to sucess is, none of them will be able to tell you, not even if you walked up and down your street for a month. But this secret is a law, similar to the law of gravity. If you jump off of a building, you are always going to go down, never up. Same with this secret. There is no possible way that you can think of only failure and still suceed. There is also no way that you can fail when thinking of only success. And the way to this sure success is through setting goals, and working up to them, while always thinking and picturing yourself only succeeding. It is all so simple. The human mind is like the last unexplored continent of the world. There are so many possibilities, and you are sitting in the drivers seat. Are you just going to fold your arms, and let yourself drive into a ditch, or are you going to grasp the wheel with two hands and drive forward on a sure and straight path towards success? Its your choice. YOU BECOME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT.

^This is an overview of a CD I listened to called The Strangest Secret. This is just my summary and thoughts about the tape. ^

My Expectations for Great Expectations

Well, this past couple of weeks I have been furiously reading Great Expectations, in hopes of finishing it in time to write my analysis and turn everything in by March 15. So far I'm a little more than half way into it (I'm a little behind), but so far I think it's a pretty intriguing book. It's not one that I would personally choose, and it's kind of funny, because whenever someone asks me what I'm reading, and I show them the cover they say,"Oh. Assigned reading, right?". I swear, like 4 different people have said that to me! I don't think the book's that bad - I guess people just say that when they see it's written by Charles Dickens. I thought it was pretty funny though. The book's going alright though, and I found a laptop to use at my grandma's house, because my home computer still isn't fixed! ARG! I have a laptop of my own, and I convinced my dad to buy wireless internet so I can do it myself at my house - yay! Hopefully the router will be installed ASAP!

I really can't believe that it's pretty much spring. It finally dawned on me when I stepped outside this morning and felt the bright sun on my skin and the soft, pleasant breeze of spring. I could see some tiny plants beginning to sprout, and I jumped on my trampoline a little bit, truly enjoying myself outside for once. I'm not much of a winter person; in fact, now that I really think about it, I never once played in the snow this winter. No snowmen, no snowball fights, or snowforts - nope, I'm just not a wintery, snowy person. Spring and summer are my favorite times of the year. Although, I do enjoy the snow...up until after about New Years. Then I really get sick of it, and just want it to all melt away. I know this sounds kind of stupid, but another reason I'm excited for spring is NEW CLOTHES! I absolutly love the feeling of new clothes, and I just got this cute spring jacket that my mom said I can't wear until spring, and as we were standing outside in the sun, I convinced her to let me wear the coat this week! I supose that when I'm older I won't live in Utah, because I really do dispize the snow and cold. I hate ice skating, skiing, snowboarding, playing in the snow, or anything like it, so I guess I'd be better of in Flordia or India or some place like that!

Something that has just come to my attension, is how rude people are to me just because I have red hair. I've been called Ginger, Gingy, Devil, Satan's Mistress, and some other things that arn't very appropriate. I do admit that some of the names came from a certain someone who I am kind of evil to...hehe, but I just kind of have that "evil" personality. I like torturing people. Of course, I'm always just kidding, but some people tell me they are afraid of all redheads because of me. Oops!

*Sigh* There is nothing better than going to give a speech or a talk, and totally winging it. That's what I'm going to be doing today at about 6:30. Whoopee. I prepared for it, but I've just been too overwhelmed with homework and crap to get into it. So when I go there I'll pretty much just be reading off my little paper and embarressing myself in front of 50 someodd people. Great.

I think I might be maybe one blog behind, but I'm pretty sure I"m back on track now, after my computer delemma. It doesn't really work out to be doing an internet based class when you have no computer, but I try. :)

IN THE LAB, AND ABOUT MY GRANDMA

OK, I'm back, ready to finish typing for my blogging assignment. Last time I had the chance to get onto a computer it was at the Layton Library, which I had to quickly wrap up, since my time limit buzzer rang. With no working computer at home, I am eagerly taking every chance I can get to get some computer time to do my assignments.

I must say, this school is pretty strict about being "on task" in the computer lab. I swear, every single time I enter this lab I get caught for doing something that they think is "off task", when in reality I'm getting graphics for a poster project, or (like I'm doing now), trying to finish my Honors English blog. It doesn't help that I have a Ninja turtle background, because that totally makes it seem like I'm on something oppasite of what we're suppost to be doing, but somehow I manage. :) I bet there are like 3 administrators reading this as I type to make sure I truly am "on task".

OMG. I can't believe it. The 5 minute bell for school to get out just rang. To finish up my 500 words, I'll share with you an essay I've been writing about my Grandmother from Puerto Rico.

AN EXAMPLE TO ME
MARIA MERCEDES PEREZ RODRIGUEZ
BY ALISSA ROSADO PERIOD 4
“I never had a grandmother, and that’s why I wanted to try so hard to be the best grandma there ever was!” my Grandma Ria had once told me in her cute Puerto Rican accent. Her true name was Maria, but since grandma ended with the first part of her name, we’d come up with Grandma Ria when we were very young, and called her that ever since. Born and raised in Cayey, Puerto Rico, my Grandma Ria truly was the best grandma there ever was; she invited us grandkids over to spend weekend nights with her, sure to be fun-filled with all of my grandma’s crazy ideas and stories, and always came to visit us on any opportunity she had. She would take time to caringly ask us about our lives, and recent happenings, laughing at all our jokes, and sharing stories of her own. It was just the way that she showed how much she cared that really touched me, and is probably why I am so attached to my grandma today.
Pouring herbal tea into a delicate porcelain cup, my grandma talked of our plans for the day, and how excited she was that I had the chance to spend the weekend at her house. Her short, curly brown hair bounced as she plopped onto bed, and after searching for the remote, turned on Little House in The Prairie – one of her favorite shows. In the middle of the comfortable bed, my grandma had set a bowl of assorted snacks for us to munch on, and in front of her was an ad for the craft store. My grandma and I loved to go shopping. One of our all-time favorite ways to shop was to track down all the yard sells on Saturday mornings. We especially looked for Antique or Estate yard sales, since we both liked to collect antiques and rare old items.
Around my grandma’s house and on the fridge, were pictures and cultural items from central Puerto Rico, and reminders of her home in the tropics. She had also once lived in Connecticut for a time, until she finally decided to move to Utah, after joining the LDS church. The oldest of her 4 children (and the only one born in Puerto Rico) came with her, and was my dad. My grandma had always dreamed of owning her own home, and being more independent, and her home in Farmington, Utah was just perfect for her. It was close to the Lagoon trail, where she often brought me walking, and we would enjoy the scenery and animals along the path. My grandma had always loved nature – her gardens were always full of abundantly blooming flowers, and she could name every single one.
“Come on!” my Grandma said to me excitedly, after a while of watching the show. “Let’s get out!” Hopping down into her little silver car, we drove to all sorts of fun stores, buying crazy make-up, new gadgets for our hair, presents for friends, and always going out to eat somewhere fun after, usually IHop for the all-you-can-eat pancakes and scrambles eggs with sausage and bacon, me grapefruit juice and my grandma herbal tea. Another one of our favorites stores was Ross, where we would spend hours looking for picture frames, or trying on clothes and shoes.
At home, after once again trying on and experimenting with all of our purchases, we calmed down to another quiet movie with snacks. Sometimes we’d even sit at my grandma’s desk and sew some pajama pants. My grandma was skilled in sewing and caring for others, since she worked at a hospital and her mother had been an excellent mid-wife. One night while talking on the couch, my grandma told me how kind-hearted and compassionate towards others her mother had been – I could tell my grandma had developed those same attributes.
As we laughed the night away talking and barely watching the movie, my grandma and I had a blast together, like we always did. As I gradually fell asleep, I realized how grateful I was for my grandma, and the example she set for me. She had gone through many trials, and her positive attitude was really inspirational to me. She taught me more than she knew, and I hoped to one day be half of what she was.

BUSY BUSY BUSY

Ok, so sorry that I've missed a blog or two, but I've been having some serious computer problems at home for the past couple weeks. I am now at the Layton Library furiously typing away to quickly finish this blog before my 12 minute time limit runs out. I origonally had 30 minutes, but you won't believe it! I spent 18 freakin' minutes trying to guess my password! SHEESH! Don't laugh at me - this computer is retarted. I miss my computer at home :(. Anyway, they have some pretty advanced systoms at this library, and it's kind of impressive in a way. (PS, if I don't finish typing all 500 words, I promise I will get them all in at a later date, but I now have only 10 minutes to type). Anyhow, at this library, apparently if you want to get on the computer, you have to ask an employee for a special password slip, sign in at this high tech computer systom, decypher the code it gives to you tell what computer you are suppost to sit at, wait until the timer on high tech computer rings for you to start you time, find your computer, figure out what code on the password slip, and begin your 30 minutes session on a computer slower than a half turtle, half worm. To top it all off, you have to wait forever to get an available computer, and most the people here are messing around on their facebook accounts! It's maddening. GRR!

It is harder than you think to not have a working computer at home for a week or two, let me tell you. But, luckily, I've survived. (now 6 minutes left, and my wrist is killing me from all this fast typing!). I feel so dumb having to come to this library to do my homework, and having to type like a madman just to get it half done during the 30 minute time limit they give you. In reality, it's really only like 10 minutes, since you have spend so much time waiting for it to load the page! And THEN, I had to spend about 10 minutes guessing my own stupid passwords to not only my email, but my disscussion board account, and blogger account! Now with only 4 minutes left to type, I seriously hope that I have gotten in my 500 words, because my wrist is killing me! Then, to take up even more time, this stupid message keeps appearing on the screen saying, "SORRY. YOUR SESSION WILL END IN 3 MINUTES. PREPARE TO FINISH. Good idea. Sorry, I'll write more later, I promise!

Wasting Lives

I think that we teenagers now-a-days are real life-wasters. I mean, seriously? T.V., texting, FaceBook, and videogames? Big whoop. The pioneers walked several miles each day in covered wagons, starved, froze, and did everything by hand, while suffering discrimination and persecution. We have it easy, and boy are we whiners! "Dad, I need more than just 500 texts a month!". "Mom, I don't want to make my bed! It's my favorite T.V. show!". We are a bunch of wussies. We drive everywhere we go, not walk, we can call people by phone, not pony express, and when we want food we just have to call the Pizza place, not go hunting, and prepare and cook it ourselves! What lazies! Statistics say that the average American spends 4 hours of T.V. watching A DAY! Holy cow! Also, if you do 5000 or more texts a month, you spend up to 8 hours a week texting. What a waste! I personally think texting is stupid, thus why I told my mom and dad I didn't need a phone and they could keep their money and spend it on things more worth while. I mean, really? "Hi." 5 minutes later. "Hey, what's up?". 4 minutes later. "NM. u?". 6 minutes later. "Gtg. TTFN.". We have boring lives. But what really bugs me is when people flirt and send love texts. What ever happened to Romeo and Juliet, or even love letters, or talking in person? Texting is lame, lame and lame! And I haven't even gotten started on FaceBook. Of course, I, like many others, am guilty of owning a FaceBook account. Now, FaceBook isn't entirely bad; I can see why people get it to reunite with old friends, etc., etc., but when people spend 5+ hours a day looking at other people's photos and commenting on friends status' and taking quizzes and playing weird farm games, it's just stupid.

Also, I hate to admit it, but our school is a little too...lets just say some of the people working there have too much time on their hands. I mean, seriously? You get in trouble for wearing gloves in the morning 5 minutes after you get off the bus, you get yelled at for wearing shorts (not even kidding) 1/8 of an inch too short, and for carrying a bag! And, how could I forget? You're suddenly not allowed to have food from outside (wendy's, arby's) in the lunch room. So what if you can't make a home lunch so you go shopping? They really told me and my friend we couldn't eat subway in their lunchroom, and kicked us out. Plus, their food sucks, so they can't really boss us around. My mom told me that in her day they lunch people made their lunches by hand, and the only things you really got in trouble for were fighting, cussing, and skipping. Is it really nessisary to have a rule against having "outside food", or having a piece of hair a different color than your natural? Do we really need to get sent to ISS for happening to be tardy during a hall sweep? No way. What I'm getting at is, we teenagers waste our lives, but adults are helping. They treat us like they can't trust us with a dang thing, and never give us a chance.

DIARY OF AN O.C.D. FREAK

Yes, I hate to admit it, but I'm about as OCD as they come. Yes, I organize my books in alphabetical order, yes, my sheets and pillow case have to match, and yes, I always turn in my homework on time. No matter what.

Now, it was just these past few years that I realized just how O.C.D. I really am. I mean, when you can't leave the house to go to a party without checking the stove, all the straight irons, turning off all the lights, and saying a prayer to protect the house while you're gone, you know that you're O.C.D. It's a weird feeling, let me tell you. And sharing a room with a messy, cheerleader sister doesn't help anything. As soon as she comes home, onto the floor goes her clothes, cheer bag, shoes, garbage, homework - all in one big sloppy pile that will most likly remain at that post for the next week or two, until I force her to remove it or else. And I when I say "or else", she knows I mean "Do it now or I will personally make sure you never see anything in that pile ever again."

And about school - I have never had a missing assignment in all of my school days. In fact, "missing assignment" isn't even in my vocabulary. These are the facts: Most kids can come home and put off their homework until the last possible second, while I come home and refuse to even eat until everything has been properly completed. I have my own personal organizer to plan out my days, weeks, months and years. I write down all my schedules, appointments, homework, everything. I don't miss a single thing. And I know this sounds super weird, but one of my favorite stores is actually Office Max, or Wal-Mart. I just LOVE to shop for organization items, and look at all there is to look at. I love walking through isles of blank notebooks and different kinds of pens. I enjoy that kind of creativity stuff. I love marking books and tabbing them, etc. It's kind part of the O.C.D. kind of person I am. I could spend 1000's of dollars shopping at Office Depot instead of Aeropostle and whatever anyday! I love notebooks and writing things down and planning. Thus another reason why Franklin Covey is another one of my favorite stores. They sale all sorts of planners and journals. Barnes and Noble is also a store I could spend a day at. I love the little creative books, or sometimes just going through the isles looking at novels or journals. I'm not sure if this is caused by my O.C.D.ness, but it kind of all fits together in my life. :p I think I get it from my dad - he's the same way. He plans stuff out and love to shop for books and journals and things like that. My mom, not-so-much.

Is anyone else out there as O.C.D. as I am? Probably. But when I really think about it, they gave it the right name; disorder, and disorders are technically bad. I actually sometimes like it. It helps me keep my life in check and be organized! :)

MY FUTURE!

Well, today I decided to write about my future...what kind of stuff I want to accomplish, and things like that.

The next year: In the next year I want to graduate from Fairfield Jr. High School with a 4.0, as well as start high school at Layton High, keeping up with the same type of grades. I also want to travel to Connecticut this summer and go to court with my uncle (who is an attorney), since I want to be an attorney when I'm older. I also want to re-read the Book of Mormon and in the summer, recieve my Young Woman's Personal Progress medallion. In irish dance, I want to move up to the Preliminary level in all of my dances, if possible.

The next 5 years: In the next five years I want to be graduated from high school and going to college at BYU, studying law and english and dance. I want to have my driver's licence (since I'm TERRIFIED to drive), and be preparing to go on a LDS mission when I'm 21. I want to have saved up money so that I will be able to be ready to move on in my life in the near years.

So, ya. I know that's kinda vauge, but I'm sort of having a dead moment right now, where I can't really do any deep thinking. It sucks.

This summer, as I mensioned earlier, I am dying to go to Connecticut A) because I want to visit my 3 uncles and 2 cousins B) I want to go to court with my uncle so I can see if I really do want to become an attorney and C) To chill in a more humid climate and spend some time at the beach doing what ever I want to! Ha ha. Sounds good to me.

As for my LDS mission, I am so excited - I think it'd be so awesome, and such an amazing experience to go out into the world and teach people the gospel! I wouldn't care where in the world I was called...hopefully China! Maybe by then missionaries will be able to go there - the only down side is manderin sounds like a tough language to learn.

This summer, as I said, I want to earn my Young Woman's medallion. In the church, there's Young Woman's personal progress booklets, and the medallion is BEAUTIFUL! I would be so proud to be able to wear that around my neck and represent that I have conpleted personal progress!

In irish dance, Preliminary is the level before you are a champion. I love irish dance with all my heart, and it just sets me free! What really bugs me is when people make fun of it and try to imitate it by skipping around like an idiot moron, when really, irish dance is so much harder and more beautiful than that.

But...this weekend is my 15th brithday! I am way excited, except for the fact that everyone is going to be pressuring me to get my driving permit, which I refuse to do. I have 2 parents and an older sister to drive me around, so I think I am just fine!

CHRISTMAS VACA!

My Christmas Vacation was quite fantastic. I did a bit of my homework each day so that I wasn't all stressed out the last week, and had a great time relaxing with my family over the holidays.

For starters, I got the mini laptop that I wanted. I love it to bits. It has a deep red top, with all the latest softwares and technology. I absolutly adore working on it everyday. I also got a matching red wireless mouse to go along with it. I love them both.

Second, I finished reading all of my honors English books, which I mostly enjoyed. I really liked Pride and Prejudece, because it was a love story, and I of course worship love stories and chick flicks. <3>not read this book, or any others by Bradbury, because they're all the same; creepy, disturbing, confusing, and a little on the boring side. Look on my Shelfari for the complete reviews.

Also, I finished reading THE BOOK OF MORMON. It was great! So inspiring and I totally loved every minute of it. It took me four monthes to finish it, but it was all worth it! When I'm 21, I'm planning on going on a misson for The Church Of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It sounds like such a great adventure, and great to be sharing the true gospel to people around the world.

Another exciting event that took place during the vaca., was unburying a year-old time capsol my cousin and I buried last New Years Day on the side of a wheat/pumpkin field. Of course, we were stupid enough to bury it in a cardboard box, so the note that we wrote to ourselves was wet, withered, and unopenable. I was bummed. But at least our pieces of hair and the Dove wrapper and braclet were still intact, so, it wasn't a total loss. We're planning on making another capsol soon. They're a great bunch of fun to make, bury, and most of all, find.

Well, I must say that I'm writing about dozens of random subjects on this post, but I really do love to ride school buses. Trust me. They're one of the funnest things you will ever experience, well at least if you rode my school bus. It's bus #98, and it's filled with drama, weirdos that make everyone laugh, fighting and beating each other up, pranks, fire alarms going off for reasons far from even being related to fire, and laughing and yelling beyond being able to control. I love it. My friends and I laugh and pull pranks on people the whole ride there and home, and we laugh more than I laugh everywhere else put together. :)