Through the Never

2006-12-14T10:27:00.000-08:00

Week 16

As a writer, I don't know where my strengths lie. I guess that it is in the ideas that come to me. I am a visual person...It's better for me to picture than it is to think. Imagination? I wonder. I really think that writing this semester has kept me open to what differences there are when I can think about one topic in a different manner than I had before.
My failues...I took a fall this past semester...failing at passing math. It was difficult for me because of nervousness before tests...I thought that it would be different. I went to the ASC and still I had trouble. I studied...I dunno. Anyway, Math is a weak spot for me that I must make a strong point. More English on the way along with the rest of the classes...comes to be 22 credit hours. Busy. Holidays are here and I see that they are close now. Well, I have a lot to do...Merry Christmas.

2006-12-14T10:21:00.000-08:00

Week 15

I didn't realize that the couch was bigger than my car...
Poof! went my windshield.

In a dimly lit room staring at a bright screen.
Awake in the morning from my dreams to work.

This is a test to see if my blog is ok.

I sigh as I look up to see my fabric roof top peeling...
Have it ripped apart.

2006-12-14T10:17:00.000-08:00

week 15

The tears trickled down her cheek.
I opened my eyes slightly.

I drove a little further.
It was not what I expected.

Race Car driving
Always on time

He has long blond hair.
My hands became achy and dry.

2006-11-30T14:20:00.000-08:00

Week Fourteen: Risk-This is to make all who read think.

The tears trickled down her cheek. I couldn't find a better place to hide than in myself...away from her fear. When the trees glowed with life, so did I. She felt my tragedy...and left my pain.
Leaves started to fall off high limbs, floating, spiraling downward to the soft green grass. Kids played in the park, laughing and giggling, swings creeking. The sky was blue, piercing my iris. I looked over to the stale wooden bench that had wrought iron bars as arm rests...and thought "Here I am, living...one person with her. Where did I go? What am I?" I opened my eyes slightly to feel my lungs exert my breath. I gazed upon her golden cheek and I brushed it slightly with the rough pad of my thumb. Her eyes were closed and she slept peacefully. I was awake. Now I am awake, with her and for myself.

2006-11-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

Week Thirteen Vignette

Searching for the right one was a challenge. I drove to Belfast. I was tired but excited at the same time. I had reached the coast in a couple of hours. In those few hours I felt frustrated with not knowing where he lived. Kasey called him to find out...The radio played softly, setting a comforting mood. It was during the summer, the heat was reaching us with its grip and we both could feel it. I think that is where the fatigue came from. The sun was hot. When the Ocean breeze hit my nostrils I imagined myself in that salty sea water, doggy paddling through the coolness. Daydreaming. I drove a little further. I reached a curvy worn tar road and stopped at a light blue house. It was clean so the initial mood was ok. I saw the for sale sign and pulled the car into the unpaved driveway. I got out of the car. I went over to the bike. It was not what I had expected. Agrivated as I was, I looked over the bike. It was a 1985 Honda 250 SX three wheeler. The add had said that it was in great condition. It was not. It turns out that it was a 16 year old kid's that just wanted to get more money than what the wheeler was worth. I grew angry and told him that I would only give him four hundred dollars for it. I wasn't too rude, just told him what I thought it was worth. He wanted nine in the add. He wouldn't sell it. I said "oh well" and got back into my car.
Disappointed, I drove away.

2006-11-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

Week 12

Questionaire:

1. Where would you rather be?
A. At a concert
B. At school
C. Race car driving
D. Eating at home with mom and dad

2. What do you like to do the most?
A. Eat
B. Sleep
C. Rock and Roll
D. learn about science

3. What is your favorite food?
A. Pizza
B. Gourmet meals at restuarants
C. Chocolate
D. broccoli

For question 1, if you answered any other than answer A, you need to see a specialist.
For question 2, if you answered C, Rock and Roll, then come on over to my side of the world and jam!
For question 3, if you answered chocolate, I would hate to see your teeth. If you answered Gourmet dinners, you are one expensive person. If you answered broccoli, you must be a science nut. If you answered pizza, your a fast go-getter who is on the run.

2006-11-17T11:38:00.000-08:00

Week 12
I am who I am:

Always on time, strict with rules, drive aggressively, spend money, love to have fun, rebuild three and four wheelers for a hobby, love to feel breeze when it passes by, work hard, sleep peacefully, have headaches, am rude, needy for attention, love comfort and love.

2006-11-17T11:33:00.000-08:00

Week 12

He has long blond hair, wears wire frame glasses, wears three rings on his hands, wears blue washed jeans all the time, never smokes, never drinks, loves his dog, eats french fries with hot sauce, drinks vinegar, has gapped teeth, sleeps on weekends until noon, plays video games, works on EMCC campus, loves to learn, hangs out with his girlfriend, and dances his life away.

2006-11-10T11:21:00.000-08:00

Week 11: Distance, Frame, Alienation

Typing away at the keys on the black keyboard, I sigh as I see that I have a lot of work to do. The hum of the computers is in my head...it makes my head swim. I remember why I came to college. It was in the year of 2004 when I graduated. I was a young fresh pup who didn't do what was out there. I thought I knew everything. I was cocky, arrogant, and, well, unappreciative. Right after high school I went t0 work at a garage. I'd come in at seven in morning, punch in, work untill five, punch out and go back home. What a lovely couple months I had doing that. My hands became achey and dry.

Soon I had lost interest in what I thought I wanted to do. I look back on those days with a sick feeling. After I lost that job I became jobless for a few more monthsd than expected. Eventually I found my way into working with mentally ill patients. That didn't fly over too well. I also took up work on a Christmas Tree farm harvesting, sheering, and bailing Christmas Trees. Manual Labor had gotton to me, but it was through with chewing on me until I worked harvesting potatoes. That is when I worked from dawn to dusk covered in dry dust and dirt. I had to run in front of the tractor, get rocks and big bundles of dead potato plants out of the way, and run back onto the harvester, which was deafening to the ears because of the engine that had to run next to my head.

I went home one night and thought to myself "This has to stop! I have to go to school. I can't live like this just to make end meet." I got an application for admission for EMCC and was accepted. Now that I think back from this computer station, I see that I am glad to be where I am today and very thankful. I'll keep typing away and change my attitude of being bored with a headache...I'm in college!

2006-11-02T16:30:00.000-08:00

Theme week Ten: Irony
This past summer I tried to do a redneck stunt and get a couch home on a Friday afternoon...on the roof of my car. It was warm, the sun was out, and I was ready to go with that damn thing. I didn't realize that the couch was bigger than my car...the arms of it touched my windshield and my rear window. I got out my ratchet straps (I had two of them) and went to work. I opened up all my windows and then fed the straps through them and strapped the straps over the couch and back into the car. I tightened the rear one up first. I moved on to the upper portion of the couch with the other strap. I was concerned about the couch sliding around on my car so I tried to strap that down. I achieved it with a small piece of chain since the strap wouldn't reach so I could tighten it up.
I then wrapped rope around the couch and through the windows, tied it and thuoght I would go on my merry way. I looked at my car. Here it was with this gigantic looking couch on the roof. "Wow!", I thought. I had to pull a Dukes of Hazzard move to get into my car...through the window instead of opening the door. I tried to tighten up the fron strap a little more and was done. I got out of the car and looked at the handy work. I was ready to leave, sure that the couch wouldn't fall off the roof.
Then it happened. "Poof!" went my windshield, the arm of the couch sticking into the passenger compartment. The windshield had a hole in it, glass was all over my driver side seat, and I was instantly depressed over my windshield.
I ran over to the car as soon as I knew what was going on and loosened up the strap as soon as I could, relieving pressure from the windshield. I drove home that night with that damned couch on the roof of my car. I thought that putting the couch on the roof of my car would never have broken my windshield, but it did what I least expected.

2006-10-25T11:30:00.000-07:00

Theme Week nine: When words mean something beyond direct, obvious, literal

In a dimly lit room staring at a bright screen ; colors of the rainbow merge in my eyes; The steady roar of machines in my ear; the ticking of the clock pounding in my face; few faces surrounding me; I tap at the keys, ; the plain-ness of the walls uncomfortable; next it's to my car, driving the highway; getting home to where I feel her presence around me as I fall to slumber; Awake in the morning from my dreams to work.

2006-10-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

This is a test to see if blog is ok.

2006-10-22T14:50:00.000-07:00

Theme Week Eight: From small to big

Headed down the open road, rain splattering off the roof of my car, I sigh as I look up to see my fabric roof top peeling...I didn't think that it would have come to this. My car leaks. It was also just a couple of months ago when I had to replace the alternator. The leaking is one of the most bothersome things happening to me. I can't leave anything in my trunk without it getting soaked. That includes my knives, tools, any clothing, blankets, cd's, dog food, etc. Anything that is metal rusts...clothing gets musty. Not only does the vtrunk leak, but watetr also seems to find it's way into the passenger compartment, where it gets musty, condenses, and makes it so my car doesn't start unless I use a hair dryer to dry out the key switch.

Every time it rains out, I get frustrated with the thought of having to open up my trunk, dry everything out, leaving my windows open, and having to smell the musty interior. I have tried to seal the leak...it has not worked. I really cannot find a way to make my car better...unless I take it to a garage, have it ripped apart, sealed so it looks like a ball of roofing cement.

There are many times where I have really appreciated my car, others where I hate it. I don't have to work on it all the time and I'm thankful for that. I've been looking at different vehicles...wishing that they were mine instead of what I have because of this problem.

I wonder about other people out there. I grow envious of there vehicles not leaking because they don't have to worry about whether thier car will start or not when it rains out. I bet that they don't have to worry about it...especially people who own newer cars.

The vehicles on the road today are much better than older ones, such as mine. First of all, they are not damaged. Second of all, they have better technological advantages. The cars ant trucks on the highway today are much more dependable.

2006-10-13T13:08:00.000-07:00

Theme Week Seven: Character

There's a little red wheelbarrow now sitting at home, broken legs, chipped paint, rusted wheel, turned over on it's side in the tall dead grass that reminds me of my great grandfather Leon Towle. He is the person who made that little red wagon for me when I was younger, about five years old. My father would take us kids to visit hime in Dexter. When I was there I would look up at this frail looking seventy something year old skinny looking man that always wore those button up shirts and dark blue polyester pants.

My great grandfather was tall, like a Maple Sapling before it starts to mature into an adult tree. He didn't wear glasses, had short grey/brown hair, and liked to sit down at the kitchen table (which was located right next to a large rectangular window) and watch the birds come to the birdfeeder to eat birdseed. His skin was dark and he had a big nose. I wouldn't call it a bird beak, but it was rather large. He always had a police scanner on. He had a dark brown corn cob pipe which he enjoyed smoking his tobacco from while he worked out in his garage.

He loved to work with wood. After being in his colonial home, I would walk out through the enclosed front porch, open the front screen door, and walk over to his workbench when he had his garage door open. I would see him standing in front of his old wooden workbench (possibly built by himself) and see him thinking. He would stand there when he thought, pipe hanging out of his mouth, with this unmistakable annoyed look on his face. His feet were at a stance, and he liked to fold his arms. He'd mumble to himself until he would finally decide what he wanted to do.

Grampy had tons of antique woodworking tools, all of which he regularly used to build whatever he wanted. He liked to build birdhouses. They weren't cheap looking. He would paint them while smoking his pipe, smoke whirling into the open air while applying two or three coats of paint.

On my birthday he came over to my house. Slowly stepping out of the van, he opened the rear hatch door to surprise me with this brilliant fire engine red miniature wheelbarrow, which was big to me at that time. I remember thanking him for it and ran all around the yard with it, trying to find stuff to throw into it.

I wish I had taken better care of my little red wheelbarrow because associated with it is the memory of my great grandfather.

2006-10-05T11:56:00.000-07:00

Theme Week Six: Place, Setting

The air is cool and crispy, and visible through my hot breath when I breath. I sit motionlessly, against the grey trunk of a large pine tree. I have my thick orange winter hat on, wrestling to keep warm. No movement, no heat. It is 6:30 in the morning and I am kicking myself in the ass for coming out here in the cold. A pair of white clingy long johns, a pair of pants, and a pair of bright orange fleece pants cover me. My orange hunting vest is plastic and makes noise for any arousal that I provoke. I was actually stupid enough to just wear my hiker boots for this particular morning, even though I am wearing two or three pair of socks in them. I stare down at the pine needles, they are long, dull, and orange. They are mixed in with dry but cold, very cold dirt. After an hour of staying still, I have to bend my legs because they begin to hurt from being stiff.
One root of the trunk is on each side of me, coming up high to my arms as if they were arm rests on a recliner. The only problem that there would be is that they have random pitch spots on them and pine pitch doesn't come off that well. I am wearing my thick warm brown and white mittens that I am very thankful for at this moment since my earlobes feels as though they are burning because they are so cold.
I try not to sniffle, so the game does not get scared away. I am sitting at the edge of a clearing, the sun just beginning to crest over the tree line behind me. It's burning orange and looks inviting, especially on a cold morning such as this one. In front of my feet where I sit is where the brush begins to appear.....This high set clearing is hilly and growing up. I see many young birch trees and saplings shooting up from the ground everywhere. When the wind whisles it's cold tune, they sway back and forth, as is to mock me, the beginner hunter determined to get his venison. I concentrate on not moving, no noise, especially no NOISE!

I look down the tree line at where I am sitting....more tangled up saplings everywhere......thin, snaking branches that seem to come alive when walking past only to whip you in the face and thwack you in the legs as you walk past. I decided to sit.....let the damn deer come to me. I go out there in the vast unknown and try to chase one of them down......It never really worked out for me.

I sit, listening to how silent it is.....I hear birds start to bring about thier morning glory, chirping and dancing from tree branch to tree branch above my head. All the meantime I wait, realizing how loud we are (people) in the forest to the animals. I rest my head against the tree trunk, lips quivering and turning numb.

I really wish that I could have slept in this morning. It would have felt nice. But I didn't.....stayed up late watching television. Curse that C.S.I. I stare at the multi colored leaves that have hit the ground in the past few months. They are beginning to shrivel up and turn dead brown. Many of them have holes in them....I wonder for a moment and then grip my shotgun more tightly, wishing that the it was a new 30-06 Winchester semi automatic or something equivolent. But no, I have this old sixteen guage single shot shot gun. I only get only shot if I see a deer. It all counts on that one shot. At least it's a gun.....at least it will get me a deer. Trees begin to creek and sway as the brisk wind picks up, the tops of them looking like twigs being tossed about.
Another hour passes, I'm still sittting here, grey bark pine tree as my only friend....staring at my gun, it's own battle scars, and the rising sun.
I see movement about 20 yards away! I look only to spot a fat, old looking grey squirell on a quest to find his nuts for his nest. I think "stupid squirell." There's a rotten, dead birch tree that is laying across the dead grass, half of it still attached to the stump. It is spotted black everywhere among itself. Then there is the deer's walking path right next to it, winding and skinny like. Fit for a deer. The squirell bounced around and about, not even noticing that I am sitting quitely watching it. I know that I am quiet.
I continue to sit and wait for a deer to show up.......nothing. Finally, I get up to leave. Still.....some vast hopeness inside of me hopes that I will see one just as I'm getting ready to leave. Nothing comes. I stand up, stretch, and make sure that I didn't drop anything. I start my way back to the house, feeling my legs weighing me down from the stiffness that occured from me not moving for so long. I guess there will be better luck next time.

2006-10-01T07:42:00.000-07:00

Week Five Narrative

In the beginning of September, 2005, on a day that was filled with sunshine and blue skies, I got my dog. In the cool morning I awoke, feeling usually like I do everyday, tired, frustrated, satisfied, worried. A mix of emotions usually always coming from me all at once. I remember looking up across the green unmowed jungle that was supposed to be a "lawn" to the sparse Oak, Maple, and dark Cherry trees. Some of them were knarly looking from where I was standing, which was from the old, beaten down and patched porch.

The roof was rotten, weathered shingles laying on the beaten brown earth a few feet from the steps, which were boards nailed down to other boards, some longer than the other, half rotten, and only three of them. For the height of the porch there should have been four, so there was a massive gap between the second and third step that could be and was treacherous to the passerby when it was covered in ice. At this time of year the porch was covered in dirt and filth, reminding me of those old western movies where the cowboys and ranchers just stood outside on there broken down front porch on a hot afternoon with sun beating down on them, crickets sounding off there song in the distant hay fields that were in the landscape.

I shifted my eyes to the scarred and faded blue 1978 Dodge Power Wagon, which was sunken into the gound up to the frame. The tires were bald, with the shiny hubcaps covered in dirt. Half of the rear fenders had rusted away, looking like brown icycles. This truck had an eight foot body with a white truck cap. The plastic green windows in the truck cap were broken, nothing left but shards hanging in place where the whole thing should have been.

Next I turned and went back in the house, scanning the living room for my jacket. The walls are covered in wall paper. White with dark brown trees, no other color. They are dark trees, with many limbs and branches but no leaves or any other color! I think they are quite ugly. I looked on the arm of the chair, which an old wooden rocking chair, made of dark, natural wood. The arms are made with spokes, round and elegant looking. It wasn't there, but on the brown carpeted floor. It almost always gets knocked onto the floor, since there are so many people that are moving around here. I sighed, making sure that if anyone was around, they would hear my frustration. This jacket of mine is a light brown generic Carhartt jacket with buttons instead of a zipper. The arm cuffs have some small holes from where the guinea pigs that were my brothers decided that they wanted a midnight snack. The jacket got knocked off the coat rack in the kitchen and the guinea pigs just happened to be directly underneath it.

I don't exactly remember what I was wearing for a shirt, but I know that it was a tee-shirt. I know that I was wearing my stone blue carpenter jeans and my brown hiker boots, which were always covered in dried suface dirt that came off like dust when I patted them with my coarse hands. Sliding the jacket over my shoulders and over my arms, I stepped towards the front door, which is notorious for squeeking when being opened. I shut the door behind me with a quick thud, and looked over to behind the Power Wagon again, where I saw my mother, father, and brothers standing.

My older brother had his dark brown hair tied back into a pony tail, as did I. He was wearing some type of dress pants, I think they were kakis. They went well with his dark blue t-shirt, which had a grey thin stripe going from shoulder to shoulder but also through the chest area. His skin is darker than mine, almost looking weathered but soft at the same time. He was wearing round glasses, chrome and similar to John Lennon's. He was wearing white and blue Adidas sneakers. My mother was wearing a dark green yarnish fleece zip-up jacket, her blonde hair flowing over it at the shoulders and touching her neck. She was also wearing blue jeans, but they were dress jeans. My sister was wearing her glasses, blue jeans, and some type of multi-colored striped long-sleeved shirt. I can only think of Fruit Loops when I see this shirt. My father was wearing a black pair of jeans and a maroon t-shirt. His hair is almost black, it's that dark, and he had it back in a pony tail. He was wearing a gold wrist watch. He is usually the only one to wear a wrist watch.

I walked out to them casually, just listening to what they were saying. Then my mother says something about free puppies over across town. She kept talking my sister about it in front of me, where I stood there quietly, squinting and trying to keep the sun out of my eyes by putting my hands in front of them. They both had decided that they were going over the take a look at them. They asked me if I was going to go, urging me at the same time. I didn't know what was going on, so I said "whatever" and went. My brother also agreed to go, which seemed unusual to me. Anyway, I remember walking alongside my parents' white 1994 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight and staring at the primer spots in the paint, where the paint had stripped off due to weathering. I sat in the passenger side of the car.

I seemed to be bored around the house all the time when I had nothing to do. It was always this way when I was in high school. I always thought about what it would be like when I had my own dog. What I would name him, what I would teach him to do, and how much fun I would have playing with him.

When I was a Sophmore, my brother Larry was just graduating. A few weeks earlier my parents had decided to get a new puppy. They saw an ad in the paper for Chocolate Lad/Yellow Lab mix puppies. I don't remember the town that they were in, but I guess that they were not too far away as my parents had decided to go check it out. We had the old wood-grain station wagon then, and I was always the lucky one to sit in the front between my father and my brother. I couldn't do anything I wanted, to tell you the truth , and that bothered me in the sense that I couldn't stay away from my brother when he was being a jerk.

When my parents arrived at the house, we saw that the towering, freshly painted white garage was where the puppies were being kept. The garage door was already open and the owner was standing there, a sheepish grin on his old weathered face. He wasn't the hick type. He wasn't smoking...that was a good thing. He was tall and thin looking. He reminded me of a frail broomstick. His voice seemed to boom when he spoke, saying "Hi, there! These are the puppies! Yeah, theyr'e going fast." He also said " They look just like chocolate labs!" I remember that he liked to keep his hands in his pockets when he spoke.

My mother picked out one of the females who wasn't fat looking. She had smaller ears and a white streak across her chest. Her name became Abby. While we were there, Larry had been playing with a male puppy over in the corner of the garage on the cement slab, pretending that he didn't enjoy himself. The puppy had long frilly ears.

We left with one puppy, Abby, but a few days later, Larry got that chubby little puppy who's name became Jake. When Larry wasn't around, I took care of his dog, playing with him and walking him. This is when I felt that I would like to have a dog of my own. Larry, in the end, got upset with me taking care of his dog and told me to stay away from him. So I did. I was back to being bored with nothing to do. I eventually graduated highschool and asked my mother if I could have a dog, telling her that I would take care of him. I kept this up for about a year. After this amount of time I determined that I was not going to get my way and stopped hoping.

I slid into the slippery dark blue leather seats. I could feel myself slipping toward the floor of the car already and it wasn't even started yet. My mother got into the driver's side, gradually moving the seat back from where my father had it adjusted to, saying "Jesus Christ, can't your father drive with the seat back a little further? I don't know how he can drive like this!" As she said this she started the engine, bringing the car to life. She put it in gear and the monster lurched forward smoothly and started gliding down the gravel driveway, avoiding the washouts and potholes. The wind picked up and the entire ride over to the puppies was fantastic because it felt good to have the air whistling around me and into my lungs.

I would look at the dashboard from time to time when I wasn't looking to see the trees and the falling leaves. It was roundish, long and wide. The radio was off so all there was to listen to was the crunch of gravel underneath the tires along with the dinging from rocks hitting the bottom of the car. Once we entered the driveway to the house, I could see a home-made outside dog pen, made of cedar posts and chicken wire. I remember seeing about five or six eight-week-old puppies running around, each looking the same with thier husky-ness except for two. I opened the car door and lifted my self out of it slowly. I was still quiet, not excited. Everyone stepped out of the car, all doors slamming at different times.

We walked over to the pen and stood there. My sister went into the pen after the people greeted us and played with all of them. I saw a blond puppy who was not being given away because the son of the puppy owners was keeping him. Then I saw Sallon. He was a little brown ball of fur, not fat, and not to skinny with a little curly tail with a white tip (Kasey thought he looked like a short, fat, little oscar-mayer weiner). All the other puppies were scared of me when I went toward them and they would run. Sallon came out of that pen trotting like he owned the joint. He came right up to me and started sniffing me. He then started to chew on my hiker boot, giving little puppy growls. I bent over and picked him up. He looked me straight in the eyes and didn't even whimper. That was all it took for me to have him. I liked how he wasn't afraid of me. I held him in my arms, remembering what the woman had told me about him......he was the runt of the litter........had been taken to the vet because he had been sick but was better now.

I was surprised that my mother had let me pick out a puppy, let me have a dog. At that time, I didn't think that I would have to do as much as I do now. I rode back with Sallon in my arms on the way to my house, petting the little rascal all the while trying to keep him from squirming out of my arms. Once we were back home, I got out of the car and immediately took Sallon up across the lawn to play with him. That I did in the mid-morning with the sun beating down on us. Everybody else stood down at the bottom of the field watching. Sallon and I have been best friends since.

As long as I have had Sallon, I grow more responsible in my decision making process because I know that he was my responsibility, and still is. I am still trying to train him, which is rough but I will make it through. With all the chewed items, stolen food, and hyperactivities that my dog has performed, I learned quickly that with a dog comes great resposibility. With learning this I learned it also applies to the dicisions I make everyday that make a difference to who I am, what I do, and what will become of me. I'm off to take Sallon for a walk right now.

2006-09-24T12:46:00.000-07:00

Week four...Truth or Consequences

On a Saturday morning at about five forty-five I got out of bed and put on my favorite faded stone blue jeans, and my deep red colored t shirt on. I then scampered down the chipped yellow stairs and outside to my grey oldsmobile Ninety Eight where I then started the V6 engine and drove to Kasey's grandmother's house to pick up my old pickup truck. The sun was not out. The stars were still shining brightly and I also saw a stray amount of dark looking clouds hovering above. It was not wet out yet, though it was a little later. The air was cold. A cold stinging air that burnt muy lungs with the first few breaths I took in. I started to shiver. I had to have my headlights on because it was still that dark. The road at first was blurry from me still being sleepy. I left the window open to keep me awake. Once I got to where my nineteen seventy-something Ford one hundred was, the sky was completely lightened up. The truck is green, with bondo patches that make it look like it is a rust heep. The paint is all scratched up on the hood and all over the rest of the place. The bumper is dented and the truck looks crooked because it has no front shock on one side. The oil leaks out from the base pan because of the gasket.
The plan was to get the truck to my house, so I took the plastic five gallon sun-faded, red gas can out of my car and put the gas in my truck. I then attempted to start the truck but it wouldn't since it needed to fire on gas that it didn't have. So what I did was get my Poland Springs water bottle with gas in it and squirted it down the two barrel carburetor a couple times. I got in the truck and turned it over with the my flathead screwdriver. It fired up like it hadn't been fired up in years. Cobwebs came out of the exhaust. I then put the headlights on and shifted to first gear. I started to drive. The brakes are luckily still strong. I don't even have to touch the gas when I start off because the truck goes by itself.
Whenever I hit a bump the truck bounced and clanked really loud. Whenever I turned a corner the truck would sway back and forth, almost throwing me on the other side of the benck seat. When I drove into town I drove casually so that nobody would look my way. Once I got to Kasey's house I stopped to tell her that I would drive the truck the rest of the way home. Then I got back into the truck. Luckily I got the truck home safely. I drove up into my driveway like a bat out of hell, swerving all over the place and boucing my way up into the woods. I slowed to a screeching halt and then shut the truck off.

2006-09-17T13:16:00.000-07:00

Theme Week Three: scene setting and dialogue.

At school, I wait down on the bottom floor of the college dormitory, laying my head down onto my knees while sitting in the chair next to the payphone. The lights are very bright in my eyes tonight, and they are slightly buzzing in my ears. I have been silent for hours now, waiting, and the light turned to dark. I am alone. Kasey has been gone for this long and I have not seen her, I have searched for her. She left school with someone, didn't tell me, left when I needed to speak with her. I lift my head saying to myself "this is stupid", and got up to leave after waiting four hours. I am very angry, very hurt, and frustrated, feeling that time has been wasted. As I quicken my pace to the sidewalk, I see the car pull in, and I see Kasey in the passenger side. By that time, I had reached the other end of the parking lot, and I can see that she won't even look my way, which enrages me. I say to myself "Oh, I'm not good enough anymore!" Instantly I pace as the flickering yellow beam of a steetlamp hits my eyes, feeling my body lift awat from my thoughts, egulfing my emotions in pain, hurt, love.
Kasey steps out of the car, and I scream "so you ditched me to go fuck off with her?(I will leave the other girl's name out of this) You don't even care that Iv'e been waiting here for you for four and a half hours, do you? She doesn't even say a word, she walks toward her dorm room from the sidewalk. "So that's it? Your just going to leave me here like a fool whenever you want?", I said.
She yells back at me in front of a bunch of random people smoking outside, saying "No, Josh, I couldn't take it anymore, I had to get away for a while. Can't you understand that?
" No," I say, " you fucking ditched me! I thought that we would talk it over after I got out of class! Instead I get to your door and see that your gone! why did you blow me off?" The whole time I'm screaming I have to pace, my adrenaline is rushing because of all the emotions I am overwhelmed by. "Here, take my fucking keys before I drive my car over a fucking cliff, '' I scream as I throw my car keys at her.
Kasey walks over to them and picks them up quietly. She says to me "let's go somewhere else and talk about this, we cant do this here." She calms me down slightly. Tears are streaming from both of our eyes as we walk away, but together to the back oth the building. I really don't remember what else was said, for it was hurtful and I was totally exhausted mentally from feeling Kasey's words penetrate my soul. I remember that we worked things out.

2006-09-10T10:24:00.000-07:00

Theme week Two: History

In the early Nineties, I was out of fashion, wearing the eighties clothing still. I had a mullet, which I do not know if it was in style. I was young, and my Kindergarden teacher was an old woman of about sixty something years old. I remember doing a mock election, some guy reminding me of a pumpkin, and that was the guy I voted for. The fashion that was were big sunglasses and tight, ripped blue jeans. I thought thast that was kind of cool and I ended up wearing these type of pants. Gas prices I remember were at about `$1.20 a gallon, which was high at that time. In 1994, Kurt Cobain committed suicide. There atre still many people who think he was murdered. Courtney Love was married to Kurt, and she had a hard time dealing with his death. It was all over the news and media. Now the band Nirvana is more famous than it was when Kurt was alive. Grunge music woke everybody up and was what was in. I always listened to it because that was what was on the radio. Bill Clinton was in office for the presidency whan I was in middle school. That was a change for me. Dersert Storm I also remember happening. That was all over tv. I remember the Monica Lewinsky incident where the president lied and was impeached. I was nearly a freshmen in high school. That was the big event of the Nineties.

2006-09-03T10:23:00.000-07:00

Here I am again, writing. Well, More problems with the damn computer keep occurring. I can't wait to get off the stupid thing so that I can go on to do other work. So I ha ve to memorize a bunck of stuff for my science class. That I think is going to take a while. Then I have to do some other math work. Ofcourese here I am doing this journaling bit. I have to take a nap or something. I am tired because I did not get home last night until around midnight, which reminds me that I laso sawe a pesky deer next to the road. I guess that I am going hunting this year.....I recieved a hunting license for my birthday. Anyway, I think that I will put that to good use.

2006-09-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

Finally, it's about time I get back on the computer....stupid thing kept shutting off on me. Anyway, I am agitated with the speed of dial up. It takes me forever to get where I want to go on the thing. Sallon is doing ok...he still is mouthy. I drve on the turnpike over the past couple of days. I went out of the state with my girlfriend. This morning I got up early and worked so I am a little tired. My hand also hurts from shearing trees. Summer is almost over and it feels like I didn't get to do anything. I mostly mowed. When you go out of state you always get ripped off with everything you buy because "it's tourist season." I haven't been able to watch much television....I still have to do a lot of other school work....get back up to date and not fall behind any more than I already have. Well, I'll get going to write more on other assighnments.

2006-08-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

Well, This is supposed to be a week of journaling. So here I am, sitting in the library starting to write. I am a few days off because my schdule was a little haywirre this week....Anyway, tomorrow I am going to Mass with Kase to see Collective Soul......It's going to be awesome!!!! I have never really been to a real concert before....Kind of pathetic, actually. I wonder if Goldfine ever went to all those hippy concerts in the sixties. It is funn, picturing him with a head full of long hair, wearing those big shades that cops love to wear. Anyway........moving on......summer was a little hard.......lawnmowing and tree shearing right up my alley! I guess I have some memorable times though. Sallon at the end of a chain barking, trying to keep trail hikers abay.....He still won't swim. He just wades in the water a few inches, gets a tad wet and decides that he is good. Well, I am getting tired, waiting to finish up here, then go on to tree shear. Fun! Not really. I just used that bit of sarcasm to .......what am I doing Talking to myself. Gee, I wonder if everyone is like that. This is my first online course and I hope that I do alright. I still like to outwit everyone when comes to the writing. So far, I have not seen many people getting started on what they are supposed to do. At first I panicked because I thought that we (the students) were supposed to get online atleast when we were on the assighned class day. I guess that it's all good now though. I have a twinge of pain in my wrist and I don't know what it is from. I still have a couple of prompts to write.....they will get written. I think that I will manipulate them and have some fun. I should get going now, I hate sitting in a chair longer than two hours. My mind starts to lose it's full potential. I'll write later.

2006-08-28T07:14:00.000-07:00

This is my new Creative Writing blog.