Final Reflection

1. a few things that i enjoyed doing this quater were the window poem, writing poems about make believe people with other peoples ideas in class, the i am poems and learning about how to express ourselves though writing. i enjoyed the i am peom because it was fun and easy to do. it helps us reflect on ourselves and try to describe what you see and what other people might see.
2.i have read this quater:
50 shades of grey: poorly written and very choppy in flow
cats i am poem: it was very descriptive and i thought it captured her personality very well
bradons poems: they are very creative and he seems to write in one distinct voice. i wish he would post on blogger more.
3. after setting up my blog waiting for help and fixing everything to how i wanted it i learned alot. i realised that writing can be fun and even help expand our way of thinking. i came up with a name for my blog by realising how fast time flys. even in this class. which has gone by really fast, i have realised that it does indeed become yesterday before we know it. i dont think anyone really read my blog, but that is okay. i didnt put it up here for other people i put it up here not only for a grade but for myself to see and admire. to see how much ive grown. if i could have anyone see it though id probably have my boyfriend see it. to have him realise how much i do care and how much i speak about him in my writing. i may actually use this blog in the future it is very fun to post on and to read other peoples post. perhaps ill post on it this summer talking about my trip to france.
4. for me journaling was easy. sitting down and writing what the teacher said, a piece of cake. fopr me direct assignments come easy and fast but when i have to free write. thats were i get stuck. ium not so good with drawling or writing something new. sure im creative i can give things a certain twist but i never was really good at being completely original i take things from things i watch or see. i like to twist things, blend them, melt them togewther into a new piece. you could say i like to recycle.alot of things in my journal are just tat. recycled. things i've heard or felt in the past. things i think or thought or what i believe other people are thinking. i dont think i really want anyone to read my journal. i have no desire to share it with anyone. i would like to keep journaling though i dont think ill ever find time for it. i do want to keep up with my thoughts. though i hate reading about some of the things i wrote. i feel like they were lies some how because my feelings change over time and i feel i should blend them into my current thinking which i know isnt right.
5.an entry i believe is notable is "hurt" a poem i wrote on my own;
he's angry
no one understands what he thinking
his mother cant understand his obsession

the black slick metal,solid, and sure,
reminds him,free's him,

he wants to be alone with it,
with his obsession.
he wants to be alone,
with himself.

aorund her though,
he keeps the safety button on,
never shooting his emotions,
never aiming his thoughts,

this is why he is angry,
this is why he is frustrated
this is why he misfires,
and this is why he breaks her heart.

6.She grew up on the side of the road where the wild flowers grow. her long dark hair flowed gracefully down her back and tickled the back of her legs. sun kissed her cheeks when she layed alone in the field. staring hopelessly at the never ending light blue sky. the wind wirled around her covering her with the sent of sweet grass. stains covered her baby pink dress, grounding her. this was the place she spent most of her time. trying to remember herself. to find herself. just as the sun touched the horizon giving it one last hug goodbye. she rolled over onto her stomach and closed her eyes. stretching out her arms she embrassed the ground and gave the field a hug goodnight. she rose from her spot in the field and it playfully licked her feet as she ran inside her humble farm house. she grew old here in the house by the field. she wrote here, endless romance novels and poems. she never loved here though, no man could ever replace her love for that field and open sky, no man could incase her imagination when all she ever wanted to do was fly. She would die here. under the deep never ending sky. with her glasses hanging loosly from a himp chain around her neck. her dark hair pinned up tight and falling into her face. her pink stained dress stained and tangled around her legs. with the field kissing her with ever breeze and holding her as she would leave. there she lay still and cold as the sun held her close and said goodnight. the field then took her. kept her and loved her into it. never letting her beautiful body disinigrate. they took her body and soul and named her mother. she loved the earth mor ethan the world could ever know and fell inlove that day....she walked in the field.

7.some creative writing i plan to do in the future is free write poems and fiction stories. i get alot of peace out of creative writing i find it calming just to tap on a keyboard and allow my thoughts to flow. i ten to not get distracted this way. This writing is different in the way that it doesnt need a direct outline. i dont have to write a certain way or say certain things like in a research paper. it allows me freedom and lets me think.
8.i really did enjoy reading poems from everyone i think they are one of the best ways to express yourselves and i think everyones i am poems really did the job. i think everyone in this class has great potential to write and should continue to do so. wether they try very little or try really hard in this class i think everyone has the writing ability.
9.
I love you much (Parker)
More than the moon loves the sky,
the dog loves its bone,
and the cat loves warm milk.
if you love me
hold me like a butterfly, warm and close,
kiss me, soft and sweet, like summer,
and keep me never, leave,
dream,
of me,-
----as i, dream,
of you

Dan in real life

3 tips i would give parents is one space is key. teenagers hate to be smothered and constantly worried over. a too strict of a parent can actually have the opposite affect. Two strict but not prison guard. give them some freedom let them know you trust them. saying your disappointed in them bothers them more than you might think. 3 loving but not smothering. let them know you love them but never make them feel as though they HAVE to love you back. allow them to want to do things with the family instead of being forced to do so.

i think you can know you love someone in three days’ think love is not just butterflies, or time, or even how long you've known someone. i believe that we are born for someone. i think that god has planned out a person for us to be with and that it is our journey to find them. i think that when someone does find that one person it can either take them awhile to realize it or they can figure it out rather quickly.

no i am not a good bowler. i think i was one when i was younger because i did it alot and we always had the bumpers up but now a days i believe i am terrible. by the end of the bowling i am usually doing silly dance moves up to the throwing of the ball. in the end though bowling tends to be very fun and entertaining when done with a bunch of good friends. i think bowling dates are even fun though i am really terrible. i think its cute when guys try to help you be better and to even possibly kind rub it in that your winning just to mess with them.

for someone to be a "hottie" to me they have to have the personality. if they just have the looks then i think they are alright. for me they have to have a good personality if im going to stay with them for a long time. alot of the time for me i like someone because they have a pretty face but they end up being pretty dumb. in reality not all the "pretty faced guys" are really that attractive to me. i like a guy who can have an intelligent conversation with me and not be afraid or intimidated because i am very book smart. to be a "hottie" i do like them to have strong arms, good hair and abs. but doesn’t every girl?

Two pictures

I am...
sore calased hands dirty from work,
seven kidsa all poor, and sad as i,
the same seaon all year,
tired,sadbroken,
years of labor in a week,
broken shoes and aching feet,
learned by my peers and learning others,
short dry hair oiled with sweat,
a long working skirt that stops at the ankles,
starved for knowledge,
plump with food,
alone when surrounded,
a holy bible on sunday,
muddy fields and ripe apples,
a bird always flying south.

Berlin wall

to be divided
seperate, dislocated, from ordinaray,
changed, split, torn away from yesterday.
to see it break,
burn, fall, into ashes,
changed, combined, reunited with yesterday,
joy happiness, renewal overwelms you,
it brings you back to yourself again,
but also to new possibilites,
to break it,
is the best day of my life.

Preferences in Movies

My favorite movie is tangled by disney because it is so funny and romantic at the same time.


Movies i dont usually care for are ones were the main character dies in the end. i think it ruins the whole story and doesn;t give the watcher any hope for them. i think the best part of a movie is cheering on the main character.

I usually watch movies about 10-12 times a month. most of the time it is at home but when i can i like to go to the threater and watch it on the big screen.


When i watch a movie i need silence. i also need a warm blanket and yummy food like popcorn and sourpatch kids. i love also having rootbeer when i watch movies just because its my favorite.

This survery really says i dont need someone to watch a movie with i can watch it on my own in my own room its just more exciting to watch it with other people. i also think it says that i love snacking when watching movies which is not a good habit.

if my life was made into a movie i think it would be very dramatic and that it wouldnt get very good reviews. i think someones life has to be pretty interesting to make a good movie.

This is a solider

this is a solider,

young and brave,

ready for war and all its caous

curious and scared for the battlefield

strong and sturdy for the ones at home,

this is pride,

staring death in the face and taunting it,

daringly prepared for what lies ahead,

the softest bit of a smirk on his lips 

Loving him...

she cries desperately,
trying to make him see.
he doesnt.
she holds on tightly trying to pull through,
he lets go,

she begs, she pleads,
he ignores her,
everyday she trys hard for him
he hates it

everyday she trys to embrace him
he pushes her away

days in and out he breaks her heart,
still she tries

never letting go,
holding on tight
begging, pleading, praying,
for a way to say goodbye....

...but she loves him

Hurt

Hes' angry,
no one understands his thinking,
his mother can't understand his obsession,

the black slick metal, solid, and sure,
reminds him, free's him,

He wants to be alone with it,
his obsession,
he wants to be alone,
with himself.

This thing, dark and dangerous,
describes him,
through this he speaks, he screams,

around her though,
he keeps the safety button on,
never shooting his emotions,
never aiming his thoughts,

this is why he is angry,
this is why he is frustrated,
this is why he misfires,
and this is why he breaks her heart,