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The Wish List of a Ten Year Old
Many action figures and new toys
To go and see awesome Pixar movies
To do better in school
To treat my friends better
To treat my parents better.
Get into summer camp
I wish my parents would stop arguing all the time
I wish I had more friends in my neighborhood.
I want a pony.
I wish I didn't have to go to middle school next year.
I wish I could never grow up.
I wish my brothers and sisters treated me better.
I wish we had a pool in the backyard.
Regrets at 78 Years Old
I regret that I married my husband.
I regret that I did not take that job offer.
I regret that I let my kids go to college and start families so far away.
I regret buying that microwave I never use.
I regret not going to the doctor immediately... it turned out to be cancer.
I wish I had not been so mean to my own parents.
I wish I had not driven on the day of the snowstorm... my car is wrecked.
I wish I had moved to Florida instead of stayed up north.
Creative Writing Goals For Five Years
Keep making my poetry better
Get Cain published and revised
Get both Venerated and Restless fully written, revised, and published
Get some more poetry published in college literary magazines
Finish and finally edit TNN
Post TNN on some website so the whole world can enjoy it.
Revise existing poetry.
Possibly join an RPG on the Internet
Possibly write some fan-fiction
Keep writing about the Bible
Keep journaling in Greatest Journal
Carry around paper and pencil everywhere to jot down ideas
Get all poems onto Creative-Poems.com
Keep writing essays for scholarships and fun
A Freudian slip is when you say something you didn't mean to say. The thing you actually said is supposed to reflect the desires of the subconscious mind, or something like that. I have Freudian slips all the time. I'll call Jamie Michael and Michael Jamie, and Justin Jamie, etc. I'll be meaning to say “heck” and I'll slip out a “hell”. Sigmund Freud was completely oblivious to the fact that there is a god; and he committed suicide. It figures that he tried to figure the world out, but he couldn't figure himself out. The poor, sad, little man.
I have not had any accidents recently, and I hope I do not. I saw an accident on the corner of Highway 42 and Buffalo Road, by the Percy Flowers store. Some guy's truck got hit by another vehicle, and I saw the guy on a stretcher. This was some time ago, but I still remember it. Later, I was reading Alie's Myspace and found out that it was her father who was hit. Luckily, he is still alive, but injured. He'll be fine, but the other person will have to live with the guilt, and possibly the medical bills.
“It's not my fault” is a common phrase used to deny responsibility for something that happened wrong. Most of the things that happen in the world (big things, like war) aren't the fault of just one person. More than one person always contributes. Even in World War II, most people think the culprit was Hitler, when it was a whole bunch of different circumstances conspiring to bring the nations down. In the accident when I hit that car, it was not all my fault, nor the fault of the police officer, or of the other driver. It was everyone's fault.
Since I always write about premonitions about Jamie, what about all those about Kevin and Arleigh? There were premonitions with them, but they weren't as strong. Like the time I was in the bowling alley in 7th grade and I was watching Arleigh bowl. When I was in the 9th grade and Kevin sat beside me on the bus, I did get a small feeling of intuition. With Arleigh it was neutral, and with Kevin it was negative. At least Arleigh was my friend, even if I didn't have any other feelings for him. Kevin wasn't even my friend first.
If I was to do “it” differently, I guess “it” would be April 20. I knew I would regret that day. I'm talking about 2007's April 20. I'd realize that the sex doesn't determine anything and nothing determines the amount of sex. It was just a general mistake. It was such a mistake that it made me regret the NMFHJ and Clean strategies. I realized that they were actually the right thing, so April 20 was wrong. I would have stuck to my guns better on April 20. The day itself added to the significance of what would happen.
Since I'm not in school now, I'm writing about the view from my bedroom window. It's partially obscured by a white, filmy curtain with flowery designs along the edges. I can see the deck, and the jasmine plant crawling up the stairs. I can see a blue folding chair folded against the railing of the stairs. The white posts of the garden fence sneak into my vision, but from where I sit, I cannot see the garden. I see the expanse of green plants growing underneath the deck, like a jungle. I see the lavender side of the storage shed.
I'm between a rock and a hard place right now, and I was on April 12. The April 12 episode was funnier. I was dancing with Arleigh and he had a hard-on, and Craig was standing close to me, having the third heartbreak. The name “Craig” means “rock”, so I was literally standing between a rock and a hard place. You could call it swaying between a rock and a hard place, because we were slow dancing. They were both bad choices for me to choose between, but in eighth grade, dating is a bad decision to begin with.
The whole purpose of fan-fiction is to borrow someone else's good idea. I don't like fan-fiction for that reason. If you're supposedly so creative, why don't you create your own characters, or your own world? It bothers me that some authors admire people creating fan-fiction about their characters and settings. If I was an author, I wouldn't allow it. I understand that it's a great compliment to the author, but damn! Get your own! Fan-fiction is fine to keep in your personal journal, but all the fan-fiction I see on the Internet makes me sick.
You really wanna know why farmers don't name their animals anymore? The farming industry has become so huge that animals aren't individual creatures. They're numbers and bodies that will eventually become the bacon and steak on our plates. I'm no PETA representative, but I find that depressing. There aren't real farmers out there anymore. When I think of a farmer, I think of an independently owned farm that hasn't been bought out by some huge corporation. Farmers are now called agriculturists, and have little to do with the raising of the animals. Agriculturists are only in it for the money.
Porches without swings are testimonials to how busy the world has become. A porch on a house now is strictly for decoration. No one ever has the time to simply sit outside on the porch (give or take drinking and smoking) and think about life or contemplate, or anything. A swing on a porch symbolizes relaxation and time to think or chat with our friends. The number of porches without swings is increasing because like I said before, no one has time. If the porch has a swing, chances are the owners of the house never, or rarely, use it.
The girl who wears pink every day might be Ivy Jonson. She might be trying to keep her childhood in a cage on her body. Pink might be her favorite color... or it might be the only color she has to wear. She might have a mental condition and be afraid of other colors. The girl who wears pink may be afraid of the world. She might be trying to imitate a pop star or cartoon character. What it boils down to is that the girl is afraid of showing her other true colors... for various reasons. She might suffer.
I've been told that to go to a two-year college is a good decision so many times before, it makes me sick. I think that when people tell me this, they really don't care. What they're really telling me is that they feel sorry for me. I rarely detect genuine admiration in their voices when I tell them my choice. It's kind of an absent-minded, “Yeah, that's good. That's very good.” I get comments the money I'm saving, and I don't have to be away from my family. I am tired of hearing it all the time, though.
If two teachers talked and my name came up, I'd listen as quietly as I could. I don't think it would be anything bad I've done, because in college I am quiet and somewhat anti-social. They might be talking about how smart I am. That sounds arrogant. If I was Naomi and I heard two teachers talking about me, they'd be trying to figure me out. Naomi is a smart kid, with some major problems. She likes to get in fights, not resolve problems calmly. It's the same thing with Maxine, but she's a lot younger than my Naomi.
If he told me he was bisexual, I'd love him anyway, but I would look at him very differently. I don't discriminate against people with a different sexual orientation from me, but when I find out “how they swing” I look at them very differently. Being a member of the Catholic church, I do not think men and men or women and women should get married, but I do respect life. I would encourage him to stick up for himself and not be brought down by what others will say about him. If I had power, I would protect him.
If an unopened present was sitting in the middle of the garage, I would assume it was a big present. Maybe it was a puppy or another animal. It's not good to give animals as pets because a lot of them end up being abandoned. Perhaps the present is a gift for Dad, for Father's Day. Men in general like presents that have to do with tools or electronics; what they call boys' toys. Maybe the present is a brand new lawn mower or weed whacker. It could be a car accessory. Men treat their cars better than their wives.
Since I didn't go to my senior prom, I could only imagine how it would've been. I would've gone with Jamie, Justin, and Heather, and we would have stuck together and danced and acted like complete fools. If I were to go to the senior prom this coming school year (Jamie's senior prom), I would kill most (if not all) of the competition. I'd wear this purple dress and feel very strange about being at a senior prom while I'm in my second year of college. The little girlies would be younger than me so they wouldn't stand a chance.
My friend is whispering to the new girl down the hall and telling her lies about me. I guess she's not my friend anymore. That also prevents the new girl from being my friend. That's a real shame, because she looks like she has fashion sense. I know they are talking about me. They're looking my way and giggling. Dammit, I remember I just told my friend which guy I had a crush on! I hope they don't go telling him and starting drama. Nothing good'll come of this... I think it's time for me to find some new friends.
You should never let an opportunity pass you by. You'll continually be thinking about the past and what you could have done with the opportunity if you had the foresight to see what difference it could have made in your life. A missed opportunity can be a sign of poor judgment in a person, or else just plain apathy. Some people let opportunities pass because they are too shy to take advantage of them (me). Other people are too lazy to take advantage of their opportunities (Jamie). Overcome your tragic flaws and take the proverbial bull by its cliched horns.
If he was standing next to my locker... I'm going to have another eighth grade flashback. I'd go up to him and say one of my fabulous pickup lines that I invented in the spring of 2002. “What's wrong?” He would confide in me. He'd finally get the balls to tell me he loved me and that he wanted to kick my current boyfriend's ass and give it all up to be with me. I would have the courage to tell him I loved him as well, and reciprocate (I think that's the right word) his feelings. I loved him.
Why are you so fixated on sex? Do I make you happy or is it the sex part that makes you happy? That's the way I feel; that it's not me as a person making you happy, but it's the sex dictating everything. I don't want to feel that you love me just for sex, but that's the way you make me feel sometimes. I liked our relationship back when it was relatively clean and when we didn't care what everyone thought.
Your loving girlfriend, Maggie
P.S. I will never give up my religion. Especially not for sex.
I used to have a skill... I juggled with two balls. I could never juggle with three balls, but I could do pretty well with two. And now, I can't even do two. It's not the most important skill in the world, but I feel bad that I lost it. I lost the coordination I used to have... and I used to have pretty good hand eye coordination. The thing that bothers me most about losing the skill is that I'm only nineteen. My physical prowess has decreased in the years since my childhood; when I knew how to juggle.
I know precious little about anything that will be of any use to me in the real world. I am academically smart and know how to pass a class and impress a teacher. I know all about Pokemon. I know all about writing poetry. I know a lot about pets, especially dogs. I know a good amount about relationships, even though I can't seem to trust my own advice. I know a lot about computers. Since I read a lot of books, I know more about reading fiction novels than anyone else I know. It's not much, but it helps.
A time when the young were taught to build fires was probably around when fire was discovered... the era of cave people, to be politically correct. When it was my turn, I probably acted like the usual ditz I am; afraid to burn myself. Of course. They lit fires by rubbing two sticks together back then... so I guess what I did was rub two sticks together and feel the growing heat. Then I probably dropped the sticks in dumbfounded surprise. The elders kept encouraging me, and if gloves had been invented then, I would have put some on immediately.
What was lost but is now found... a whole bunch of trivial things have been lost and then found again, but the main thing is we usually find the things we lose. A miracle occurs when someone loses something very valuable to them; like a family member or other loved one, and then that person returns or is found. An even bigger miracle is when someone loses something even more precious like their faith... and then they regain it. That's the purpose of life. The other purpose of life is to never lose your individuality. I have to find mine.
There was a time when I was stranded... well not really stranded in the middle of nowhere, but still kind of stuck. The Mercedes had broken down and we (my mom and I) parked it on the shoulder of the road and walked up to the house that belonged to the owners of the Christmas tree farm nearby. My mom called home from there, but Dad and Mike weren't home. So she came back to the car and we waited. Then she called again and they still weren't home. So she called Mrs. Hackerott, who came and picked us up.
The last conversation I had was with Jamie. We were talking about the TNN story, so the person eavesdropping would hear all this weird stuff about a blue haired man with wings and Sephiroth markings. They'd hear about a fictional family that includes Ivy, Nikolai, Naomi, Saisami, etc. It would be a large and meaningless inside joke to the person eavesdropping, so they would get bored very quickly, unless they really wanted to know about me and Jamie. If it was someone who knew about the TNN story and what we were talking about, they'd listen in. They'd be interested.
A word that is stolen is any word you hear someone else using, then start using for yourself. You could even change the meaning of the word, or the spelling to make it completely unrecognizable from who you stole it from. In the creation of the English language all sorts of words got stolen and twisted around and spelled differently, and it's all good because it's all part of history and what we speak today. I steal words and make them my own, even if they don't sound correct. Take “offensed” for example. It means you are “bothered”, or “jealous”.
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