So there's less than a week til valentines day and I'm not really looking forward to it...... I really don't like it 'cause it brings back memories of my mom and it makes me upset....but that's not the only reason why. I have never really had a valentine in the first place....and I think it is a rip off because it's another day for companies to make money.... unless you spend it with someone you love, care about or is significant to you then it is pointless.... ya .... hopefully I can find someone who fits those specifications....otherwise, I'll be fine without it...... being myself is all I really need right now...but it doesn't hurt to have someone there with you to help along the way
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sojourner Truth
I love this speech by Sojourner Truth titled "aint i a woman"
That man over there say a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches
and to have the best place everywhere.
Nobody ever helped me into carriages
or over mud puddles
or gives me a best place. . .
And ain't I a woman?
Look at me
Look at my arm!
I have plowed and planted
and gathered into barns
and no man could head me. . .
And ain't I a woman?
I could work as much
and eat as much as a man--
when I could get to it--
and bear the lash as well and ain't I a woman?
I have born 13 children
and seen most all sold into slavery
and when I cried out a mother's grief
none but Jesus heard me. . . and ain't I a woman?
that little man in black there say a woman can't have as much rights as a man
cause Christ wasn't a woman
Where did your Christ come from?
From God and a woman!
Man had nothing to do with him!
If the first woman God ever made
was strong enough to turn the world
upside down, all alone
together women ought to be able to turn it.
That man over there say a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches
and to have the best place everywhere.
Nobody ever helped me into carriages
or over mud puddles
or gives me a best place. . .
And ain't I a woman?
Look at me
Look at my arm!
I have plowed and planted
and gathered into barns
and no man could head me. . .
And ain't I a woman?
I could work as much
and eat as much as a man--
when I could get to it--
and bear the lash as well and ain't I a woman?
I have born 13 children
and seen most all sold into slavery
and when I cried out a mother's grief
none but Jesus heard me. . . and ain't I a woman?
that little man in black there say a woman can't have as much rights as a man
cause Christ wasn't a woman
Where did your Christ come from?
From God and a woman!
Man had nothing to do with him!
If the first woman God ever made
was strong enough to turn the world
upside down, all alone
together women ought to be able to turn it.
Friday, February 4, 2011
New post
hii!!!!! i am just writing to say hii .....ya i havent been on here in awhile so ....yes...
Monday, January 24, 2011
Hurt by Johnny Cash
Hurt by Johnny Cash
really good song by a great artist....... explains how i feel sometimes in life.....R.I.P Santiago De Silva
Monday, August 30, 2010
Family,Pride&Parenting
One of the activities we had in our English 11 third period class was to create a poster to discover what we expect of others, Who we consider family, in our proud moment and our hopes and views on our future parenting techniques. some of the things that were brought up were; love, trust, caring, patience, loyalty accountability, responsibility, commitment, and honesty. We then refreshed on the subject in class today and we were given the prompt to describe the type of traits we would attribute to a friend, a girlfriend, or a co-worker. For a couple the traits I chose were loyalty, love, trust, honesty, and commitment. For a co-worker I need a trustworthy, honest, dependable and accountable teammate. Finally, from a class mate I expect a honest, trustworthy, hardworking and when the need comes, a responsible classmate.
Monday, July 19, 2010
"Wishing On A Buck Fifty" Autobiographical Narrative
Robert Moore
7/13/2010
Ms. Priester Autobiographical Narrative
Peer edit
“Wishing on a buck fifty”
I only wish for one thing now days. It is simple yet complex, easy yet difficult. It is to have my life back the way it was before all of it. All of the wishes, all of the angry outburst about chores, all of the hateful words spat at my mother, before I wished to get out of "Here". "Here" being anywhere that the rules didn't favor my wants. I lost my mother at age eleven, because of a wish I regret letting slip out of my mouth to this day. At age thirteen, I wished to leave the "rule-laden" home of my foster mother, to the youthful age of fourteen and "freedom" of my dad's home who, then I wished was never my father. At first I thought that at one time, people could wish to have what they want, especially little children and get what they want but afterward, I noticed that it became a greed and self indulgence thing and I started to wish away things that didn't work the way I wanted them to. I realized that in the end I wished away the best things in life because at the time they didn't seem to fit what I wanted. Some of the people who loved me the most were lost because of this angry impulse sleeping inside me. I wished up on four occasions for things to happen and they did but, they were the worst things to happen to me.
We lived in The Mariposa apartment complex in Vista, California. It was a dull but otherwise nice day for an outdoor activity and in our home we were just settling down from our school day and work. Our apartment was not the best, but it was home for us. It was a two bedroom, two bathroom and we had about six people in our home so it was chaotic and very structured. My brother and I had a futon that we slept on and my mother had her own queen sized bed that looked like it could fit two of her on it. My two other sisters were in the room across the hall and they each had a twin sized bed. The walls were whitewashed and the kitchen was standard, but an eyesore because of its lackluster and plain bluntness for a kitchen. It was March 17, 2004, sometime during spring break of the 4th grade year for me. My little brother hadn’t started school yet and Tinishia was in training to be a vet. Karie and I were both in school and she was both a year and two grades above me. My mother worked part-time at a senior citizen's home and Michael usually tagged along with her.
My mother was the head of the household and she knew it. She was born Michelle Denise Owens and she was one of three children my grandmother had. She was a strong woman and at 47 she was a strong woman for her looks and body type considering the fact that she was taller than my father and, taller or evenly measured with most men at 6'2 and 180 lbs. She had a healthy dark chocolate skin, the kind you see in movies and was no major in medicine, but could work her magic on anyone. My sister "tootie" and "nishia” were both just like their mom in her youth, both being unusually tall, Tinishia being 5'11 and Karie being 5'8. Michael and I were what people would call "lookers". We looked exactly the same and were posed to be very good looking men in our adult years. However, I was angry at the fact that my mother was telling me what to do and what not to do. I thought she was just being bossy because she was the older individual not because she was my mother. I kept on thinking "Why doesn't she believe me?! She never believes me! Why am I here if she doesn't believe me?" I started to feel years of hate from my childhood rise up and grab me like a vice grip. I felt envenomated by poison that was slowly enveloping me like a mind control drug. I was angry at my mother for telling me what to do. I hated the chores, I hated the food, I hated my brother, I hated this apartment, I hated everything, except for her... I never hated her so I wonder why I said it. I still wonder while she hit me did I say "I HATE YOU AND I WISH YOU WOULD DIE!!” It wasn't until I said this and my horrible wish came to life did I realize that my words were wrong. It was too late and on March 8, 2005, I lost my mother to Lung Cancer just a year after my spiteful words.
We then moved to my foster mother's home in San Marcos, California. We lived in a three bedroom, two bathroom home. It soon turned August 6th, 2006, it was an early end to the summer and fall had come quickly. There were five people in our home, My foster mother Kathy, who was a successful childcare provider, my sister Tatyana who was a super tomboy at age eleven, my blood brother Michael who was growing up to be a devil in the sexiest body according to my mom, my older sister Precious who was going through her rebellious stage as well, And finally my brother Davin, who was a young boy looking for a role model and I just happened to be that role model. I don't know what happened that day other than what I've been told and what I've heard. My foster mother and I were arguing about my chores and how I needed to grow up and learn how to do them right. However I wasn't listening because all it reminded me of was the small voice in my head the day of my biological mom and I had our argument. I kept on thinking “I wish this would all stop and I can go back". In a lucky break my social worker came and asked me if I wanted to go live with my dad. I thought about it and quickly replied yes as I felt the guilt creep over me like I had signed a deal with the devil in my own blood. I was growing up and I had all of my teenage hormones running so I couldn't judge or assess the situation appropriately. However, the angry part of me grabbed a hold of me and started to soothe me into believing that I was making the right decision. The inside voice continued to spit its propaganda " Rules suck and there should be no reason why you have to do them all day there stupid pointless and make no money for you". I just felt overworked, in school I was struggling, I then had to deal with my foster mom's daycare just caused me to be on the brink of an emotional breakdown or explosion. “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned”.
We were living in a one bedroom house in San Diego however, in the beginning of 2009, we moved into a three bedroom, two bathroom house next to O'Farrell Community school and on the "four corners of death" and the place improperly called the "ghetto”. My biological brother Michael came with us and with him his 1,000 mile "yarns" and his cute smile that hid all his hyperactive inner self. My father, James Moore who was sixty-four at the time was a Vietnam veteran and seemed to know everything about anything but lacked communication skills with his own son. Shenae, my older sister who was an overly hyperactive adult who was always cool with older kids but couldn't stand younger children. Then my two nieces followed behind her, making all little children cry, or scared in their wake. At first, I thought that it would be better but I soon realized the exact opposite, after the state canceled my foster care checks he started to become stricter and started giving out whippings. I tried to walk out and go back to Kathy's but he beat me and told me I wouldn't go anywhere. I just remember I kept on wishing "I wish I can go to the perfect place for me and my brother”. I kept on thinking "what have I done now?”
It wasn't until my dad got into a fight and jumped me that I wished to just go back home and go stay with Kathy. It was then I got away and stayed over next door at my friends for a week and I came home to take a shower that I was set up by my sister and my dad and they called the police on me ten minutes before I entered the house. I tried to apologize for my "bad" behavior and take a shower but my sister stopped me and claimed that I tried to rape her & her nieces as well as my little brother. I denied all these charges considering I was never in the house to do such thing let alone very attempt or think about them. She fought me and I won easily, due to the fact she was drunk and my father wasn't in the room, after that he blocked me in my room telling me "they're going to get you this time" and my sister tried to stab me and I laughed saying go ahead, "we'll both burn in hell, me for hitting a woman and you stabbing me when I was innocent". That’s when I was removed by social services and then whisked off to group home after group home to end up at San Pasqual Academy exactly where I wished to be.
The end result was the same, I got what I wished for and I just have to live with it and learn from my mistakes. I lost a mother, and I lost my view of what was good for me and let what my teen hormones wanted me to do take over. There are many things I wish I could reverse but I can say that I wouldn't be in a place like San Pasqual Academy where I can get an education and get my life back together without those bad decisions. At first I thought that at one time, people could wish to have what they want, especially when we are little children and get what we want. Afterward I noticed that it became a greed driven, self indulgence and anger controlled lifestyle and I started to wish away things that didn't work the way I wanted them to. I realized that in the end I wished away the best things in life because at the time they didn't seem to fit what I wanted. Some of the people who loved me the best were lost to be because of this want. My anger controlled me and took the best parts of my life and left me with the ashes. “You will not be punished for your anger; you will be punished by your anger”.
7/13/2010
Ms. Priester Autobiographical Narrative
Peer edit
“Wishing on a buck fifty”
I only wish for one thing now days. It is simple yet complex, easy yet difficult. It is to have my life back the way it was before all of it. All of the wishes, all of the angry outburst about chores, all of the hateful words spat at my mother, before I wished to get out of "Here". "Here" being anywhere that the rules didn't favor my wants. I lost my mother at age eleven, because of a wish I regret letting slip out of my mouth to this day. At age thirteen, I wished to leave the "rule-laden" home of my foster mother, to the youthful age of fourteen and "freedom" of my dad's home who, then I wished was never my father. At first I thought that at one time, people could wish to have what they want, especially little children and get what they want but afterward, I noticed that it became a greed and self indulgence thing and I started to wish away things that didn't work the way I wanted them to. I realized that in the end I wished away the best things in life because at the time they didn't seem to fit what I wanted. Some of the people who loved me the most were lost because of this angry impulse sleeping inside me. I wished up on four occasions for things to happen and they did but, they were the worst things to happen to me.
We lived in The Mariposa apartment complex in Vista, California. It was a dull but otherwise nice day for an outdoor activity and in our home we were just settling down from our school day and work. Our apartment was not the best, but it was home for us. It was a two bedroom, two bathroom and we had about six people in our home so it was chaotic and very structured. My brother and I had a futon that we slept on and my mother had her own queen sized bed that looked like it could fit two of her on it. My two other sisters were in the room across the hall and they each had a twin sized bed. The walls were whitewashed and the kitchen was standard, but an eyesore because of its lackluster and plain bluntness for a kitchen. It was March 17, 2004, sometime during spring break of the 4th grade year for me. My little brother hadn’t started school yet and Tinishia was in training to be a vet. Karie and I were both in school and she was both a year and two grades above me. My mother worked part-time at a senior citizen's home and Michael usually tagged along with her.
My mother was the head of the household and she knew it. She was born Michelle Denise Owens and she was one of three children my grandmother had. She was a strong woman and at 47 she was a strong woman for her looks and body type considering the fact that she was taller than my father and, taller or evenly measured with most men at 6'2 and 180 lbs. She had a healthy dark chocolate skin, the kind you see in movies and was no major in medicine, but could work her magic on anyone. My sister "tootie" and "nishia” were both just like their mom in her youth, both being unusually tall, Tinishia being 5'11 and Karie being 5'8. Michael and I were what people would call "lookers". We looked exactly the same and were posed to be very good looking men in our adult years. However, I was angry at the fact that my mother was telling me what to do and what not to do. I thought she was just being bossy because she was the older individual not because she was my mother. I kept on thinking "Why doesn't she believe me?! She never believes me! Why am I here if she doesn't believe me?" I started to feel years of hate from my childhood rise up and grab me like a vice grip. I felt envenomated by poison that was slowly enveloping me like a mind control drug. I was angry at my mother for telling me what to do. I hated the chores, I hated the food, I hated my brother, I hated this apartment, I hated everything, except for her... I never hated her so I wonder why I said it. I still wonder while she hit me did I say "I HATE YOU AND I WISH YOU WOULD DIE!!” It wasn't until I said this and my horrible wish came to life did I realize that my words were wrong. It was too late and on March 8, 2005, I lost my mother to Lung Cancer just a year after my spiteful words.
We then moved to my foster mother's home in San Marcos, California. We lived in a three bedroom, two bathroom home. It soon turned August 6th, 2006, it was an early end to the summer and fall had come quickly. There were five people in our home, My foster mother Kathy, who was a successful childcare provider, my sister Tatyana who was a super tomboy at age eleven, my blood brother Michael who was growing up to be a devil in the sexiest body according to my mom, my older sister Precious who was going through her rebellious stage as well, And finally my brother Davin, who was a young boy looking for a role model and I just happened to be that role model. I don't know what happened that day other than what I've been told and what I've heard. My foster mother and I were arguing about my chores and how I needed to grow up and learn how to do them right. However I wasn't listening because all it reminded me of was the small voice in my head the day of my biological mom and I had our argument. I kept on thinking “I wish this would all stop and I can go back". In a lucky break my social worker came and asked me if I wanted to go live with my dad. I thought about it and quickly replied yes as I felt the guilt creep over me like I had signed a deal with the devil in my own blood. I was growing up and I had all of my teenage hormones running so I couldn't judge or assess the situation appropriately. However, the angry part of me grabbed a hold of me and started to soothe me into believing that I was making the right decision. The inside voice continued to spit its propaganda " Rules suck and there should be no reason why you have to do them all day there stupid pointless and make no money for you". I just felt overworked, in school I was struggling, I then had to deal with my foster mom's daycare just caused me to be on the brink of an emotional breakdown or explosion. “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned”.
We were living in a one bedroom house in San Diego however, in the beginning of 2009, we moved into a three bedroom, two bathroom house next to O'Farrell Community school and on the "four corners of death" and the place improperly called the "ghetto”. My biological brother Michael came with us and with him his 1,000 mile "yarns" and his cute smile that hid all his hyperactive inner self. My father, James Moore who was sixty-four at the time was a Vietnam veteran and seemed to know everything about anything but lacked communication skills with his own son. Shenae, my older sister who was an overly hyperactive adult who was always cool with older kids but couldn't stand younger children. Then my two nieces followed behind her, making all little children cry, or scared in their wake. At first, I thought that it would be better but I soon realized the exact opposite, after the state canceled my foster care checks he started to become stricter and started giving out whippings. I tried to walk out and go back to Kathy's but he beat me and told me I wouldn't go anywhere. I just remember I kept on wishing "I wish I can go to the perfect place for me and my brother”. I kept on thinking "what have I done now?”
It wasn't until my dad got into a fight and jumped me that I wished to just go back home and go stay with Kathy. It was then I got away and stayed over next door at my friends for a week and I came home to take a shower that I was set up by my sister and my dad and they called the police on me ten minutes before I entered the house. I tried to apologize for my "bad" behavior and take a shower but my sister stopped me and claimed that I tried to rape her & her nieces as well as my little brother. I denied all these charges considering I was never in the house to do such thing let alone very attempt or think about them. She fought me and I won easily, due to the fact she was drunk and my father wasn't in the room, after that he blocked me in my room telling me "they're going to get you this time" and my sister tried to stab me and I laughed saying go ahead, "we'll both burn in hell, me for hitting a woman and you stabbing me when I was innocent". That’s when I was removed by social services and then whisked off to group home after group home to end up at San Pasqual Academy exactly where I wished to be.
The end result was the same, I got what I wished for and I just have to live with it and learn from my mistakes. I lost a mother, and I lost my view of what was good for me and let what my teen hormones wanted me to do take over. There are many things I wish I could reverse but I can say that I wouldn't be in a place like San Pasqual Academy where I can get an education and get my life back together without those bad decisions. At first I thought that at one time, people could wish to have what they want, especially when we are little children and get what we want. Afterward I noticed that it became a greed driven, self indulgence and anger controlled lifestyle and I started to wish away things that didn't work the way I wanted them to. I realized that in the end I wished away the best things in life because at the time they didn't seem to fit what I wanted. Some of the people who loved me the best were lost to be because of this want. My anger controlled me and took the best parts of my life and left me with the ashes. “You will not be punished for your anger; you will be punished by your anger”.
Friday, July 9, 2010
New Piglett
I might be getting a baby Miniature pig sometime withing the next 2 months or so. It will either be a girl named Charlotte or a boy named Lucky and they will be vet approved and ready to take on the world soon! they are bred to be small and they max out at 35 pounds at the most and are as small as a cat. They are very smart animals and are scientifically smarter than dogs! they only take seeing something done 3-5 time before they know how to do it so they will have to be child-proofed for about a month so they don't go wild in the house. They will be a handful and they will have to be walked everyday to keep them from being lazy and will be potty-trained as well. I personally look forward to this challenge and they will be available for people to play with and walk anytime they aren't with me. I hope to get them soon and I will post real pictures soon!!!
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