Rain

It has been raining a lot lately. My softball game was canceled because of the rain on Monday. This made me sad.

It has been raining a lot lately. A few weeks ago someone made a slip n' slide outside. It was really fun.

It has been raining a lot lately. This kinda of makes sense since we live in Florida. I would like it if it snowed.

It has been raining a lot lately. This means that Lake Bonney will fill up nicely soon. That will make some sweet sunsets.

It has been raining a lot lately. I wish I had an umbrella.

It has been raining a lot lately. My clothes are wet.

It has been raining a lot lately. This is because of the build up of moisture in the air, and because we are so close to the ocean. That may not be scientifically correct.

It has been raining a lot lately. I have not seen a rainbow though, but God still hasn't flooded the earth.

It has been raining a lot lately. Thank you Lord for your promises and blessing. May Your bountiful waters fall on our harvest.

It has been raining a lot lately.

It has been raining a lot lately.

The RAMP

I am going to be completely honest. I forgot that we had to go to go to that play, until you reminded us of it last class. I had already made plans to go to a worship conference in Alabama. The conference was called the RAMP, and I would say that it similar to Fire Fall, but 100 times better. I wish I could say that I would have rather stayed to go to the play, but I would be lying. I would never take back the experience I had at the RAMP. I feel like I have been completely changed. Proof that I am changed by my experience is that when you were talking about honesty and integrity concerning the play attendance. I said to myself, "Yeah, right!", and I was planning on reading a summary of he play then just writing about that, but instead I am here telling you the truth.

The first night of the Ramp, the preacher aught on Ananias and Sephira, who were new Christians right after Christ had risen, and were apart of the early church. A leader in the church, Barnabas, sold his land and gave the money to church. Like wise Ananias sold his land, but instead gave only part to the church, but said it was all. The preacher than spoke of how Christians have been ruining their relationship with God, because they have been pretending to give all to him, while still holding back. Jesus said, It is better to be hot or cold, but if you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth." This message completely left me stunned, and I knew I had to change. I rededicated my life to Christ, and decided to give him my all instead of just half.

So i appologize that I didn't attend the play, but I would miss it again f it meant not experencing the change that I had.

The Wanderer

I am now gong to try to attempt to combine poetry and short story telling to create a work of art.

Place to place he travels
Always looking at God's creation
New locations to unravel
He walks around all his nation

He needs no sleep
He just likes to wander
No plans to keep
He will walk and ponder

Never straying from his course
Not needing steed, mule, nor horse
He walks along with no remorse
He strides ahead with deadly force

He begins to run
Never looking back
His journey near done
He stays on track

Destination near
He slows his pace
Wanderers just wander
This isn't a race.

He can go anywhere
Just as long as he is going
Weather stormy or fair
He will wander without knowing.

This Fall Morning

Jeremy opens his eyes and looks up at the pale speckled ceiling of his bedroom. Light forces its way into the bedroom through the window shades, and Jeremy slides out of bed to start a new day. He hears the pitter-patter of feet charge through the hallway to his room, echoing through the empty house, getting closer and closer. The bedroom door creaks open slowly, as Brutus, his faithful Australian Shepherd casually walks into the room and jumps on the bed. As Jeremy walks over to kick Brutus off his bed, he catches himself in the mirror. He coldly stares at the unfamiliar man in the reflection. He saw the same pinkish white skin, brown eyes, and shaggy brown hair, but he didn't see himself. Jeremy's eye catches the clock sitting on his dresser, and realizes what time it is, rushes to his son's room to get him ready for school.

Jeremy's life took an unexpected turn, early fall, four years ago after his wife, Sandra, passed away. Their son Max was only one and a half, and didn't really understand what was going on. Jeremy was only twenty-four years old when he became a single father. He graduated from a prestigious technical school, and had a good job, but Jeremy wanted to be with his son more than anything, so he started working from home as a website designer. Some of his close friends were their to help him through the major change, but over the years they have drifted apart. It is hard to stay in contact with each other, when you have to do the work of two.

After Jeremy walked Max to the school bus, he went back inside the house and made a cup of coffee. He looked through the kitchen window he saw the first leaves of Fall begin to turn into their beautiful array of reds, golds, and purples. The wind blowing the trees back and forth, as his neighbors wind chime jingles to the pace of the wind. Jeremy catches his reflection again, this time in the window, and memories of the good times in his life that he had with Sandra began to flood into his mind. He remembered the day Max was born, and when he first spoke. A smile crept onto Jeremy's face, and right then he realized that he recognized the man in the reflection.

The Good Soldier

I will be honest, I was hoping to read a book about war and fighting and epic battles, but that is not the case with The Good Soldier. I would have to say that this is more of a journal from an American, who is living in England, during or after some kind of conflict (I would say WWI). He is not a solder n any way. His wife, Florence, is dead, and his best friend, Edward, is dead. The narrator does not have a name yet and I am on chapter three. He mostly talks about his encounters, or double dates, with him, his wife, and Edward and his wife. He discusses the world around him and what he does and doesn't like about the people that he knows. He talks about the quality of men around him, but the only soldier mentioned in the story at all is Edward, who is more of a commander. I was thinking that because the book hints inn its name it s about a soldier. who I expected would do some great deeds and save many lives, but that has not been the case at all. This is definitely more like that "What is love" story, where the main character is the narrator, but unlike that story there is no conversation between characters, It is more of a person writing or journaling in a book his thoughts on why his is where he is and recent and past events that have occurred to him.

I don;t want to shut out this book yet, because the way the author writes is interesting, but when we were reading in the library, I had a hard time not falling asleep. Plus, the way the author writes is kind of cryptic because I am not sure if the narrator was unfaithful to his wife, or the other way round, or if he was talking about after she had already died. I am only on the third chapter though, so I can't really say I have a firm grasp on the book, but as of now it is below my expectations.

Ethics

Who would you save, the old woman or the Rembrant painting? In my case I would just pull the fire alarm and let the sprinklers put the fire out. That is what we are taught growing up, so why would it change if we are in a museum. Yes, the paintings and art will probably get wet and ruined, bet not all of them would be destroyed, which would be the case if we just let the fire get them. And isn't there any security in this museum? Why are they not helping? Maybe there is a burglary going on somewhere else in the museum, and the fire is a distraction.

I got off-topic. Ethics, written by Linda Pastan, is a very unusual poem about an old woman sitting in a museum looking at a Rembrant painting, while reminiscing about her childhood, and why her being there seems so ironic. The fact the she said that the painting, herself, and the season are all beyond the saving of children shows that she is near death anyway, and that all things must come to an end at some point and we are just postponing the inevitable. Children probably don't understand this concept and live more in the moment. Maybe that is why Jesus told us to be like the little children, an live to affect what we can now, instead of dwelling on the future.

Old Man Whitherspoon

Old Man Whitherspoon lived by himself in old run-down Victorian river house, which was almost as old as he was. He sat in his rocker outside on his porch, clutching his rifle with his coarse, clammy hands. His beady eyes gazed into the river banks, while he drifts into memories and past event sin his life. His face worn and aged, with no hair on his head or tooth in his mouth. A straw of grass rests between his lips, bending and twirling by the wind. Whitherspoon just sat there n his porch day in and day out, waiting to shoot anybody and everybody that dare set foot on his property. He has no use for the usual pleasures and delights. There was no TV or radio in his house, nor a computer. Most of it is just smut anyways. He just sings to himself and rock in his chair. The floor boards under him creak and squeak as he rocks, but he welcomes the noise, because it the only voice he hears all day. Old Man Whitherspoon never really leaves his house except to go to the corner store to buy necessities. His wordrobe hasn't had an new additions in the last 30 years. Actually, there might not even be a shirt in his closet that isn't long sleeve and plaid. Whitherspoon cooks for himself, but that still isn't often enough. None of his pants fit him because he is so skinny. All the people who even know who he is just thinks that he is just waiting to die, but no one would dare try to help him in anyway, unless they like having a gun pointed at them. Old Man Whitherspoon just rocks back 'n forth singing his songs, holding his gun tightly, and smiling his toothless smile.

Character

As I read about character the assigned reading, I realize that I usually put myself as the character in most stories I read. When I am the character I still have to what the author says I do, like a puppet on a string, but the experiences that the character gets allows me to predict what I would do next or respond to something happening. This usually allows me to figure out where the story is going. If I were to mimic the characteristics and virtues of the main character, I can understand his feelings. Obviously I would have trouble being a female character that usually why I stay away from any kind of girly novels. But one thing this reading has taught me to notice is that there are many things that make up a “character”. How the character looks at themselves and how others look at them affects the protagonists and antagonist indefinitely.

Another thing that this reading has taught me is that the antagonist and protagonist can sometimes be the opposite of the literary norm. Think of some movies that you have seen where the hero was more of a bad guy, while the antagonist was on the side of good. It is strange that books and novels can show the perspective of the opposite side of the norm. I think that is one of the things that make literature interesting. You can create a world that no one has ever seen, or you can just add to what everyone already knows. Gone with the Wind was one of the greatest films ever made, and it just created a story around a real event. Lord of the Rings is my favorite book series, as is for many others, and it was completely thought up inside the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien.

How to Read a Poem

How to Read a Poem is a short essay, or very small book about , what the title says, how to read a poem. It takes a deeper look into what makes poem and even the poems construction. Every poem need some kind of ambiguity, where it is deep and complicated, or simple and childish. Poetry can be very hard to read and authors John Coulson and Peter Temes inserted one of the weirdest lines of poetry that I ever read saying,
“All this-
Was for you old women.
I wanted to write a poem
That you would understand.
For what good is it to me
If you cannot understand it?
But you got to try very hard-“
Obviously this poem does not rhyme or have any deep connection, but what it says is true. Poetry is really hard to understand, and even people who say they are experts on poetry argue with each other on what famous poems actually mean. You shouldn't’ try to look to deeply into any poem, because you might end up making up meanings for it that the author never intended.
One thing that helps is reading the poem aloud and trying to let the words sink in. It can help you understand I better, and maybe impress people around you to make them think you are more intellectual than you actually are, but t is better used to help you understand the poem better.
Be sure to also remember something that How to Read a Poem left out. No poem is going to be understood by everyone. Some poems may seem stupid to some, but art to others. When you write a poem, you shouldn't do it for other’s enjoyment, but something personnel that helps you. To me that is the most important thing in poetry.