Um... lets do a list

-A list of whats going on-

-I have a dull thud pounding on the sides of my head

-I feel a bit queesy and all around bad

-Moving sucks. It may very well be the cause of my feeling gross and out of normal

-I need to get out SO much more. The only places I spend time at now is old home, new home, occasionally school, and the places in between

- I hate not being in school. I go crazy on three day vacations. It will be amazing if I'm not a compleat loon by the weeks end.

- I "plan" to start training so I'll have a chance at being Timpviews new keeper. This is includes a better diet and more time out side.  again I say "plan".

-I need to get a hobbie or enjoy doing the ones I have now, alone.

- I need to get more friends. Preferably ones of the male gender. Because if I've only learned one thing the last few years is that boys and girls can't stay just friends for long. Here is the cycle. 

I think you (the girl) are pretty cool or cute

We hang out in a group a few times

We are friends for a while

I start thinking your cute again

Soon we become "friends" that just so happen to kiss

We get sick of that indecisive bull crap and become Boyfriend Girlfriend and maybe go on a few dates

We break up

Best case scenario we stay good friends and its not awkward to talk about other people we like

Worst case, it ends terribly and we never talk again and I most likely have bitter feelings

  yeah that crap has to stop

- I found I just go down hill fast in everything when I'm not physically active or out side a lot. 

- I still seem to ingnore that fact. If you can't tell by my aditude, this is one of those times.

- For once in my life I'm wanting homework. Math homework even! 

- Something is very wrong here. 

Group story series: Story 4-

Story FOUR
I never expected that one day I'd open my closet and find... a mouse-spider.
The mouse-speder jumped onto my face and tore the irises out of my eyes.
I screamed and fell out of the window.
Hitting with a slpat.
"Well that was seriously gross" I said to billy.
"No its' not. Everybody does it. Just... slush!"
And then I pulled out of my dagger and stabbed the kgnome to death.
Blood was splattered everywhere.
And it smelled of old feet.
And tasted like the greatest thing ever suddenly, a comet flew at me.
But no! It turned into a dinosaur, which tore my head off.


Story FIVE
I never expected to one day open my closet to find... a small door way. It was a very small door, the size of my shoe.
 Then it bite me.
It hurt so bad, its teeth peircing my flesh, drawing blood.
And then I cried and vomitted ... At the same time.
It was SO exciting! 
Then we turned and escaped into wonderland.
But then the Queen of Hearts turned us into blood sucking stabbing maniacle ZOMBIES.
'Tis the greatest sensation!
I pitty the man wo has never experienced it.
Then litte miss muppet sat on her chair.

Story SIX 
I never expected to one day open my closet and find... a grizzle bear attacking a narwhal!...
Which was wearing a magical wizard hat...
I didn't really know what to do. It grabbed me with 
its scary looking tenticles and held me over my personal toilet.
It shoved me down the toilet, and I was flushed into the sewer.
I pulled a machine gun from my pocket, blasting the roof of the sewage pipe.
Screaming bloody murder the whole while.
So to shut her up I pulled over at a gas station and bought her a sucker.
I think she likes to suck.
But who knows? Maybe her lips were naturally shaped like that.
Or maybe the nuclear testing had done more damage than I had thought.

Group Story

Group story series: Story 1-3

I've posted storys put together by my class before.
This time it is different.
The rule was that you could only see what the person before you wrote. So as after you put down your sentence, you fold the sentence that you read and passed it on.
Sadly a lot of them came out grusome/slightly crude; but we all seem to laugh.

Story ONE
I never expected that one day I'd open my closet and find... an actual monster inside. It was nighttime and I was doing a little tidying before bed when I opened my closet to see my greatest few staring at me.
A dwarf with a beard several feet long holding a copy of the Bible.
The beard reminded me of a holy man he must have been that hairy missionary I saw on the news.
But I suppose that man wasn't holt at all, for out of my memory the holy man stepped, with horns on his head and hooves for feet.
It was Michael Jackson, resurrected from the dead!
I screemed and grabbed a bazooka, blasting the unholy being
It didn't do much, besides blasting a huge hole in its middle.
Like an uber belly button.
Since it was like an uber bely button, it flopped and jiggled like Chris Farley on speed. Eventually it died of exaution.

Story TWO
I never expected that one day I'd open my closet and find... another door. One that led to a world where life and death meant nothing to anyone.
It was a chaotic but wonderful place, a place where everyone could do as they pleased.
Clothing was optional.
And of course I was stark naked as clothes are quite limiting.
It was breathtaking when money started flowing from my butt like a broken ATM machine.
Until the quarters, and 50 cent coins started coming out.
Then I yelled and jumped for joy at the vending flow of coins.
Ca-ching! Yes! This is why I love Las Vegas!
Because of the gambling and the buffets and the shoes

Story THREE
I never expected that one day I'd open my closet and find... a bathtub full of lime juice.
The strange thin is that I don't even like Limes and there was a big bald guy there just chilling in the juice.
The bald guy started singing "Whole lot of love" by Led Zepplen, and then suddenly they were all resurected from the dead the stand in my room.
We ordered a pepporoni pizza, "dance party!!!"
Then some body chucked a grenade through the window.
It exploded and stuff, went everywhere, I ran from the room screaming.
I hid behind the couch and when it settled I started to laugh.
The cow jumped over the moon.
The landing wasn't quite so smooth... and that was the end of the cow. 
 

A time for changes

Like the leaves changing in fall, my life is too changing.

In the next month I will be changing schools, houses, habits, and I hope to change some relationships while I'm at it.

Almost all of these changes I have chosen to do. (My parents had the say on the house.) And all of these changes I am excited for. The new house is going to be great. Its got a nice deck, and a bigger kitchen.
The school is a tons bigger and is going to be completely different than what i've been at, but I just have this strong feeling that this is the school I need to be at.
The changing in habits is really just hypothetical. I would like to start exercising more, but I've said that so many times before.
And I really think I should strengthen and fix a few relationships I have now. It would also be really great I a got some friends that were guys. I haven't had a solid guy friend since like... Eighth grade. That needs to change.

I'm Writing a Novella

I'm writing a novella full of short stories that all have one mysterious character helping people through problems. Here is an almost finished chapter out of the book. It would be cool if you could give me comments or ideas. 

I will be making it into a paper back in December. So... You can buy a copy if you like. 

Jumper

         It was a Thursday afternoon when Justice found himself on the roof of his apartment building looking down to the alley below. It had been three years to the day he started suffering from depression. For two months now he had been contemplating suicide. To Justice the roof that he used to enjoy so much, and was so full of life now seemed as dead and gray as she is now. The tomatoes and flowers of the roof top garden looked withered and brown. On the sunniest of days, the say was greyest of grey. The fading retro colors of the lawn chair and umbrella no longer reminded him of his childhood but looked like something that is better off forgotten.

 

         Justice had been standing on the ledge looking down onto the filthy pavement, and about to take that life-ending jump, when a man came through the door to the roof. Justice didn’t turn to see who came, and the man didn’t yell for him to get down. He just slowly walked over to the ledge, and sat down without saying a word. Justice saw now saw him out of the corner of his eye and said with a snarl in his voice, “What are you doing up here?”

         The man calmly replied, “I live on the second floor in room number three. I have a garden up here that I came to water. What are you doing up here?” Justice didn’t answer; he kept his eyes down to the narrow path of cement that would soon be his death. “Are you going to jump?”

         “What does it matter to you?” Justice shot back with tears growing in his eyes.

         “Well I would hate to see another life thrown away.”

         “I hardly have a life left.”

         “Why do you say that?”

         Justice didn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks as his mind filled with flash backs of the life changing day three years ago. He wanted to answer. He wanted to share his sorrow but no words would form past the lump in his throat.

         “From what I can tell you don’t have much of a life, currently.” The man from room 203 went on, “But I do know that you have a great life ahead of you. How old are you? Twenty-six, twenty-eight? You still have a whole life to live, why throw it away now?”

Justice agreed with this stranger in his head. The lump growing in his throat was yelling at him to say something. Anything. When he still didn’t say anything the man filled the silence. “Well, I’m going to pick some strawberries, and if you want you can come down to my place and we can have some strawberries and cream, and maybe talk about what’s going on.” With that he got up and left.

 

         Justice wasn’t sure what would be best. He caused of the death of the woman he loved, but she was the one who ran into the street. It wasn’t his fault that the driver didn’t see her. He should forgive himself for that fight. She was always quick to forgive. But what did he have to live for? He lost his friends, his job, and most of the time he couldn’t find the energy to go get his food stamps. What would she have to say about killing himself? What would happen when he got to the other side if he took his own life? The thought of her waiting for him, and what she might say broke his heart.

 

He raised his head to look at the sky. The tears in his eyes blurred out the sun. He looked behind him and saw an empty rooftop. That was it. There was nothing left for him. Then he realized that means there is plenty of room to change.

 

Looking down at the ground he made up his mind. Justice closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and took a step down from the ledge. Felling the soft, gravely tar roof under his feet, the sky seemed a bit brighter.

 

         As Justice approached the third door, on the second floor, his stomach filled with butterflies. He gave a timid knock on the door and right away it opened with the man smiling at him. That was when Justice first saw that he had a very distinct, very bright gold ring in the middle of his hazel iris.

 

They sat down at a table beneath the large window looking out over the city. The kitchen reminded Justice of diners he saw in movies from the fifties.

 

         “So what pushed you to the edge of the roof?” The man was putting a spoon full of strawberries in his mouth. Justice noticed the hand holding the spoon had a tattoo of a pair of wings. The wings were done in a very simple comic book style. He liked it. The tattoo seemed to give him hope and strength to talk.

 

         “Well I guess you could say that it all started about three years ago. I was dating this girl, Chantelle. I loved her since the first day we met. She just so unlike all the other girls I know, She was confident, she wasn’t scared to speak her mind. She just blew me away. But I had this problem where I couldn’t seem to do anything right. For the last few weeks we were together, we would get in a fight every day about just stupid little things.” He looked up and saw the man looking right back into his eyes, and Feeling intimidated, looked quickly back down at his bowl and continued, “I also had this friend Chloe. Chloe was just a friend. We met a while before me and Chantelle knew each other. Well I ran into Chloe on the street just outside my apartment for the first time in a year or so. So I invited her in for a quick lunch. We had lunch, ate it, talked, and that was it.  Chantelle came home sooner than I thought she would. And I guess it looked like I may have been cheating on her, so quickly she ran out. I chased her trying to explain the situation.” Justice paused now staring blankly into space, no longer aware of where he was or who he was talking to. He was hit with the emotion he felt of that day, and how amazing it felt to finally share it.

          “We got outside, and she was about to cross the street when she turned around to say something. But just as she looked my way, she was hit. The driver spilt some hot coffee on his lap, didn’t see her…” tears came again. This time from the release of all the pain and sorrow he has felt for the last three years.

 

         Three years ago Justice’s life fell apart with another lost theirs. Now, over a bowl of fruit and cream with a stranger, he found it again. Talking about a once painful subject, has given him a new start. 

Only One Truth?

Philosophy is a great class. Full mind in-tangling questions, and heated discussions. I had to write an essay for this class one day. After reading it and working through it, I've become very pleased with what I had to say, how I said it, and just the essay in general. So I would like to share a part of it with you. (I did change it up a bit before posting.)

Suppose that you live in a society where everyone believes that the earth stands still, with the sun, the moon, and the stars revolving around it in predictable, if sometimes complex, orbits. You object, “you’re all wrong: the earth revolves around the sun.” No one agrees with you. Indeed they think that you’re insane . . .. Who’s right? Is it really possible that only you know the truth, and everyone else is wrong? 

I think to answer this question you need to also ask yourself where truth comes from. Does truth fade in and out, or is it always and forever? Truth is always and forever. While we are searching for truth, we are also looking for some sort of stability, something to stay constant, something to rely on to always explain what is going on around us. So I say yes to the original question. It is very possible that only one person can know the truth to something. When using the world and the sun, we know for a fact now that we are orbiting around the sun. We’ve done hundreds of years of experimenting and sent people to space to see. So that one person that thought everyone was wrong and that the world wasn’t the center of the universe, was right. It just took years to prove he was right. 

Absolute truth is not a fad. It does not come in and out of fashion. Luckily with the technology we have these days we can find out if that one person is right or not. 

It's Just a Short Moment.

Here is an awakening I had one late night.
(I think that the African kids get the idea across better.)

Since coming home I've been staying up late a lot. Part of all that staying up late, is going to Sonic to get some drinks, then drive around wondering what to do next.

My favorite place to drive around is my neighborhood. There are a good number of lookout points. One night a friend and I stopped at a favorite spot of ours to enjoy our drinks, the view, and the beautiful Utah summer nights.

That's when This awakening hit me. I'm Mormon so this scripture came to mind.
D&C 121:7
"My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity
and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment."
Here is how that works: Lets say you have to drive from Spanish Fork to Orem for a super hot date. Not a bad drive right? Well now lets say it's a super hot summer day, your AC isn't working, and you are stuck near the back of grid locked traffic with nothing good on the radio. Now that is a crap drive. That drive takes can feel more like a lame road trip through all of the ugliest roads in America. That is a situation that would send me off the walls.
(This is the cool part)

Now when you go to that look-out point that I like so much and look at the distance between the two cities, it really doesn't seem that far at all. And with all the city lights on, It is a really stunning spot to be.

So next time your not having a good time, remember, it will pass, and when you look back on what ever trouble, it won't seem as long as it felt like it was.

So can you think of how those kids relate to this awakening?
I am Storm of Peace
and I have spoken

We are all just people

The reason for my lack of posting is that I have been in Zambia Africa for the last two months.

I go to Zambia every summer because my step-mom is the founder for the NGO, Mothers Without Borders. At MWB their main mission is to help OVC (orphaned or vulnerable children). An amazing organization. Changing lives not only in Africa but here in America as well.

While in Zambia I've had some amazing awakenings. The one I would like to share now is that we are all people.

Every volunteer group I've been with have all at one point praised the Zambians for their kindness and beautiful spirits. I found that they are only half right.

Zambians are very and beautifully spirited people; when the mazungus (white people) are around. They are like that for the same reason you don't yell at your kids when company is over. Same reason you clean up before a dinner with friends. You want to leave a good impression, and be a good representative for your house and family. Zambians do the same thing for their country because -this may sound negative- they want your help and money. And it works. They show us how kind and loving they can be and we feel more inclined to help them out of the hell hole that is their life. I'm not saying that is a bad thing, its not. That has just become a survival mechanism for most Zambians. Now how sad is that.

Zambians are not out of the ordinary kind. They have secrets like us, they have passions like us, they laugh and cry, they all want a better life for them selves, just like us. Some of them really are kind to our fellow man, just like some Americans. Some have done truly evil things in their lives, like some Americans have.

We Americans have a reputation to be loud, lazy, and rich. That's not fair to say. We are not all loud, lazy, and rich. Some are, but not all. Just like not every Zambian is kind and beautifully spirited people. How can you be beautifully spirited when you get drunk with the money that should be feeding your family. How can you be kind when you rape a little girl or boy. Both happen much too often in Zambia and other third world countries.

I don't know about you but I see that as an even bigger reason to help them. I think that when we help them with that in our minds, we are serving them with true love, not pity.

So next time you have the opportunity to serve someone either in your own community, or out in the world, remember, they are people too. They don't need your pity, they need your love.

While playing soccer today, (more like a week ago) I noticed a few planes flying by over head. That's when I remembered how much I love being on those planes landing in SLC. Not because I love flying, but because I love that feeling of coming home. Home to the mountains, green grass, blue skies, OK blue when the air isn't so bad. It's such a heart warming feeling. It brings great joy and relief to my travel achy body. Then I thought "Why does it just gave to be for Utah? Why not feel that way when I land in Zambia? I feel like Lusaka is my home at times." So far i just feel relief because the flight is over and I can stand and walk again. I really hope I get that feeling this time even if my Zambian brother Chiloba won't be there. What will I do with out him? I have no idea. Most likely read a lot, watch movies with the fam, and hopefully write every day so that when I do get to use the world wide web, I can post lots for you rare readers.

On Tuesday the twelfth of May at six in the morning I am off on a jet plane. I will be home July Fifteenth.

Wish me luck!!

No day is a given

As the bell rings the students slowly mosey out of their seats and, like a herd of cattle, make their way to their next class. This has become the life of Parker Miner. Gray, lifeless, painfully boring, and a depressing excuse for a blessed life.

For almost two months now Parker has been frustrated because of his exhaustion. He is pissed because he can’t figure out why he is so excited. The school year is just about over. Just six more weeks to go till the freedom of summer break. This would be great amazing news to other teenagers, but this only makes Parker even more frustrated. Even after nine months of school Parker feels as though he accomplished nothing, and learned nothing. He has read more books in one school year than any year before, and wrote several short stories and papers, but still feels as incomplete as a plane without wings.

It’s not just affecting his school life, but his everyday life as well. All his favorite things in life that made him happy, no longer make him happy. His favorite foods all lost their popping, tangy, spicy taste. His favorite movies no longer wow his eyes. Even his girlfriend’s kiss is loosing its tingle.

After thinking long and hard about this situation, Parker decided that he needs to get out and do something with his life. He has been just been letting life drift by untouched. He made a goal to get up and take his old, active life back. He is going to go biking in no particular direction, and make his own hiking trails. When his dear friend Katelyn died of a freak accident, at the young age of six-teen, he learned then that no day is guaranteed. Tomorrow is not a given. He wants to keep that close to his heart, and live by it everyday. To make memories and take advantage of this time in his life where ever he may be. All Parker has to do now is figure out what is holding him back from his god given life, and send it away.

What happened to my little boy spring days?

What happened to the days where I would play in the mud and not worry about my clothes or shoes getting dirty? What happened to looking for the biggest puddle to jump in? I'm not complaining about my spring time now... I'm just wondering where those times went. Now all I really do is be cooped up inside doing homework, be inside watching Lost or a movie with my girlfriend, go on walks in the rain (also with Anna), and then there is my schools two team soccer league that I play Keeper in. Those are all fun.
I also find that mowing the lawn relaxes me greatly. So the other day I mowed my lawn (which is THE HARDEST lawn to mow), and then noticed that my neighbors lawn needed mowing. After doing a kind deed, (well, half a kind deed. I only finished half their lawn because it got far too dark) I saw what had happened to my favorite pair of shoes.
These were the most kick butt shoes ever. They were so white that they practically glowed. They fit almost perfectly (I have the same shoes in brown swayed that I've had for a long, long time. They fit perfectly.) But now they have green all over them. Now I could wash it off, if I knew how. But for now my flashy dance shoes are ruined. To try and redeem myself from sounding gay, I like to use these shoes for when I break dance, or go to dance parties. OK. I still sound gay. I blame the fact that I hang out with girls far far too much. So It rubs off on me a bit. Now i really wonder why I can't just not care about my clothing anymore. I mean come on, I don't even buy my own clothes yet! I should be able to do what ever with out worrying "wait, this could rip my pants" which has happened while dancing. So worth it. I'm a dude!! Come on! I need to get some guy friends.

So is anyone up for some Frisbee, soccer, or a really gnarly hike? Preferably a guy.

Cowboys and Bandits

I thought that since this blog is called Bandido stories , its time I wrote a story about bandits. So here it is.

Mathew and Sarah were walking home holding hands, when Jessie and his two friends came running up from behind, snatching Mathew’s lunch box and carrying Sarah off to the playground. Running to the top of the playground Jessie yelled “The Bandits attack again!”

Sarah screamed as she was dragged to the top of the slide, “Ahh! Mathew help me!” Matt was quick to react; he ran to a near by tree and pulled out his gun.

“Pow pow! Let her go you dirty rotten bullies!” The Bandits, Jessie, Tommy, and Timmy scurried off to better cover.

Mathew noticed Zak come up next to him, with his green and brown striped scarf hiding his face. “Don’t worry Matt; I’ll help get her back.”

“Um, thanks Zak. Why do you have a scarf on? It’s super hot today.”

Zak pretended he didn’t hear the question, “I’ll cover you on the right, and you go wide left to get Sarah down the slide.” With that he spun, took out his double finger pistols, and started shooting at Timmy and Tommy on the bridge. “Pow! Pow! Run Matt, run!”

Mathew did just as Zak told him; he ran wide left to a tree closer to the slides, but seeing Zak under more and more gun fire he started shooting too, drawing Tommy’s attention away from Zak.

“Bang Bang!”

“POW, POW pow! I gotcha, I gotcha!”

“Bang! No you didn’t! Bang bang!”

“Yes he did! You’re dead!”

“No I’m not! I have a force field!”

“Cowboys don’t have force fields!”

“Yes huh!”

“No, just ask Mr. Beecroft!”

“Well then I’m a cowboy from the future! Bang bang!”

After declaring himself a future cowboy, Matt made his move up the winding tube slide to where Sarah was being held hostage. After stumbling a slow assent he saw that Jessie was taking Sarah away to another part of his new bandit fortress.

Mathew quickly pulled out his double finger pistol, and aiming at Jessie yelled, “Let her go Jessie!”

“Do you really think you can hit me and not Sarah? Ha-ha you must be a lot better shot now from the last time we faced off,” mocked Jessie.

“Let her go. We didn’t do anything to you.”

“Say, why don’t we make this a bit funner Mattie-boy? Let’s race for her. Loser gets undie-hanged.”

Don’t do it Matt! Just shoot him! I trust you,” pleaded Sarah.

“Where are we racing to?” asked Mathew, slowly lowering his finger pistol.

“From the merry go round to the cafeteria and back.”

“You got your self a race.”

“No Matt just kill him right now!” Begged Sarah, but she wasn’t heard.

Jessie gave Sarah to Tommy and Timmy and met Matt at the starting line. The two racers mounted their horses. Zak counted down from five. “Five...four...three...two...one. Go!” They took off running like mad men. Everyone was clapping and cheering them on. Other kids came to join in the excitement of the rivalry. In the chaos, the boys seemed to forget all about Sarah. So, Sarah picked up her backpack, and walked home, leaving the boys to play their silly games. When the race was over and Matt declared the winner, they all looked around wondering where Sarah had gone. Searching the playground left to right, top to bottom, forward and back ward, Mathew was left scratching his head wondering where his damsel in distress had gone. After a minute or two of confusion the boys all agreed that the game was better without girls, and continued their running, shooting, jumping, shouting, rolling, till it came time to ride off into the sunset.

Maybe It's...

Here is yet another poem! Possibly about a certain girl I like. I bet you can't guess who!

Maybe it's her many little freckles.
Maybe it's her sideways smile.
Maybe it's her flirty brow.
Maybe it's those sweet soft lips.
Maybe its all of our "whats?".

It could be the way we drive miles together.
It could be the way she holds my cheek.
It could be the way she lays on my chest.
It could be the way we talk together.
It could be the way we are there for the other.

What about her attitude about life.
And what about her proper wisdom.
And that talent of hers.

Maybe it's just her.
Maybe it just is.
Just maybe...

Spring Summer Days

I Have a new poem for you!

It's not one of the best I've done, but I love it because I wrote in in Kerouac fashion
But better, because he can't do poetry. Like at all.
(Kerouac fashion just means I did it off the top of my head looking out of a window. Just FYI)

Soft green grass on a hill side
Lush short grass on a field below
It’s a warm summer spring day

A cucumber sandwich
Cold glass of lemonade
Why not have a picnic today

Out comes a black and white ball
Running follows the little cleated feet
It’s futball time me dear

Running and kicking
Shouting and panting
Warm air surrounds the body, fills the body

Feeling the sun
Feeling good
Whipping of the hard earned dew

Nothing is like
That spring summer sun
No, not a thing

Photoshoot

The other day I made a list of things to do when my friends ask, "What do you want to do?" I've grown to hate that question. So I made a list of things to do. On the top of the list Ialot put Photoshoot. It turned out to be a very good idea. It was very fun. I enjoyed it. The first time I've taken photos in who know how long. These are just the photos of me. (no duh) I will continue to post my favorite pictures over time.

Enjoy!

And please leave comments with some sort of feedback.

How to chop vegetables

Welcome to chopping 101. In this class you will learn how to be a proper cutting instrument.

There are three different parts to chopping food: Resting, Chopping, and dulling. We will go over all of this today.

When you are not in use, hopefully you will be in a chopping block. This block of wood has many uses. It keeps you in the right order so that you may be easily found, and so that fingers won't stumble across your sharp edge when they were only looking for the wooden spoon to make lemon aide. Best of all, it will slow down your dulling rate. Before anyone picks you up you must make sure that your handle is dry, and your blade is clean. This will keep you from slipping out of hands, and contaminating other foods.

While you are in use there isn't much you can do. Just hold on and pray to God that you don't slip out of their hands. The cook will do most of the work when it comes to cutting in a straight line. So don't feel bad if the tomato looks like crap when you are done. If you are picked up by a young child do what ever you can to no cut them. This is part of our job because children are stupid and think they can properly handle sharp objects.

The final stage is when you get dull. You must let your cooks know that you are no longer sharp. If they keep neglecting to sharpen your blade, then it would be time for you to slip just a little, and remind them that a sharp blade is a safe blade.

Remember. A sharp knife is a safe knife!

It's nights like these that are all too rare in my life. The nights when the rain falls down. That special kind of rain. The type that seems to kiss you oh so softly as you look up to the skys.

The kind of nights, when I can sit up in bed and read of adventure or love. Mystery or travel.

The nights where the calming pitter patter of that kissing rain, pits, and pats, into my room. Bringing with it that sweet smell that only rain can give off.

Oh yes rainy nights like these are all too rare.

Painting the Town Red

1:35 am: I look to my right to see Dexter in the back of the police car next to me. He has a look of terrified worry on his face. It looks like Zane got away. I can hear how hard the cities finest are working to find him over the police scanner. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

1:30 am: How did they find us? I thought we were being so careful. I need to find a spot to hide and quick! I’m getting too tired to keep running like this. I’m not that young.

1:25 am: "Dude was that a cop?" I look over my shoulder to see where he is pointing down the street, but don’t see anything.
"I don’t know bruv. I didn’t see it."
"Dude, it’s a cop! He’s coming back! Quick hide in the bushes, or behind a car, or something!" Dexter jumps into the nearest bush, Zane takes cover behind a parked car, I make a short sprint for a dark corner. We all wait for the police car to creep by. As the cop slowly drives by I feel his eyes look right at me; As if he knows right where I’m hiding. All I can do is sit and pray he can’t see me cowering in the shadows like a dog from an abusive owner.

12:45 am: This is the best idea I’ve had in a long time! Just me and the guys, sneaking around, giving this town a bit of color. This is definitely the way to get out of the mind numbing high school routine. I could get used to this.

12:19 am: "Hey, hey guys, let’s climb up there and do a piece up on that roof." Says Zane looking off to where he was talking about. I follow his gaze past a ten-foot fence, over a dumpster, through another fence, up an eight-foot pole, to a low sloping tar rooftop. "Come on, it could be fun! You said we’ve got to challenge ourselves more." I look at Zane getting wide eyed and excited. I glance over to Dexter, who is looking for an easier way up.
Taking another look at the rooftop, I say with a shrug, "Yeah why not."

11:30 pm: We approach a fence blocking off a construction site for a new building going up in the downtown area. "Do you see any cameras?" I ask, my hands starting to sweat in their latex gloves.
"No I don’t think so. Come on, give me a boost." I through our paint bag over the fence, and go down on one knee ready to lift Zane up and over to the other side. Dexter finds a chained gate with just enough space for his skinny body to squeeze through. I follow after him, not wanting to make anymore noise climbing the fence. "Alright let’s do this quick. I really don’t want to go to jail."

11:25 pm: Walking around a corner in a walkway into Main Street, as if on cue we all stop to look at each other and smile. I drop the bag, we each take out a can of spray-paint and start painting like mad men. We loosely spray silhouettes of ourselves in various poses with fake names on the heads like crowns.

11:05 pm: "Alright guys we need to step it up a bit. All we’ve bombed so far are apartment dumpsters. That’s getting lame. We can’t be known as the dumpster boys!" says Zane watching while I finish painting a monster face.
"I actually like the sound of that," squeaked Dexter.
"No I agree we need to step it up a bit, really put our necks out there. Imagine the rush we could get if we paint something right on the street!" I say taking a step back to look at my work feeling the adrenaline finish rushing through my body.
"That’s what I’m talking about!" Zane cheers.

8:30 pm: "Paint?"
"In the bag."
"Gloves?"
"In my pocket."
"Every one has dark clothes on right?"
"Dude, are you blind?"
"Yeah, dumb question." I take one last look around the room trying to remember if we need anything else. "Alright, let’s give this town some color!"

I GOT IT!!

(this photo is just a test. Isn't it a purrty flower!)

I finally know what this blog needs!!

1) Get a kicken photo at the top, (a good one of me with my double bandanna style with the blog name between my hands) and with lots of other photos to go with the post. (I have this idea where I write a super short story about, or along with a picture.)

2) Actually post something at least once a week.

3) Play with the text more. You know, make it bigger, smaller, maybe a different font type and color.

4) Just give it more style! Does anyone agree with me? Or even read this for that matter? ???

European Love story

OK so I couldn't find a way to get all the text nicely onto this blog, but I posted it as a note on my Facebook page. Please read it. I worked long and hard on it. Again it will make me very happy to get comments from you about this story. You know, your thoughts, feelings, kudos, what ever.

About this story. (for those of you who want to know) 

European Love Story is the first fictional story I've written that has the most moments sort of taken out of my own life. 

It is my little dream of what I want to happen after I'm done with university. Only when it really happens it will go allot smoother.

I used my brother Luke Drake's name because I look up to him, and would like to be more like him some day. That and it was fun to get him a wife. I also used my sister Lizzy's name in a little part. Not that I have favorites, but I only used Lizzy because I see her having a cute little girl about the time I leave to set off on this adventure. The part of my Nana worrying about me backpacking is some what true.

All other characters are fake, or loosely based off of other people in my life. 

Alright I've talked for to long now. Just click on the link and enjoy. Please.

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=526589383

A little preview

Yes yes I know its been a while since I last posted anything. I will have you know, that I have been very hard at work on an excellent, not so short story. I hope to be posting this story some time by the end of this week.
I still haven't thought of a title I'm proud of just yet. So far I call it "Euro love story". Here is a sneak peak.

I was young, handsome and hoping to find adventure and the life I wanted to live. Ever since I was fifteen, I wanted to go and backpack across Europe. I wanted to learn the languages, meet new people, find new places, and learn a few trades along the way. Then in beautiful Southern France, I met the woman of my dreams. I had already been traveling for three months around parts of England, Northern France, and into parts of Spain. I was in need of some food and money. So as I had done before, I set my bag up in a tree, and then wandered town looking for odd jobs to earn some food or money.
After a full day of searching, but having no success, I found myself in front of a little bakery.

Alright there you have it. Its not a short one but I think that if you just stick through it you will find it to be worth your time.

Friendships On The Road

Looking back I have had a few friendships, and hook ups "on the road". In Mexico, San Rafael Swell, and then always at Timplodge, the Walkabouts, and Pagosa Springs. They all range from just kick'en it together on the trail. To deep, intimate conversations on top of a bus. Laughing around a campfire or over dinner, and the many other ways people come together.

These friendships are always temporary, but in the moment that they are in motion, they seem timeless. Like "these are the moments life are made of", "these are the times that shape our lives". For me it's very relaxing and refreshing, to have an unforgettable time, then saying good-bye, knowing you may never see each other again, or share a similar experience together ever again. For me, the best of these short lived friendships are always a sobering, yet exhilarating, and confidence boosting. I feel ten feet taller, but no need to show it off.

Whether it's for then miles or ten hours, I always feel like I've bonded, and grew a deeper connection and understanding. Not only with that individual, but humanity as a whole. I feel better connected to the world. Like I understand another nut or bolt in the marvelous, vast machine of humanity, and in turn, the seceret to life.

It makes me happy knowing I have another character in the story of my life, and that I'm in some one else's. Even if it's only for a paragraph or a page.

Think about it. Don't most life long friendships start out as a "friendship on the road"? Then over time they grow into something worth sticking to?

My Super hero-ness

If I were a super hero here is how kick butt i would be;

I would be able to fly with my big angelic wings,

I would by able to push (like in the movie but only cooler cause I would be able to shoot people with my finger tips when I make my hands like a gun.)

I would be able to control electricity

I would be able to get inside your head, make my thoughts your thoughts, read your mind, and get you to loan me money from time to time

If its not to much to ask I also think it would be cool if I could control fire, ice and wind. (but not not like storm from X-men)

I'm still working out how I would hide my identity. I got to have the wings, but at the same time they are kind hard to hid when your just chillen, having a break from fighting crime.

My Snowboard

Is it wrong if i love my board more than my dog?
Is it wrong if i love my board more that good grades?
Is it wrong to love it for its smooth ride,
Its ability to create freedom out of a good snow day?
It is wrong if i love my board more than a girlfriend?
But whats wrong with finding bliss,
out of a powder day that's not to miss!
With powder under my board,
and rocken tunes in my head.
Would it be devotion, or obsession,
If I ditched a date to get a ride?
What if its the one thing that's stayed true to me?
What if I find god in the snow covered trees?
What if I find myself flying through the air?
Is it wrong to love my snowboard?

P.S. I never bailed on a date to go snowboarding.

In A Mental Cage

I hate this pain.
This painful mental restriction.
I want to go out.
I want to be about.

This room is swallowing me.
The ceiling is caving in,
Walls crawling in.
I hate this pain.

I listen to music of better times.
Now wish for better times.
I want to play in the world energy,
Not trap myself at bay.

I’m low on inspiration.
My thoughts can’t come out my mouth,
My ideas can’t flow through my fingers,
I need to get out!

I need to laugh with friends,
Not laugh to myself.
I need to smile for what’s now,
Not at a distant memory.

I need to free myself!

I have the strength.
I have the right.
I have the desirer.
I have the physical vessel.

Its time to start my engine,
Hoist the anchor,
Take off,
Take flight!

Why do I fear?
Why do I worry?
What’s to fear?
What’s to worry?

Call up the child inside,
Stop being so shy,
Tell them its adventure time.
Get out and make a life, or live a life

Take a step out side.
Take in the fresh air.
Its time to forgive your self,
And to do something worth writing about.

God, Soda pop, and Nudity

OK so be sure to know that what follows is not a story only written by me. I only wrote one line. This is what happens when you get a few great writers, a fair amount of alright writers, and some people who either hate writing or cant write at all.
We all took turns writing a line.
The Rules; You can only write one line.
If desired you may erase one quotation mark and continue the characters speech.
So with that in mind, enjoy!

God, Soda pop, and Nudity

"you can't make me do it," screamed Quincy. He sat glaring, rocking in his old chair and twirling his lucky coin in his fingers.
"Want to bet?" replied Josh.
"Yes, 50 Dunmars. You can't get me to do karaoke in the nude."
"Don't be obstinate, grandfather," Josh retorted to the glaring old man.
"I did that once and ended up embarrassed while singing there and singing!"
"I'll raise it to 100 Dunmars, stupid old hag!" Yelled Josh.
"Damn it boy, get me a soda pop."
Meanwhile, back at Quincy's cabin, the lamp in his house fell over and started a fire. The entire cabin blew up in flames.
"Ready, set, go," Said Quincy.
And then God woke up. He walked to the bathroom, picking eye boogers in a dignified way with which only a deity could profess.

Beautiful Day (poem)

Here is a poem inspired by a beautiful summer day.

Oh what a beautiful day,

lets get together to sing and play.

Have the greatest hay day we can hay.

The summer fairies are out to play,

and with the worlds hatred all gone away,

jump up with a holler and a shout!

Put away that nasty pout,

cause tonight there's a campfire with S'mores

where we can talk and kiss, 

then kiss and love some more.

Who could ask for more?

For its a beautiful day,

and on the morrow, 

we'll all feel less hallow. 

Now that we're filled with summer love fun,

there'll be less of those who shun.

Now that its a beautiful day. 

Get out and play!

Now that its a beautiful day.

Jack Thomas

It was needed if I were to continue on up through the ranks of the agency. When I made the hard decision I would go through with it, they gave me a break from all work until it was time. I didn’t know when or where it would be, only that it would be staged and no harm would come to me, or any one I loved. I had loved Chloe with all my heart, and all the love in the world, so I made the remaining time I had with her count. I did every thing I could do to make her know that I loved her and wanted the best for her.
Then, on a drizzly night at nine forty-five PM, my life fell apart. We were walking home from a birthday dinner for a friend of ours. My arm was over her shoulder and her arm was around my waist. We were laughing, talking, and commemorating about our friends. I leaned over to give her a light kiss on her beautiful, long, wavy brown hair. That’s when I saw them coming. There were three big men wearing dark clothing. I tried to avoid them by steering us out of their way, but they countered our movements and got back in our way and surrounded us. Hoping it wasn’t them, I said “excuse me, we seem to be in each others way.”
The biggest one of the three just looked at me. Then with a smooth deep voice he said, “Give me your money.”
Chloe pulled me in closer, wrapping both arms around me. Right then my heart sank. It was then that I knew it was my time to move on. The pain and weight of the choice I had made was so painful, so heavy that it was all I could do to keep from crying right then and there. The man said again, this time taking a step closer, and in a hushed tone, “Give me. Your money. Now!”
I no longer wanted to be the world’s best secret agent. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to some how fight that life away. As I was thinking of how I could fight off three large men, Chloe, full of fear and worry started rummaging through her purse looking for money or any thing of value. Two of the men slapped the purse out of her hands and grabbed her by the arms while she kicked and screamed trying to escape. Instinct kicked in and I took in all of my surroundings in a split second. In one smooth motion, I picked up a fallen pen and stabbed one of the men holding my wife in the back puncturing, his lung. After pulling the pen out, I grabbed Chloe and went to stab the other man in the throat. He saw it coming and let go of Chloe so that he could use both hands to make me drop my weapon and dislocate my wrist. Having to ignore the pain, I pushed Chloe out of the way, and while turning to side kick one of the remaining two men in the legs, the one asking for the money punched me to the ground. My head was spinning and I couldn’t seem to focus. He jumped on me and continued to punch at my gut and face. Then he discreetly injected me with a drug that would knock me out, and cause my breathing and heart rate to slow so much that it would appear as if I were dead.

Chloe took me to a hospital, where I was pronounced dead by a planted doctor. From then on my dear sweet wife Chloe would think I had died due to my brains being knocked loose. When I gained consciousness I was in a strange room with a wrapped wrist, bruised ribs and face, and worst, a shattered heart. From then on, as far as I was concerned, I was another puppet in Uncle Sam’s army.

Poem of Titles

OK OK surprise my first real entry is a poem.
Its something I wrote for a class. The requirement was that I had to use the titles of some Langston Hughes poems, and make it about hardships of my life. I didn't do the last part. Well here it is. All the poem titles are in bold if you want to look them up. I Hope you enjoy!

As I grew older,
riding a one-way ticket of the life,
of a trumpet player,
a player,
of the weary blues that come with Negro skin

Afro-American doesn't mean
there is a delinquent in me!
Who but the lord,
can judge my people?

Oh I do so get puzzled,
about the many dream variations.
We all dream to say life is fine.
Aunt sue wants it in her told stories,
and massas want it in their built stories

How can the white man
kill on the third degree?
Then preach the Sunday morning prophecy?
Is this truly,
a country of democracy?

The Introduction

For a while I have been wanting to make a blog and fill it with my true stories, and the ones I make up. If I have some poetry I'm proud of I post that as well. But don't hold your breath. The reason why I have been wanting to make a blog was inspired by Mac Funk and her studying abroad in Brazil. In just a few months I should be leaving to China to learn the language and study abroad my self. Then I got thinking on how cool it would be if I wrote about my adventures in a strange country my self. Until that event full time I will tell you past stories of my crazy life with some that are clearly bull-crap and others that aren't so clear.



So enjoy reading, leave comments so that I may become a better writer or just leave kudos. Either or.



With love, respect, and peace,

Carlin P. Jello Miner