Journal 20

Life is extremely unpredictable. Each person has their own way of living, no one is the same. However, we all follow the same basic patterns. We are all born, we all live, we all experience things, then we die.
We all began in a woman, each woman was different, apart from brothers and sisters. All of the mothers in the world are different. The way we would like to believe it happens is a nine-month, perfect, healthy pregnancy and birth. While this is not the actual way things tend to go, for the sake of the journal, we can go with that approach. You start as nothing. You grow into tissue, develop organs and muscles and bones. Eventually you are good enough to come out into the world and sustain yourself for short periods of time.
As you grow up, you continue to develop. Once again assuming that you have the perfect family, you are dressed each day, fed, loved and cared for. You are taken on walks, you meet other children, you do some weird things and learn. It takes a while to learn, but you do. Everything you do is learning, even past this stage. You learn to speak somehow, usually based on example from family. You are taught to walk and dress yourself. You are taught to mind and behave, or at least the basics of these concepts.
Eventually you are put into school. You start by learning colors and shapes, learning social skills and basic English. As you move along, things advance. You start to understand structure and relationships. You begin to think abstractly, predicting the future and noticing patterns. These senses develop more and more until you no longer need constant attention. At home, you are able to ask for specific things and have conversations with your family in the kitchen. These stimulate the brain to think for itself. 
A world full of wonder is before you from there on.

Journal 19

I went out to the middle of the street,
The shadow of the flag over my feet.
I searched all around to find the true source,
But I could not find it, no matter the force.

Looked back at my feet, and my eyes darted down,
Then I noticed a dark shade on the ground.
My eyes followed  it, looked down to its base,
They followed it more, stared at the flag's face.

As I watched the wind make waves in the flag,
I remembered those who died in Iraq.
So many battles we've claimed since that war,
Yet we forget what shook us to the core.

So many lives we will never forget,
So many people I never have met.
We are so grateful to all of those men,
To read their story, written in black pen.

These thoughts were present as I watched that flag.
I never gazed down, or checked in my bag.
The street cars passed by as I stared it down,
I never realized whats left in this town.

I did try to find where my thoughts took root,
My hand seemed to end up in a salute.
For those who have died, I shed one last tear.
Remembering those who's songs I won't hear.

Journal 16 (I accidentally saved this as a draft)

When you wear something that society does not agree with, people look at you funny. Like yesterday was a good example. People from the school musical were dressed as their characters in the play. At first, people did not know why they were dressed like this, and they were questioned by all. When the others found out that they were doing this because they had to, they were more easily accepted by the rest of the school. I don't understand why society has to question everyone else's choices. We should just calm down and worry about ourselves. People make sure that they comply the other people. If everyone dressed like elves, and you showed up in normal clothes, then you would seem out of place. I wish people would just stop trying to judge other people's decisions, especially in appearance.
I feel like I would disagree with my friends if they ever criticized someone else's clothes or face or weight or anything. Luckily, those criticisms usually come from people of the female gender, and I tend to hang around with people of the male gender. I used to hang out with girls much more than guys, and I feel like my quality of life has become much higher since I separated myself from girls. I'll be around maybe one or two girls occasionally, and I'm usually with Angelea because she isn't crazy. Other girls are the people who judge others and make people feel terrible about themselves. I never want to bee like that. I try so hard to sty away from that type of thinking, and I wish no one ever did. I used to be that way, constantly judging people in my head. One day a realized that no one truly likes people who do that. I wanted to be nice to everyone and make people happy, not upset with themselves. I now prefer to be  better person than other girls.

Journal 18

As I pondered the multitude of eyes beaming at me from the magnificent creature, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of my neck. I could feel the temperature of my body rising as I gripped my sword tighter. The ship seemed like she was ready to fall completely to her side as each wave hit. I cannot fully remember what I was hearing, just swear words and the voices of my men urging me forward. This was the first time I had ever faced such a monstrous thing. 
The cave had seemed so much smaller when we spotted it beneath a cliff nearly a mile away. We had traveled into uncharted territories in search of what we thought would become the fortune of a lifetime. I remember watching my beauty, Adriana, as we sailed away from the dock in the middle of the night. Her skin was glowing as tears fell from her eyes. Her dress was torn all the way up to her thigh. I had promised to buy her a new one as soon as I was back to her. I promised her the life of a queen when I returned. As what seemed like a thousand eyes stared angrily back at me, I realized that I only had one option in order to give Adriana what she deserved. 
I brushed my hair from my eyes and took a step forward. My men became silent, and a reptilian growl passed through my ears as the beast moved its head closer to me, observing our possible power and strength. A moment of stillness passed, but it felt like an hour. The next thing I knew, a blood-curdling shriek came from the monster as he threw his head back and his vocal cords vibrated. The sound threw me into instant confusion, and I stared blankly as the monster cracked his neck to one side, and then to the other. I drew my sword, and let out battle cry that had been used in many other battles by my father when he was Captain...

#17

As the light blue fuzz feathered through the warm current of air purring from the heating vent, I watched the road intently, trying to focus on the events to come. The thought of my sister's wedding was something to truly dread. I wanted nothing more than to go back to my bed with my kitty and sleep the day away. My thoughts poured through my mouth to my mother as we carpooled out to the lake. 
She looked lovely and young, as usual. Her hair was light and healthy, and she wore a pastel pink maxidress with the highest wedge heels you can imagine. She had pristine makeup. Not a smudge or smear was anywhere to be found. The strange thing about my mother, though, is that you can never seem to get her to tell you about herself. You never really know what is happening in her life unless you are there with her. 
I sit, shift gear up to five, watch the road intently as I forget that there is someone else in the car. I see a long stretch of empty road in front of me and my force on the gas petal strengthens. I am talking to my mother, but she just watches the road, smiling and pretending to understand why I would rather be somewhere new. I hardly even realize what I am saying until she finally tells me to stop. It catches me by surprise, but I know she is right. "Don't talk like that, please. Your sister is getting married today, and it would mean so much if you would show some sort of approval of her decision."
I suddenly reassessed the situation. I looked down at myself. I was wearing the long, satin red and white dress that Anne told me to wear, but underneath were my black combat boots. It was apparent that the wedding was something that my subconscious had rebelled against. 

Pit in the Pendulum- Dark Romanticism

Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, “The Pit and the Pendulum” is heavily descriptive and suspenseful in the most extreme level. The story is centered around a mans questioning his very sanity and perception of the conscious world. As this man endures the promise of death and questionable, torturous situations, Poe's character is forced to deal with the guilt of his unnamed crime. The mysteriousness of Poe's writing style creates a feeling of the darkness exemplified in the era of Dark Romanticism. This aspect of Romanticism is filled greatly with suspense and darkened, warped views on human life and situations. This story shows this nature in the tone, mood, and the dark views of his main character. 
The mood of the short story is obvious even in the very first parts of the story. His first sentence is a perfect example of the way he writes most of his works. He describes the character as sick, dying, and in agony (Poe 263). The struggles of the main character are clear straight from the introduction. It is clear that the tone is dark and gloomy. You know right from the start that the author is trying to create a negative, tense feeling. You are directed into the psychological aspect of the character, rather than his behaviors and actions. The fear he feels is obvious and extreme as the reader is introduced to the fact that the character is going through a legal matter in which it is quite possible that he could be sentenced to death (Poe 263). The terms he chooses are also used to portray the feelings of the Dark Romanticism era. Some of the words he commonly uses are "agony," "death," "torture," and "horror," which make the reader realize a greater sense of the initial tone (Poe 263-275). 
This short story goes deeper into the human mind than others of different eras. You get to see what actually happens when people are compromised and lose a sense of true reality. The main character is using only animal instinct and the small sense of rational thought to try and solve his problems. This leaves the reader in a state of constant curiosity and causes you to wonder how far he will end up going.  May creates a perfect description of the problems being dealt with my the character. “The narrator's task is simply to save himself, but in order to survive he must know where he is; the first crucial task he undertakes is to try to orient himself. However, his efforts are complicated by his moving back and forth between sleep and waking; each time he falls asleep, he must reorient himself all over again," (May). As you can see, the character never really knows what is real and what is not. 
It is obvious that the author had a direct message to give when writing "The Pit and the Pendulum," but there is an underlying, thought-provoking effect given to the reader. It almost leave the reader questioning his or her own consciousness, questioning reality and delusion.  The messages hidden behind the text will never be completely clear. 

May, Charles E. "In Edgar Allan Poe: A Study of Short Fiction- Alternate Forms of Reality" Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1991, Philadelphia: Chelsea House Publishing, 1998. (Updated 2007.) Bloom's Literary Reference Online. Facts On File, Inc. http://www.fofweb.com/activelink2.asp?ItemID=WE54&SID=5&iPin= BMSSEP39&SingleRecord=True (accessed November 4, 2012).

Poe, Edgar A. "The Pit and the Pedullum." Glencoe Literature. Ed. Jeffery D. Wilhelm. Columbus: McGraw-Hill, 2009. 263-73. Print.

I Miss You

I used to have a friend back when I was younger. Her name was Callie. We were the best of friends from first grade on. Eventually, it became difficult to keep in touch with her when my dad decided he disapproved of their family. My mom knew all of the quite well, so she love Callie and her family. They were all like an extension of my own family. When I moved to Petersburg, our friendship became even harder to maintain. That meant every other weekend, when we were calling each other and attempting to make plans. Often times, we would get a "no" from our moms, due to the distance. We would go for months at a time without seeing each other. Of course we grew apart. When I finally did move back into Springfield, she moved out to Greenview, which was inconveniently close to Petersburg! It was so difficult to make it work, eventually, hope was lost and we essentially gave up.
We would send each other an occasional text, a Facebook message, a rare phone call. Eventually we both became apathetic about our friendship. Neither of us cared if we saw each other. Things were different between us. She had been raised quite a bit differently than I had. It was unfair, but we had to deal with it, because that is just how the world works sometimes. The effort we made could have been applauded, but really, we both know we could have done a better job keeping in touch. I had another friend that I moved away from named Sierra. We are still the best of friends today. Callie, on the other hand, is almost completely out of my life. The only reason I chose to write about her is because we spoke the other day. We plan on seeing each other soon, but sometimes, you both know that talking is a lot more convenient than walking.
I am going to try though, because I do miss her. So much.

Scary

I was quite frightened when I went to a haunted house last weekend. I was so terrified when the scary monsters jumped out at me. They gave me chills and goosebumps, like I was really cold, but I wasn't cold, I was only scared. I really like getting scared and hiding from the monsters. I cling onto people and forget that anything outside of the haunted houses exist. It all seems so real. The best haunted house that I went to this year was the Auburn haunted house. They did such a good job of making everything seem like you were in real danger. I clung to my friends for my life. The worst thing about haunted houses is the stairs. I went to Terror on  the Square in Petersburg a few weeks ago, and I cannot bend my knee to get up the stairs! How was I supposed to get up there? It took forever and I felt really bad, and it made me slower which made me even more scared that the monsters would get to  me faster. It was dreadful. Overall though, I am glad that I went because I was able to feel genuine fear over something. Sometimes you have to get a little scared in order to feel anything. Sometimes I wish that it was Halloween all of the time, because it is so chilly and dead. That is a frightening idea, if you really think about it. I like to be afraid, it wakes up your mind from mental hibernation. Everyone feels so alive! I really like it, and I think everyone does. I think that could be why people pay for things like that. There are so many scary things in the world today. I wish there was that option all year. I would totally pay for people to scare my pants off on the weekends.