The Treehouse

"Amazing isn't it?"
"Better than anything I've ever seen!"
Can this really be happening, my very own (secret) hideout?
Donna and Zach climbed up into the trees of the forest not far from their house.
Every day they would go and play in the woods, but not until recently did they stumble across the hidden treehouse.
For some time, they cleaned the treehouse and made it spotless, in case any visitors stopped by.
"Gregory!" called Zach in mocking tone when Donna mentioned inviting him to play.
"How come I've never met him?" inquired Zach at Donna's silence.
"It didn't concern you," retorted Donna as she brushed dirt off the floor and out into the forest.
Just then, a gust of wind flew through the treehouse, causing Donna to shiver at the now chilly air and realize it was time to head home.
"Kleptomaniac!" Zach called after her as she snagged his coat and jumped out of the tree.
"Liar!"
"Maybe I'll tell Gregory about your little infatuation!"
"No, please don't!"
Obviously the bickering was getting them no where so they decided to walk home in silence.
Perhaps it was the snow that began falling or the silence, that Donna hated so much, but Donna decided she wouldn't quite like her brother to freeze so she returned his coat.
"Quit being so quiet, it's not like you Zach," she said as she draped the coat around his shoulders.
"Right, I'm the one who's never quiet!"
"Stop it, now you're shouting."
"That's you're fault, you took my coat and now I'm freezing.
Unless we get home soon I might just die of hypothermia!"
"Very well, we better run."
"Why, I hate running," complained Zach as they both picked up the pace to a jog.
"Xanthodont!"
"Yellow teeth, really that's harsh!"
"Zachary, you should brush your teeth when we get home," mocked Donna as the made their way through the forest for the last time that day.

If you can't already tell, I'm a feminist

This is a great video that brings insight to the world that a lot of people are sheltered by. I'm not going to start spewing out facts about how we live in a men controlled society, even though we do, just so I can get the real point of this post across. FEMINISM IS NOT BAD. I really hate how feminism has been given a bad name over the years simply because of radicalism. Call it what you would like, but feminism simply is the belief that men and women are EQUAL. Not that women are better than men, not that women should control society, not that women are amazing and men suck and we should be the rightful leaders of earth. It's none of those things, it's simply equality. 

This is a great video because it takes everyday phrases and spins them on their head. I hope it makes you think twice before you say something. For example, using "girly" as in insult, or saying to be strong you need to "man up". I find it insulting that not only are you bringing someone else down by insinuating that being a girl is a bad thing, but also that in order to be strong you need to be a man. It's just little things like this that have opened my  eyes to the world of sexism, things that are ground into your brain until they loose their meaning. I have to admit I once used gender as an insult, but slowly leaned away from it. In my eyes, as long as you realize you're doing something wrong and fix it, you're okay. There's a difference between ignorant/ uneducated and being purposefully harmful. 

Tell This Story

She sat on the porch with the birds fluttering overhead. The sunlight streaked through the trees and illuminated the the fog slowly lifting from the river. The vines that grew on the side of the house hosted a multitude of insects that always found their way inside. She sat on the porch and looked around for sign of her father who should return shortly. But the sun kept fading and the fog grew thicker. The air turned more humid and the birds settled down to rest. She sat on the porch and continued her sewing, waiting for her mother to return home for the day. The crickets began chirping their melodious voices calling out into the cooling air, signifying that another day has passed. The water trickled past the house, slowly carrying the algae and  lily pads along the surface. She sat on the porch and wasn't bothered by the cooling air. The wind chime hanging from the slopped roof of the porch was gently tinkling with every small ghost of wind. The trees creaked with the more forceful gusts and so did the house. The home was a wonderful little thing that sat on the edge of the river and was full of family trinkets. The fireplace was a little lopsided, and when a fire was lit the logs wanted to roll on the floor instead of stay in the hearth. She sat on the porch and debated getting a blanket, but decided against it because she was undisturbed by the cold. The window was open and the the floors danced with dust as the house shifted with the wind. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, old, worn, and sunbleached from years of morning light pouring through the windows. The porch rail was rotting away from the wear and tear of the river's rougher months. She sat on the porch and wondered if she should make supper, for her parents would surely be home soon. The dock swayed under the weight of a squirrel scampering across. The boards loosened and splashes into the water causing ripples in the glassy surface. She sat on the porch and watched the purple and pink light of the setting sun dance across the movement in the river. The door shifted on its hinges from years of no use, settling against the frame more than it already has. The dust stirred up again as a mouse ran across the floor of the house in search for food that has been long gone. She sat on the porch and stopped worrying for there was no point. She sat on the porch and awaited her parents return. She sat on the porch like she has done for countless hours, days, weeks, months, and years. She sat on the porch not bothered by the nature crawling in the house, but embracing it. She sat on the porch content to her sewing and a life of waiting.

The Sound and the Fury: Quentin

Here is a found poem I wrote in English class today from Quentin's section of The Sound and the Fury.



I could hear the watch again.
Dalton Ames,
Dalton Ames,
Dalton Ames.
In the south you are ashamed of being a virgin,
Why couldn't it have been me and not her who is unvirgin?
I have committed incest I said Father it was I it was not Dalton Ames
DALTON AMES,
DALTON AMES,
DALTON AMES.
He put the piston in my hand I didn't.
That's why I didn't.
He would be there and she would and I would.
DALTON AMES,
DALTON AMES,
DALTON AMES.
I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind
After a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.
DALTON AMES. DALTON AMES. DALTON AMES.
Father said clocks slay time.
He said time is dead as long as it it being clicked off by little wheels;
Only when the clocks stop does it come to life.