tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50905567149080656682024-03-05T05:31:24.169-05:00Congasia(Pronounced like Anastasia) To try, you need motivation.Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-38732941414413650972013-06-22T16:56:00.001-04:002013-06-22T16:59:49.039-04:00Chapter 5: Nick of Time<b>Wednesday June 23 10:00 Local Subway Station</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
My hand was shaking, real bad. I could barely hold my phone still. This next phone call was going to determine the rest of my life. My friends wouldn't be in it, my family wouldn't be there and I'd be all alone. I didn't know if I wanted to do this anymore so I pulled out my cell phone to call Mark- he always knew what to say.<br />
<br />
"Hello", he picked up right away. Just as I was about to reply and ask him for help, my throat felt clogged. I couldn't speak and I knew if I attempted to do so, I'd only cry and I'm so not one to cry.<br />
<br />
"Hello?" He spoke again. I had to answer this time but once I opened my mouth, tears poured from my eyes and I started to sob. It wasn't one of those cute little sniffly-sobs that most girls do, it was more of a wail.<br />
<br />
"Cathy?" I had to answer him this time and luckily I managed to squeal a yes. "What's the matter? You ok?"<br />
<br />
"I-I don't know anymore, I need help, this just isn't working for me." I sobbed more and more, feeling like an idiot every minute of it.<br />
<br />
"Where are you?"<br />
<br />
"I'm at the subway station. I decided to go there to call because if i randomly disappeared from home it would be more dramatic than being picked up by someone at the subway station."<br />
<br />
"Understandable. Could you wait a few minutes? I want to tell you goodbye in person."<br />
<br />
"Sure," I smiled. If there was anyone in the world that I'd want to say goodbye to, it would be him. The next fifteen minutes of my life were the worst. I kept trying to cry in order to release stress, but nothing was coming out. I was frozen, emotionless and depressed. I hated my life and just wanted to die. If i hadn't been so dumb in the first place maybe I'd still be happy. I missed the days where God wasn't a part of my life and everything was all fine. Fine- i guess that's a lie. Life wasn't fine. Without God, my parents would've still divorced and my friends would've still been mad about the whole Bruce-me thing. So why was it that after I became a christian everything started to feel worse? I had to get an answer because if depression is the only thing christianity brings, I wanted no part in it. So I waited the longest 15 minute wait of my life until Mark arrived and answered all my questions.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81jfewJV6XRmkmheDbtpqa4dQCsJFsFAKjJqJdAe6e0VIKoE3ywKEhhtVv65HfFA8fK7iQP0D1ZxrrthK5YfZOO4zTCAbV85vAOALovAbVDTuaYRIFCXyBwryrxdD0q7KaSDOHd3CXD74/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81jfewJV6XRmkmheDbtpqa4dQCsJFsFAKjJqJdAe6e0VIKoE3ywKEhhtVv65HfFA8fK7iQP0D1ZxrrthK5YfZOO4zTCAbV85vAOALovAbVDTuaYRIFCXyBwryrxdD0q7KaSDOHd3CXD74/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></div>
Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-11148135328628025232012-12-22T19:23:00.004-05:002013-05-01T16:33:10.936-04:00Chapter 6: Nick of TimeWednesday, June 23 9:45 pm<br />
<br />
I looked down at packed suitcase:<br />
Clothes- check<br />
Money- check<br />
Toiletries- check<br />
iPod.... <br />
I quickly stuffed my iPod into my handbag and then threw myself onto my bed. Great! I had a suitcase, I had a mission but I didn't have a plan. How was I supposed make it out of my house unnoticed, with a huge suitcase. <br />
<br />
Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz! Who could possibly be texting me at time. I don't have time for this. Uhhh it was Bruce. What does he want now?!? <br />
<br />
HEYY WAS WONDERING IF WANTED TO COME OVER FOR THE NIGHT?<br />
<br />
Perfect!! I could leave telling my parents I was going to Bruce's and just go to the subway station instead. <br />
<br />
I replied to the text, told my parents the plan and headed out the door confident with myself. The Lord provides. I never used to really understand what that meant but after this situation and the whole putting the plan together so perfectly totally proved God's goodness.<br />
<br />
I had already passed my street and was walking out of my neighbourhood when I say a figure in the distance. It was tall and I swore I'd see it before. <br />
<br />
"Cathy!!" Ummm what was Bruce doing out here?<br />
<br />
" hey, thought I'd come out to meet you and walk you to my place cause its kinda dark," aww how sweet. Wait a minute Cathy, you are not going over, you are not going over.<br />
<br />
"Oh well actually i can't come over... there was a change of plans." What was I saying? What was the new plan and what could I possibly want to do that was more fun than visiting my boyfriend and not only that, but why else was I walking with a suitcase?<br />
<br />
"So where exactly are you headed with that suitcase?" Bruce sounded suspicious.<br />
<br />
<i>Lord please help me, Lord please help me</i> I prayed silently in my head. "Umm... well Brittany's boyfriend just dumped her and she really wanted me to come over and comfort her after the break up and I'm really sorry I didn't get back to you but she called me just as I headed out of my house."<br />
<br />
"Really? They've been going out for three years now, what a jerk!" My goodness, he had bought it. And this is yet another reason why I cannot back out of this now- I've lied (once again) about Brittany's relationship and once everyone finds out i had rumoured that, they're gonna hate me.<br />
<br />
"Well I better get going," I hugged Bruce and then quickly <b>fled</b> down the street in hope of avoiding him before he found out the truth.<br />
<br />
There's no turning back,<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVzFhYAzJWxiZ_Sr7EQES0l7uXZBaP4JnF0xBE0kTnLaJa-wm2j-_zix7odWTBJPBk4KhHpmc_mYX4YT3vMvMf4ggHF-T2yU1yZ2E2xJK-E3OODUJ8aXx6gUEVC0oDGqQeE2xqvMMgXiT/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; position: relative;" />Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-88460089173614594432012-09-04T16:59:00.002-04:002012-09-04T17:06:53.065-04:00chapter 5: Inspector Gadget<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Wednesday June 22 3:15 pm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><b> </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><b>116 </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b style="color: #6d3da5; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://www.myspace.com/tenthavenuenorth" style="color: #6d3da5; text-decoration: none;">Tenth Av. North</a> </b><b style="text-decoration: none;">Bathroom</b></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b style="text-decoration: none;"><br />
</b></span></span></span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">They're knocking! They're knocking! I quickly stuffed the bible down my pants and sat down on the chair in my bedroom. I checked myself out in the mirror first to make sure that i didn't look weird or awkward. The men walked into the house with a stern look in their eyes. They slow, very slowly (like to be honest, I thought they were just going to take a quick look around) , inspected the house and everything in it. One of the three men turned and looked at me and I froze. What if he knew? I knew I should've burned the bible! He smiled then asked me what my name was and what school I attended and then the men went out on their way. So I wasn't caught this time, but what about next time, what about next time!! I had to escape to that island. I just could't live here anymore. "All I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong," I whispered the familiar tune by Building 429 to calm myself down. I stood up and pulled the bible out of my pants and stuffed it in my underwear drawer where I usually kept it. I looked around slowly, eyeing my room and wondering where I actually belonged. Not at school, not at home and definitely not in my community. I had to leave. But to where? That island, that island! Cept, I don't really know where it is. hmmmm.... what was that channel again. I walked out of my bedroom and slumped down onto the couch. Ah, at least something here feels comfortable for once. I grabbed the t.v. remote off the coffee table and i flipped through the channels until i reached the channel I was looking for. The commercial was so real that any idiot would buy it, it was kind of like a lottery giveaway of some sort. The commercial came to an end and a male voice spoke the phone number to call. I quickly grabbed a pen from the coffee table and rapidly jotted the number down on my hand. I was so pumped up- I was gonna do this. Yes, I Catherine Swan, was going to run away. I turned off the t.v and casually walked to my room, picking up the phone from the kitchen table on the way. I was going to do this. Ready or not here I come. </span></span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-51520102138937899902012-06-22T11:24:00.002-04:002012-09-04T17:02:15.092-04:00Chapter 5: Inspector Gadget<b>Wednesday June 22 3:05 pm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><b> </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 18px;"><b>116 </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b style="color: #6d3da5; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://www.myspace.com/tenthavenuenorth" style="color: #6d3da5; text-decoration: none;">Tenth Av. North</a> </b><b style="text-decoration: none;">Panic Mode: ON</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b style="text-decoration: none;"><br />
</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I just arrived home five minutes ago to hear that the IAC (inspectors against Christians) are going door to door killing anyone owning a bible. Panic mode is definitely on. Now I'm usually a chill, laid back, chillaxed type of person but when my life is on the line and nobody knows but me, i have the right to panic. I know I'm supposed to trust in the LORD with all my heart and soul and mind, as learned yesterday in church, but it's just too hard sometimes because God is bigger than my mind, his love is too much for my heart and he's more powerful than this world. And so i sometimes have a hard time wrapping my mind around what he can do and how much he can control. I really wish i was Marcie (i know it's weird, but it's not like everything else is normal either so, it's alright if i say that). She's brave, bold and strong; everything I've always wanted to be but didn't have the strength to do. I try to hide my problems but behind that face, behind the smile, is a girl crying for help, wanting a way out. So yeah- i need to get rid of my bible. I almost burned it but, to be honest, i couldn't. I just can't bring myself to do something that sinful and horrid. I can't wreck God's holy book- it's the only thing in this world that makes sense. But i can't keep it because i don't wanna die and i don't wanna die!! Sorry diary, I'm getting you all wet with my tears but it's not my fault, i feel so alone and scared right now. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Today in sociology class we learned that your family is the primary source for emotional support. Mine isn't.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-wait a minute- isn't God considered my heavenly father? And i haven't asked him for advice why? Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh God please help me! They're knocking on the door and the bible's in my hand. They're knocking on the door! Mom can't answer, i won't let her. um... i need a plan and quick! I can do this, I've always done this. solved my own problems, came up with devious plans and improvised during tough situations. This is no different. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">If I'm alive tomorrow,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVzFhYAzJWxiZ_Sr7EQES0l7uXZBaP4JnF0xBE0kTnLaJa-wm2j-_zix7odWTBJPBk4KhHpmc_mYX4YT3vMvMf4ggHF-T2yU1yZ2E2xJK-E3OODUJ8aXx6gUEVC0oDGqQeE2xqvMMgXiT/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6d3da5; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVzFhYAzJWxiZ_Sr7EQES0l7uXZBaP4JnF0xBE0kTnLaJa-wm2j-_zix7odWTBJPBk4KhHpmc_mYX4YT3vMvMf4ggHF-T2yU1yZ2E2xJK-E3OODUJ8aXx6gUEVC0oDGqQeE2xqvMMgXiT/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; position: relative;" /></a></span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-21931846432534263072012-03-11T15:00:00.005-04:002014-06-16T14:25:27.109-04:00Chapter 4: Long Way Home<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday, June 17 6:00 </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b>116 </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.myspace.com/tenthavenuenorth" style="color: #6d3da5; text-decoration: none;"><b>Tenth Av. North</b></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b>- Cathy's Room</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Short Story made Long:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 18px;">After I had thrown up, I ran to the park washroom. Bruce didn't notice since he was too busy throwing stones, and thankfully too because it wasn't a pretty sight. The park washroom isn't that far from where we'd been but on this particular day it felt like a lifelong journey. In the washroom I washed up, duh! But it wasn't one of those refreshing washes. It was painful and scarring because every few seconds I would hear Marcie scream and it wasn't one of those little girl screams- filled with laughter and joy- and it definitely wasn't a heavy metal typa scream- passionate and meaningful. Let me put it this way: If you had ever asked for a history lesson on the death of Jesus, this was the place to be. Soon, though, the screaming died down and I'm thinking, so did she. I decided, after washing up, that Id live in the washroom forever. I couldn't live with myself and I couldn't move on knowing that the girl out there getting stoned was the same one that I had buzzed off a week ago. It was just happening all too fast. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">and that's when it hit me!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I fell onto the washroom floor and prayed. It wasn't the most glorious moment of my life, I have to admit. I looked like a mess and ewww, gross, i was laying down on the washroom floor. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I could've cared less then. After the prayer I decided that I had to go and stop the stoning. I had to save that poor innocent soul. So I fled back to the "scene of the crime". Okay, I have to admit "fled" is a bit of an exaggeration considering that I had stopped every few seconds to think about what I was gonna do. When I got there...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I, I, I was too late. Everybody had left but Bruce and the poor dead girl. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yo, where were you?" Bruce asked me, but I didn't hear him. All I could think about was the poor 17 year old who had lost everything. She wasn't even gonna get to graduate. Her skin had been grated off like cheese. Her nose had ben stoned off her face- and oh boy did she have a nice nose to start with. Her lips were missing and fear was left in her eyes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Maybe she hadn't lost everything" I thought as Bruce piggybacked me home. I just told him that I had to go- go pee, go pray, or go die? No difference really. He didn't need to know. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Maybe she hadn't lost everything" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Maybe she had won the battle, victorious and strong."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Maybe".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Definitely Maybe".</span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-75957216879847452332012-01-09T19:46:00.002-05:002012-01-09T19:47:19.659-05:00Chapter 3: Flop Culture<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Friday, June 17 5:10 Silver Shadow Park Choking on Tears </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">The sun is shining very bright, kids are laughing, couples are giggling under the trees and police officers are chit chatting about their days while sipping on warm coffee. This is what most of us would envision as a happy day. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">But not me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Nope. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Nada.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">NOT a chance. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Today Marcie is getting stoned, in ten minutes to be exact. I'm kind of scared- for her <b>and</b> for me. Like I don't want her to die an' all, but what if she tells the people that I'm also christian and that it would be unfair for them not to stone me as well. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">!!!!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I never used to think much of these stonings. It was actually my favourite time of the year, they were the only days that I could get my parents to get along and enjoy each others company. I guess I never really thought about what it felt as the person being stoned- or worse! I might even lose my reputation ( and I've been working on that for years). Oh no! They're about to stone her. Bruce just handed me a heavy rock to throw at her (I'll just throw it behind me or sumthin). I'm scared- what if she tells them I'm a christian? What if the people just find out on their own? What if I'm the next to be stoned? I'm only a young girl! Lord save me! (who cares about her at the moment). </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">One... the people are counting down</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Two... They're ready to throw</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Three... I throw up</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-26759341574023133772011-11-12T14:31:00.000-05:002011-11-12T14:31:12.127-05:00Chapter 3: Flop Culture<b>Friday, June 17 5:00 Silver Shadow Lane Cold</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
A person like me in a position like mine would be happy. They would feel like they're the top of the world. Like nobody could stand in their way. Bruce had his arm around me. Years ago, no-no, weeks ago, I would've dreamed of this moment but I didn't feel it today especially since he was walking me to the local park for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Marcie's stoning. </span>Just a week ago I didn't even want to talk to her and today I would've loved to die with her but once again, like always, pride got in the way. I didn't want to lose my friends and definitely didn't want to lose my life. So here I am with Bruce, so cold on the inside and feeling no love. Oh goodness. Oh goodness!!!<br />
<br />
"What's the matter?" Bruce stopped walking forcing me to stop as well, which was the last thing I'd wanted right now.<br />
<br />
"Olivia." I whispered.<br />
<br />
"So?" Bruce was fearless. Well, obviously.<br />
<br />
"We probably shouldn't be seen together," I tried to pull away from him but he didn't budge- he wasn't moving.<br />
<br />
"Do you really care she has to say. She's insecure-"<br />
<br />
"But you she-"<br />
<br />
"She's insecure because she's ugly. And she's ugly because she's insecure." He said it loud enough for her to hear.<br />
<br />
<i>Lord why don't they just stone me now. I am empty, fatherless and soon to be friendless.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
When she heard Bruce, she buried her face in her purse and slowly walked the opposite way of the park. I better look secure and happy because if Bruce says I'm secure, then obvs I am. Plus I look stupid writing in you ATM (at the moment). So adios for now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVzFhYAzJWxiZ_Sr7EQES0l7uXZBaP4JnF0xBE0kTnLaJa-wm2j-_zix7odWTBJPBk4KhHpmc_mYX4YT3vMvMf4ggHF-T2yU1yZ2E2xJK-E3OODUJ8aXx6gUEVC0oDGqQeE2xqvMMgXiT/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVzFhYAzJWxiZ_Sr7EQES0l7uXZBaP4JnF0xBE0kTnLaJa-wm2j-_zix7odWTBJPBk4KhHpmc_mYX4YT3vMvMf4ggHF-T2yU1yZ2E2xJK-E3OODUJ8aXx6gUEVC0oDGqQeE2xqvMMgXiT/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-87271251918583604952011-11-04T17:01:00.005-04:002011-11-04T19:56:37.500-04:00Chapter 3: Flop Culture<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Friday, June 17 3:00 Hawk Nelson Secondary School School Parking lot</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most people at this time would be like, "Thank God I't's Friday" especially considering my day yesterday. But no. Actually, I am dreading today more than I hated yesterday. Why diary?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Why does everyday of the week have to suck! I don't know.... am I going crazy or does my whole life suck since I started this christianity thing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> If I were at church right now, Mark would be yelling at me for saying that. "It's not a 'christianity thing'" he'd say, "It's a way of living, Ca-thy!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">:)</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I actually don't mind getting yelled at. It actually feels good, for once, to get yelled at. I had never gotten yelled at by my parents, well at least in a long time. They kinda just let me do "whatever" (or at least that's how my dad would state it). So anyways..... Why am I dreading today?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They're having a stoning. Who? The neighbourhood kids, adults and policemen. I used to enjoy going to these things. Free food, icecream sundae bars and lots of joking and get-togethers. But not this time. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Because this time, the stoning's for...</span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-24100583923918413992011-10-16T18:58:00.004-04:002011-10-31T20:19:58.669-04:00Chapter 3: Flop Culture<b>11:15 pm Out on the Street <i>Stair <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">WAY </span></i> Making sure not to get caught </b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I told my mom that I was going over to my friend's. Normal moms who just got divorced would say no. I mean it is 11 o'clock. But my mom, as you probably already know, is <u>not</u> normal. So I was allowed to go out of the hotel. I kinda feel bad for leaving my mom alone to wallow in pain but I have to go church. And today's been the longest day of my life so I can't miss church today. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.....Wow, today <i>has</i> been really long:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First I told my teacher to shut up which got me into detention.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I came up with a devious plan with Lance (ewwww!!) and as I was getting out of school two very scary men threw me into a limo telling me that my parents were in court and had filed a divorce without telling me (without being the whole problem).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Then</i> I broke down in court in front of everybody. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, *sniffle* you and me diary, we separated!! *gasp* *gasp*. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And!!! during this whole thing, I didn't speak up, not even once. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here I am diary- sneaking around town hoping that I don't get caught by the police.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So where is church exactly? The sewage system on Stair WAY. Mark always makes a joke and says that it's the stairway to heaven. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm just going to put you down for a second, diary- just long enough to lift the lid without making a sound. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">__________________________________________________</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm In!!! I give a round of high fives to everybody there and hug a bunch of people- some I know, others I've never seen but it feels so good. Sometimes we all just need a good hug. Opps... Mark's speaking; I better listen and maybe take down a few notes:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Talk 1. Learning to Discern</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">-Sometimes you are not experienced in letting God lead you, and you are easily turned off the path from what seams to be common sense and good opportunities.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">-Beware of misleading choices, satanic influences, and the media.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">-God wants you to succeed, he will love and guide you through life. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">-Our focus needs to be on what God has shown us through His scripture; not what our friends or t.v have to say.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That last point really got me. Should I hide my religion and live a lie so that I can fit in and keep up my social status? I dunno..... but what I know is that I really got to go... It's like 1 in the morning!!! Ooops! Mom's gonna kill me. Talk to ya later, with more thoughts and more news. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUe6wbqtHsf_tAknEpSpw-iw_I1-yNO3l84rOHXtXHEI8Oo668RW2huhQA1dvt4BJXpxENqWBlSL_0xNFu9njaBmLfMO4lHGuV62ImfiPKDkem-99ShikG4VEmgKQAZHR-S-_GiAAWTYx/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUe6wbqtHsf_tAknEpSpw-iw_I1-yNO3l84rOHXtXHEI8Oo668RW2huhQA1dvt4BJXpxENqWBlSL_0xNFu9njaBmLfMO4lHGuV62ImfiPKDkem-99ShikG4VEmgKQAZHR-S-_GiAAWTYx/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mom's fast asleep, she didn't even notice</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">me coming in. Thank God! Really. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Brush Script MT Italic';"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-7407625207826328892011-10-10T13:47:00.002-04:002014-06-16T14:29:34.246-04:00Chapter 2: The Nervous System8:00 pm My bedroom With a completely full takeout box from Chipotle that Mom got me to make me feel better <br />
<br />
So how did it go? GREAT!<br />
<b>ACCORDING TO MY MOM</b>. So in summary my parents are now divorced. I wish it hadn't happened but it's not like I'd spoken up. I was too scared that I just let it happen and the funny thing is... that is so, so,SO not like me. But you know what diary, lately I haven't been acting like me at all. Two weeks ago, I would've <i>totally</i> gone out with Bruce. I would've made fun of Christians and I'd be the one tripping Marcie!! This Christianity stuff is wierd. I just wish I could figure it all out. If I knew what was going on in God's mind in that court room, well, I'd ask him a few. <br />
Like...<br />
Why, WHY, <strong>WHY</strong> did he let this happen? As if my life wasn't bad enough.<br />
I wish everything didn't have to change. I wish things were back to the way they were. I love God 'n' all, but I'm just so confused. If God loves me so much, then why is my life slipping out of my hands. I need an answer. <br />
<br />
Like, right now.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWFeX3u_7JvIEE_vL1htCVTSEwrnZWg6Yd5X8U-R8sJYZPr4pTdEjg7G1czzDBSJrUe62QZImtBZ1FiBF6W8BVtVqzoznzkKVvG3GIIQtSum-GUiRKPX2KbXFUozGAwbpW6zt1JWx89Mw/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWFeX3u_7JvIEE_vL1htCVTSEwrnZWg6Yd5X8U-R8sJYZPr4pTdEjg7G1czzDBSJrUe62QZImtBZ1FiBF6W8BVtVqzoznzkKVvG3GIIQtSum-GUiRKPX2KbXFUozGAwbpW6zt1JWx89Mw/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm still waiting!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-63215083659831322022011-09-10T19:43:00.006-04:002012-12-22T19:32:07.835-05:00Chapter 2: The Nervous System<b>12:00 In court Breaking down</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I did, it. I did it diary. I broke down in public for the first time in my life. I never break down, never! Not even the day I broke my wrist. I never cry, I'm a strong women and everybody knows it. Even my parents were surprised that I broke down. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why did I break down? Let me "break down" the story for you diary.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">_______________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was already terrified from the idea that mom had filed a divorce and scheduled a time for the court without telling me. No warning signals, no text message, nada! And it wasn't even fun like a surprise party. So picture this: I was so surprised that I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> left my mouth hanging low until one of the guys told me that I had just a bit of drool on my shirt. Just a bit! JUST A BIT! I was drenched in my own drool and I didn't even have time to clean my shirt because I was being dragged into the court room. "<i>Apparently I was late</i>." So I was still getting over the shock of this whole thing. I mean, I knew that this was going to happen one day, I just didn't want to believe that it was going to happen. Everything went "smoothly", as they liked to call it, until the judge asked me to give my testimony. MY TESTIMONY! What I wanted to really say was, "these people, I don't know them. Nope! Don't remember 'em from nowhere." but what came out was crying. I didn't know which side to take. Oh, sure, I knew which side was right- my mom's. But I couldn't betray my dad. I loved him too much. He was the one who'd raised me up. My mom was always working, so it was my dad who had taught me how to play tennis, made me love mini golf and helped my study for my tests(although he never really understood anything he would be teaching me). My dad was my hero. I know. It sounds lame, but he is!! He's adventurous, kind, funny, has a great wardrobe and got everything he's wanted without doing anything he's asked to. Well, he's gotten everything up until now... AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF ME!! ME AND MY STUPID MOUTH. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I blame that mouth of mine!!! </span>So here I am, curled in the corner of a room. They put me there to calm down and when I'm calm, I'm allowed back out. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Like yeah right I wanna get out!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanna stay here until I die. And I wanna die now. Why isn't the Lord helping me out of this.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Mark (that church elder) once said, "That Lord and his mind!!! Mysterious..."he would go on and say " some things seem good and some things seem bad, but in the end, they're all awesomely amazing!!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish I was as optimistic as Mark. I wish I could see things his way.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, no. They're coming back to check up on me. The same men in that limo. I gotta pretend I'm still freaking out so that I don't have to go back in there. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">---Wait a minute!!--- who's pretending, I am freaking out. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*fake cry fake cry fake cry, just keep telling myself to fake cry fake cry fake cry*</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"We know you're all better. Come one. The judge can't wait too much longer." "that limo guy" stretches out his hand so that I can take it and get up. But we went over this diary-</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm not leaving this room." I reply calmly and sharply looking him straight in the eyes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well this is going to be fun," he says with a smirk on his face. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Diary, he grabbing you! Diary!!! dia</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">r</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<b> <br />
<b> </b></b>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-12582984791915830702011-08-17T18:36:00.001-04:002011-08-17T18:36:47.944-04:00Chapter1: Escape<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b>10:25 Was running- Now Stopped</b><br />
<br />
So I did end up getting out of the school <u>without</u> dying from boredom, but I didn't get out of school property. No, I didn't get caught by a teacher, and no, the police didn't stop me and arrest me for being a christian. A huge limo pulled up with 2 men in suits. No, the suits were not black. When the saw me, they stopped the car. I saw them looking at a piece of paper in their hand. It had a picture- a picture of me. They asked me who I was and told me that I was needed in the <a href="http://www.nycourts.gov/courts/nyc/family/infobycounty.shtml#s3">New York County Court</a>. I froze. Like actually froze. Because I knew the reason they were here. The ride was slow, unnecessarily slow. I needed to get out of the limo, I didn't want to believe it was happening, but I knew it was. If it was any other time I would've enjoyed the limo ride; playing with the window, checking out the mini phone, using the mini-fridge, using the leg rest, but not today. Today was the day my parent were going to get divorced. How am I so sure? Because...<br />
<br />
a) My dad deserves it<br />
b) My mom is great at finding loopholes and convincing people<br />
c) One of the men on the jury for this case has a crush on my mom (I found this one out in the car about 5 minutes ago when the men gave me a folder with all the information I needed to know)<br />
d) All of the above.<br />
<br />
I think, diary, that I would go with d. A lot of people say children will feel a lack of sense of belonging when their parents divorce. Not me- I never really felt that my family was a family, let alone a family that belonged together. Or some people might say that children feel like they're the reason for the divorce. Not me- I KNOW that it was all my dad's fault for not doing the part in his relationship. So why am I so sad, no, no,<i> disapointed </i>about this divorce.<br />
<br />
Maybe because it was the only thing that was keeping me from breaking down. To know that there was a chance that there was love on this planet. To know that problems do have solutions. To know that people can get along. But this divorce has taught me that none of those statements are true.<br />
<br />
Oh! I've arrived. Whooopie :(<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3PMXwlPZS-r_CF5gb67aeQjSxcvhiUi73aeG0Jn6OZwQ1YjZseXiGSswgnywPYJxhCM17eV9IXpd6-HUT7ra0pW5WDvM2ajQH73DtjBov4qh_wAHLDswtEjiBuEk8C3InA1LUwq1gwCf/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3PMXwlPZS-r_CF5gb67aeQjSxcvhiUi73aeG0Jn6OZwQ1YjZseXiGSswgnywPYJxhCM17eV9IXpd6-HUT7ra0pW5WDvM2ajQH73DtjBov4qh_wAHLDswtEjiBuEk8C3InA1LUwq1gwCf/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wish me luck!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-34468080848366025332011-08-09T19:24:00.057-04:002013-06-22T17:12:18.214-04:00Chapter1: Escape<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b>9:00am 10 Minutes later and Ten seconds from dying </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b> Detention</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Okay, so I finally got Lance to cooperate and we came up with a master plan. Here's the plan:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">1. Get Lance to ask to get a drink.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">2. He comes back with his cup full.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">3. He trips and spills his cup all over the floor.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">4. Lance and I ask to go and get paper towels from the janitors room.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">5. Then </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"Wait a minute!" It was Lance, again.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"What is it Lance? What is it!" I'm usually more patient than this, but with the state of my life, Lance should take this as a grace card, and!!!!! He just made me smudge ink all over my diary.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"Well I kinda just noticed," Wow, 10 minutes in detention can really change a person. "That this room has a like paper towel dispenser."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b>bummer</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"Well, THEN GET RID OF IT!!" I snapped.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"The paper towels or the dispenser?" He shot me a questioning look. I shot him! No, I just smiled- something I hadn't had the time to do in a while. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">If you had walked into the detention room at around this time for whatever reason; dropping off attendance sheets, giving complaint reports or just for the sake of it (<i>It is </i>my favourite class in the school), you would have no clue what had just happened here. But I'll clue you in diary. We got rid of the paper towels. This is how:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> I took the paper towel roll out of the dispenser (I totally know how to break open that dispenser without a key) and Lance and I "decorated" the classroom with it and when the detention supervisor came back from her washroom break and asked what was going on Lance replied saying "You surely don't expect a bright student like me to not study while in detention. This here is a science experiment comparing the relationship between... (I didn't write the rest <b>not</b> because I didn't feel like it <b>but</b> because right after that big E word, I kinda stopped listening. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">"I'm not stupid." She replied. Then why are you here!! I wanted to shout out loud. I mean, most of the detention ladies are laid off janitors. Apparently, she's a science major and professor at Long Island University and she was just here to substitute for her sister- who's a janitor. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So.... drum roll please..... WE'RE SUSPENDED, WE'RE SUSPENDED!! I'M SUSPENDED, I'M SUSPENDED! IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD!!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Oh no! It's 9:45! I better HIT "N" RUN- and by hit I mean smack Lance out of the way.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWNdO2EPPNBD_b6PVBO9tcbGQTZm8tSLv7cVKThjDt1PR7z38NNJwbuHoPf9gusMCd-NsuLm6Uf92oUZOAZMXrwC95UX2-Hb4xLdpLaSwaLi56xwUlJ8NWr0CPJFhJ60EkeOt4srOz-DO/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWNdO2EPPNBD_b6PVBO9tcbGQTZm8tSLv7cVKThjDt1PR7z38NNJwbuHoPf9gusMCd-NsuLm6Uf92oUZOAZMXrwC95UX2-Hb4xLdpLaSwaLi56xwUlJ8NWr0CPJFhJ60EkeOt4srOz-DO/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">"Best of luck!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">huh?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Oh, that was Lance.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Thank you</i> I mouthed.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>
Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-38338067319862062062011-08-08T13:19:00.002-04:002011-08-08T16:58:59.573-04:00Chapter1: Escape<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I watched as the clock ticked- very slowly. Why couldn't the school day end? I needed to talk to Mark. As a church elder, he'd know the answer to everything (although he <i>always</i> denies it). He'd probably even help me get my parents back together again. And this matter cannot wait. THAT'S RIGHT! THIS MATTER CANNOT WAIT! <b>IT WILL NOT WAIT. </b>I have to escape, one way or another. And it's not like I'll be missing anything- I'm in detention. Plus, even if i do get caught, what's the worst they can do to me? Throw me in detention? Well, whaddya know? I'm already in detention. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"They could suspend you." Lance, a kid with perfectly sleeked hair and nerd glasses, answered. Oops! I must've said that out loud. I think I need to watch what I say from now on, being a christian and all. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What are you doing here?" I asked, seriously wondering what a perfectly good student like Lance would be doing in detention. He gets straight A's and his family life is not a wreck. Plus I doubt he's a christian. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well... COD's havingthischanpionship twelvehoursinarow andIjustcouldn'tmissit..."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wait a minute, Lance is a gaming geek! Wow, you learn more in detention than you'll ever learn in the classroom. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"And what does this have to do with detention?" I felt seriously dumb. I had never been on the outside of things. I always knew what people were talking about. What has happened to me? It's probably all the drama going on in my life that makes me forget to appreciate the little things in life. Like gossip. And shopping. And gossip. And shopping. But mostly gossip. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, if you get in trouble in detention, they suspend you. So then I'd get to go home and... you know... have fun!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So why are you still here?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well no matter how much I try, I can't get myself in trouble."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well then how did you get yourself in trouble in class?" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Marcus threw a wad of gum at Mrs. Nadia's head and I said I had done it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Sheesh. You couldn't even get yourself in trouble on your own." I had never met a guy like this. <i>weird. </i>"dependable much!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You're one to talk! When was the last time you did your own homework!" His ears were fuming. Calm it buster. But, I couldn't argue with him. But would you do your homework if really nice guys offered to do it instead? I don't think so. Plus it gives me more time to solve all my life problems and... homework bores me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Listen." Oh I can be feisty. "I will help you get out of here if you help me."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Why do you need help? You've got bad written all over you?" Sometimes I wish we were allowed to use pocketknives at school because I know the first person I'd use mine on. But ever since a group of kid ganged up on a teacher and killed her in <b>her </b>classroom, pocketknives have been banned. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like my pocketknife. It's really pretty and very sharp. I sharpen it every weekend just incase I have to use it. In situations like this. Dontcha like it diary? It's purple just like my hair. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUxy0nt0BecupqmoAiowlBSJH5bKfyEhs-pLWZh8bAT9MH_n_-ZAqiXobpNdKbJyWCFSZ6_egftdyuHkX2lPd02XuYaVkM7TPj66c6mM0UNnG3D-RltMvC2xdC-OH0J9SbCBDVPEkndL1/s1600/images-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUxy0nt0BecupqmoAiowlBSJH5bKfyEhs-pLWZh8bAT9MH_n_-ZAqiXobpNdKbJyWCFSZ6_egftdyuHkX2lPd02XuYaVkM7TPj66c6mM0UNnG3D-RltMvC2xdC-OH0J9SbCBDVPEkndL1/s200/images-6.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ouch! I got a paper cut." Don't tell me that's Lance, don't tell me that's Lance. I turned my head slowly and whaddya know!! It's Lance. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Grow up!" I shouted (a bit too loud, maybe, because the whole room turned around and looked at me. I really need to watch my voice these days). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Eeew! My paper cut's bleeding!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is going to be a long day. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLhCBjsSdwY9Z4cx6i_F4rjBFvIbVzC8TvvBHMc55p0f9Yn28PkPd2XWQGV_FyMsiVjfty-k03QPndKMKXi1ywC-QU5xAX2eN5O_NVuY-WCrmP0vBzwgKsBsG61l2ziZrNYZB5RbKCMsZ/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLhCBjsSdwY9Z4cx6i_F4rjBFvIbVzC8TvvBHMc55p0f9Yn28PkPd2XWQGV_FyMsiVjfty-k03QPndKMKXi1ywC-QU5xAX2eN5O_NVuY-WCrmP0vBzwgKsBsG61l2ziZrNYZB5RbKCMsZ/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
Eeew, he's licking his blood. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-10536350058152446002011-07-25T20:10:00.005-04:002014-06-16T14:31:08.985-04:00Chapter 1: Escape<b>Thursday, June 16 8:35 am </b><a href="http://hawknelson.com/"><b>Hawk Nelson</b></a><b> Secondary School Detention </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Talk about sleep deprivation. I totally, shouldn't have had that sleepover yesterday. But, I definitely needed it. It reminded me that I wasn't alone on Earth. I did have friends and they would always be there for me... as long as I wasn't a christian. Why? Why were Christians hated so much? Was it because they were the ones holding the truth? Was it because they were right? I dunno, but I know that I'm waaaaay too tired to be thinking right now. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that is how I got into detention.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I fell asleep during homeroom. Mrs. Folley should be more reasonable though. I usually fall asleep during that class anyways. It's math! Even the nerds get tired of math sometimes. But today was different, I was lacking a good night's sleep which meant that when I'd fall asleep in class today, I wouldn't wake up. Mrs. Folley called on me several times, and without thinking I told her to shut up and go kill herself. So now I'm here for the rest of the day. Exciting! Well, it would be. I mean, I usually have fun in detention because well, it means I'm not in class. Today, though, I had too much going on in my life and detention was the last thing I needed. So, have I mentioned that my mom has this divorce thing so packed down in her tiny little head that she's not listening to anyone's advice? Yeah, well if I haven't told you already, I just did. The problem with this divorce is that unlike other situations- in which I always end up solving- this one is not a no-brainer. The only answer is that well... there really isn't any satisfying love on earth. The only good love is the love from God. I know I've been complaining a lot about Christianity lately but during the hardship, I had never felt lonely or unloved.And I really can't blame my mom for hating my dad- he is using her. He has no job and she makes money. So that topic was taking up a lot of place in the "worry wart" section of my brain. And that section kept on oozing out and destroying the other sections in my brain, like the "think before you speak" section.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then there's Bruce. I so, so ,so do not like him. Plus he's all Olivia's. Like I'm gonna be that immature about this situation. I believe that any girl who drools over a guy is not a girl at all, but half a one looking for a guy to complete her life. Plus, everybody knows that guys come in this ugly package and inside that package is a good dose of drama. And that is the LAST thing I need. But everybody's accusing me of liking him and I hate it when people accuse me. Olivia used to be one of my closest friends. We used to keep secrets from the other girls but now I feel like I'm on the outside of every inside joke. I feel lonely and cold but not confused. I know why she's changed. It's because I've changed. I don't blame her but I really miss the friendship we used to have. I remember when one of us would purposely get a detention so that they could accompany the other person in a detention because we had believed it was unfair for the other person to suffer alone. I remember when we'd have our study sessions or when we'd fight for each other. I remember in freshman year, Olivia's temper got so out of control that she ended up physically fighting this girl everyday for a week just because she had insulted me about the top I had on. They say " make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold." It should go " lose old friends, make no more.Sit there crying, let it all pour". I know I have Jesus, diary, I know but I just can't stand not having someone on Earth, physically here with me. It hurts you know. It hurts to know that you don't have anybody to turn to, nobody to hug you at night or read you a bible story. Nobody to tell you that they love you because people are so busy trying to solve their problems they have no time to appreciate the little things in their life.... <u>like their own daughter!</u> I miss the old life but that is now all behind me. And I am NOT looking back. So not looking back- I'm not gonna be like lot's wife. I know that what's ahead is way better than what's behind. Plus I don't have a time machine. And even if I did, I don't think I'd really want to use it. Would I really want to go change everything?</span>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-7850615556629685262011-06-19T16:46:00.003-04:002011-07-25T19:00:04.285-04:00Chapter 1: Escape12:00 Outside- around the block walking hoping we don't die still uncomfortable<br />
<br />
Dear diary this, dear diary that... I'm just gonna cut to the chase. I don't feel it. I really don't feel that the lord is helping me out. I used to feel it. But now, I feel like giving up. I <i>thought </i>that the lord was supposed to help me out. I <i>thought </i>he was supposed to always be there for me. But i guess I was wrong. Actually, I know I was wrong. This whole christianity thing isn't working out for me. I've been praying for about a week now, but I don't feel any better. Actually, I feel worse. My friends won't shut up about how stupid christians are and I just can't include myself in the conversation with them. I don't feel comfortable doing so. I don't even feel like their my friends anymore. The only thing we ever did together was share gossip, and I just feel rude doing so now.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">...</span></div>About the third the third time around the third time around the block, right when the gossip was actually getting quite serious, a monster jumped out at us. Yeah, well it's dark outside, so it looked like a monster to me. It was tall, it was wide and it had shaggy, gorgeous... beautiful... brown hair. Okay, it was William. A definite hottie from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_Island_University"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Long Island University</span></a>. Wow! What a creep, like he didn't have to scare us so much. We all turned around quickly to fix our hair that had frizzed up from the fear. Then we all did our usual rounds of hugs. Now this is the guy I'd want to date- not Bruce.<br />
<br />
"You're such a freak!" I told him, all embarrassed, "You scared me like crap!"<br />
"And made me mess up my hair!" Emma gushed. That girl sucked at talking to guys. She never knew what to say or what to do, but i guess that's why all the guys seamed to like her- she was easy to talk to. Plus she was cute.<br />
"Well I'm so very sorry," he mocked an apology. "What are you ladies doing out here? It's way too late for you young girls to be wandering around."<br />
"Talking, like you'd care," Olivia answered, her hands crossed over her chest. William shrugged his shoulders and walked over to his house which was right across the street.<br />
"Wow, Liv! Like you had to go and ruin the moment," Janett rolled her eyes,"I could have stared at him for like, another hour? Sheesh! You ruin all the fun, girl!"<br />
"Well at least I saved you from looking like such a dork." Olivia always knew how to answer people.<br />
"Tev, tevs!" I had to agree with Janett on this one.<br />
We continued to 'walk 'n' talk' for about another hour and by then it was about twelve midnight, so we headed back to my house.<br />
That night I had the worst nightmare. It was weird. And scary. And it all went way too fast for me. Marcie was in it. Actually, it was all about Marcie. She was running away... from these people with masks on. They were large and they had guns in their hands. The men kept on catching up to her, her face getting sweatier by the second. She was slowing down, they were catching up. She cried for help, but of course, nobody heard he. They grabbed her and strangled her and told her to yell, "God is a myth, God is a myth. I will worship only the devil, only the devil". No! she'd yell, No! "I will never do it!" and that was when the trigger on the gun went off and she disappeared- dead, gone forever, all in the blink of an eye.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">...</span></div>Thank God for pillow fights because if Brittany hadn't accidentally smacked me with her hard-rock pillow, I don't know how much of that nightmare I could've taken. "I can't do this anymore!" I silently prayed to the Lord. "I really need your help, please Lord, I'm begging you! Help me!"<br />
<br />
Once again, thank God for pillow fights- they totally take your mind off serious problems. <br />
Until tomorrow,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2URCRsbUVl6sZ4DHzhZyZCJDlH3iwJv3rYijXuMOXrBYdnA09VDd940cEqjIVFBlYFxMeYbZcDu8J47FAckQLovHLX0nRUIZAGHDzSuzLILY9gtYULgc4u1YDv3EMlNDaWwMvR5u9SG5u/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2URCRsbUVl6sZ4DHzhZyZCJDlH3iwJv3rYijXuMOXrBYdnA09VDd940cEqjIVFBlYFxMeYbZcDu8J47FAckQLovHLX0nRUIZAGHDzSuzLILY9gtYULgc4u1YDv3EMlNDaWwMvR5u9SG5u/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-91490094056656692502011-05-22T22:57:00.003-04:002012-03-11T15:19:46.358-04:00Chapter 1: Escape<b>10:00 Still Alive But Getting Worse</b><br />
So we Continued our party but I couldn't help but feel a tad uncomfortable when they started gossiping. I don't know how it went from Katy Perry to Marcie but in a matter of minutes they were laughing about her and saying that she was so weird and awkward. And you know what, I got really tensed up when they said that they had found out that she was a christian.<br />
"My dad's turning her in!" Brittany said with this excited look on her face.<br />
"By the way, how much money do you get when you turn somebody in?" Angela asked.<br />
"Like 3000 dollars but it depends on their age and health." Brittany answered.<br />
"Well, it's a good thing that they're getting rid of all those christians. They've got the stupidest rules." Olivia had to be part of every conversation, even if she had NO idea what was going on.<br />
"Well, what have christians done to us?" I couldn't believe that these words had came out of my mouth. What was I thinking? Next they're going to question me, then they'll turn me in and then I'll be gone forever!!!. Okay, you know what? Maybe I'm overreacting, right? I mean, they're my friends, they wouldn't turn me in, would they? I started panicking on the inside and I never panic, never.<br />
"I dunno, but they're so weird and all about rules and stuff," the one thing I love about Emma is that she never knows what she's talking about.<br />
Janett backed up Emma," Well, they're always saying that the rest of us will go to hell and that they're perfect and it's just plain annoying!"<br />
"Well you know what, that's all stupid. That's not what christianity is about!!" Now of course I didn't say that, but I would've liked to. I never would've doubted my friends. What happened to me? I know, I became a christian but what did that have to do with my reputation? I had to change. I know we aren't supposed to conform to the world but my reputation is at stake so God will have to be his patient self and wait a while. Instead, I said "Why don't we all get our Jammies on. If christianity is so stupid then why are we talking about it?"<br />
"Point!" Angela said.<br />
Olivia reached into her handbag and started brushing her hair. "What are you all waiting for? Cathy said it already! Let's get our Jams on."<br />
And when Olivia tells you to do something, you do it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujNlfnw7eyKPqxxZyd1TBGK4tX-qSOPx-i904csoSr4I3JQVPT1f_val5XqMWyhFOlLUFcobqqiq3HzYM8aSZIsU0ud-zqh4QdZ5Mtw4zdSWBz7KQtB15OZjft4fOW0RYMOHow4qe7tlv/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujNlfnw7eyKPqxxZyd1TBGK4tX-qSOPx-i904csoSr4I3JQVPT1f_val5XqMWyhFOlLUFcobqqiq3HzYM8aSZIsU0ud-zqh4QdZ5Mtw4zdSWBz7KQtB15OZjft4fOW0RYMOHow4qe7tlv/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" /></a></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-66319670598727328702011-04-30T18:26:00.005-04:002011-07-16T21:06:44.015-04:00Chapter 1: EscapeWednesday, June 15 3:00 pm Mad (Please <s>don't</s> ask why) <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Okay, diary I am giving up on rejoicing because my life has nothing to rejoice about, and I mean nothing. I wish I could name one thing but I can't. At school today my friend Brittany kept questioning why i was buy on Sundays. I lied (again) and said that I had family matters that had to be taken care of. I wish i hadn't said that because now I actually have family matters. My mom has filed a divorce, thanks to my great advice, and we're supposed to be in court next week. This is just great. While many kids are planning vacations for the summer, my family is in court. You know, I've always wondered why tho Lord gave me a family like this. I hate it so much. Yes, I HATE it! But I guess I won 't have a family to hate soon because at this point i think my mom's winning this war. My mom has gotten a lawyer and so has my dad and apparently I need one too because this divorce is more complicated than it seams. Whatever, like I care. All I'm looking forward to is the end of this dilemma. So right after school I called up all my friends- Brittany, Janett, Angela, Olivia and Emma- to hold our monthly sleepover. When all the girls had arrived we put our sleeping bags in a star-shape on the ground. It was a six-pointed star with the heads of our sleeping bags pointed inwards. When all the sleeping bags were in place we get straight to having fun. I turned on the music so we could dance until our feet were sore.<br />
<br />
<b>Music Playlist:</b> Taylor Swift- You Belong With Me<br />
P!nk- Raise Your Glass<br />
Katy Perry- Firework<br />
Bruno Mars- Grenade<br />
Akon- Angel<br />
Paula Abdul- Opposites Attract<br />
Usher- More<br />
<br />
We never got past Grenade though because Olivia stopped the song halfway. "Do you wanna guess what this song reminds me of?" She asked in a sharp, angry tone. But I didn't want to guess. Actually, I already knew.<br />
"Bruce."<br />
"How come?" Angela asked, raising an eyebrow.<br />
"Yeah, i don't get it?" Brittany added.<br />
"Tell us please! I love juice gossip!" Emma was already wiggling in her chair from all the excitement. Honestly, I swear that girl could get excited over nothing.<br />
"Oh, Cathy knows I would do anything for Bruce. I'v been in love with him for years!! I'm so mad at Cathy! She's a liar and a betrayer and she knows it!!!" Okay, now i had no idea what she was talking about. I didn't even go out with Bruce or nothin like than.<br />
"Actually, I have no idea what you are talking about!" I was getting pretty mad.<br />
"Oh no, you don't know," Olivia said sarcastically. "You are lying about Bruce! I doubt that's the only thing he was asking you the other day!"<br />
"Um.. what do you mean?" I wanted to know what Olivia knew. Actually I had to know what Olivia knew. With all this christian murder going around, I got to be safe.<br />
"Well he kept asking me about you today in bio class and he was totally checking you out today after lunch." She raised an eyebrow as in saying 'understand?'<br />
"You're just jealous!" Angela piped up. Man, I love Angela. What would I do without a friend like that.<br />
"No I just know that she's hiding something. I mean, why would she skip the most amazing party of the year? Tell me! Why would she?!" Olivia was out of her mind.<br />
But apparently Olivia made a good point because nobody had an answer. Everybody was speechless. Everybody. I was alone. For the first time of my life i felt this loneliness inside. When all of a sudden i got this idea- I'm not alone, I the Lord here to talk to. I smiled, proud that at least I still had someone on my side.<br />
"What are you smiling for?" Janett spoke up for the fist time. "We're waiting for an answer."<br />
I had to come up with something good, but not too much of a lie but still yet so believable. How was I going to do that? And it wasn't like I had time to plan what I was going to do. I took a deep breathe and tried to search way back in my head for an idea. But i didn't have to search so far because of that fabulous holy spirit- man he knows what he's doing!<br />
"You guys are so selfish! You don't know what I've been going through these past few days and do you bother to even ask? NO! My mom has filed a divorce against my dad. There! You wanted the truth, well there it is. I was just embarrassed about it, okay!!?" I loved my answer. I wasn't even lying this time.<br />
"Why would you be embarrassed?" Olivia asked. Her face was softer and she looked regretful.<br />
"Well... you guys have such great families and... and... I don't know...." I tried to trail off my voice for as long as i could- it added effect.<br />
"Well I'm sorry," Angela was the first to apologize and she was followed by Olivia's 'I guess I over reacted' and Emma and Brittany's 'I feel terrible for you' and last and definitely least was Janett's 'Whatevs'.<br />
The Lord and I had done it again! He's a great sidekick! Well, i guess, I'm the sidekick... but really, who's keeping count anyways?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS7r-07TirYGcFCHxE4NNyuzfsZ4ZfOKOl_k7WPpeLzMB2ZYnAS6C6S5-lIymlOcdkklrIeEvL_sr63OAL_0JR4e6csJdFLNTz9YPnkT8nPdT-VbgkZgDqMHJoS92t-xgRk9ExKTmhnss/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS7r-07TirYGcFCHxE4NNyuzfsZ4ZfOKOl_k7WPpeLzMB2ZYnAS6C6S5-lIymlOcdkklrIeEvL_sr63OAL_0JR4e6csJdFLNTz9YPnkT8nPdT-VbgkZgDqMHJoS92t-xgRk9ExKTmhnss/s320/Cathy.jpeg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-7583265132639535092010-12-13T17:46:00.004-05:002012-03-11T15:15:58.118-04:00Chapter 1: EscapeBeing followed by a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yui7a-DYOeU">Wildflower</a> 2:40- After School <br />
<br />
Everyday passed so slowly. It was like God wanted me to feel pain for just living. Sometimes i wonder if he ever leaves me. It's hard to tell since i cant even see him. And today was no different. Except for the fact that a flappin' wild flower was chasing after me. A Wildflower is someone who's weird or different and looked down on. I walked faster, she walked faster. I could hear her footsteps right behind me. I could tell that she was now up to a jog. Doesn't Marcie get it? I don't want to talk to her. If someone saw me talking to her they would totally question my beliefs and i'd probably end up being found out. She caught up to me. Only because i let her. If i had actually tried she would have never caught up to me because i'm one of the fastest runners in my school.<br />
"What!" i was furious, didn't she get it? I didn't like her. At least not outside church.<br />
"Well.. I-I, was j-j-just," She was surprised. Or shocked because she stammered on like a little worm that was getting squished and only had 10 seconds to ask for life. I rolled my eyes and stared up at my short, unnaturally black hair and noticed that my purple highlights were wearing off. Great, just another thing to make my day even worse. I rubbed my hands on my jeans; something i do to calm myself. I smiled "So what was it that you wanted?"<br />
"Ummm... well i was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?"<br />
"Do i look like the type of person who would say yes?" She was totally clueless. <br />
"Well you were kind of nice at church. And you tell the funniest jokes. Like that time when paster James was all like..." She rambled. I was so happy that i lived close to the school because if i had to listen to her for another minute i would have exploded and started swearing and i know some pretty bad swear words. I quickly ran inside my house thinking that i would be relieved in there. But you know my house condition, dontcha diary? My mom was yelling at my dad, he was throwing things at her. You know, the usual. The only thing that I have to do when my parents are in a fight like that is to dodge the thrown objects. Yeah, it's definitely a normal life. Mark (the elder) always told me the best place to go when all hope is lost, or when you just need a big bear hug, is the bible. So that's where i went.<br />
I usually just read a verse or so from the bible because my eyes can't stay open for any longer.<br />
The verse that i read today was found in Psalms 28:7.<br />
It said,<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">The LORD is my strength and my shield; My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped;Therefore my heart greatly rejoices,And with my song I will praise Him.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I guess i haven't been rejoicing much, more like complaining really. I guess i should go now and "rejoice". Whatever that means- the lord will probably help out. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuseG2aqwjHGDntyYwbpj6RQ4Fhu69K5WAUFwhUO8jUCf_DChNrjVvVyW49tgEkcoX090Ht-ajgTE5TlWhiOFV1WaQ-QOIsa1n_eHWudOxMQEe8qGQyBaJHvauxpRVNoK0qVdMRsOQ6Wzx/s1600/cathy_sig.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuseG2aqwjHGDntyYwbpj6RQ4Fhu69K5WAUFwhUO8jUCf_DChNrjVvVyW49tgEkcoX090Ht-ajgTE5TlWhiOFV1WaQ-QOIsa1n_eHWudOxMQEe8qGQyBaJHvauxpRVNoK0qVdMRsOQ6Wzx/s320/cathy_sig.gif" /></a> </span> </span></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-84744198112864820222010-09-05T16:14:00.008-04:002012-03-11T15:15:21.911-04:00Chapter 1: Escape<b>Monday, June 13 4:00pm 116 </b><a href="http://www.myspace.com/tenthavenuenorth"><b>Tenth Av. North</b></a><b>- Cathy's House NewYork City</b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">As I was walking up my very small driveway, and my very small house which would probably look like a shed to most of you, I heard shouting. Arrrgh! My mom and dad were at it again. If anybody knows anything about my family, it's that I dont have one. My mom is always cheating on my dad with a different guy every month, my dad is using mom to make money since he's made none his whole life; all he knows how to do is pass GTA in a day (he's been practicing <i>all</i> these years). Anyways, I decided to step in and break up the fight , because i was tired of being so embarrassed of my family, i mean why am i the one who has no "real" family. Family means love, this family has absolutely no love at all, and i mean it. So as i was dropping my school bag on the ground I yelled. Actually it was more like screaming. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Whats the matter?" My mom came running to me, followed by my dad.<br />
"You guys are the problem, you always will be. I mean, why can't you guys <i>ever</i> get along. I'm sick and tired of this.. this.. this disaster. We are not a family. Family means love. Dad is using you mom and you are always cheating on dad. Like really, do we have to?!"<br />
"Well cupcake we were only arguing, everybody does that" My dad was hoping my mom wouldn't divorce him because without her he'd be nothing.<br />
"Dad," I said, taking a deep breath trying to calm myself."We are not a normal family. We never were and it would only be a dream if we became one."<br />
"You. Are . Right." My mom said sneering at my dad. "I. Want. Out."<br />
"No mom, that's not what i meant. I said you and dad should work it out not-<br />
my mom cut me of. "We are working this out. Once I leave, there will be peace all over the land. At least in my heart." she added. I rolled my eyes and stomped out of the house. I took out my cell phone because I needed to talk to somebody. Brittany? no. Angela, no? Who could I talk to that could actually help me?! Mark, no, this was crazy, I was tuning into one of those christian freaks. But for some reason my hand clicked call when I scrolled over his number on my phone.<br />
"Hello" He answered with a soft calm voice.<br />
"Hallo, it me, Cathy?" I was wondering if he would remember me at all. I'm sure he saved so many people in his lifetime, what would make him remember me?<br />
"Oh, hey Cathy!" Well at least he remembered me," How's it going?"<br />
"not good, actually terrible. I need your help."<br />
"You know you don't have to come to me whenever you have a question. you always have someone who will understand you, and who is with you all the time."<br />
"Really?"<br />
"Yeah, he can help you, not me. I can't do anything, all I can do is pray."<br />
"You're talking about God, right?" i mean who else was everywhere, all the time.<br />
"yep. So i want you to go home and pray. Talk to him as if you were talking to me.And i'll pray for you too. okay?"<br />
"Sure, what do i have to lose"<br />
"Nothing"<br />
"Well, except for time"<br />
"Ha ha. So what do you want me to pray for?" oops, i almost forgot to tell him my problem.<br />
"My parents, they're having problems. I tried to step in but <i>now my mom wants to divorce" </i>i said in a sarcastically happy voice.<br />
"okay, ill pray. And God bless. Bye"<br />
"Bye" I said shutting my phone.<br />
I ran to my room once I got in my house, trying to avoid my dad who probably hates me right now. I sat down on my bed and prayed. I actually don't know if I really prayed or not because i'm new to this thing. So basically i sat on my bed, looked up at my ceiling and talked. It felt kind of funny talking to the ceiling but Mark told me i'll get used to it, although he also told me that i should read the bible everyday- and i don't. So of course Mark could be wrong. It's not that i don't want to read the bible, it's because my parents would kill me if i even mentioned the "b" word(bible).<br />
<i>Aaahhhhh!!!</i><br />
It was my mom and dad again. I think m y dad punched my mom, like he always does. :(<br />
I dropped my head in my pillow and ended up sleeping till dinner, which by the way, was t.v. dinner- again. I always dreamt that my mom could cook. It's so embarrassing when you friends come over for dinner and eat t.v dinners. Especially guys- who wants to have a date in a shed, eating t.v dinners?<br />
oh, well. I went to sleep right after dinner. It wasn't that i hated dinner it was just that i couldn't stand another glare from my dad. I thin k he hates me at the moment. So diary, today i tried to step in and save my family but instead i broke it apart, just like that, in less than an hour. <i>Yay Me?</i><br />
<i></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS7r-07TirYGcFCHxE4NNyuzfsZ4ZfOKOl_k7WPpeLzMB2ZYnAS6C6S5-lIymlOcdkklrIeEvL_sr63OAL_0JR4e6csJdFLNTz9YPnkT8nPdT-VbgkZgDqMHJoS92t-xgRk9ExKTmhnss/s1600/Cathy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWS7r-07TirYGcFCHxE4NNyuzfsZ4ZfOKOl_k7WPpeLzMB2ZYnAS6C6S5-lIymlOcdkklrIeEvL_sr63OAL_0JR4e6csJdFLNTz9YPnkT8nPdT-VbgkZgDqMHJoS92t-xgRk9ExKTmhnss/s320/Cathy.jpeg" /></a><br />
<i><br />
</i></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-23109901641364936882010-08-19T17:52:00.013-04:002011-11-12T14:15:14.261-05:00Chapter 1: Escape<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0cOApmLw5rgsFLzZJbbw5vUyxaYwOE_LmMmraJE113s3nA8xlZFjqC7qVv_C-bGf3_X4c0EtKDsSxR7LWBer86iZm7ivIZ8QFWrlvkS8ZdsKzaJZWuYlmO1t_3GKJP3A8NaDV48kKIra/s1600/Bratz+Movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0cOApmLw5rgsFLzZJbbw5vUyxaYwOE_LmMmraJE113s3nA8xlZFjqC7qVv_C-bGf3_X4c0EtKDsSxR7LWBer86iZm7ivIZ8QFWrlvkS8ZdsKzaJZWuYlmO1t_3GKJP3A8NaDV48kKIra/s400/Bratz+Movie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monday, June 13 11:05 am <a href="http://hawknelson.com/">Hawk Nelson</a> Secondary School NewYork City</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today at school it felt like everybody was watching me. It seamed like they all knew and at any given time they would rat me out. You might think that i was worried about my reputation, but that's not it. I mean, sure, i wouldn't mind having friends and not being an outcast but that would be the least of my problems. Nowadays in America christians get killed. The only christian i know of is Marcie, the girl who led me to the lord. I really don't care about her but i'm surprised she's still alive. Now i don't care about Marcie because of my rep. Anyways, I had that sick feeling that i couldn't trust anybody. My friends noticed that too because at lunch they seamed very concerned.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Hey girl!"Brittany chimed as she jumped up onto the picnic table in the middle of the courtyard."You were awfully quiet today, is something wrong?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Ya!" Janett, my othery friend joined the conversation."Usually you're blabbing all through English. But today you were all quiet.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Yeah, well, I'm feelin' sick today," I lied.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Aww, probably getting all worked up about exams," Brittany placed a hand on my shoulder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Don't stress yourself out," Janett assured me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Oh. My. Goodness." Janett pointed at Marcie- the girl who had invited me to the conference where i got saved. "Look at what she's wearing!" she snickered.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"What's the shirt say?" Brittany asked. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"It says 'I'm a princess; Daughter of the King of Kings', What a freak!"Janett replied.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Well if you're such a princess, then why are you so ugly," Brittany called out to her laughing. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Normally i would have laughed along but i coudn't, something inside me kept me from laughing. Angela, Olivia, and Emma, a few of my friends and the prettiest, the preppiest, and the most popular girls in our school, came up to join the conversation as well. They hated being outside a joke. At my school, money doesn't matter that much because most of us aren't wealthy, actually most of us are poor. "Did you guys see Lewis today?" Angela asked us with wide eyes. Before any of us could answer she started talking again," He totally threw up in science class today."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"What did you do to him?" i asked with curiosity written all over my face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"You would not believe it-" Olivia started, but Emma couldn't hold herself and interuppted her.</span><span style="font-family: Times;">"WE made HIM eat a frog. Now how mean is that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Top of the list." Brittany congratulated them and we all high-fived. Olivia stopped mid way to highfiving me and a smile spread across her face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"What?!" I asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Watch out girlfriends! Bruce is needing me," She said pushing us aside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Bruce!" We whisper-shouted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Since when does Bruce need YOU?" Janett asked, raising an eyebrow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Since he needed a new girlfriend." Olivia answered as she walked towards him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"Oh, yeah. I heard Maria and him broke up at the party last night," Angela hesitated then asked, "And where were you Cathy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">"When? I asked. I was getting that sick feeling again that they knew. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
"Oh, don't play around with me. You must have been doing something important to have missed the most amazing party of the year."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">"Make that the century." Emma added raising an eyebrow and putting a hand on her hips."We're waiting..." She said tapping her foot even harder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">"Umm... it's kinda complicated because you know... i was sick" I started.</span><br />
"You shoulda still came" Janett rolled her eyes." It was a total drag without you."<br />
"Yeah! There was like over a hundred people. And college guys too!" Brittany squealed.<br />
"'Drat" i lied again..<br />
"Duh! I told you guys, Cathy is far from jealous," Angela said, proud that she was right, again.<br />
"Jealous of who?" I needed to know what this rumor was about.<span class="Apple-style-span"></span><br />
"Umm.. well Ryan was all like 'Cathy won't stop drooling over me and i need a break' and i was like wah? But apparently like your jealous of Jasmine for dating him" She concluded.<br />
"Uhh... WHAT!!!" But before i had the chance to go and beat up Jasmine for spreading a rumour like that (we all know Jasmine luves rumours)....<br />
Dddrrriiiinnnggg!!! The lunch bell rang. We waited impatiently for Olivia to finish chatting with Bruce. We were surprised that she didn't come back screaming from excitement especially since she's been sweet on Bruce since she was 12, five years ago. We all stared at her mentally thinking, "whats the matter?"<br />
"Umm.. Bruce wanted to talk to you" Olivia said rudely giving me the look that said,"He's mine, not yours so don't play around."<br />
"Uh, why?" I'm not close to as cute as Olivia, why would Bruce want to see me. Man, Olivia had it all. Blue eyes, mine were brown. Blonde hair, my natural hair colour was brown. Full lips, i hardly had any. Why would Bruce want me?<br />
"Well, he was wondering where you were at the party last night, <em>his</em> party," She added.<br />
"Yeah, 'kay, whatevs" I walked over to Bruce and stood there, just stood there- <em>why does Bruce want to see me?-</em> I kept asking myself.<br />
"Hey!" He said when he <em>finally</em> noticed i was standing there infront of him,"Where were you last night?" he asked, crossing his armes over his perfectly toned chest.<br />
"Well i had strep?"I lied.<br />
"Aww, you missed the most amazing party of the year!" He was surprised.<br />
"Yeah, stuck in bed the whole day too" I was getting good at this lying thing.<br />
"Well I feel bad for you," He said nodding his head," You coulda called and I would have came over too see ya. Well anyways to make up I was wondering if you wanted to go to the theatres next saturday?"<br />
It wasn't that I didn't like him, and it wasn't that it wouldn't be fun. But it would be wrong for two reasons.<br />
One- Olivia would hate me for life- and a guy is so not worth losing a friend for.<br />
Two- He'll probably ask me why I'm so different now.<br />
"I'm I'm kinda busy," and when he didn't buy it , I added,"Exams?"<br />
"Oh, yeah- forgot. Maybe we can hang out this summer"<br />
"May-be" I said bye and ran to catch up to my friends.<br />
"So?" the asked me. Olivia eyed me and raised an eye brow.<br />
"Nothing! He just wanted to know where i was the night of the party and i told him the truth- nothing big."<br />
"Really that's all?" Olivia was the most surprised one.<br />
"Yep!" I lied. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And that was my day, diary. Actually school day. Don't get me started on my home life.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuseG2aqwjHGDntyYwbpj6RQ4Fhu69K5WAUFwhUO8jUCf_DChNrjVvVyW49tgEkcoX090Ht-ajgTE5TlWhiOFV1WaQ-QOIsa1n_eHWudOxMQEe8qGQyBaJHvauxpRVNoK0qVdMRsOQ6Wzx/s1600/cathy_sig.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuseG2aqwjHGDntyYwbpj6RQ4Fhu69K5WAUFwhUO8jUCf_DChNrjVvVyW49tgEkcoX090Ht-ajgTE5TlWhiOFV1WaQ-QOIsa1n_eHWudOxMQEe8qGQyBaJHvauxpRVNoK0qVdMRsOQ6Wzx/s320/cathy_sig.gif" /></a></div>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090556714908065668.post-72573637434481535362010-07-18T15:54:00.009-04:002012-12-22T19:26:55.725-05:00Chapter1: Escape<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friday, June 12 6:20 pm Newham Church NewYork City</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's the last bible available," Mark, a church elder whispered. "Cherish it and don't let your parents know."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Okay," I nodded.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"You know they'll kill you if they find out."He said looking down at me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I can't live in hiding all my life," I insisted. He looked at me for a while then leaned in and whispered in my ear," Okay, there's this commercial that will be like," wanna get away to this foreign island. call 999 666 1212. Call that number and they'll ask you for your ticket code. Tell them John 3:16. Okay."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Ummm. And..." I didn't really get what he was saying. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">" They have found this island and they are escorting all christians there. They'll give all the info when you call them. So if you ever feel like you can't hold the secret any longer call that number." He looked at me very seriously.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was starting to feel scared. "Can we pray?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He took my hands in his and we prayed the longest prayer ever. Well i think it was the longest prayer ever. I just became a christian today and have only attended a couple church services before. That's where i had first heard about God.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After praying i looked at my watch 6:40 pm. I had been here for 2 whole hours. "I have to go home now or my mom will freak." I told Mark.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As i turned to go Mark touched my shoulders. "Wait!" He whisper-shouted." I forgot to tell you something very important. When you have called that number and are ready to leave leave at night."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I gave him a confused look so he talked a bit more realizing I had never heard of this. He was acting like i had never heard of Brittany Spears.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"There are people who if they find out about what you are about to do, will kill you. They dress up like average people during the day and like police men during the night. Watch for them .If a police man stops you run , if he's a real police man tell him you thought he was a kidnapper- don't tell him the truth."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Didn't the lord say not to lie?" I was getting really confused about this religious stuff.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I'm sorry Cathy, But this world is a lie."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My hand were shaking as i drove home. I didn't even make a noise when I walked in the house. I slept without saying goodnight. Why should I? It was a scary night, not a good one. I ended up sleeping in my clothes because I was more than scared, I was terrified! I don't know how I'll live any longer. Oh well, everything is in God's hand- I think that's what i learned at today's sermon. Church was actually more exciting than i thought it would be. They always describe church as a boring place, but it's not. It all advice on making the right choices and living your life to the fullest. It's actually very interesting. I have to go to sleep now cause i'm so terrified I can hardly hold this pen still. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<b><br />
</b>Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14916755985254667355noreply@blogger.com3