Dear Carly,

Friday the juniors and seniors were let out of school early to prepare for a huge thing in our lives! (for those of you who can't read this, it says "b-a-n-q-u-e-t". Yes, that is ASL.) Banquet is our version of Prom at Holland Christian for a few reasons. 1. Prom is too suggestive (you know, teenagers having sex after prom...). 2. We actually eat food there (and it's pretty good). 3. We are just that cool. We couldn't have asked for a prettier night as it was the first night in Holland this year that was decently warm. Everyone was fine in our dresses, and we didn't need winter coats (which probably could happen in Michigan). All of the juniors and seniors head to the park to take pictures.  Then, we head to our location. This year's banquet was at the Pinocle Center in Hudsonville. We ate, listened to a comedian (who was also a ventriloquist and was pretty funny), and then danced. It was a really great time, and I won't bore you with to...

Trees are ablaze, wearing spring like Joseph wore his technicolored dream coat. But there is one section of the forest that doesn't. They've had their coat ripped of. They've been raped of their colors by something they cannot control. Death. The river seems peaceful, but it's a candy-coated guillotine  The trees are now bathed in ghosts, a sheet of gray covering those only a few paces from the river. You can almost hear the trees calling out for help, but the death plague has already got them. Slowly, they wilt, giving their strength over to the cancer. Their pride is slowly turned to shame as they wilt further and further into an eternal sleep. -Carly Palmatier I wrote this poem on our way down to Gulf Shores, Alabama over spring break. It was interesting because a huge group of trees seemed to be coated in pieces of fishing nets. I thought I'd jot somethings down about it, and this is what I came up with. I wish I could have gotten a picture to show you, but I...

I know it's been a while, so here are the two writing warm-ups that I wrote today in class and some notes about them. Warm-Up #1: Tone Stepping out of the car, a beautiful upgraded dollhouse greets you. The place where it lies is cleared out from the woods, with trees everywhere around it. The regular silence is never empty, it's always filled with a bird chirping or a bubble popping in the river or a tree whistling the wind. The dock is peaceful i the way it floats on the river. The dam is crowded with too many people there to swim. The river slides down it's slimy path, and even when you're floating  something still feels wrong. You can see the crayfish swimming beneath you, threatening to pinch. Getting out is a battle, fighting to pull yourself onto the dirty banks. The dirt covers your skin and makes it nearly impossible to get clean. Towels can't dry you off completely  and the rest of the water has to go away by itself. Walking back to the cottage hurts y...

So this past week was the week right after spring break, which for most people is a very stressful week, and that was no exception for me. It was a long week getting back into the swing of regular life. Friday was a bad night, in which after work (where we got out late, about half and hour after we were suppose to) I sat in my car and cried the whole 20 minutes on the way home. It was crazy and two of the girls at work were very annoying, giggling and not really getting anything done. I kept thinking "why me? why now? why this week? why today? why when I have to get up early tomorrow?" I was very frustrated, and my already small patience level was gone. I was ready to cuss them off and leave without saying another word (which isn't something that I would EVER do). I sat in my car crying, and then finally left for home. All that was on my mind was how much I hated those two girls and how I wish I would have swore at them. Then I actually started thinking about the night....

Well, I'm an upperclassman in high school and the stress about finding a college and deciding on an occupation is really high with my friends and me. I've wanted to go into architecture for as long as I can remember, and design cool buildings like this. But, more recently, I've thought about maybe going into the medical field. I've thought about the rush of being a EMT or the joy of being a pediatrician and working with kids. I've been confused, on top of that, my parents are really putting the pressure on to find a good college and start doing visits. It's hard to find a college when you don't even know what you want to do, where you want to be, or anything like that. It's sad thinking that I'm might have to leave my friends and go away, but I don't know if I want to stay close to home either -- and these are all things you have to think about when choosing a college. My brain has started to look like this... My creative writing t...

Today in creative writing, we talked about what the best parts of a story is, and what you have to do to keep a reader involved. I'd say it was pretty beneficial to me because I actually enjoy writing more than just blogging (surprising, I know). It's called being an organic writer, and there are six things that this article told us to do. 1) Re-evaluate what you've heard about story. 2) Let narrative forces rather than formulas drive your story forward. 3) Follow rabbit trails. 4) Write from the center of the paradox 5) Trust the fluidity of the process. 6) Re-evaluate continuously. I think these things are important, but they can be hard to understand. Pretty much what the author is saying is that you have to make sure to keep the plot interesting for your readers, make the characters believable and relatable, and don't worry too much on where you're going. If you're writing a story, you have to think about whats happening, what's going to happen,...

"Don't be afraid to be different." This is a sign in the classroom I'm in right now. It got me thinking about part of the post I wrote on beauty. I think that the main reason that people are scared to be individual is because the need to be that beautiful man or woman. Individuality in a person in similar to different spices in food. It would be boring if every food tasted the same, and that's why we enjoy different foods. Most of the foods that you look up look beautiful, and most of them taste pretty good too. So then, why are we so worried about having people with different "flavors"? There are so many different things that we are all made up of, even something as non-important as skin color. But that had become so important in our culture. You can't hire all these white people because you have to have some asian and some hispanic. Why should it matter, it's just the color of their skin. Most of them were born in America anyway, and so it...

Today, I've decided that I'm going to blog more. Since I don't know what yo blog about, I'm going to type up a poem that I wrote a little while ago. It's called Endangered Species. Endangered Species I am and artist I don't shape clay Or move brushes Or cut paper Or leave marks with a pencil I'm not in any art classes And I hate getting my hands dirty Most of the time, anyway In fact If you gave me  a brush I wouldn't be able to convince you That I can paint at all (My painting would look abstract, like Picasso, With my less-than-great painting skills) But I am and artist I'm part of the rare species Of artist that many like to Think they are (It's actually more endangered Of a species than it is rare.) It's a type of artist that Can not only make you feel insignificact And also make you feel Small Small as the ants crawling on the sidewalk Or BIG BIG as a forest of White Oaks Or shallow or humble or any ...