Today was just an iffy day. I think it was the first time I completely didn’t care what happened in the class I was in, and even doing homework right now i just can’t bring myself to focus…why do you think I’m blogging. I think it must be because I know winter weekend is coming soon and I’m getting that buzzed feeling that you get before breaks ( rather pathetic considering it sjust a four day weekend) but it’s hard when school is rigorus and the weather looks like someone decided to just barf all over Ohio, and spill gross chuncks of dirty snow everywhere…..
I love this sweatshirt…it is like the only one i wear besides my Cape Cod one…but really i like this one.
Who couldn’t miss this view. After a long hike at glacier national park I was really tired and driving home there was this view at a stop sign when we were barley out of the park….made veything worth it.
Tonight I sit spelling book before me, paying the price. I am not really a bad speller, just really gullible. My english teacher took my friends iPad, I happened to be IMessaging with that friend. I spelled laugh like laf assuming that it was my friend, it wasn’t. So as I told her not to correct me then laffed in her face…I was delivered a spelling book with three assigned chapters….
Why did Marcus Zusak choose to have the story narrated through death?
I think he did this because World War 2 was a time when death was very prominent. Also death is narrating it in a surprisingly positive way, I feel like if life would narrate the story it would be very negative and grim because there was little life, or happiness in Germany in the late 1930s and early 1940s, whereas there is lots of death. Death is a neutral narrator, not a Nazi or a Jew, so there is no bias, however death hates his job as death. I feel like no one could disagree with death, he is too truthful, so maybe that’s why Marcus Zusak decided on this. Honestly I’m not 100% sure why, but I do know it was a good choice because this is one of the most enticing books I’ve ever read.
I was driving home from my aunts house after our annual Christmas party and I saw a bumper sticker that really made me upset. It said ” keep the Christ in Christmas” now I understand that to many many people Christmas is a religious holiday, with midnight masses, and services throughout the day it is a very important holiday for many Christians. However I am atheist, I do not attend church on christmas, or really any other time. I respect the idea of Christ’s birthday, but for me December 25 is a day for family, and just family, no strings attached. I feel as though keeping the Christ in Christmas has a
Ready been done, to do it more would be insulting to people like me. So go ahead and stick that bumper sticker on your car, but put a little asterisk up there for me. Happy holidays to all!
This house has green shutters and a fence out front. This house is white with a magnolia tree in the yard. This house with the fruit wallpaper, and the pink bathroom. This house is bursting with good memories. I’ve never lived in another house, never even had a different bedroom in this house. There is a big yard out front, catching butterflies on muggy August days, playing on a slip-n-slide with a best friend that once lived across the street. A large backyard is where I rode my fist bike, crashing on the turns and running into trees. A crumbling brick patio where pulling weeds was done while steaks cooked on the grill. When I was little this house was a great land for exploring, mystical lands of mountains and rivers, I even had a fort near my bed, I’d hide from thunderstorms, chase away evil villains. Then this house became home to a million small toys with large eyes and bobble- heads. Wedged into corners, stuck under couch cushions, they waited for me to come and find them. The front yard was for making bunny houses, and climbing trees. The back for hiding in the clearing behind the wall of brambles. Soon the brambles were cleared for a soccer goal, orange cones dotting the grass like a runway. A runway for some plane that will carry me away, over the world, breaking through the clouds, soaring near the sun. I stayed outside for hours, kick, dribble, kick, dribble, run. I thought I was so much more than I was. I somersaulted right into days fishing in the lake a short walk away from this house. This house with the big yard with the forrest in the back, the forrest I ripped through muddying my clothes, expanding my world. When I was in the forrest the house never existed, there was no time to sit idle in a house, only time to grow, and run, and jump, and sing, and play, and explore, and live life without taking a breath. Finally I realized that life enjoys some breaths, some polite, petite pauses, so I took them. The woods became obscure as did the front yard, a shadow in the back of a picture, and this house became more focused. My bedroom was now my forrest, with little nooks, and places that had never been explored before. The hours I spent there flew by. Now this house is ten miles from the nearest Starbucks, far away from my friends, too small, and smells like uncooked pasta, however this house will always be close enough to the family I love, and strong enough to hang on to the memories that will always find home in the fruit wallpaper, and the pink bathroom.