Childhood Questions

I remember a particularly vivid memory from when I was about six. My grandmother owned a daycare, Kid Kingdom in Rogersville, so I spent a lot of my childhood there after and before school. My grandparents lived on the top floor, and the daycare was on the bottom. I remember being in the yard, or playground, and my grandfather who was forty-five at the time was with my brother and they were shooting off cap guns. It is important to note that anything that made a loud popping sound or a loud crack scared me. So when my brother and grandfather ran around shooting at me with cap guns it was particularly traumatic. I knew that there were no bullets in a cap gun, but it was still a scary gun to me. Im sure they would probably scare me even to this day if someone pointed one at me and pulled the plastic trigger, but who knows.

For the first three months of first grade we relocated to Washington state. My sister’s father had family up there and thought that we would be okay up there or something to that extent. My little sister was a baby at the time, my brother was six, and I a year younger than him. The school was different than kindergarten. We didn’t know anyone and we didn’t quite know how to belong to a school like this. There was this girl, I forget her name, but she liked to bully us for this reason. She loved to boss us around, she lived in the same apartment complex as we did so we saw her often. She was in the second grade, just like my brother, yet she was mean to us like she was much older. One day she was messing around with a can of orange soda, the can was empty. We were all outside and my sister and her dad were upstairs in our apartment. The mean girl got her thumb stuck in her soda can and she was yelling at us as if it were our fault. Her tone soon after grew angrier and she was telling us to go get someone to help. We went up to our room and my sister’s dad got her finger unstuck. I think that her knowing that we had the power to do absolutely nothing made her a bit more accepting. She stopped bullying us, but we never became friends. We later found out that she had a crush on my brother, who’d have thought?

I have never broken a bone before, well not that I know of anyway, but I have always been a very clumsy person. It is actually pretty surprising to me that I didn’t get hurt seriously too much as a kid. I do recall one time when I hurt my arm pretty bad when I fell from a ledge on the side of the house I lived in, in Arkansas. I remember the day quite clearly, my stepfather was forcing us to work outside until twelve pm. It had gotten pretty hot, and I got tired. I just wanted to go inside, but he locked the door to the house so we couldn’t go inside. We had no way of telling what time it was or how long we had left until twelve. So me, being the smart twelve year old I was, thought it was a good idea to step on a rock ledge right next to the kitchen window to look and see the time displayed on the stove. Turns out the rock wall wasn’t too sturdy, and part of it broke at the edge and I went tumbling. We had thirty minutes left, but my arm didn’t feel okay. My mother took me to the nearest hospital, forty-five minutes away, and I had to wear my arm in a sling for a couple of weeks. At least I got out of thirty minutes of work and heat. To this day I am still a very clumsy person, I reconnected with that fact when I got a job.

Hopper Inspired Writing

I walk along the dirty rustic tracks by my small brown house in the outskirts of town when I stop to see that a railroad car has gone off the track. It is red, and has a ladder running up the side of it where it is open at the top. The car looks as if it is about to tip over, but it stands still, leaning off the tracks. The railroad car is abandoned, yet it doesn’t seem like it has been stuck there for long. I walk around the railcar and see red rustic dirt falling out of the top of it. The wind whistles loudly in the air around me and my hair flies around me, blowing around my head frantically. No one is around, and I see a shining glimmer of light coming from the tracks. I walk over steadily and see a piece of copper metal smashed against the tracks in an oval shape. Curiosity fills me and I pick it up and see a smoothed penny with the date barely showing. Someone has left it here on purpose. It shows 1930, a penny aged a century. It is not discolored, yet it shows the years of its existence.

Window Painting

Straight ahead I see three roads meet
They join at a bridge, my childhood bus stop.
To the left is a road that leads to my best friends house
And a road that forks on a steep hill
Today is different though
The roads that I see today are no longer gravel
As they were many years before
There, always is a light pole illuminating the night
It shines, reminding me of the time it was once broken
Far away I see a little red house at a bend in the road
A big white dog is shown sitting on the hills beside it
The spot where it laid all those years before

The Taunting Wall

He stairs at the wall that has taunted him way too much in his life. You see he lives in this room, with this horrible pink wall surrounding him. The dirt stained appearance taunts him, forcing him to want to escape from it. He can't though, that is where he is and he has no choice but to stay. He has been trapped in this room for as long as he remembers. James was kidnapped when he was just five, he is now twelve. He knows nothing about his captors, except that they want him to stay alive. His mental capacity is that of a five year old, but he has learned to adapt a bit in other capacities. He wants to escape, and one day he will. He looks at the wall, it is his motivation. James hears a sound coming from the hallway, its time to eat he thinks. When the loud metal door opens he makes a run for it, and the man with the tray catches him and holds him forcefully. The guard pushes him onto the floor and slams the door shut. Click. The deadbolt is once again locked. James lays there on the floor, staring at the taunting wall, knowing defeat.

Five Deaths

I remember the events that occurred that night with clarity. The sight of the expressions plastered across the faces of those I love. The smell of the carbon monoxide leaking into the cab of the car. The ghastly noise released from the vehicle. I remember it all as if it happened yesterday, its only been a year though. We were on our way to Oklahoma to visit my uncle, the car was only a decade or so old so there was no way we'd have known that it was going to fail. It was about midnight, and the moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the night. It all to me happened too slowly. The smell came first, and then the fear. I thought there must be a gas leak, and I could hear my parents talking quietly up front. Their voices shaking, not putting me at ease. There were five of us crammed into that little car. My parents, siblings, and me. When they noticed our worry my parents took their eyes off the road for a second to assure us that we would be okay, not paying attention. Just then something ran out in front of the car, causing them to swerve off the road. The awful noise, and the smell surround me. We run off the road and drive through a steep ditch, causing the car to flip over. I feel light headed and exhausted, and next to me my siblings are crying. I want it to end, and it does eventually, we slam back into the ground upside down and the world goes black. When I wake up I am the only one to remain, four tragic deaths. But still to this day I believe that there were five deaths that day.

Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol was born August 6, 1928 in his home town of Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. His father, a construction worker, was named was Andrej Warhola. His mother, Julia Warhola, was an embroiderer, but she also liked to make flower arrangements. He had only two siblings, John and Pavol Warhola. He went to Schenley High School, and college at Carnegie Mellon University. Andy Warhol wasn't at all extroverted and he wasn't a big fan of platonic relationships. He was gay, which during that time period people weren't as accepting of. he had a handful of relationships, but of course never married. His longest and most serious relationship was with a man named Jed Johnson and lasted about twelve years.

During Andy Warhol's time period many things happened. The Stock Market crashed in nineteen twenty-nine, along with the Saint Valentines Massacre the same year. In nineteen thirty-four Hitler was appointed Fuehrer of Germany which led to horrible tragedy. In nineteen forty-nine the USSR developed the atomic bomb. In nineteen fifty-five the United States participated in the desegregation of schools across America. Another historical event that happened was President Kennedy's assassination. As you can see it was a very eventful time in history.

Andy Warhol was a very cynical guy, he also tended to isolate himself from social interaction often. He was a strong believer in what he thought was correct. He was always concerned with what kind of impression he was making. Andy Warhol was Gay, and in this time period it presented a bit of a struggle for him. Especially since he was also catholic. Though his church found it somewhat admirable that he was openly gay and still followed strongly with his religion.

Andy Warhol's paintings were bright, colorful, and unique. He was a leading artist in the art movement known as Pop Art in the nineteen fifties. Pop art presented a challenge to traditions of usual art style by featuring imagery from pop culture items such as advertising and news. In pop art, the artist sometimes removes visual material from its known context and is combined with unrelated material.

Andy Warhol's most famous paintings

1. Campbell Soup Cans
2. Coca-Cola
3. Gold Marilyn Monroe

Two pieces I like
Oxidation Painting

Andy Warhol had unknown canvases that he talked about in an interview once. They were refered to as "Piss Paintings". They were canvases he left out in the street that people walked all over. This was one of those works.

Big Electric Chair

Death by electrocution was a very controversial subject in New York City. This painting was one of many in a series that's inspiration came from an image of an execution chamber at Sing Sing Correctional Facility.

News paper peices

Tell Me About the Light Blue Tower

There is a light blue tower at the end of my road. I walk past it every day on my way to school. It looks old, the paint is chipped and its wood is worn and splintering. What purpose did it have all those years ago, I wonder. Buildings weren't that vibrant in the past, and it looks about a couple decades old. What was it used for? This time instead of walking pasted it, I try to get in. The padlock on the door has been broken, It is old so I am not surprised. I open the door and it emits a loud creak. I cringe for a second but then walk in. What I see inside is more amazing then I could have ever imagined.


Blackout article
Unfair and illegal his president broached. In a statement the public was falling. Unfair action, said the president. An attack didn't appear to hurt after the dropping.

Six Word Memoirs

Too tenacious for my own good.
Did you hear what I said?
Books help me escape from reality.

Memorable Passage

“Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. “I’m okay” we say. “I’m alright”. But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can’t get it off. That’s when you realize that sometimes it isn’t even an answer–it’s a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.”

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

I remember reading this a few years back and It sticks with me to this day. I find so much truth in it and it’s inspiring. We find ways to rationalize what goes on around us, things that personally affect us. We try telling ourselves that we are okay, and whether or not this is true it does help. It’s hard not to believe ourselves, even when we are lying. It comes from the source, you say you are okay so you must be. You are conditioning yourself to feel this way. It’s just something i’ve always found interesting, how we influence ourselves. The book itself is great, and inspiring and something I would recommend to all book lovers.

Writers As Readers

I remember when I was about fifteen I checked out the book “Wake” by Lisa Mcmann and took it home. I spent about three hours straight reading that book without distractions and I finished it. The copy somehow got lost in the couch so I ended up paying for it at the library, so I still have the copy. After that I read the following two books in the series and I loved them. It was the first book I ever read in one setting. Some books I read and It takes me forever to finish, not necessarily because it was boring, but mainly because I had a lot of stuff to do and I just slowly forgot about it.

Most of what I write is intended to have no audience. No one influences my writing style that i’m aware of. I write to get things out of my mind and onto paper. Maybe some things I write are for someone in particular, but I have no intent on sharing it with them. I get sudden bursts of motivation, usually when something has happened and usually at night. I write a lot when I am alone, I listen to music. Writing helps me vent without disturbing anyone, and for me It helps.

I think that yes, someone who reads a lot will be a strong writer. In my opinion it is very difficult for someone who doesn’t like to read to be a good writer. I mean I am sure it is possible, if you derive your vocabulary skills from elsewhere, or maybe you are just naturally brilliant. I just know from knowing writers, that most all of them love to read.

My ideal reading environment would be a quiet room with no people. I remember living with my mother and siblings and they all had no interest in books so when I read they had no respect for my need of silence. I read often at night before I go to sleep, It is just when I have the time. I cannot read when people are talking, or when music is playing. I end up reading the same page three maybe even four times before giving up all together.

Keeping it Real

I think that parents forget how they were some times as a teenager, and therefore don't empathize completely with what their own is going through. A tip I would give to people parenting teenagers it that heart break is inevitable and, I think, very important. It helps them to mature and prepare for relationships they will be in in the future when they are older. Telling them that what they feel isn't love won't do anything but upset them. Be cautious and aware, but don't let your fear of them getting hurt get in the way of being happy, even if it is just for a brief amount of time.

When I was in seventh grade my best friend Kayleigh and I both liked the same guy. His name was Mathew Kelley, and he was in our grade. She was his neighbor and had knew him longer. The problem was that he knew both of us liked him and he told us that he liked me. The situation made me very upset as you can imagine, and Kayleigh told me that if I dated him that she would move away and we wouldn't be friends anymore. Mathew said she was just being selfish, but I didn't care. I didn't want to lose my best friend. Needless to say she was upset, so I didn't date him. We repaired our friendship, got over him and all was good.

I think that we all can handle the truth, we just sometimes don't want to. We may not be able to handle something well, but we can handle it. I remember when my parents told me that I wouldn't be going back to Rogersville in the middle of the year. I had been there the day before, and then all of a sudden I wasn't going back. I was so mad, but I managed to get through it and make my way through yet another new school.

I think that life is indeed full of disappointment, but it is also full of just as many surprises. I say focus on the good aspects instead of the bad. Disappointment is inevitable, but happiness can be both inevitable, and created.