tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46537750925259917972024-03-18T22:09:23.764-07:00A Handful is Just Me!Piper Tafua's way of seeing things!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-58929270190935523982012-04-29T15:35:00.000-07:002012-04-29T21:25:34.857-07:00Finally a Real Story :)<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I have been and am confused, hurt, and most of all an emotional reck. I smile to everyone around me looking happy and cheerful but in reality this poem expresses how I feel: </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Behind my smile is a hurting heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Behind my laugh I am falling apart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Look closely at me and you will see</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The girl I am isn’t me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Samone Taylor Pa’Otala! Get down here this very minute!” There she goes again. You would think grandmas don’t have mood-swings! I’ve learned my lesson.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What?,” I say dragging my voice as long as possible.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What is this?!?!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“My bowl...”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Where does it belong?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I guess in the sink.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Exactly! I am so tired of picking up after you!”. I slowly started to put the bowl in the sink with her watchful hawk eyes on me every moment. It took every piece of me not to yell, “Sorry, I have been helping my busy mom, doing my school work, watching a frantic 2 year old, and worrying about who knows what else! I have been trying my best now why don’t you try your best to treat me right!”. I know, I know I have a lot to say...</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I walked up the dark staircase, crossed the covered in dirty clothes living room, and made it to my room just before hot tears streamed down my face. People say when you cry it is because you have been strong to long. It doesn’t seem to comfort me since I think so lowly of myself. Seems more like people cry because they are to weak to handle things.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I know I may seem babyish sitting here on my bed crying just because my grandma is mad at me but there is a lot more than that going on. My whole life it feels like, I don’t deserve. Like, I don’t deserve my family, my house, my clothes, my friends, and most of all the compliments. Oh boy, compliments are my worst enemy! I feel like people are lying to me. People tell me I am pretty, have got good sportsmanship, so lucky, I am so smart. I usually just say my usual, “Heck no!,” and they get all wound up. They go on forever about how I don’t see what they see and all that. They are totally right, I DON’T see what they see.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I feel like a failure. Like, helping my mom. She has a 2 year old and a 1 month old. That is a lot to balance. I know I dedicate a lot of my time to help her but she is always still full of sorrow and burdens in the end I feel like I did a crappy job. In that way I think I am the start of everyones problems. I know I am off, but I can’t help it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I sob in my pillow I feel the need to hit a volleyball. I wipe the tears away in the mirror (and even though my teacher said it was impossible to multitask) at the same time was disgusted in what I saw. If you didn’t know what I saw it was me. I quietly and sneakily slip through the house and out the door. I find a spot in my spacious backyard that conceals me away from the view of the people inside. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I throw the volleyball up in the air and feel myself flying with it. It comes back down and I calculate quickly where it needs to hit my arm to bounce straight back up in the air. I am not excellent I can tell you that, but I know how to play. Every time the ball hits my wrists I feel another weight lifting. The ball is taking them away. Away from me. I smile even when I miss because I know life will allow me only a little bit of free time. I</span> think back to the times when I saw Jessica playing and I screamed when the ball came my way. I still do when I play with other people but I run after the ball instead of hiding away. I separate the good things and bad things that have come because of volleyball. Some good things are: Jessica and I have finally found a sport we both like and want to succeed in, makes me happier, and it is something I can play with ALL my friends. Some bad things: has made some of my friends separate themselves and quarrel over stupid stuff, made me self-conscious about something else I love, and I have gotten hurt a couple times.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Samone! Can you please get Sarah? She is shoving gum in Sandy’s mouth!,” yells my mom from the window. I guess they found me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Sure,” I yell back some what cheerful fearing she will ask what is wrong again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have four sisters and one brother. I am the oldest. It goes in this order: Samone 12 yrs. old (me), Sabrina 10 yrs. old, Sapphire 9 yrs. old, Peter 7 yrs. old, Sarah 2 yrs. old, and Sandy 1 month old. So basically, we got an issue if Sarah is shoving gum in Sandy’s mouth. She can’t even chew yet!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I drag Sarah away as she screams. I promised her even before she was born that I would be her “bestest” sister she has ever had, caring for her more than anyone else, wiping away her tears forever and always. The only way I could do that for her now was taking her far away from here. I took her outside to teach her how I deal with things. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Stop!,” she screamed as she clawed at my face and hair trying to make me give up. I have thick skin now though. It won’t work. I sit her down on the grass and hand her a rubber ball. She smiles through her tears and throws it at me. It hits my face. I laugh anyways. Me and her toss the ball back and forth, chase each other, and hide from each other till we are tired. I crawl out from hiding and lay down on the grass. It feels perfect under my hot skin and is a beautiful shade of green. I pray in my head that my dad will forget to mow it. Sarah comes out from the shed with a handful of cat food and lays next to me. Our cat, KitKat, walks up to Sarah for the food. Sarah opens up her hand and KitKat’s purring engine comes on and licks up the food. Sarah giggles and wiggles at the feel of KitKat’s tongue on her palm. She may not be able to communicate with me very well, but me and her, well we are bonded stronger than anything I have ever experienced before. We lay there, just me and her watching the sky get darker and insects flying past our noses. She dozes off. Peaceful is what I would call the look on her face. None of her features are hardened or exaggerated. So nice to know at the end of the day she is still her sometimes. I carry her into the house, upstairs, in our room, and carefully set her on her bed. So peaceful...</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I know it is dinner time, but I don’t feel like eating. I jump in bed, close my eyes, and even drool a little. If they think I am asleep they won’t wake me for dinner.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Samone, SAMONE!! It’s dinner!,” says Sabrina obviously annoyed. She shakes me around a bit, but I just turn around and moan. She falls for it and sings as she skips back down the stairs:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Samone, the little lazy head!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She acts as if might be dead!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The little nerdy nerd!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Her glasses make her look like a terd!”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wow soo mature Sabrina. If only she knew how many times I have killed her in </span>my mind...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I lay there aware that I have an hour where I can relax or think things through. As I go through my day something sticks out in my mind. George. It is really kind of awkward and complicated, me and him. You see, he makes me laugh when no one else can during class. Not a fake forced laugh, a for real, can barely stop laugh. Plus, I am fairly serious during class time. Ha, who am I kidding? Still though only boy to make me laugh during class. People are bugging me (I don’t know about him) about how we should date or ask if we are. So weird. I can’t even date anyway! I swear though every girl in the room was or is in love with him, but at the same time trying to set us up. It is kind of sweet of them, I guess. The one thing I have not admitted is that I like him. It’s like he has penetrated through my wall or shield that kept me from being hurt. Instead of hurting me though he made me feel comfortable. I could tell him everything and he wouldn’t treat me any different. Unless, maybe it was special treatment. It makes me feel special. I rarely feel special so I just hold on to that feeling. I can never find the time to say thanks...</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I found myself counting the colorful glow in the dark stars on my cream ceiling as my eyes fluttered to a close. Then they where commanded to flutter back open with Sapphire’s words.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Samone? If you are going to sleep can you make a bottle?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“For who?,” I muttered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“For Sarah,” Sapphire said sleepily as she hopped in her covers that where identical to mine and Sabrina’s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> I sigh. Even when I am “asleep” I don’t get a break, I think. I pull myself out of bed. I shuffle my feet to exaggerate the amount of effort I am putting into getting up. I can’t help but feeling claustrophobic when I walk through the living room to get to the stairs. It is so cluttered! When I finally get down stairs my feet are freezing. The tan slats of tile are so cold! I grab a bottle and rinse it out in the sink. I begin to twirl on my way to the fridge. I get dizzy and WHAM, I hit my face on the fridge door. I fall on my butt and all the colors blur except for the fridge which is still bright white. I feel my face for any broken bones and then laugh it off like I do with everything else. Even when no one is watching and even when it really hurts inside (or outside.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> After some time, difficulties, and dizziness I finally made a bottle for Sarah. I wasn’t in the best mood by now, so I slammed the bottle on her dresser and threw myself on my bed. I moaned. For a record amount of time too, until I heard voices shushing me. It brought back a faint happy memory of someone shushing me when I was already quiet and he was the one talking. George. I fell asleep with that in mind and dreamed some weird dreams.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Girls! Girls! You need to wake up! I’m not kidding this time!,” squealed an undersized 7 year old boy in my room named Peter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Just one more minute please? Of peace and quiet... And peace?,” I whispered as my voice cracked.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Get up! You went to bed early anyway you should have been up first!,” says Sapphire from the bathroom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sarah walks up to me, raises her hand and slaps it back down on my face.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Stop!,” she yells at the top of her lungs. Sometimes I wonder if this is the only word she knows.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">sluggishly sit up and rub my eyes. Another morning, another day, another nightmare to unfold. What awaits me today, I wonder. My favorite blue felt blanket that I made in Ohio is on the ground along with half of my very very old flower covers and pillow. I guess I had a restless night. I dig my toes in the carpet that my mom says used to be white. When I get to my dresser (which feels like forever) I pull out a simple pink ruffle shirt and a navy blue lace sweater off of a hanger. I spend forever picking out just the right pair of jeans. I change, do the tiniest bit of make-up possible, do my hair, and skip breakfast as usual.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The rest of the morning goes by quickly. Get to school, work on math, you know everyday stuff. Then it is break. Yeah, volleyball, I think. Ha, so I think.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You gay Mormon!,” I hear someone yell from somewhere in the basketball quart. I freeze. I am a Mormon. I am proud of it and I don’t care who said it and what their reasoning is I wasn’t happy. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Who said that?,” I ask the few girls around me.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Oh, I did. Your not Mormon are you?,” she asks ever so innocently.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Yes I am. Know...,” I trail off and turn around. I don’t feel like talking.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“It wasn’t directed toward you I promise! We didn’t know!,” says another girl. I know maybe you didn’t direct it toward me, I think, but it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t make it right! I AM a Mormon. I hear more people saying it and the girls who apologized still are too. I don’t know what to say. If they where real friends they would stop completely instead of apologizing, saying it’s not about me, and do it again. I walk away uncomfortable and confused. There is nothing wrong with my religion. People have no idea! They just hear rumors and make worse one and pass those ones on. Not cool. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I tried to ignore the rest of the school day, but that didn’t work out very well. We switched classes and went to Mrs. Clemp’s class. I heard we were switching seats in her class. I was hoping I wasn’t going to be stuck with talkers again so I can learn.</span></span></div>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Usually my group conversations are more interesting and I get sucked up in those instead of boring papers and things like that. I might be a bit more interested in class if I knew that there would be a reward for being good, but I can never count on it. Even if Mrs. Clemp says we will be doing something fun usually she changes her mind or it isn’t really fun at all. She just doesn’t know that is all. She doesn’t know how to have fun which is very unfortunate and sad. Maybe, somebody should teach her how.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">We all line up against the wall waiting for her to call our names and point to our seats. She starts but I am not listening till she calls my name. I look quickly to see who else is in my group and where my group is. I moan, and for a good reason to. I am sitting in a group full of talkers! George sits across from me, his x-girlfriend, Taylor, sits next to him, and Abby sits next to me. I like Abby she is nice, but the other two are nightmares. I mean don’t get me wrong I like the both of them, but put together it is like 3rd grade girl drama all over again! Except it isn’t just girls...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Oh please someone tell me why I am in this group?!? This is terrible! I have to sit next to you!” Taylor shoots a look over at George.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Taylor don’t start a fight please,” I say really not wanting to hear it today. George rolls his eyes and leaves. Who knows why, he gets up to get paper all the time then he licks it. Weird.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You are just sticking up for him because you like him!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Nooo. If you didn’t sit down and say something rude then maybe he wouldn’t be</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">mean back!,” I say raising my eyebrows. I am tired of arguing about stupid stuff like this with her. George sits back down and turns all the way around do his back is facing Taylor. This is going to be a very long day... George and Taylor don’t stop fighting for a very long time. Oh wait they never did! Time seems to pass like molasses. In other words, very slowly. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Finally it is Social Studies. We are studying Alexander the Great and he seems like a pretty interesting guy. When we open up our books I glance around the table to make sure everyone is on the right page. I see George is not only on the wrong page but the page he is was supposed to be done yesterday.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“George, you missed that whole...”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I was interrupted (or maybe I interrupted her I’m not sure) by Mrs. Clemp’s eyes staring down at me.</span></span> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I wasn’t talking!,” says George.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I was, I was just showing,” I pointed to George’s book. Her face tells me I am not helping myself so I shut up. She looks around the table. Every second seems like a minute. When she looks at me I can’t look at her back because all I will see in her eyes are disappointment. Which there shouldn’t be any in her eyes because I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just helping George out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I see I made a mistake in this group”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“Yeah no kidding,” mumbles Taylor under her breathe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“And it isn’t you,” she looks at George (this next part nearly made me scream in disbelief), “It is heeeer,” she says very slowly while looking at me. I suddenly feel the whole class looking at me. I keep myself together, but find myself glaring at her. I hastily change my facial expression to regret (not at all what I was feeling by the way) to keep myself from being sent outside. Never before have I had a teacher hate me so much. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I’ll have to fix this,” she says as she takes a quick glance around and gets right back to reading aloud. I hope she won’t fix it the way my old Hula teacher fixed Sapphire’s problem of singing in class! She put duct tape on her mouth and then at the end of class ripped it off. Bad memories. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">George laughs and smiles at me when Mrs. Clemp is not looking. I shake my head in disbelief, but manage a smile.</span></span> </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">We switch classes again. It is time for P.E. We get the chose of volleyball or dodgeball. Obviously, I pick volleyball. I’m in the court, I see the ball coming down, only a couple feet away, I can make it if I go now, I can do it. Oh! I didn’t make it! I look down and see that my feet didn’t even move! A couple of comments and the ball is back in the air. It is coming my way. I don’t even think and just block it from my face. A couple of complaints and I am out. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Why didn’t I get that? Why am I missing? The most important question is why am I not laughing? It is not like me at all...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I walk over to dodgeball and watch the rest of the game. George is the last one on one side of the game. Balls are flying at him from all directions. He misses them all by so little! I watch and cheer from the side and then BOOM! One of the yellow balls hits him right in the face... Ouch. I can see it hurt but he is up again ignoring the pain demanding the next round of games. He is doing almost exactly what I do. Shake it off and laugh. Except he isn’t laughing. He is pretending like nothing happened, just as eager to play again.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Jessica walks up to me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“So you got in trouble today?!”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“Oh please. I was just telling George that he missed a whole page and she got all mad.” Jessica didn’t say anything. I started to feel awkward.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“Ya know... I hope he isn’t changing you. Or you aren’t changing for him,” she says lightly. I laugh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">“No, no he isn’t!” I say defensively and in shock that she would think such a thing. Deep inside of me though something clicked, and I could feel it. I was just to afraid to admit it. I walked away unable to rely on what was written on my face. I couldn't understand what she said or stop thinking about it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Finally when I was home, in my backyard, in the shade of the gazebo, laying on the cement, with chalk in my hand, I understood what she meant.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> Before I met George was a completely different person. I would still laugh and smile but I would work my butt off in class. I didn’t have teachers that hated me (although I don’t know if that counts). I didn’t talk in class or put things aside. I didn’t get distracted so easily. I couldn’t believe it. Yeah, George did make me happier when I was sad and stood up for me when I was brought down, but I shouldn’t ever have to change for anyone. I will only be taken for who I am. I am thankful for those times when George brought out the best in me. In fact I don’t think anyone else could have done it. I realize I have some things to fix. I could </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">still be friends with George I just had to be careful that he didn’t change me. Thank you, Jessica for giving me a chance to realize that...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">To Be Continued... </span></span></div>
</div>Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-56912544496443613622011-01-21T17:19:00.000-08:002011-01-21T17:22:42.313-08:00STUFFI am not able to write on my blog on my computer so I can on;y write on here occasionally when I get a chance. I am so exited for this new year! Aren't you? Although every day it is farther and farther into it... This year will go by fast. I just know it.. I hope you all have a great year!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-83560950973960442572010-12-25T12:54:00.000-08:002010-12-25T13:05:33.623-08:00Stuff 4 U 2 Read<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am SO sorry I have not written on here for so long. It is just our computer broke down. Then when we got a new one it wouldn't let me on my own blog. For Christmas Santa ;) got Amzie, Paizlie, Truman, and me a NEW imac computer! I am on it right now! I also got a bed for my American Girl Doll along with a new outfit. I feel bad because my doll, Felicity, is going to be discontinued. I also feel bad for the people in the world were Santa forgot to visit. :( I love Christmas especially because I get to be with my family on Christmas!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-80597654859421456882010-11-13T11:09:00.000-08:002010-11-13T11:15:03.786-08:00BLOGS!!!!!OK so I made a new blog (not that I won't still write on this one.) Instead of it being about me it is going to be about a girl named Emily and her adventures. She is going to have a personality like Paizlie but look like Amzie. I am going to make a fake character and it just sounds cool!!! If you want to go to it there will be a link on the side of my blog that says "Emily". I hope you guys like it!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-81588400313626687432010-11-13T10:14:00.001-08:002010-11-13T10:31:34.559-08:00GrazyGrazy is a kitten that Moe gave birth to shortly after she healed from breaking her hip. Grazy is amazingly cute. She is fluffy with a smoky gray color hair. She has a brother named Tige. She is so cute that she already has a customer ( Amzie's teacher.) Another thing that happened is that Grazy we think possibly ate a poisoned mouse. We didn't know it till today when she died. We did know she had worms but that is it. We gave her medicine last night and hoped for it to get better. This morning I found her under a tree stiff but breathing. I knew she was dying but I didn't want to tell Paizlie because I knew she would cry. I put her in a box and put her in the sun and went to go tell my mom. I wanted her to out and see her but she waited until a little bit after breakfast. When she finally went out she was taking her last breathes and died. Paizlie was crying and well my dad was a dad(didn't know what was the big deal and trying to say he understood.) It was really sad and especially the fact that Kalani was there for the whole thing...................Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-31111874968299918132010-11-11T12:17:00.000-08:002010-11-11T12:28:55.917-08:00Oh, Boy!!!I am going somewhere special in the early December by plane to surprise one of my cousins. I can not say where or who because if I say the surprise will be ruined. I can't wait because we will have so much fun! "THE PERSON" will be so surprised I just can't wait! While I am there though I am going to miss a whole week of school! Bad idea because we have lots of half days and days off for holidays so we are already very behind. I will update you guys after I go!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-26238357398899849522010-11-11T11:57:00.000-08:002010-11-11T12:16:29.783-08:00Haircuts and Waxed EyebrowsI got my Eyebrows waxed because my mom said I was growing a unabrow which was the truth but hard to admit. It felt like someone was ripping off a whole bunch of tape off my eyebrows. I was super nervous because my cousin told me it hurt really bad. I just thought it hurt a whole lot worse that it did. Paizlie the toughest girl in the family was whimpering and crying.<br /> I also got a haircut like Phoebe's. Phoebe was kind of jealous that we would get it to because she wanted it to be a"one of a kind" haircut. It is pretty short. I can't put it in a pony anymore but that does not matter because now I like showing it off! I can't wait top show everyone at school my new look!!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-12540270827957690982010-11-11T11:55:00.000-08:002010-12-14T18:59:15.610-08:00Sorry..I have meant to blog but our computer broke down and we had to get a new one.Our new one won't let me get on my blog. so I am on my grandpa's computer. It is REALLY OLD!!! So it is my B-day on the 16th and I am SO exited!!! My mom said I spent pretty much all my B-day in Ohio. I already got a letter from my only living great-grandma and great-grandpa. I wish U all a Happy Christmas and New Year! I can't believe it came so FAST! Before you know it it will be 2012! Thanks 4 checking out my blog!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-78160753558980087462010-11-11T11:46:00.000-08:002010-11-11T11:54:46.230-08:00Penelope!!!My sister Penelope is hilarious and funny. Last night she was crawling on the couch and then I came up crawling on my hands and knees and growled. She was laughing so hard that she fell to the couch and tried to crawl away. That didn't work so well so she just buried her head in the pillow and laughed and laughed and laughed. I really don't want her to grow up but at the same time I do so she can take care of herself. That cute little girl..... If you have not seen her you really need to before she is a fat 1 year old!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-86362736513391966462010-09-26T10:36:00.000-07:002010-11-11T11:45:44.905-08:00My TeacherMy teacher's name is Nancy Contreras. She is an amazing teacher!!!!!! She is also witty like supposedly my mom and I. A few days ago she was calling me a big fat loser for not remembering to turn in my library books. So I was supposed to make a loser sign on my forehead. It was sooo not worth it! :) ( I did not make the sign on my forehead that would be to funny to bear!) I think Mrs. Contreras is way to funny!!! She sometimes even says that we start our test only when she says zucchini and then she will say all these other fruits and veggies and then finally zucchini. I noticed though that only a couple people and I laugh at her jokes. WEIRD!!!!!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-63600480682025054492010-09-24T16:17:00.000-07:002010-09-26T10:35:23.539-07:00Do U Remember?????Do U guys out there remember when I posted a post that said I really wanted that backpack?????? Well I got!!!!! I love it so much and it is not broken!! Yippee!!! It also has lots and lots of room for books! It was exiting that I got a matching Thermos, Lunch Pale, and a thingy to keep your food warm. I changed my mind on what backpack I wanted, though. This time it has pink butterflies. I will try to put a picture of it on here.Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-13616601163123797412010-05-01T18:23:00.000-07:002010-07-17T09:44:31.758-07:00Even More Kittens!!!!So this is quite the surprise but Moe out of no were got pregnant and had kittens.So I so hope any of U out there would love a kitten! There are three out there for U!That is pretty much all I have to say!ByePiperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-20454203411508847262010-04-25T13:37:00.000-07:002010-04-25T13:41:54.500-07:00Backround!I Piper Tafua maybe if you have noticed has learned how to change her background thanks to my Aunt Mellisa. I was searching for a new background when I saw the most adorable background I have seen for millions of years immediately I had to put it on my blog! I hope you enjoy it! I also changed the title of my blog. It really is true. Just like my old one!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-58076482757297419712010-04-12T20:34:00.000-07:002010-04-12T20:41:18.939-07:00Aleia!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMDFZ-NvUBhyphenhyphenQ5mqC8TiYz0XCk1UwFkuepsmTgSpSUIR_nOnAzYHdgGQvRlxYDltQ-4pxHpFxZBMOwGLJPULbZzkpLZWON8O0es12iWTlEogAGLzkE25eUNZxqjjLmBDFz7J_ZJRG08w/s1600/turtle+report.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMDFZ-NvUBhyphenhyphenQ5mqC8TiYz0XCk1UwFkuepsmTgSpSUIR_nOnAzYHdgGQvRlxYDltQ-4pxHpFxZBMOwGLJPULbZzkpLZWON8O0es12iWTlEogAGLzkE25eUNZxqjjLmBDFz7J_ZJRG08w/s400/turtle+report.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459460522876522722" border="0" /></a><br />Aleia is my BFFE (Best Friend For Eternity). I couldn't find a picture of her any bigger so don't whine or cry please. She is the one in the skirt. I have known her sense Kindergarten. Then she was extremely shy but now she is as hyper as an elephant on a ball! which is not a bad thing at all! I love my BFFE!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-83112843327885547712010-04-12T20:13:00.000-07:002010-04-12T20:17:52.293-07:00My Uncle's Moves!My Uncle lately has been doing some pretty groovy moves tonight! All the sudden he got up and turned around and started shaking his mula (butt). Manhattan got him in big trouble! i thought he could go on America's Funniest Home Videos if we got a video of him doing it. Also every tie he turned around after that we all laughed. I'm sad(slightly) (He He) that he has to leave tomorrow.Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-9290958730098289112010-04-12T17:06:00.000-07:002010-04-12T17:46:30.912-07:00CousinsMy cousins came and some are still here. Manhattan,Marin,Maxwell, and Kaiya came for Easter. We have had the most fun time here. On Saturday we went to my mission. We went to the Zoo and went on a train to. The train that we first went on was a fake little one. When we went to my mission we rode on a real train that went super fast. I love it when my cousins come. We were sad though because Kaiya had to leave earlier than Manhattan's family. Luckily though Kaiya got to stay one more day with us.Tomorrow sadly Manhattan,Marin,Maxwell,Aunt Melissa,and Uncle Morgan are leaving back to Ohio.Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-91307426693767286592010-04-11T19:00:00.000-07:002010-04-12T17:47:52.266-07:00Funny!Today it was pouring outside. I realized the cat had moved her kitten outside and that they where probably soaking. When I went to check on them I come to find 3 cats under the piles of ladders and wood. There was Fluffy (kitten) , Moe (cat from 1st litter) , and Kitty (the mother of them all) . I thought it was so cute because they were all snuggled in there together. I had to get them out of there though so I took Fluffy away and of course Kitty followed me! I put them in the shed and ran back out to get the cushion. I just yanked it out from under Moe because he honestly doesn't care! When I came late to check on them Fluffy was missing. The bucket I had put him in was tipped over and he was MISSING! Then I saw Moe at the top of all the cushions way up high (6 inches shorter than the ceiling). I thought maybe just maybe Fluffy was up there because lately Moe has been trying to be the mother. I climbed up there and sure enough Fluffy was fast asleep next to Moe. I took Fluffy back down thinking Moe moved him up there. Then when I came back again Moe was gone and Fluffy was back up there because Kitty had moved him back up there so I just left him up there and said,"Fluffy oh Fluffy!", Fluffy looked down at me and turned his head back and forth. I thought it was adorable!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-21838316704083544092010-04-11T13:48:00.000-07:002010-04-11T14:46:55.078-07:00Kittens!So the title may tell you Yippee but this story has NO Yippee. My cat on Sun. afternoon was having contractions on my lap, surprisingly. I had thought that maybe she wasn't going to have the kittens till tomorrow because of my moms baby and how she didn't have Penelope for EVER! Anyway this yucky mucky stuff was coming out of her so I thought fast and shoved her off my lap to help her find a place to have her babies. We didn't have a place ready for her because we had just found out 2 days ago that she was pregnant. While I was looking my siblings saw me outside. On Sun. we are not allowed outside so they opened the window and yelled at me to get my fanny inside. I told them through the window that the kittens where being born. Right when they where going to turn around to run outside I told them to stay up there because there ruckus could could scare the cat away. Of course someone has to only hear the kittens are being born. In this case it was Amzie. So I had to let them all out. After she had her first baby my mom found us outside and was REALLY mad. Amzie looked over at me and asked me through her face if we should tell my mom. I answered back N-O! She turned her face and told my mom anyway. My mom wasn't so mad now. She rushed outside and sure enough you could here that kitten screaming at the top of his lungs. The next day 5 kittens where safety born. 1 day after being born a strange thing happened. There where horse flies all around the kittens and mother. All of the kittens seemed fine, but they weren't. The next day 3 kittens had disappeared. We had just figured she was moving the kittens, but boy where we wrong! It had been hours and she still didn't move the other kittens. The other kittens had disappeared! We were all frantic. There were so many possibilities what could have happened to them. That night I had told my mom that there was a runt between the two kittens left there with there mother, and that it might die. she doubted it. So I went with it. The next day the runt that happened to be mine and the one I was talking about had died. I was horrified. The next day the cat had eaten all of the dead kitten's head except the head. She brought the head in the shed with the other kitten. My dad had found it and didn't tell us so that we wouldn't be even more sad. Paizlie unfortunately had heard about this told everyone and still sounded pretty cheerful because only hers was left alive. I decided I was going to bury the kitten head but I couldn't do it with everyone outside. So grandma made everyone go inside. Paizlie did not listen so I screamed at her then my dad came outside and I put my fists in the air and said get rid of her over and over while I was running toward the back of the house and the fence. My dad tried following me but he lost track of me and got scared because he couldn't find me. What I had done is I had jumped over the fence and ran to the front to grab a sharp metal stick to point at Paizlie to make her leave. My dad was outside though so I couldn't bury the head finally they all left and I buried the head in peace. Now today there is only one kitten left and he is wall eyed but a healthy kitten.Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-29569794158380088812010-03-03T12:36:00.000-08:002010-03-03T12:48:50.540-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkJyIUbTI1GnO54vU76l6PYlYzhgXPtHi5zElF4oxNcB9EIhOdqERZPDkyXY9bj_TIkhcsTquJ1gnDoJBJWa-wAwO0YB05JdpieIoNT7ROL1ifxuEOCm6fc4xDnLQE4Ia-Z-YQu5wW1I/s1600-h/img74m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 357px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkJyIUbTI1GnO54vU76l6PYlYzhgXPtHi5zElF4oxNcB9EIhOdqERZPDkyXY9bj_TIkhcsTquJ1gnDoJBJWa-wAwO0YB05JdpieIoNT7ROL1ifxuEOCm6fc4xDnLQE4Ia-Z-YQu5wW1I/s200/img74m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444509335796006418" border="0" /></a><br />So I was looking at backpacks when I went to PBK (Pottery Barn Kids), and they had the most cute and useful backpacks in the world! It even has a place for your MP3 player, laptop, individual pens and pencils, and more! Now I wish I could be begging for a backpack! Amzie my sister does not like any of them! She says their to girly! I either want the one on white chair or the one on the floor. It is the blue one! wish me luck in getting one!<br /><br />:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-7208911408470227262010-01-20T18:58:00.000-08:002010-04-09T20:00:42.816-07:00Family Rocks!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHvZFRCoFAsy_FVebxAjnNUNrnActD3nozq1iaDrQt6jZ49UXgh8uWvyrGPXEsff3bsBnaxUstuAwYA61pzOdM1FhZ2h4K9YFulXqlHF1V_Z4_7S1AsdXfQ-lX4hTy_8Yz49JZ23mf1I/s1600-h/Melissa+July+Pictures+101.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHvZFRCoFAsy_FVebxAjnNUNrnActD3nozq1iaDrQt6jZ49UXgh8uWvyrGPXEsff3bsBnaxUstuAwYA61pzOdM1FhZ2h4K9YFulXqlHF1V_Z4_7S1AsdXfQ-lX4hTy_8Yz49JZ23mf1I/s200/Melissa+July+Pictures+101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444146881304732146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs5mLpHc98G37dNEliObL7vpJlETyrA9CGNe7JROSwu7YUpTOLe4hw_ZxVVzn-FsAzUhIs3pJ89zWrft-nkqZJUzlCefA_A9dULouNyw9UV8js3YK1Th24c8jjMqLrcpIVvlTswkAE_4/s1600-h/Swimming+7-10-09+019.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs5mLpHc98G37dNEliObL7vpJlETyrA9CGNe7JROSwu7YUpTOLe4hw_ZxVVzn-FsAzUhIs3pJ89zWrft-nkqZJUzlCefA_A9dULouNyw9UV8js3YK1Th24c8jjMqLrcpIVvlTswkAE_4/s200/Swimming+7-10-09+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444146870258610562" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3Kv6V3Yo040DuCbUUeYdTmZ7QN3JOtqQGyBl8BD8dh1Z3ctB5MnpU1bJxy8B7GM9dyYTyWVqHqIz9TBp2G5T6PIvoGLb9u2zlWEFmHSrq93Fw1JdzGpHYNcItV04AYp1WQxSox_rxGU/s1600-h/Melissa+July+Pictures+113.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3Kv6V3Yo040DuCbUUeYdTmZ7QN3JOtqQGyBl8BD8dh1Z3ctB5MnpU1bJxy8B7GM9dyYTyWVqHqIz9TBp2G5T6PIvoGLb9u2zlWEFmHSrq93Fw1JdzGpHYNcItV04AYp1WQxSox_rxGU/s200/Melissa+July+Pictures+113.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444146856676860978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqvhbOslXsfPd2ouEEDfCx1HLOf2w7EeaqPzS65h-d6rJieR__pWkTXssoC76wAlyFm9eEFKgwnvnJ64SBoi80lnUtfdGBoHeFDgJyNbPC9kjzDSIg8YafmYVrx1NbjDcNpVGJ3-IWp8/s1600-h/Melissa+July+Pictures+118.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqvhbOslXsfPd2ouEEDfCx1HLOf2w7EeaqPzS65h-d6rJieR__pWkTXssoC76wAlyFm9eEFKgwnvnJ64SBoi80lnUtfdGBoHeFDgJyNbPC9kjzDSIg8YafmYVrx1NbjDcNpVGJ3-IWp8/s200/Melissa+July+Pictures+118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444146843211319234" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">So have you ever said to yourself that you hate your family?Well, I love my family and everybody does and should. Even if you say well I really do deep inside you really do! I love my family and here are some pictures of them!</span><br /></span></span>Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-71664734203709973852010-01-16T13:50:00.000-08:002010-04-09T20:01:15.496-07:00My news!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" >Anyway,I have turned ten and I got for Christmas an American Girl Doll.There very pretty!Thanks Santa Claus! I'm in 4th grade and my teacher is Mrs.Cordono.She is the best!My mom is pregnant and yet mad at the baby for not coming when she wants her to.Her name is going to be Penelope. My Aunt Monnet just had her 23 b-day yesterday!she looked AMAZING!</span><br /></div>Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-47632032616147931132010-01-16T13:41:00.000-08:002010-04-09T20:01:43.258-07:00Knock Knock!Anyone There?People Hello?<div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">OK,I agreed that I would post but nobody's looking!or at least I think!I know Genesis can't but that doesn't mean other people can't!Well,I guess it's my fault anyway!I haven't posted FOREVER!No wonder nobody looks anymore!What kind of a idiot like me would do that?Oh,wait ME!Well,I guess I'll tell my news on my next post.</span></span></div>Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-29621052354792449492010-01-07T11:02:00.000-08:002010-01-07T11:05:43.038-08:00SORRY!!!!!!!!!OK I'm totally sorry for not posting for nearly a year that is just stupid of me !!!!!!!I promise I'll start posting again I might get addicted to it again!Anyway Happy New Year and don't ever forget how amazing I am!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-25166533252558826682009-11-29T11:04:00.000-08:002010-01-07T11:06:24.361-08:00Yippppeeeeeee!<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >My mom is going to have the baby soon and I am exited yet scared because I'm worried that I might be to young for the jobs she gives me for when she comes!Although I'm 10 and at that age you can handle almost anything!So I think I'm pretty dumb for that!any way I'll post million story's about my baby sister when she comes!</span>:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4653775092525991797.post-17200420076241497062009-03-31T16:22:00.000-07:002009-05-04T18:57:07.930-07:00Anybody's World<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" > <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> Introduction</span></span> Hi,my my name is Rebbecca.I'm the most unusual person any one has ever met.I know that sounds very weird but it's not to me cause I'm me.I think I'm probably a little crazy because I made my own world.It's called anybody's world.I don't think it's that pretty or cool but if you like it that's okay.But let me start the story! <span style="font-size:180%;"> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">1 Chapter</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"> How Just How? </span></span> I lived in a very small and dirty house.It was very stinky .One day I went to look around .I was in a place where it was cold , dark ,and garbage piled every where. But I liked it ,it was a perfect place for me because I could do something with it.Heres the question what do I do with it? Oh now I know I'll make things .For my family's graveyard ,oh yes I have forgotten to bring up something.I don't have a family.At least a talking puppet named Sara.I'm also very poor.I'm fine with it, it's just one little problem.I don't have supportive parents either.My parents only died on the 5 of January and today is the 23 of January.Maybe I could make a thing called a bell. Yeah!In these days it was 1010 ,this was years and years ago.Everybody on the earth right now was so not born then.So they didn't have bells back then.They didn't invent bells back way then and I was the first child to ever invent something.I wanted to make something called the bell because my moms name was Beckie ,and my dads name is Llewellyn with to ll 's and I wanted two letters from my parents name of something I'm going to invent.And that will remind me of my parents.So I started to invent but always thought just how am going to make it. In these days people really had three kinds of instruments .I wanted to make something new.So I did first I got piece of metal. I got a bowl shaped thing and I curved the edges outward.Then I got a thin piece of metal.I found a metal ball.I put the thin piece of metal through the middle of the bowl, and the other one on the bottom of the bowl.I took the metal ball and put it on the end of the thin metal. It looked very awkward.I went out in the streets and tried to let it sit there.Then I tried to wiggle it upside down.Then I tried the write way and it made the most beautiful noise in the world.People from all directions looked at me people stared out there windows.I ran home and went to bed.Next morning I got on my best clothes and ran back to the junkyard.I grabbed a jar that said 25cents perfect I thought.I ran next to the bench and yelled out to hear a bell for 25cents come over hear!man when I got home I had 10,750cents.In a month I had invented 20 things and made 200$.Lots of money to me.Then it was my fake birthday!(I don't know my real birthday).I was turning 9 years old!For my fake birthday I went to go shopping. I redid my house to make it more stylish. I started going to school and on the first day I got ten friends! One of my dreams came true just because of a piece of junk.I was proud of myself until I .....................retired.<span style="font-size:180%;"> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> 2 Chapter</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Rich Kid</span></span> I became one of the most famous people in the world.I also became one of the most richest people any one has ever seen.I kept making things and never stopped.I couldn't help it...it...it it was something I needed to do to survive.I thought I'd die if I didn't have money. But that wasn't true.I decided that I had enough money to last a life time.So I tried to be a normal kid.I quit trying to get money. I really wanted to be a normal kid it was just so hard.I didn't have enough room for any of my stuff any more and the money didn't have a room. So there was a good reason to quit.I had a hard time about thinking something to tell everybody that I'm quitting.So I decided that I would throw a big sale and then after a year or so I would go back to business.Being rich and quitting is a problem caused after you quit .Also people who are rich you know are really famous are asked by a bunch of people why did you quit.I used to tell them I didn't it's still in my heart ,and they never believed me.So I said''just back of''.As the year ended less people wanted me back.I grew lonely,tired,and bored so I knew getting back into being one of those special people would make me happy again.And hopefully people around the world love me all over again.I didn't do it for the money I did it for the happiness!Piperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01334858298076232081noreply@blogger.com2