In response to the fire that has hurt many

This is a response to the southern Californian wildfire that has caused many people to lose their homes and also has had more people that were evacuated than in Hurricane Katrina.
I want the people who have been affected by this fire as I have to know that "We" will stand with you, and know that you are in my prayers. Do not loose hope my fellow Californians.
Also I believe that the law enforcement and the fire fighters that have helped people evacuate and have saved many people's homes and lives deserve a standing ovation. Thank you for your work that has helped and will continue to help the people in this dire situation.

Thank you to the businesses that are helping us out because it is the right thing to do; not because of financial gain.

Special thanks to :

The vet who used his buissness to board pets for free (you know who you are)

The man who knocked on people's doors even after the declaration of evacuation to see if they understood.

There are so many people that have helped us out, so many people that care and it would be nigh impossible for me to mention every one.You know if you did something to help other people, and if you did thank you.

If you have any news that you have found out about call 1-800-600-kogo, and let the rest of us know.

Be happy, Stay safe. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Armenian Genocide Bill Approved ..... Yeah!!!!!!!!!!

Hey Armenia, today is your day to celebrate.

The genocide that has been covered up for 95 years is now finally out in the open. Huzzah!!! The ruthless killing of 1.5 million Armenian's in the World war 1 era is now out there for the world to see. Justice at last!

" The Foreign Affairs Commitee's adoption today of the Armenian Genocide resolution represents a meaningful step towards reclaiming our right-as Americans-to speak openly and honestly of about the first Genocide of the 20th century, said Aram Hamparian, executive director of of the Armenian National Comitee of America.

The Turnstile - written by - Janea Mark

Once there was a girl who is my mom, well she wasn't my mom then . Whoa wait let me tell this story from the beginning. So one day my mom at the age of 17 was coming home from school and boy was she in a sour mood.
That day my mom whose name is Rita went down to the underground subway system of New York.
The day was June 29Th of 1990 , that day in school Rita had received awful news from her college counselor, supposedly she didn't qualify for the college that she wanted to attend so there was no point in Rita's even trying to apply.
Rita was crushed. She wanted to attend Harvard and from there go on to law school. So as Rita entered the subway and just as she went to go through the turnstile it jammed. Just as this was happening to the already grumpy Rita a boy shouted ," Hey Rita!, how's it going?" A boy from school was trying to be nice, and Rita retaliated with "how do you think it's going?, does it look like I am having a good day? sarcasm, why do you ask such stupid questions?"
The boy whose name was James Cooden immediately backed off and said in a slightly softer voice, "hey I am sorry your day was so bad if you want to talk about it go ahead and give me a call."
James then pointed out which turnstiles were working and left Rita alone and went on his own way home. As Rita rode the subway in silence alone she got to thinking that maybe she was a little harsh on James, after all how was he to know she had a bad day?
So a little begrudgingly Rita decided that when she got home she would call James and apologize.
When she got home that is exactly what she did, Rita called James explained her dilemma and why she was in a sour mood and apologized for taking it all out on James. James was very gracious and accepted her apology and told her to go for her dreams and try to apply anyways. Rita stayed up late that night, thought it over, and came to the conclusion that she was going to send for an application. She got up early and sent for an application and got to work on her essays.
A period of time passed and Rita became close friends with James, so when the letter came in the mail from Harvard Rita opened it with James reading over her shoulder. It was a letter of acceptance.
James and Rita then became inseparable each rooting each other on and helping the other reach for their dreams, Rita became an attorney at law just like she had always wished and James became a school teacher teaching 12 grade English.
So, when James asked for my Mom's hand in marriage, after all they had been through together Rita couldn't say no, so she said yes and they got married and well they had me.
For their anniversary each year they don't go out to dinner at a fancy reservations only, type of restaurant.
They always eat at the hot dog stand in front of the turnstile that brought them together.

The sad pathetic ability that society utilises .... Stereotyping

Stereotypes are what we as a society have to deal and live with everyday. But just because we deal with it doesn't make it right.
A stereotype is an over simplified generalization about a type of people, it is a label that unknowingly we put on ourselves and each other. For example: cheerleaders are blond and stupid, jocks are jerks that date stupid blond girls,all Asians are smart, all Americans are obese,and all Mexicans are illegals who break laws.
Honestly, each and every one of these "stereotypes" can be proven wrong and is proven wrong almost every day.
Really what a stereotype is the sad pathetic ability that we each have and utilize.
I picked this picture of a cheerleader because this is one of the many stereotypes that society has set.

Tranquility

Tranquility is the process of being tranquil. Tranquility is being at peace with yourself and your surroundings; being serene and calm.Tranquil reminds me of being at a lake where everything including the water is still.

Flourish

Flourish is to succeed or grow, go forth, to thrive as this Calla Lilly will do. Flourish can also mean a dramatic gesture or overly dramatic and I think this picture also fits that definition by the striking contrast of the flower against the black.

A joke that I thought was funny

OK I don't really have a joke that I would say is my favorite because there are way too many things to laugh at in this world so it is hard to pick just one.

Well here is my joke:

A man was in a coma and his wife sat by the side of his bed while he drifted in and out of consciousness. when the man awoke he motioned to his wife to listen to what he was going to say.

"You know what honey you have been right by my side every time something bad happened, when I got shot, when I was fired,when I got in the car accident, and all the other times."

"yes..."

"you know what honey, I think you are bad luck"

Calling out to all other Middle Easterners!! (part or full)

hello, people of all ethnicities!
This particular post is an experiment to see how many people will add a comment to this. So this is a shout out to all fellow Middle Easterners who are proud of their origin and ready to say huzzah. So If you are Iranian, Armenian, Turkish,Egyptian,Syrian, Saudi Arabian or are from any where over in that general area, post a comment!!! The comment doesn't have to be long but it would make me happy if you guys posted.
Well, to all the other people that can not honestly say they are Middle Easterners...


Post a comment any ways!!!!!!!

Crossing Spider creek (and the alternate ending)

This story doesn't end with all ends tied up as we are used to so at the end of the story I have typed up what I envisioned the ending to be like. I hope you enjoy it.


CROSSING SPIDER CREEK BY Dan O'Brien


Here is a seriously injured man on a frightened horse. They are high in the rocky Mountains at the junction of the Roosevelt Trail and Spider Creek. Tom has tried to coax the horse into the freezing water twice before. Both times the horse started to cross then lost its nerve, swung around violently, and lunged back up the bank. The pivot and surge of power had been nearly too much for Tom. Both times he almost lost his grip on the saddlehorn and fell into the boulders of the creek bank. Both times, when it seemed his hold would fail, he had thought of his wife, Carol. He will try the crossing once more. It will take all the strength he has left.

This is not the Old West. It is 1987, autumn, a nice day near the beginning of elk season. Two days ago Tom had led the horse, his camp packed in panniers hung over the saddle, up this same trail. He had some trouble getting the horse to cross the creek but it hadn't been bad. This was a colt, Carol's colt and well broke to lead. It had come across without much fuss. But that was before the nice weather had swelled Spider Creek with runoff, and of course the colt had not had the smell of blood in his nostrils.

Tom's injury is a compound fracture of the right femur. He has wrapped it tightly with an extra cotton shirt but he cannot stop the bleeding. The blood covers the right shoulder of the horse, the rifle scabbard, and the saddle from the seat to the stirrup. Tom knows that it is the loss of blood that is making him so weak. He wonders if that is why his thoughts keep wandering from what he is trying to do here, with the horse, to Carol. She has never understood his desire to be alone. From time to time, over the years, she has complained that he cares less for her than for solitude. He has always known that is not true. But still it seems vaguely funny to him that now she is all he wants to think about. He wishes she could know that, hopes he will have a chance to tell her.

Perhaps it is being on this particular horse, he thinks, the one Carol likes better than any of the others. Maybe Carol has spent enough time with this horse to have become part of it.

The horse moves nervously under him as he reins it around to face the water again. Tom wishes there were a way to ease the animal through this. But there is not, and there is clearly little time. There is just this one last chance.

They begin to move slowly down the bank again. It will be all or nothing. If the horse makes it across Spider Creek they will simply ride down the trail, be at a campground in twenty minutes. There are other hunters there. They will get him to a hospital. If the horse refuses and spins in fear, Tom will fall. The horse will clamber up the bank and stand aloof, quaking with terror and forever out of reach. Tom sees himself bleeding to death, alone, by the cascading icy water.

As the horse stretches out its nose to sniff at the water, Tom thinks that there might be time, if he falls, to grab at the rifle and drag it from the scabbard as he goes down. He clucks to the horse and it moves forward. Though he would hate to, it might be possible to shoot the horse from where he would fall. With luck he would have the strength to crawl to it and hold its warm head for a few moments before they died. I would be best for Carol if they were found like that.

Here is a seriously injured man on a frightened horse. They are standing at the edge of Spider Creek, the horse's trembling front feet in the water and the man's spurs held an inch from the horse's flanks.

Oh by the way this is my alternate ending:

Tom digs his spurs into the sides of the horse and the horse gallops into the shallow water. As soon as the water is deep enough to touch the horse's fore leg it reared.Tom dropped off the horse's back and hit the water with a sickening thud that reverberated through the trees. Tom grabbed his gun and aimed at the helpless animal's head. Bang. Smoke and then silence. The silence that Tom yearned for the silence that drove his marriage apart. The gun had backfired.Here is a dead man who didn't have his priorities straight, and a horse that was at the mercy of his ruthless owner.

The Life Inside the Can ( a creative writing piece)

David Maisel a photographer took this picture of a can with a cremated person's remains inside. This can was undisturbed for a long time and eventually nature took it's course and the can started to deteriorate. I recommend that you check out this website and take a look at some of the cans they are pretty awesome.

http://www.davidmaisel.com/works/picture.asp?cat=lod&tl=library%20of%20dust


So my story about what I think the life of the person inside this can could have been; begins:

I stand there and look at the picture of the can, the can that is deteriorating. The can looks like a bucket of paint that possibly someone may have used and in the process dripped paint onto the sides. So that was a person. That can was someone inside, someone who was forgotten or abandoned. Who knows? I am going to find out.
Way back several years ago a man by the name of John Kingsley painted pictures of his wife and subjects that amused him when they came his way. His wife who was called Martha Kingsley was a very well off lady who did not have to worry about the fact that her husband could never hold a job.
She was happy living in retirement. Her husband could not keep a job because as she observed he did not fit with people, they could never understand him and he them .
Martha was happy being the subject of paintings. John and Martha got along well and their marriage went well because they alone could understand each other.
One terribly awful hot day in the middle of June, Martha had a stroke, and well wasn't able to grace this earth any longer. As Martha died John sat by her side stroking her hand and rocking back and forth in his chair. Back and forth. Martha smiled and then closed her eyes and passed on. John groaned and began the muttering that was to make a difference in his life and others, "gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, "
Pounding on the door started and didn't stop until three man finally managed to get the door open. The men were a mixture of both detestable men and good men but none the less they were in the house now. Edward the coroner qualified as a good man, pure, honest, noble and willing to do the right thing. All of these characteristics were what made Edward a respectable well liked town coroner. William Clay, Martha's father was one of the men that had entered the house but he was not what we will say "good people". William was a stout pompous man who was arrogant and despite John's many marvelous traits considered him useless. The third man was a man of the name Clemence Cole. Clemence was neither a good man or a bad man, he was a confused man. He was human. He sometimes did what was right and at other times did only what served him.
Now back to what John was doing. John still sat by Martha's bed muttering and swaying back and forth completely oblivious to the men that stood around him. "Let's get it over with put the dang creep in the loony bin where he belongs, I never should have consented to that marriage he was a good for nothing," declared William in a disgustingly arrogant and completely gross manner.
Edward stood there contemplatively. He knew that John wasn't a creep but that he also needed to be sent somewhere where people could take care of him now that Martha wasn't around. " I am not sure we should think on this some more"
Clemence who happened to be Martha's brother and was the man who didn't know whether he was good or bad, was in somewhat of a quandary about who to side with, His father or the good, just man? So Clemence just stood there with a puzzled look on his face and said nothing.
The three men stood in silence contemplating staring at the still peaceful figure or Martha. "Well, at least She should not be left there," Edward stated in a controlled manner. "Agreed," replied father and son in unison.
So the coroner removed the body and left the house and Martha's relatives trailed behind. John sat non moving in the twilight muttering,"gone, gone, gone".
A day or so later the coroner came back, alone this time with his mind made up. Seeing as John was autistic he wanted to do what was best for John as John couldn't rightfully take care of himself. So John was to go the Oregon state Asylum. On June of 1887 John climbed into Edward's car and allowed himself to be driven and submitted into the Asylum.
Day after day John stayed in his room alone and thinking and occasionally muttering "gone,gone,gone" One day, a couple years after John was submitted he became ill of consumption, every day since he became ill Edward visited and sometimes just sat with John doing a puzzle, or watching a movie, or even perhaps drawing a picture. On September 2 of 1890 John started to talk and talk.
John did not talk about the weather or the birds outside the window, John talked about his life with Martha and what happened. He talked about how awful it was at the Asylum how they forced him to take medicine when he didn't want it, how they made him take a bath even though he wasn't dirty, how the nurses whispered when he walked past, how they treated him like he was stupid and they talked to him like a child.
September was the day that John stopped his mutterings the day that John though ill became better. John did not become better from his consumption that day or the next. John had a chance in his psychological state. He was never cured because he was never mentally "wrong" just different.
Edward, amazed sat there and wrote all that John said. So when a week later John died of consumption and no one came to claim his body John's story wasn't lost. John's body was indeed gone pressed into this can but his story lives on in this journal
So as I read Edward's account of what happened; to you as my grandfather read it to me remember that what is "gone, gone, gone" doesn't have to remain that way.What was gone for John was a family, but it was never actually "gone" he just didn't know where to look for it.

Letter to Texas representatives

Dear Texas house representatives,

I am quite appalled at the hypocrisy that I saw you representatives exhibiting on the news, check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG6X-xtVask .Yikes if this was true, then I have to say we should all wear paper bags over our heads in shame. You supposed professionals were voting three and four times for each other and absentees. While at the same time you guys are trying to pass a ballot that states that you must have photo id to vote and if you are caught voting for someone else then the consequences will be severe.

Granted what I saw was media always puts a slant on things depending if they are republican or democrat. But I have to say, that we elected you as representatives as part of this country. And as I recall this country is supposedly " by the people and for the people". What happened? Please please, let us not be falling into this pit of corruption. Have a backbone, have some ethics, or at least a sense of a moral compass, or so help me.....

So help all of us.

Trying to share an opinion without being to blunt, ( I think I failed)
Janea Mark age 14