"Finding Me"...A Poem

Just a little something I did a while back...Thought I'd share it. Enjoy =)


"I walk alone along the beach,
Questions burning on my mind...
What may my maker choose to teach,
What answers may I find...?


Along the sand I travel,
My destination not here...
I allow my mind to marvel,
And find myself at a peer...


I find myself,
At the end of my journey...
I find myself,
And my heart screams for mercy...


Along again inside myself,
I search my mind and soul...
I keep my heart upon a shelf,
Never to use in full...


Inside the world my mind created,
A world without pain nor caring...
I find a piece of heart abated,
Cold and unflinching a perfect pairing...


But feelings of old always last,
A curse that always follows me...
To find the true me before my past,
A task unwillingly forced to be...


I turn my back to all things near,
And search again to find me...
Inside myself I know it's there,
Just wait and let it find me...


After all that done you can't deny me,
I've found who I am...
I know where I am now so let me be,
I know who I am, I found me."


Blog ya later,
Miss Eccentric

I'm Okay...

I've been wanting to do this blog for quite some time now, but for some reason I haven't...Now I know I am brave enough, strong enough, and I'm just gonna come out and say it. Everything I have written here in the past that has to do with “my parents” and any mention of my so-called “father” was a lie. That man is no more my father than I am a flying pigmy. My mother was never in love with him, and he was never a father to my brother nor I...Not by blood, and not in our hearts. But I had to keep an act up, for my mom's sake and for the sake of the household...Now I will no longer keep this act going. I am who I am, and I will never lie about my life again. Which brings me to something more that I wanted to say...Let me elaborate.

The thing about life that many do not realize until it is too late, is that all too often, we are handed a pile that most others wouldn't be able to handle. Only you can handle what you are handed --if you are lucky-- and even then some have a harder time than others with just that...Trying to handle your own life.Trying to handle what pile you were given...

I, like many before me, was handed quite a lot for someone my age. I grew up in a household where my “father” abused my mother mentally, physically, financially, and in many other ways...He abused my brother. He abused even myself. I grew up in a house where I was afraid for my mother, afraid for myself...And afraid to tell anyone else about what went on behind closed doors. Afraid to even tell my own mom half of what happened behind her back...I am no longer afraid.

Fear...That is a whole other subject. Fear can manifest itself in so many different ways. Fear, to me, is like an old scar: It can either be something you look back on from time to time, remembering what has happened to you but knowing that you are past that, knowing that those wounds have healed over through the years...Or they can be a constant reminder of what you feel every day. For me, they are both, in a way...Although more the latter than the former.

About one year ago now, my life, thanks to my courageous mother, changed forever. She finally had the full strength of the Goddess I know she is at heart, and she used that to get rid of that abusive “man” once and for all. We erased him from our house, our lives, and we try every day to erase him from our memories...But in the process, those scars that healed over through years of denial opened once again, and it has taken more to close the wounds this time than the before. I kept things from my mom to protect her, and at the age of nineteen I finally told her everything. I used her strength from leaving him as my own strength, and I confessed more to her than I had to anyone. It was a large, painful, gnarly scar that I had opened once more, but I knew this time the wound could heal over nicer than before.

I have said this before, and I will say it again...2011 was our year. It was the year of freedom for my mom, brother, and myself.

In 2011, my mom freed herself from the tyranny of her previous “marriage”. She put her foot down and made him leave her home whether he liked it or not. And it finally worked. She was reunited with the love of her life, a man she had fallen for back when she was still in high school...Sadly, the timing was not right back then and their lives had gone in different directions before they even had a chance to try being together. But now she is not only happily in love with her man, but she has bought a house with him in a new County, she has lost all the weight she had put on in sheer depression living with her ex, she has become happy, healthy, and more radiant than I have ever seen her in my lifetime...She now shares a young son with her love, and my brother and I have finally found a man in our lives who is, although not by blood, more of a father than we've ever known. My brother has a steady job. I am employed myself and –due to this job not giving me the hours I need-- I am even looking for a second job.

In 2011, I accomplished more than I ever thought possible of myself...I published two novels online myself, and have been writing a third in my spare time. I have grown in so many ways...I have even found a love so strong that I find myself forgetting the things of my past at times...Although, as I've said, those insistent scars will never go away, and they keep reminding me of what has hurt us all. But I'm working on it. And for the first time in my life, I have found someone who I actually feel safe around...It's no secret that I have trust issues. For the longest time it was only my mom to whom I trusted. But when I am in the arms of my love, I feel warm, and safe, like no nightmare from my past can reach me. It's amazingly comforting to have that...And I have shared things that only my mom knows, and you know what? It's okay. Because I love him, and he loves me, and I know he will always be there to protect me...And since I told him some of my darkest secrets, I have felt a healing begin deep inside, and I know those gnarly wounds are becoming scars once more, only this time, they will be small, almost invisible to the naked eye...And I'm okay now. I'm okay with what I was handed in life...Because I now know that 2012 will be full of new memories, great ones that will drown out the old ones...And it's all thanks to my gorgeous mom, for making the choice to free herself, and the rest of us from that nightmare. And although our beautiful Nana is no longer with us physically, at least she got to see us freed. She got to see us all happy, finally. She even got to meet my love...And I couldn't have asked for a greater outcome in the year 2011. And I look forward to 2012, and many more years of happiness after that...Because it's okay to enjoy life, and to work for what we want. It's okay to be happy.

And I'm okay. Better than okay, actually...I'm happy.

-Alexandra Marie Shaw

...or as you know me better, 

Miss Eccentric

I've been inked!

Alright, so I know it's a bit redundant to blog two days in a row, but hey...It's not my fault awesome things keep happening to me...For this awesome thing, I must tell you two other things first.
One: I might have mentioned this in the past here on this blog, but too bad. I'm going to tell you again. When I was little, I had to have my immunization shots three times. The first time was the normal shots that every youngster gets. The second time was because my Mum's idiot mother had my records and didn't tell us, and my doctor made me get them again because I wasn't on record. The third time was because my idiot doctor lost the records, and again, I endured yet another butt-load of shots just to prove that I had them. This is the reason that I absolutely hate needles. I literally could not move my arms after the third round, and I was in cheer at the time, so that totally sucked. So let me reiterate: I HATE NEEDLES.

Now to the "other thing" number Two: My 2010 New Year's Resolution was to finish my novel. As of December that same year, I did just that. This year, 2011, my New Year's Resolution was to get published. I have also accomplished that (at the bottom of this post I'll put a plug in for ya, Captain). I have a wonderful friend on Facebook who is helping publish me on Amazon, he even got the art department to do a cover for my novel now. This is simply awesome. Another stipulation to my New Year's Resolution, was that if I happened to get published, I was to get a tattoo.

Now we're getting somewhere, eh?

I've been wanting a tattoo for a while. I wanted a single feather, on my left arm, to symbolize my novel. My novel is one of the most important things to me besides my loved ones, and the feather is a way to imprint that on my body forever, so I would never forget, not even for a second. Last night I conquered my fear of needles, I checked another thing off my Bucket-List, and I did it. I got the tattoo I wanted, and I could not be happier about it. It's bloody brilliant. I took a picture of it this morning, so everyone could see how great it looked, so check it out!

It's positioned on my left arm, just as I had wanted, right below the crook of my elbow. If you want to see more, check out my Facebook Profile.

Alright, so I know there are some controversies concerning tattoos. Some people think that marking your body permanently like that is stupid, that some day you will not feel the same way you did about it when you first got it, and then you would regret it. I don't believe that. I believe that when you care about something so much so that you do want that permanently marked on your body, you will never forget that, and it will always be with you. Upon hearing of my tattoo, a wise friend of mine (holla at the Captain!) said to, "remember that what's inside is really important, too...not just the outside". I completely agree. Who you are is not what you look like. However, I had to add to that, to show that what I did to the outside of my body was for the inside as well. So I replied, "of course! But the outside is a reflection of the inside, like in the case of the tattoo, it was an outward projection of what I was feeling on the inside..." And I completely believe that as well. When someone feels a certain emotion so strongly that they have to project it outwardly so that they --and everyone else-- can see it, that is a strong force indeed. And I have now vowed to live my life to the fullest. I'm gonna ride roller-coasters (may take some warming up to, but it will happen!). I'm gonna sport my ink. I'm gonna say what I want, do what I want, and live for today and tomorrow (very wise words from the Sandman...Hey, Apple!). Life is too short, people! Have fun with it! You know, that three-letter word that starts with F? 'Cause you know what, I'm not dead yet. So why start acting like it?

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

The Captain's Plug:
You will find the publishing company who helped me at Nightfire Publishing. I won't use the Captain's name here, because I don't want a bunch of people to bug him, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind y'all checking out his site. The people there at Nightfire are simply awesome, so if you need help with your publishing needs, please pay them a visit.

The Curse of the Ghostrider

Okay, so anyone who knows me knows that I am like, the biggest chicken when it comes to heights. Therefore, it goes to show that I would also be terrified of roller-coasters. When going to Knott's Berry Farm the biggest thing I'll go on is the Jaguar, and that thing is like, the most tame ride there. Except for the stuff in the kiddie-area, of course. You see, this fear all started when I was about eight years old, and my family talked me into going on the Ghostrider, the big, rickety, wooden dinosaur that those stupid theme-park people have dubbed an "amusement ride". In my family's defense, they had ridden it before and had said that it wasn't that bad. And in a normal circumstance, I believe them to be right. It certainly isn't the worst ride there, and there are a lot of younger children that love the ride. I was not one of them.
We must have waited in line for an hour, I swear. It was a hot Summer afternoon. We got up to the cars finally, and we had decided that I was just barely tall enough to ride. My Mum and I slipped into the car together, because riding with my mom was the most logical decision in order to make me feel more comfortable. Next we had to put our seat-belts on. Now, one thing you must know about Ghostrider seat-belts, is that there is one regular belt for each person, like in a motor vehicle, and then there's a bar that locks down on your lap. One more thing you must know about the Ghostrider seat-belts, is that when I was eight-years-old, that was not the case. When I was eight, there was one single belt restraint that went over both passenger's laps, and it didn't really tighten up that much. So as my Mum and I sat and tried to tighten it enough for me so that it actually touched me, we started to doubt our decision to get on that damn ride. We both knew I wasn't secure, and my Mum, being the responsible, loving parent she is actually tried to inform the Knott's idiots of this restraint error. Unfortunately for her, they did not pay heed to the panicking mother. Instead, they started the ride, and there was nothing more she could do about it. The first hill you climb is the biggest. As you can imagine, the tiny little eight-year-old with no restraints on was not a big fan of that first big drop, and surely I was not a fan of the following drops, twists and turns. I had to sit in the fetal position, holding on to the belt and any bar I could get ahold of. My Mum also had to help by holding her arm around me, as the force of the ride was too much for a wimpy eight-year-old to completely handle by herself. By the time it was over, my Mum's arm was bruised and numb, and I was scarred for life.
Fast-forward eleven years, to a nineteen-year-old me, who is still terrified of roller-coasters, especially that particular one. I nearly died on it as a child, so there is no judging me on this standpoint. When you have a near-death experience on a roller-coaster, then you may tell me whether or not you might have a complex about it. Until then, back off. So there.
Anyway, went off subject a little there...Okay, so there I was, eleven years later, and I had finally worked up the courage to say, "okay, let's go" when my Mum suggests we ride the Ghostrider. I had made up my mind, and there was no changing it. It was just yesterday, in fact, on a Thursday, which surprisingly was a really good day to go, because there was virtually no line. We just walked up to the cars, waited for it to empty out, and got in. As I've said already, the restraints are considerably better than eleven years ago. So Mum and I sat, put our separate belts on tightly, and locked our --also separate-- bars over our laps. It seemed secure, so we were both feeling pretty confident. The ride started, we made it to the first big drop, and then we started climbing. The ride click, click, clicked loudly, but then suddenly, clunk, squeeaak! We stopped in the middle of our climb to the drop. My first thoughts: "Oh my God, I am cursed!"
And I just so happened to say this aloud. The people behind us cussed and said something along the lines of, "I don't want to ride this now". The people in front of us turned around and exclaimed, "oh, so this is your fault?!?" Mum and I explained how I nearly fell to my death when I was eight. They completely blamed me for this second freak accident, because as I had so wisely exclaimed, I was cursed. This was it. It was time for the Ghostrider to exact its revenge on me for surviving the first time. And this time, it was out for blood...
But then, as if a miracle had been sent by God, the ride started, and soon we were plunging down that first big drop. I screamed and closed my eyes. But for some reason, after that, I started laughing and yelling hysterically, as if I had lost too much oxygen and gone completely mad. My Mum tried asking me if I was having fun mid-ride, but all I could do was laugh and shake my head, saying "this is crap, I don't like this...!"
By the end of the ride, I was dizzy from my lack of oxygen, and I was shaking with adrenaline. As we walked off the ride and down the exit lane, I said to my Mum, "that was friggin' crazy. Wanna go again?"

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

"WHATEVER"

The word has many meanings, to say the least. It's used in everyday life, by all kinds of people of different ethnicity's and generations and genders...All in all, I hear it way too often. It's like a filler-word. It's used when no one knows what else to say. For me, this word is used as a, "I don't want to start anything, so I'm gonna just let this go and I won't talk about it again."
I know I am guilty of using this word, but I am trying to stop myself now for future situations. However, to other people, this word takes on a whole new meaning. As mine is simply a way to keep the peace, others have used it in a way that suggests harsh dismissal. Sometimes when it's used in such a manner I imagine that the user of the word simply wants to say something along the lines of, "I don't care what the hell you're saying, I'd really like it if you'd shut up now. If you don't, I'm going to go all homicidal on you and murder you with a straw, then I'm going to do a voodoo dance on your grave to bring you back, just so my gerbil minions can eat you and then burn themselves alive. 'Kay?"
I don't always know why these thoughts go through my head, but it's nothing but the truth. I've always been the type of person who thinks if you have something to say to me, say it. Don't bull$h!t me with your nasty comments to which you try and disguise as a surrender. So you can imagine why I'd really rather know the true meaning behind a word such as "whatever", instead of just taking it as "they have nothing more to say". Because I know from experience that everyone always has more to say. Just in the beginning of this year I read in one of my favorite books that when people want to say something, are about to say something, but then hold themselves back for reasons such as not wanting to say anything socially unexceptionable, holding it on the tip of their tongue for a second and swallowing it...Well, these are called spill-words. I wholeheartedly believe in spill-words, however there are two types in my mind: Type one, the type that almost comes out but again, gets swallowed, and two, the type that comes out in one dismissal-word instead, a word that is loaded with spill-words. I'm more inclined to either just say what I mean, loud and clear, or I will use the type of spill-word that almost comes out but doesn't. This is because I know when to be loud, proud and opinionated, however, I also know when to shut my big fat mouth as to not hurt someone that I love. But be that as it may, I know far more people that use the other type of spill-word, the type that comes out as a nasty, snapped comment that is loaded with the true and crude meaning. Like the word, "whatever". Which brings me to my last point (I think, hehe). Words are just that: Words. People are the ones who put meaning behind them. Now, let me explain this so you don't take it the wrong way. Yes, I am a writer, and therefore find meaning and put meaning into every word I read and write. A story is not a story unless it has meaning. However, a word does not have meaning unless you tether either an emotion to it, or you act on that word, show it more than you say it. Take the word "love", for instance. I have heard this word in several different ways. Depending on who says it, it can either take on a profound meaning, or it can simply mean nothing. But it's not the act of saying the word itself that gives it meaning. It's what you do that counts. I find more meaning in someone silently looking you in the eyes, telling you that they understand you, or gingerly holding your hand, or hugging you when you need it, or making you cry with just one glance...It's the actions that love is truly shown in. When the word is thrown around so much you do not find meaning at the sound of it anymore, you know it's just empty sounds coming from someone's mouth. It's like that saying, "actions speak louder than words". We put meaning into words, and unfortunately they mean nothing unless you can back them up with your actions. And I don't know about you, but I can back up every word I write, and every word I speak. Because I mean each one, and I can prove it with my actions. How about you?

-Miss Eccentric.

P.S. Yes I know that some of that was crazy-rant worthy, and may not make complete sense, but sometimes I need to say what I feel. This was one of those times.

The Art of Writing a "Popular" Blog for the Ages:

The art of blogging is a lost art indeed. Once upon a time, young people such as myself took on blogging as a way to get their word out there, a way to share their love of things, their frustrations, and occasionally to share their own stories as I do. These blogs were lengthy, and the contents were to some extent of good quality. They meant something, especially to fellow American's who just love to take full advantage of our right to Freedom of Speech. Blogging was a healthy way to learn, to laugh, and to share. That did not last very long. The age of technology has seemed to ware on the young people of this earth, and frankly they take advantage of the swiftness of "getting what they want". We all know that the English language has suffered the most from this, what with text-speak becoming the native language of the US. I am not here to preach about that now, because I'm sure everyone is tired of hearing it. And I don't think it's all bad all the time. When I'm just messing around with friends and family, I don't mind spelling things funny on purpose for humor, or adding a "lol" or "lmao" etc. at the end of a sentence, or even a fitting smiley-face instead. This is just for the enjoyment of my friends/family and I. Other than that when blogging and story-writing, I prefer to use the language that our ancestors created in order to allow us to fully understand each other during speech and reading/writing. However, this is not a "popular" way to get one's blog noticed by "blog walkers". So, I have comprised a small demonstration of how to make your blog more popular, by imitating what I have read during my own personal experience in blog-walking.

Step One: As the years go by, I have noticed a very dramatic decrease in the attention-span of the average teen. This might be because "evolution" is trying to tell us that we must keep up with the speeds of the computerized devices in which we live on. They get bored easily, thus, they do not enjoy reading lengthy paragraphs that stay on one subject too long. They prefer to read small tidbits of one subject, and then move on to the next in another, equally small paragraph. So do not write large paragraphs regarding one subject!

Step Two: Do not use large words. Although schools (I'm sure) are still trying to teach the youth words that make them sound more intelligent, they honestly do not understand most of what they are taught. For instance, if you were to ask a young person to use "judicious" in a sentence, it would go something like this: "when i judicious alot my hands get wrinkly". So keep your words simple, and to the point.

Step 3: Do not spell numbers out. It's much quicker for them to understand "3" rather than actually reading "three". And besides, who wants to take the time to spell out a five letter word when they can just hit one key and it will mean the same thing?

Step Four: Text-speak is, as I said, the native language of most young American's. Thus, if you are to get through to such an audience, you should speak their language! Words such as "okay" must be shortened to something more simple to read, such as just a "k". Also, if you are to say "with", instead go for the much simpler version, "w/", which granted, is only two characters smaller, but still. It's very taxing to press two more keys in a rush. And they're always in a rush.

Step Five: Italicizing your lettering as a way of adding emphasis on a certain word as I did above with "always", is completely unnecessary. Simply writing it in ALL CAPS is good enough. It wastes too much time to click the Italic button, and besides, no one knows how to read anything other than the fonts on a computerized screen, and the slant of the Italic lettering might throw them off and make them think that it was written in cursive, thus losing their interest immediately. Instead stick with caps, or simply add emphasis by repeating your important word or sentence more than once.

Step Six: Punctuation is unnecessary, and should be ignored altogether. A sentence such as, "let's go out tonight, I'll buy", should be more like, "lets go out tonight ill buy". Yes, in a normal society the "ill" could be construed as a word describing a feeling of sickness, however, in the context that it is used, they will assume that it was meant as an, "I'll". So again, I say, ignore punctuation. Unless, of course, you are to use excessive amounts of Periods and Exclamation Points instead.

Step Seven: Capitalizing letters in the appropriate places is a no-no. Do not capitalize "I", or the first letter in someone's name, or the first word in the beginning of a sentence. Who cares? No one. After all, it means the same thing when saying, "james rocks" rather than "James rocks". Instead, randomly capitalize letters in the middle of a sentence, just because it looks cooler. And maybe add a number in there. "jam3s rOcks!!!!!!"

Step Eight: Subject-matter matters. It's everything, really. If you don't pick the right subject, you'll lose your readers by the first ridiculously-small paragraph, no matter how many times you do tHiS. For instance, subjects such as politics, whales being hunted to extinction, the growing concern of the US Government trying to boot religion out of everything, or perhaps even a review of an intelligent documentary you saw on Discovery are not welcome. They're boring. No one wants to read of such things, because really, their brains are too full of video games and who-hooked-up-with-who as it is. It's a delicate balance in their small minds, and if their worlds are shattered with the knowledge that Florida is actually full of giant snakes in people's backyards instead of all fun-in-the-sun, they might have a System Failure. You must instead feed their need for knowing useless information, such as why Lindsay Lohan was arrested again, or what "Snooky" did on "Jersey Shore" last week. Paris Hilton is also a good subject. But remember, don't stay on that subject for too long!

Step Nine: Do not title your blog anything that makes sense. If you blog about Brittany Spears, her name must not be anywhere near the title. Instead, come up with something random like, "bald chick" or something. This also goes for your Labels. Don't add any Labels that have anything to do with what you said.

And finally, Step Ten, putting it together. Here is an actual-sized sample of what your new-and-improved blog should look like as to catch the attention and adoration of the young people today:

"ch33Tos r goood lmao

k so i was out w/ jess lasT weak and she was all dev hooked up w/ tiffany & i was all noooowaayy an it was epicness....lolz

then we yaked more an u know we was All talkin bout how we wached the kardashian's yestrday an heres my thots

1...it was funny wen khloe was all bring it on!!!! & kim was all wtf shut it iiiighttt???? and then kloe was all HOld ma earRINGs....!!!! i mean realy!!!she was al hoLd ma EARINGS! frreakin made ma day,,,,couldnt stop lmao all nite.......

;) tHen we got to tha mall an maed fun of the  G33KS it was huge pwn..!!!!

.....holla at yall....ttfn!!!1"

Simply put, 'tis a masterpiece! Honestly, I think that I have just cracked-the-code on what the young people today enjoy. I have revolutionized what it is to create a blog in which every teenager can understand and relate to...

Now, on a more serious note, I am ashamed. The above content of this blog post is truly atrocious, and I promise you all that I will never post anything like that again. Grammar-Freak's honor! But I think I got my point across here.

-Miss Eccentric.

Feelings of Inadequacy...

Alright, so obviously I haven't been really diligent with my postings for a while now, and this honestly bothers me...I used to post every three to four days, whether I was busy or not. I would always find the time, but nowadays it seems that I just don't really know what to blog about all the time, and I'm always worried that when I do have an idea, it's not going to be humorous, or have one of my infamous paranoid rants in it...So needless to say, I've been wanting to try and change this attitude. Also the fact that I have finished my novel, and therefore have more free time to blog, really makes me want to try again. However, the real turning point here was when my dear friend Saphira (holla at you girl!) sent me a link to this really funny blog. It's called Hyperbole And A Half, and truly the woman who writes it (Allie Brosh) is a humor genius. She uses this plain-old Paint program to illustrate her funny stories, and really, this just makes me feel completely inadequate. So, to show you all just how this has made me feel, I have decided to somewhat mimic (not steal, Allie Brosh said herself that if someone was to do sort of the same thing it's not stealing unless I completely copy a post or idea of hers, but to make a Paint character is not copying) her style by creating my own Paint illustrations, with my own style and my own story and my own words. Just for fun, and to put me back in the mood by changing-it-up every once in a while. So...

Okay, before, when I was writing my novel and blogging regularly, I felt like I was on top of the world, like I could tackle anything and come out the other end as the victor...

 (Yes, my hair really has green streaks in it. I tried to make it bright turquoise, but my hair hates me and decided to be faded-green instead)

Then, I became so caught up in my novel and finishing it, because I wanted to win at writing and being young and having my first novel, so I took a break from blogging. And I felt good at first! That is, until I finished my novel, and I got the post-novel letdown...And to top it all off, I was just recently at a bookstore, buying some books that I've been wanting and browsing for new authors, when I found this really interesting book. It's called Halo, and it's written by an eighteen-year-old girl named Alexandra Adornetto. And to top that all off, this girl was first published when she was fourteen. Yes, you read right. Fourteen. This shook me to my core, and completely burst my little ego-bubble.

This worried me. I mean, if this girl was published at fourteen and now has a reputation and is making her way across seas from Australia, what's so amazing about a nineteen-year-old who wrote a novel in America? I mean, I'm an adult. It's quite amazing when young teens do stuff like finish novels because they're young, and really, the young people don't often do grown-up things like that. But that no longer applies to me. It's not so amazing now because most adults have accomplished stuff like I have, more even! It's quite disheartening, and quite frankly made me feel completely inadequate...

 (To show just how bad this made me feel, I have purposefully spelled "inadequate" wrong in my illustration, indicating that I was so upset that I didn't think I was worthy of trying to be perfect anymore...)

I didn't know what I should do. I mean, I wanted to be accomplished! I wanted my two years of novel-writing (which I could have used for being a bratty-teen, but didn't because I wanted to make a difference) to mean something! I wanted people to recognize the fact that not all girls my age had the maturity and the determination to do something as amazing as writing a whole fiction novel that is quite large indeed! But I just kept thinking, "it's too late, I'm too old now..."
 This changed when I saw Allie's blog. It was so awesome that I just had to go back and read her earlier posts. I read all of 2010's posts and some of her 2009 posts. And it turns out, not too long ago she wasn't even that popular! All she started with were some funny stories and some dorky little drawings, and that's all she had! She didn't even have a job, she admits it herself! But through perseverance and humor, she somehow managed to become so popular and accomplished that she has several thousand followers and now gets money and is super awesome and (as she would say) has almost won the internet. And it got me thinking...

And it's true! I mean, how many nineteen-year-old's do you know that have committed their lives to one thing at such an early age, without changing their minds a million times? I have written a whole novel. I am nineteen, and I have done something that most people my age and sometimes older have no attention-span to actually finish. And you know what? I'm proud of myself, and (to quote my new fave blogger) I want to win the internet, too! Or, if not win, at least come in a close second behind Miss Allie Brosh!!! So, in conclusion, this is my way of saying that I want to blog more. I might not blog all the time, because I want a life too, but I want to make it a habit to come up with more than one blog a month. It's the least I can do for myself as a young writer, to spread my fingertips and type! So wish me luck, fellow bloggers, and Happy Reading!

Blog ya undoubtedly sooner rather than later, Miss Eccentric.

P.S. I apologize for the last drawing here being too large and hanging over the edge of the post like that...However, if I made it any smaller you wouldn't be able to see the writing on it, so I suppose it will just have to do.

My New (or rather, old) Underwood Typewriter!

This blog post is reserved for anyone willing to help tell me what model/year this Underwood typewriter is! I've cleaned it up and successfully unstuck every key, but I'm not sure how old it is or what it could be worth (other than personal worth, since I am a writer and this is my first real typewriter). Please help if you can!

Oh yeah, I found the serial number on a little metal tag to the right of the ribbon, if that will help:
11-7388886
Thanks =)

-Miss Eccentric

Battle of the Eight Legged Demon...

Last night, was possibly the scariest night of my life. Why the melodrama, you ask? I'll tell you.
There I was, minding my own business, reading a book before slipping into a peaceful slumber, when all of the sudden, something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. My head jerks to my right to see what it is, and there, standing proudly on a pillow right beside me, is a spider. And not just any old tiny, clear, jumping spider that you find in your shower. No, this one was huge, dark brown and hairy, with big vampire teeth and the demeanor of a werewolf during a full moon. And it wanted me. It was hungry, and I was on the menu. For a moment I sat in pure stillness, in fear that if I moved too much, it might jump on my neck and start sucking my life away, but then I worked up the courage to attempt to smash it with something. But the moment I got near it, it jumped to life, and with some fancy tactical maneuvers that a ninja would envy, it escaped me, stealthily sliding away into the crack between my bed and the wall. I tried looking for it, worried that it would come back for more later, but could not find the little bugger, as it had put its camouflaged body-suit on during its escape, therefore disappearing into the background. I sat back against the wall once more with my book in hand, deciding that it was just a stupid, tiny little spider, and what harm could it cause? It probably got distracted with something else down that crack that spiders like, so why would it come back up just to get revenge on me for trying to smash it? So I continued to read, and Joey (the cat, not the character from Friends) began to clean again, apparently finished with giving me strange looks for spazzing at seemingly nothing a moment ago. However, after a few minutes of blissful reading, all homicidal thoughts forgotten, the nightmare returned. Only this time, the ninja-spider was on, my arm. I spazzed immediately without conscious thought, waving my arm about, trying to get the beast off me. I paused in my frantic waving as the spider in question dropped off my arm, somewhere onto my blanket instead. I froze, staring at the place where I could have sworn I saw it land, but I did not see it on my navy-blue blanket. And then, to my horror, the reason for its absence on my blanket revealed itself.
It was on my arm again.
This time my instinct to kill set in, and instead of spazzing like an idiot, I began to swat viciously at my own arm like an idiot, trying to vengefully kill the damn thing once and for all. I then proceeded to jump out of bed, and with careful precision, I smacked and banged on my bed as a monkey might. At this point Joey had obviously had quite enough of my spazzing about, so he jumped of my bed and went to casually lay on the ground in front of the little heater in my room. Finally my brain kicks in a little, and a thought breaks through my murderous fog of panic.
"Eh, maybe I should do something useful and try finding the little bugger..." I thought, and my body responded by ceasing the embarrassing swatting-of-the-bed. I paused, breathed, and recovered my pride enough to calmly reach to my covers and peel them back, searching in between each blanket for the beast of a spider. Now, this may seem like an easy task, however, I have like, eight blankets and a sheet on my bed due to the very cold conditions of Southern California in January. Alright, that sounded completely ridiculous, but hey. It's very cold in my room this time of year, okay? Anyways, where was I? Ah right, searching for the demon with eight legs. Okay, so I peeled back every single one of my blankets, one by one, twice, just trying to find that damn spider. I would have just let it go, because really, how much damage can a tiny little spider cause? It worked the first time thinking this, when it had escaped through the crack beside my bed, so why wouldn't it work again? Why couldn't I let it go? Well, maybe because it came back last time on my arm, so why wouldn't it do it AGAIN? This reasoning seemed perfectly rational at the time. So, I continued to search. Finally, after a few more frantic flippings of my blankets, I spotted it, sitting quietly and unharmed on the side of my mattress, waiting to strike. I froze, afraid that it would escape once again. Then, very slowly, I reached over to my desk, grabbed a paper towel that I had been using with my paints the other day, and I approached the creature. It sat perfectly still, daring me to do something. Daring me to even try and kill it. At that moment I summoned all my courage, reared my hand back, and swiftly and efficiently smashed where the spider was sitting. I then carefully pulled back the bundled paper towel, trying to see if I had indeed smashed it, and I found remnants of spider guts on the murder weapon in question. However, there was no body. I glanced down, wondering if it had somehow survived, or, perhaps, maybe it had just fallen to the ground under my bed. I weighed my options: Either I could take the guts on my paper towel as a sign that it was now dead somewhere underneath my bed, or, I could continue to let the horrible thoughts run through my head, telling me that it was now under my bed bleeding to death somewhere, and that in its last breath it would jump up once more and come after me again, so at least its last move in life would be to eat the human who had killed it. Let's just say that I chose the latter option, thus, I knew that I had to find the body before I could ever even think of trying to sleep again. So I carefully pulled a few things from underneath my bed, using a paintbrush to pick through some of the things. And finally, as if God had decided to give me a break on this one, I found it. A tiny, twitching, grotesque carcass on the carpet, clearly either seconds away from death or, hopefully, already dead. I disposed of the body using the murder weapon, and it was as if a weight had been lifted. I could finally sleep. I could finally lie in my own bed, without the fear of a hairy little monster eating me from the inside out in my slumber. I laid back in bed, in the peaceful darkness of the night, cat deciding that I was sane enough to sleep on again, thus jumping up and lying on me. I was warm, comfortable and ready to relax and sleep.
And I thought, at that moment, "what if it wasn't alone? What if spiders are like rats, if you see one, fifty more will be hiding in the shadows, waiting for you to kill one of their own so they can avenge their soldier with malice...?"

...Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite...Muahahahahahahaa...

-Miss Eccentric.

BTW: Notice how I added that the cat was basically disgusted with my behavior? Yeah, well, I'm a little peeved that fatty didn't pull his weight last night! His job as a cat is to kill the critters that get in their people's way! But no, he just sat around like, "what, Mom? I'm not getting that spider. You can get the spider, I'll just sit here and watch with a look of amusement on my fat little face."
...Yeah...Just a tad annoying...

Small Announcement:

Last night, the 28th of December 2010, I officially finished my novel, proofreading and all. After I sat and stared at the last words of my novel, amazed at what I had accomplished, I decided to use that dreaded Word Count in which every writer must use at least once. Now, before I finished writing my novel and started proofreading, I had been reading up on how large a novel should be. I read that to make it technically a novel, it has to be at least 50,000 words or more. Average novels run anywhere from 70,000 to 90,000 words, and a good sized novel (such as the later Harry Potter novels) run anywhere from 100,000 to 150,000 words. 200,000 words or more is a bit excessive, and very few publishers will even bother to read it. As the Word Count on my own writing program did it's thing, painstakingly counting my 262 page novel, I waited in worry. Earlier, before I was finished writing it, I was worried that I would have to fill it with too much nonsense to make my quota. Luckily it was in the 170,000 word range already, so I finished it how I wanted to, but then I had to worry if it was going to be too much, and would I have to downsize...I did not want to do that. Everything I wrote thus far fits in my mind, even the little things that seem insignificant mean something to me. They add something in there that helps tell the story, and without them something might not feel right. Might feel empty. So finally, the word count was in, and the end result: 176,723 words altogether, 14 chapters (not including Prologue and Epilogue), and 262 pages of novel-ly fun. Now all I have to do is write out a query letter, and send it to as many publishing companies as my little mind can think of! Wish me luck, and if you have any helpful hints please leave a comment! Thanks <3

-A.M. Burnshaw, Future Published Author

P.S. I posted this on my other blog too, so the deja vu you are feeling if you've read both blogs is not just in your head. Or maybe it is. What do I know? Teehee...

The One, the Amazing, the Awesome, the Legendary, the Coveted, and the Best, the Number Two Pencil!

Legend has been told that there is a one and only most wanted pencil, one that is not even one to begin with: It's the Number Two Pencil. Throughout the years this fabled pencil has gone down in history as the lucky pencil to pretty much everyone who wants a pencil. For some reason all who spot the pencil claim to love it, and then they must have it. Say there's a Number Two Pencil sitting in the middle of the street, for instance. Inevitably, one person will come along who spots the pencil, notices that it is indeed the great Number Two Pencil, and scream's "STOP! Don't move, it's a Number Two Pencil!!!" whilst running in the middle of the street. And if that person were to be asked why they ran in the middle of the street to grab a stupid pencil, they will again inevitably say, "it's my lucky pencil!" as way of explanation. 'Tis the curse of the Number Two Pencil, it seems...Everyone thinks that it is the best pencil in the world, and will do anything to get their hands on one. It's like a conspiracy! I mean, how else do you explain it? It's like the company who makes the pencils ingrained some kind of mind-control device inside the pencil, one that tells people that it's the best pencil ever, and that YOU WANT THIS PENCIL ONLY, IT IS A SPECIAL PENCIL. That way, people will always strive to get their pencils, no matter how great the competition is! It's like they want everyone in the world to carry around a Number Two Pencil, thinking that it's some kind of special talisman, so they can later activate the mind-control device inside the pencils and brainwash us into doing exactly as they say like giving them money and recruiting other countries and polishing their shoes and making more pencils and getting their coffee and giving them more money so they can TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!

Okay, so maybe that's just a wee bit improbable. But it could be possible! Heck, even I, the one sitting here typing away about conspiracies, will admit that I have a certain fondness of the dreaded Number Two Pencil. Why, you ask? Well, I don't know why! All I know is that I may have been brainwashed by the pencil company to love their pencils, but I still have my free will, and I will not carry around a pencil of theirs like a crazy person and get them their coffee! I will strike against the Number Two Pencil movement! If I see a Number Two Pencil in the middle of the street, I will not run and grab it for the sake of having it, I will leave it lying on the ground to get run over! And I advise all of you to follow my lead! Do not fall into the trap of the Number Two Pencil! If you see one, just stick your chin up in the air, and keep walking! And spread the word about the Anti-Number Two Pencil Act (ANTPA)!!! You can do it, I know you can. Just resist the temptation and allure of the Number Two Pencil!

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

House: Massage Therapy

Okay, I just wanted to do a very brief overview of last night's House episode. First of all, might I just say, it was awesome as usual. Second, I liked it because this time they addressed the fact that House and Cuddy were still procrastinating over the whole moving-on-to-the-next-step thing. In this case, it was Cuddy letting House spend the night at her place, and House giving up his old massage therapist because she was a hooker. Literally. Plus, the whole thing with the patient was really cool because he totally made the connection and diagnosed her so easily without hardly any help. It was fun, because they were trying out a new female doctor on the team, and she was totally stupid, and she had just finished a residency in psychiatry, but she could not see that the patient was actually just Schizophrenic and that all her symptom's were caused by the medication she was taking to handle that. No, instead House, the one who was not all into psychology, figures it out himself in one brilliant light-bulb moment. Anyway, so in the end House gives up his massage therapist, and Cuddy lets him spend the night, and have dinner with her and her daughter Rachel and everything. Cuddy leaves the room for a brief moment at dinner, and Rachel grabs House's cane and puts it in her mouth, and he gets all worked up and gets it back and wipes it off, and then he's all, "aren't you just the cutest thing" even though he was clearly being sarcastic. It's kind of lame how bad he really is with kids, but next week supposedly he's going to babysit Rachel, so that should be interesting, and let's hope that he bonds with her and gets over his thing about kids. Yay! So all and all, it was still awesome, and I can hardly wait till next Monday as usual!
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

Happy Birthday, Big Bro!

Today my brother turns twenty-one. I know, right? It's really quite a big deal, and I can't believe it's happening! Today he has the right as an American citizen to drink a beer with his buddies, or like he wants to do today, with his parents. It's kind of cool, if you think about it, how one day you are not allowed to drink, and the next, poof, you can drink. Well, I wish only the very best to my brother today, and I hope he has a blast with his carne asada for dinner and his beer.

Happy 21st Birthday!!!

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

House: Unwritten

Alright, so I was too tired to do this last night, but HOLY CRAP THIS EPISODE WAS SO BLOODY AWESOME IT WAS EVEN BETTER THAN THE LAST ONES WERE AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, so I am so liking this new dynamic with House being happy with Cuddy and everything. It's actually really fun! This time he was trying to find something that he and Cuddy had in common, because he thinks that once the honeymoon stage of the relationship is over, she's going to realize that they have nothing in common and dump him. He took her go-cart racing, and that was fun til she lost to Wilson's girlfriend Sam and hurt her neck. The funniest part of those scenes was when House avenged his girlfriend by beating Sam's butt in the race. And how he beat her? He used his cane to unplug her go-cart. He totally cheated, but it was bloody hilarious! In the end Cuddy told House that they didn't need anything in common but each other, and that she liked their relationship the best because it was not common.
Also a really great thing about this episode was that the patient was a famous author, and House was totally obsessed with her books. He even went so far as to steal the lady's typewriter ribbon and send it through an MRI to see what was written on it, and then print it all out and put it together to read her latest book. And the best part? He mostly diagnosed her using nothing but her book, and how she wrote it for the characters. It was sweet. And not, "awe, isn't that sweet?" more like, "holy crap that was sweet!". I think the funniest part though was at the very end, he was talking to the patient that he had just healed, and he was all upset because she didn't answer anything for any of the characters in the end of her book, and she planned on not writing any more books for that series. So he was all, "you have to finish it better!" and she was all, "I think my ending was perfect because each person who reads it can come up with their own ending", and let me just tell you I agree with House, thank you very much! I hate it when an author ends it without answering any questions, because then you just wonder forever and ever and you never get an answer and it SUCKS! Anyway, so House was pissed because of what she said, and like he always does when someone hurts him, he was planning on hurting her back. He was going to tell her that her son (who she based her main character off of, and who died in a car crash and that's why she was sick) didn't have aneurysm like he originally told her, but then he saw Cuddy in the background watching, and he switched gears and said that her son was very luck to have a mother like her! It was so strange, really, that he completely stopped his track of evilness because he wanted to be a better man for Cuddy! Amazing...Anyways, as House left the patient's room, Cuddy said that he did a really good thing in there, and House just kept walking saying "shut up" as he went, causing Cuddy to smile fondly and me to friggin' laugh my fool butt off as I watched. It was truly epic, and if this season continues to go like this, I am going to be soooo sad when it finally ends...But at least if it ends good, I won't be pissed off that House is miserable and they ended it horribly. So anyway, I loved this episode. It might just be my favorite episode now.
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

House: Selfish

Okay, I hate to sound a bit repetitive here, but House was AWESOME!!!
...Again...
Yeah, enough of that. Anyway, I really was happy with this episode! House and Cuddy told everybody about them being together, and that got a different and funny reaction out of everyone (Wilson didn't believe it at first, but then Cuddy kissed House, and that wasn't enough so in the end she had to put her hand somewhere private and the look on Wilson's face was priceless), and at first it was sketchy because House and Cuddy kept agreeing with each other over medical decisions even though they didn't really agree, but then they worked it out in the end by agreeing to be completely and brutally honest with each other about their opinions in the future. Which is good! They get to be happy about being a couple, and then they get to go to work and be exactly how they used to be with all the tricking each other and stuff to treat the patients! Which is fine with me because I always thought it was funny when House would come up with a crazy idea that Cuddy would turn down and then he would figure out a way to do it behind her back anyway. So...All and all, it was all good, and hilarious as usual, and I can't wait til next week!!!
So...That's all I got.
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

Validation

Okay, so I found this video a few years ago, and I loved it so much I just thought I'd share it with y'all! It's kind of long, but I guarantee you will not be wasting your time if you watch the whole thing! It's really an inspiring short movie. Enjoy!
-M.E.

House: Now What

Alright, just as I thought, tonight's season premier was AWESOME! It had the usual sarcastic humor, and House actually said the L-word to Cuddy! The main points that worry me are that when James (Wilson) came in through House's window to check on him, and House tried to tell him that he was in there with Lisa (Cuddy), and brought him to his room to show him and everything, Lisa hid in the closet and House had to make up a lie to not sound crazy again. Which gives a nice opening for "House is hallucinating again", because logically speaking, if he were hallucinating, his mind would create a scenario in which to explain why House was the only one who could see her, in this case that Lisa hid in the closet because she "didn't think he was ready to make them public yet". Also I was having a bit of deja vu with the whole "this isn't going to work because I can't change and I'll be a jerk to you and you'll realize you hate me and we'll break up" thing House did with Stacey when she left Mark for him. But Cuddy handled it perfectly by saying that she didn't want him to change, that she loved him because he was an amazing guy and she wanted him to stay the same amazing guy. And she left for work with a kiss and a smile from the both of them, and they were all happy again, but the minute the door closed behind them, both Lisa and Greg's (House's) smiles disappeared. Also I'm a tad worried about Thirteen (Remy Hadley), because she lied that she was going to Rome for experimental treatment for her Huntington's, but then just disappeared instead. Which basically makes me think that she might be going somewhere to die, because her disease has worsened and she just doesn't want to be seen at her worst.
But despite my worries that they will completely ruin the last season, I'm trying to stay optimistic and just look forward to the next episode! Which I am, because I still currently love that show the best, even though it has the potential to go south. Because it also has the potential to be quite awesome!!!
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.
P.S. Maybe I'll post again next week after I watch House!

House is BACK!!!

Today is the season premier for House, my favorite TV show ever!!! I am so excited, I can hardly wait till later when our DVR records it and we can watch it! I just hope they don't totally ruin the whole show...'Cause the season finale from season six was great and all, but what if they mess with it? In case you didn't catch the season finale in question, House lost a very important patient, one he actually got real close to, and he was on the verge of going back to taking Vicodin because of it. You see, he quit his therapy because he tried doing everything the therapist said, but it didn't work. Everyone else in his life ended up happy, and with someone, but he was just as miserable. Wilson was moving in with Sam, and he kicked House out, and Cuddy was not only moving in with Lucas, but she had also become engaged with him, and she totally was a witch with a B to House saying that she didn't love him and that he needed to get over it. And then House's patient dies and the only thing he thinks that will make him feel better, is if he numbs himself with pain meds. So he was in his bathroom, about to take the pills, when Cuddy shows up and tells him that she broke it off with Lucas, and she wanted to take a chance and be with House. She also says the words, "I love you", and then House drops the pills on the ground and they kiss. It ends there, so they left us all thinking, "are they a couple now? Will they get married? What's next season going to be like with them together?". This worries me only because I have read that there are rumors that either House or Cuddy will die at the end of this last season, and that would greatly piss me off. And we're also not sure whether House is hallucinating again or not, so that's worrisome...I mean, House asked Cuddy if he was hallucinating, and she asked if he had taken the pills, and he said no, but does that really mean that it's real? It wouldn't be the first time they tricked us into thinking that Cuddy and House were together but then turned it around and said that House was hallucinating. But I don't know...Why would they go through the whole explanation that House didn't take the pills so therefore wasn't hallucinating if it wasn't true? I just don't want to watch this LAST season, and be completely peeved about it forever because they ruined it by saying that House was either dead or miserable in the end. But I also don't want them to change his whole character and make him all lovey-dovey with Cuddy twenty-four-seven, ya know?
*acain*
Well, I guess I'll just have to wait till tonight to see what happens, eh? I'll try to post something about it after I watch it, so expect another post from me!
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.
P.S. Cross your fingers that the episode is epically awesome!

The end of an era...

I just saw on the news today, that the New York Times newspaper is going out of print. No, you are not hallucinating, I really said that the New York Times is not going to be printed anymore. Not because they're going out of business, but because they're doing it all online now. Gone are the times when you could pick up a newspaper on your way to work, or outside your home in the morning, and actually read the news on paper. Now they expect you to log on to your computer and read it online! What has this country come to, when you can't even hold a newspaper in your hands anymore? This is just like what they're trying to do with books. They think if they provide us with electronic book readers, we'd rather buy that instead of buying an actual book. I have said it before, and I will say it again: I will never, ever give up my way of life, the way in which I read things on paper, not computerized screens. Where I go to an actual book store, pick a book I like, and bring it home with me, stashing it on one of many bookshelves. Where I can physically touch a book bound with paper, and glue, and printed in ink. Or regarding the newspaper, what will I do when we can no longer fight over who's turn it is to read the comics? Or do a crossword? Or read an article? What is happening to society to make them believe that words printed on paper should be obsolete? Are they just too lazy to do the printing, or is it the consumers who are too lazy to leave their computer-caves and get the paper? Or (and this one makes the most since in this day and age), is it because they think we're "wasting too much paper" and they want to "go green"? Personally I don't think that paper is our problem here when it comes to the environment. I think its bottled water companies who continue to manufacture plastic bottles that -when left in the sun for a period of time- cause Cancer, not to mention that no matter how many times they claim that the plastic is completely recyclable, they are lying, because they can only melt down and reuse a percentage of the plastic on their bottles, and the rest most likely goes to some dump somewhere to sit and pollute our air for several years. Or how about the so-called "green" cars they just love to push on us? They may be nice for our air, because they don't use gas, but they always forget to mention that the batteries they use in those cars have mercury in them, and mercury is the opposite of "environmentally safe". They can not dispose of mercury. They can only dump it in some landfill somewhere away from society (hopefully), because it literally will create dead-zones wherever they dump it. Do you know what mercury poisoning can do to you? Well, just in case you don't, here's a list of some of the symptoms, so you know just how dangerous it really is:

You can develop Psychological and Neurological problems such as: Short term memory loss, angry fits, suicidal tendencies, inability to sleep, low self esteem, Belle's Palsy, Multiple Sclerosis, Shingles, Epilepsy/convulsions, Nervous Tension, the shakes of hands, feet, head, etc, twitching of face or other muscles and more, headaches, vertigo, tinnitus, speech and visual impairment, Glaucoma, etc. You may also get Cardiovascular problems, like arrhythmia, high blood pressure, heart attack, weak pulse etc. Also you can get digestive tract problems, oral problems, respiratory problems including asthma, skin problems, certain blood diseases, allergies, and different Cancer's including Hodgkin's disease, Leukemia and more. The list goes on and on, but I think I'll stop here, since I've gotten my point across well enough.

My main point here is it would be stupid and hypocritical to stop printing newspapers and attempt to replace other paper products such as books just because it's not "green", when the use of mercury in batteries or plastic's that cause Cancer will most definitely kill us all much, much faster. So what is it? Why on earth would they stop printing newspapers? I mean, it may only be the New York Times now, but that will not be the end of it. Next it will be all newspapers, and then what? All books? All magazines? All paper products altogether? Next thing you know we'll be living in a world of technology, with no more human contact at all. It's bad enough that people rather text each other than talk on the phone. I mean, I will admit that it is fun to write messages to your friends and family on the computer, but if I had a choice, I would rather talk to them in person, or even on the phone!
I guess what I'm trying to say here, is that it seems like an end of an era to get rid of newspapers, and there is more of this crap to come. It saddens me to think that my children will not know what a newspaper actually printed on paper is, but I know I am right. And there's nothing I can do but stand by and watch, and maybe complain and plea about it on this here blog...
Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

In loving memory of the ones we lost...

Today marks the ninth year that we have all managed to live through since the 9/11 tragedy. On this day, I'd like to send my thoughts and my prayers out there to the people who have lost their loved ones, and to the amazing people who survived, and who continue to feel the pain of that tragedy to this day. I send prayers also to the volunteers who risked their own lives to help after the Twin Tower's fell, and who also feel the effects of that day nine years later. They all deserve more than just a "thank you", but since that is the only way I know how to honor them, I would like to say, thank you very, very much for helping to take care of that part of our country in it's time of need. We are all forever in your gratitude.
Besides the men and women who risked their lives that day (and so long after) to help at the Twin Tower's wreckage, I would also like to thank the men and women who continue to fight for our freedom even today: Our soldiers, who die for us every day in a foreign land to help protect us from further terrorism. Many people hold grudges against those noble men and women, but may I remind those people that it is not the soldiers who declared war, it is not the soldiers who send more troops out there to fight, it is not the soldiers who decide what actions to take, and it is not the soldiers who are to blame for the war. It is our government, and the people who run it who decide on such things, and our soldiers are merely doing what is right and what is necessary to protect their loved ones' freedom back at home. And for that, I say they are brave, and noble, and deserve thanks as they return home, not protests and dishonor.
So again I must say, one more time, to our soldiers, volunteers, family, friends, and fellow human beings who have all suffered due to the 9/11 incident: Thank you.

-Miss Eccentric.