For Christmas this year I’m trying to raise money to help sexually exploited girls in other countries. I want to donate the money through World Vision, to help these poor girls. My goal is to raise $250. Can you help me get there? We could all donate separately, or we could make a difference by donating together. Please -mail me to let me know If you're interested! My e-mail is fusGated@gmail.com
I haven't been posting 'cause I'm on vacation in..... wait for it..... PENNSYLVANIA!!!!!!
I've been hangin' out in the 80 degree weather, swimin' and doin' other such fun things. Aren't you jealous? I'm almost jealous of myself, but I'm not. So pretty much, that's why I've been so absent. I've been drawing and writing, and... stuff... Yeah.... stuff.
I went to Nick Polchack's hometown, and right now I'm staying with the one and only, HUNTER!!!!! Omd.
So yeah... pretty much.
~Elise (Stay gold!)
P.S. THIS STORY IS AN OUTSIDERS FANFICTION, AND IT IS SOOOOOOO FUNNY!!!! It sounds suggestive, 'cause it is.
Sorry peoples! I've been busy watching Pokemon and making a FACEBOOK! Uh-huh! I FINALLY GOT A FACEBOOK! Success. But anyway. I've also been busy getting into character. I'm going to Sakura Con next year, and I'm gonna cos-play as Squirtle! From Pokemon? Do you know who I'm talking about?Here are some pictures. I'm so cool as a Squirtle!
Sorry everybody! I didn't mean to be so silent! I've been really busy! Lots of homework to catch up on over break! What evs. I heard a new song that I really love and I figured I should share, It's called, Worth As Much As A Counterfeit Dollar, By: Capital Lights. I really like it. BOOP! There it is!
So... what did ya think? I hope you loved it! I know I did! I've been listening to it on like, a never ending loop!
I HATE BEING SICK!!!! I try really hard not to get sick. That means avoiding sick people, avoiding water-fountains, excessive hand washing etc. It’s pretty much a pain in the butt. Well…. Anyway, my point is, last week my big brother got the flu. Yuck! I don’t want that one! Well, Aaron is all better now, but while he was sick, he was banished to his room. The only time he could come out was to eat and use the bathroom. Somehow Jacob managed to get it from him this week and so my mom banished Jacob. Well Jacob pretty much said, “Screw that! I’m gonna do whatever I want ‘cause I know you won’t stop me! There isn’t a TV in my room so I think I’ll hang out in the living room!”
And my mom said to Jacob, “Poor thing! You will die of boredom in your bedroom, which is filled with so much stuff that you can’t sleep on your bed, see the floor, or even open the door. Poor baby. I’ll let you stay in the living room and contaminate every surface in the house so maybe your big sister will get sick. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
Then she turned to me and said, “You, the healthiest person in the household, are hereby banished to your room!”
And I’m just thinking, What?! (The little ?! thingy is called an Interrobang) He should stay in his room he is the one who’s sick!!! I DON’T WANNA GET SICK!!! Even if I am banished, he is touching everything in the house with his sick little hands! There is no way I’m not going to get sick! WTG? (What The Giraffe?)
Hey peoples! I have another excerpt for you! Yay! This one is from a different story from the last, I hope you love and I hope you like it better! The last one was really crappy! Oh, and Monice? You don't need to read this one, you already did!
Prologue
Life is full injustices. The strong preying on the weak and weary, the rich and powerful striking fear into the hearts of their hapless victims. Broken hearts shattered beyond repair, and manipulated adolescents slaves to the very drugs that were invented to save lives that now pollute and desecrate them instead.
Amidst this madness live heroes and cowards, cops and con-men, locked in an endless battle of wrong vs. right, good vs. evil. In the past right has nearly always prevailed. But as time wares on, the bad in this wretched world of ours has begun to far out way the good. From civilians, we get violence, from politicians, we get corruption, and from the government, we get lies.
Life just isn’t fair. Russell Blake knew that too well.
Pittsburgh PA, September 12, 2011
His hands blurred in and out of his vision. Blankly, he watched the thick crimson blood drip off his fingertips and fall into the glistening pool forming in his lap. Drip… drip… drip… counting away the last seconds of his life. Shifting abruptly into shadows, his whole world faded to black. As his limp body toppled sideways, landing in a heap on the floor, a sound reached the cellar. Crackling, hissing, and popping, a fire would soon devour all evidence that Russell Blake had ever entered this horrible warehouse.
Suddenly, the loud slapping of footsteps echoed through the silent building. The sound fought to make itself heard over the roar of the now-blazing inferno. “Russell? Russell Blake? Are you down here, kid? RUSSELL?” Bursting into the basement, the man gasped and rushed forward to Russell’s side. “Russell? I’m with Pittsburgh PD and you’re gonna be okay. Can you hear me?” Automatically his index and middle fingers went to the boy’s neck, checking for a pulse. At first, nothing, then a small throbbing. Four seconds later, another. Four and a half seconds later, another. His pulse was rapidly diminishing. “Dispatcher, this is James Wallace reporting. I need an aid-car and an engine at 9784 32nd, the old ware house off of 45th is on fire and someone’s been hurt. I repeat I need an aid-car and an engine at 9784 32nd. What is your ETA?”
A voice crackled through the speakers of Officer Wallace’s walkie-talkie “ETA 7 minutes!”
“Hang on Russell.” As James whispered to the unconscious boy, he noticed how terribly beaten the he was. His hair was matted with semi-congealed blood and his face was a mask of that same sticky crimson and glistening bruises, which were spreading across his young boyish face. Both eyes were swollen almost shut. His hands were also covered in blood. His own blood. There was a black-handled switch blade sticking out of his stomach and even more blood was dribbling onto the floor. So much blood! He thought. James’s first instinct was to remove the knife but he couldn’t or Russell would start bleeding more than he already was. Officer Wallace could tell by looking at him that several of his ribs were broken. If he tried to move the boy one of them could puncture his lungs. However, he had no choice. Quickly devouring the building, the fire would soon reach them. Russell’s life or, for that matter, death depended on his being moved outside to the comparative safety of the open air. Slipping one arm under the boy’s legs and one gently under his neck, the Pittsburgh police officer gingerly lifted him off the ground.
James rushed the boy toward the door from which he had come.Lazily drifting down the stairwell, smoke was starting to fill the room. Russell was barely breathing so the urge to exit the building grew inside the young officer’s gut. Dark and foreboding, the stairs appeared to go on forever. Taking one step at a time, Officer Wallace drew in a deep breath and stepped into the smoke.
Wow this so hard! I'm trying to be silent for 25 hours to raise awareness for Invisible Children. Have you ever heard of Invisible Children? Well, it's the truth about the sad world we live in! In some countries in Africa, the army is kidnapping little kids and raising the fight in the war. They are brainwashing them as using them as human shields! I'm being silent for 25 hours. That means I can't physically talk. So how am I supposed to raise awareness? By doing this! Telling every one I know that there are bad things happening that we stop! We can help those poor little kids! We can save lives by telling people and getting support for those invisible children! I thought I knew what it felt like not to be heard! I don't know anything about living in silence! Help the invisible children! Please?
~Elise
P.S. I keep messing up! My little brother isn't being understanding, he keeps trying to trick me into talking! It has worked a couple of times, but only for a few words. Then I shut up and give him my best death glare. Which, by the way, is pretty good! When I "mess up" and talk, I remember that they never mess up and if they did, no one would hear them anyway! >X( http://www2.invisiblechildren.com/25
The reason I say, “Why WE love it” is because my friend Monica doesn’t, but someone she idolizes does. In fact, Monica is mad at Portal because someone she idolizes loves it. That person is, Jhonen Vasquez, her favorite comic book artist, the creator of the ingenious Invader Zim, after whom her cat is named. Phew! That was a mouthful! Well… anyway, Jhonen V. was going to do some comicing this week and he didn’t because Portal 2 was released! I love Portal!!!!! And so does Jhonen V.! These are a small taste of how hilariously awesome Portal really is!
"If wishes, were fishes, could you walk on the sea?" ~Unknown
Now stop and think about it. Could you? How many times do you make wishes every day? I probably make anywhere between 10 and 30 wishes EVERY DAY. Everything from, “Man I wish I looked tuffer.” To “I wish I had a kitten.” To “I wish I could meet The Jonas Brothers.” And, the wish I’m sure you all have made this one, “I wish my chores would do themselves.” Well, with all those wishes being made by billions of people every day, if wishes were fishes could you walk on the sea? I think so! Nobody ever seems completely satisfied with what they have! I know I’m not! I don’t mean to sound bratty but... well, I’d like to say that all I need are my family and friends around me and I’ll be happy forever! But that’s a lie! My family annoys me... a lot! And I LOVE my friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want an ipad2! I’ve wished for that one a couple of times. All I’m trying to say is, I believe that if wishes were fishes you could walk on the sea! Who’s with me? It makes sense right? Right? I thought so!
I love my parents. Of course I do! But sometimes… sometimes… Well sometimes they make me really- I don’t know, angry and sad and, and, well everything, all at once!
This morning I was going to get help from my mom a project I was having trouble with. It was a problem with my English assignment, so it was exceptionally frustrating. My mom had to take my little brother to an appointment I had forgotten about so she asked my dad to help me. He told me to read it to him and I said I didn’t want to. So he, to my utter embarrassment, decided to read it out loud. He read every mistake and gives me this look like Really? This is the best you could do? When he finished he didn’t say anything. I started to try to defend myself saying, “It’s a really rough draft! It hasn’t even been proof read!” so he looked at me and said, “Why didn’t you proof read it?” He sounded really disapproving, like what he wanted to say was, What are you stupid? I don’t proof read my own stuff cause I never catch anything!
I explain that the project is really hard because we already wrote to different papers about the same character and there isn’t much more to say about her. Well that sends him into this big story about how a teacher asked his students to make as many observations as they could about this one passage in the Bible. “At first they only had about ten.” He said. “Then their teacher told them that wasn’t good enough, so they went back and looked for more. Do you know how many they had in the end?” he asked.
“No.” I said.
“One hundred.” He said triumphantly.
“So…?” I guess I looked kind of confused because he launched into another explanation.
“Did you read the book?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I said.
“Then why don’t you tell us more about Kathy? You can say why her mom sent her to Canada. Tell how she met Mike.”
“But dad,” I complained, “this isn’t a summary! We already did a summary! This an essay on ‘how Kathy grew, matured throughout the course or the book’.” I said, annoyed.
“You didn’t really read the book!”
“Yes I did!”
“You may have read it, but that doesn’t matter! You haven’t made any observations! You didn’t get anything out of it.”
I wanted to say, D-U-H! It was a stupid Canadian love story!!!! But instead I said, “It was REALLY boring. I didn’t pay all that much attention.” I was not about to tell him I did some Major skimming.
I nodded, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Anger turned to turmoil. Not even good?! I thought. How can he say that?! He wouldn’t know good writing if pooped in his hair!!! Not even good? Tearssprung to my eyes. Not even good?
“You need to re-write it!”
“I have tons of other homework! Science, math...” My lips quivered and I just sat there.
“Fine then. You have one hour! That will leave time for the other subjects.”
I got up and ran up the stairs behind him. Flopping on my bed I started to cry. Not even good!
And that wasn’t even all he did today! I think I’d rather not give everyone to bad an impression of my dad, but he does that by himself on a daily basis.
