Jade Alexis Dallamore~

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
I think pancakes would be better if they were giant and coated with a fat greasy 2lb stick of butter frozen on top then doused with syrup. Then on top you pour three cups of icing sugar and then just a dash of cinnamon because I’m watching my weight.

Plus if they could fly, then I could have them whenever I wanted. I could throw my fork in the sky and have a delicious meal in seconds! ALL WHILE SITTING ON THE COUCH WATCHING KLAY WORLD. MMMMMMMMM.

I just love them pancakes!

If the whole world spoke the language and there were no communications barriers wouldn’t the world be so nice? All those misunderstood people could express what they really mean without unnecessary consequences. As an example for that, that one man at the airport who was beat to death by police officers because of a misunderstanding in his language.

Wouldn’t it be even better if we could communicate with animals? Try to convince a bear not to eat us, and figure out an arrangement for our safety and their convinience. I think if certain animals could teach us, there would be a vast variaty. We would need to learn from atleast one in every condition; a desert animal, some sort of flying animal, a sea animal, maybe one from a lake, a jungle and a savanna, and somewhere tropical. If I could chose the animals to teach me I would for sure.

For a sea animal I would want an octopus to teach me. Not only do they get to see the large beautiful sea, but they also creep the ocean floor and squeeze through small holes to see the insides of little caves. I would be more than astounded to see what the octopus could tell me and show me.

If one from the jungle could teach me I would want it to be a monkey of some sort, and it would teach me about the best ways to find fruits and the funnest trees to climb. It would teach me how to run away from predators and spend my days in relaxation and joyous adventures.

I would get a scorpion from the desert to teach me how to adapt to the warm weather, and how to survive on limited food and water. I would learn the ways of intimidating stances and faces and learn to be feared by many. I would be the tough one that people ran from, no matter how big or small I would be feared.

In a savanna I would learn from the cheetah. I would learn to creep through the tall grasses, unseen and unacknowledged. Then I would pounce into action and run free feeling the wind across my sleek body. I would learn correct timing and precise action, and I would learn to let my worries go and just run and laze.

I would want a butterfly to teach me to flutter beautifully and gracefully through the wide blue sky, but I would also want to learn from a hummingbird, darting graciously onward, hovering in one spot but yet beating my wings and working hard to do something so simple. I would learn the hard working life, but do it while looking like I am doing nothing at all, making life look so simple.

 All in all, I think the world would be much better off if we only paid attention to the small things in life, the animals which are overlooked. If we were able to communicate with everything the world could possibly be a better place.

These days there are numerous pros and cons to technologies, including the lack of communication versus the over-use of communication. It seems only a few centuries ago we were using our hands to wash our clothes and dishes, and music was played by talent. But now a days you plug your ipod or mp3 player in to listen to another band numerous times over and put your clothes and dishes into a washer and have them washed for us, giving us time to sit on a couch and eat potato chips with our processed dips. Where does all our hard work go?

We sit on a cellular phone to communicate to people one building over, we might not even talk into the phone because we are probably texting our small grammatically incorrect sentences to them. Who knows, they may even be in the same room. And sexting? What is that?! Technologies can be communication barriers, like music players which drown out the voices of everyone else in the room. Many teenagers especially put their music in for any possible time they could ignore someone, and think that they can read or study while listening to music although studies have proven that your brain cannot multi-task, you switch tasks quickly. So listening to music while doing something else is completely pointless. Although there are a few times when these may be appropriate, they serve as a distraction for long jogs or exercise. Technologies may also be a bridge to communication for those who live way out away from everyone else though. Telephones and cell phones can connect us, although these days they are over-used in classrooms and at inappropriate times. So yay or nay? They seem to be helpful and harmful.

There is the argument that modern technology is making our existence on this planet less and less necessary. Washing machines for clothing and dishes make our work load less, but for people who don’t do much in the first place it just lowers the list of things to do. We have a box with colored pictures that talk for us to sit in front of, some people get their news from it but that’s unnecessary when we have radios that do the same thing. Because of this television, many people abuse the privilege and sit watching our little black box for hours. Now they even have big, skinny black boxes for those who spend too much time in front of them.

We now have something called email, another really unimportant way of communicating with other people while being spammed by numerous different websites trying to get you to buy their product which obviously isn’t selling to anyone because they have to email everyone to get the word out. This may be good for those who live far away though, to keep back on long distance charges between telephone calls, but yet again people are abusing this privilege. Look at me though, I am on a computer right now. I could be writing this out by hand but I continue to type this out on a computer. Modern ipods with email on them or cell phones with email are being used constantly to check that empty inbox which never seems to fill up. The only thing that the majority of people see now are notifications from their websites they are signed up for like facebook. A large group of people who have nothing better to do but sit on a computer and look at pictures of other people instead of getting out and making their own memories. A giant network of lazy people who have been sucked in by lord knows who to sit and watch their life go by. When they are older they will probably have a nice time telling their kids that when they were a teenager they sat in front of a computer and watched their friends grow up. Sitting in front of a screen just waiting for that little red square to pop up saying that someone commented on a photo of theirs or a comment they already made. Waiting to see if someone has beaten them in a game and if someone wants to challenge them, while the sun sits outside and shines for the gutters.

What ever happened to making our own food? Technology has created chemically enhanced pre-packaged meals for those who either have a busy schedule or are just too lazy or unskilled to cook their own meals. The lack of nutrients and high ratios of salt is astounding. Many people won’t go to a fair amount of restaraunts because they hear that the cook is bad or is scared that the cook might mess up, but they’re not scared about everything that is put in the enhanced food to make it stay how it does. How do you think that vegetables and pastas and meats stay good for so long? It isn’t just because it is frozen or packaged up, it’s because they have many chemicals in them. If they preserve food for that long what do you think they do to your insides? Now a days dead bodies (this has been proven) last a lot longer than they used to because of all the preservatives in our stomachs that keep our skin and guts in tact. That’s disgusting in my opinion. I would much rather go for a nice organic salad than a ‘Hungry Man’ pre-made packaged frozen dinner, even if it does take a whole five minutes to cut up vegetables for it. Are we really that lazy?

Don’t get me wrong though, I use many technologies myself although I try to limit myself. I don’t use computers or television near as much as most people and I try my hardest to wash dishes by hand instead of waiting to fill up that darn dishwasher. I don’t eat those frozen dinners, yes I will make my own salad thank you very much. I do own a cell phone and at the moment I am listening to my music, but it’s all about moderation, and I understand moderation. I think I know when enough is enough and I won’t exceed that limit. My cell phone is for emergencies and for people to contact me if they don’t know where I am, and I don’t have long conversations they are all under five minutes. The only time my phone conversations are long is when I am talking to my friend Carlye who lives in Nova Scotia, and we only get to talk every once in a while. I go outside when it is sunny out, I will go for bike rides and walks and stay out until after the street lights are on, I’ll stay out until bedtime. This isn’t about me trying to say that I am better than everyone who uses technologies a lot, because I am not saying that at all. I am trying to say that technologies are starting to do all these little things for us that we do not need, we are all capable people and these technologies are proving us wrong.

There is a large willow tree sitting lonely upon a small hill on the end of my lane. The nearest house to the hill was mine, although I had never stalked up to the willow tree, I had always been quite busy. Beneath the willow tree though, there was a woman we called the Storyteller. I have heard things about her, how she tells us stories about our deepest desires without us even telling her about ourselves first. Children from my school have told me they had been there before. Madaline in the seventh grade said the Storyteller told her a story of a wonderful princess, with long golden streams of hair. My friend Jessica had told me that her story that she had heard was about a singing woman and her struggles through fame. So many children in my school have told me their stories, and everyone was unique. I often pondered on how the Storyteller came up with the stories all the time.

Many students also told me how similar she looked to me when I asked them to describe her to me. They say she looks so similar that it almost looked like an older version of me, but I couldn’t picture that.

It was the last day of school and the bell had just rung. Children poured from the school doors like water from a sieve. All my friends were having an ‘end of school party’ and all went to put on their best dresses, but I had my dance class and was unable to go. My foster mother told me I had to go to dance and we didn’t have the money for a nice dress. So I set off for dance.

 After dance, the sun was still high in the sky and my friends were still out so I had the day to myself. I put on my overalls and grabbed an apple and set off down my road. I was determined to meet the Storyteller.

As I crept up the narrow, dirt path upwards, I gently pushed the broom bushes aside, all of which in bloom. A large opening appeared at the end of the path and a willow tree sat upon the hill as if set there destinctly by God. I nestled my childish bum ‘neath the willow tree and found that the roots seemed to hold me graciously. A voice from behind me startled me so much that I jumped and twirled to see a woman in an odd apperal.

She was almost the typical gypsy. Loose cloaks with paisly patterns and wonderful colors covered her wrinkled native skin. She had bangles and hoops hanging everywhere that chimed when she moved subtly. A shawl was wrapped loosely around her head, which covered her curled dark hair that shot out and frizzed but somehow sat so perfectly for her figure. Her feet were bare and callased with shabby toenails, dirt caked underneath. As I went to look upon her face, I found that her eyesockets were bare.

“Do not fear my child, sit comfortably and let me tell you a story.” Her voice was one I have never heard anything like before. If I was to describe it, I would have to say it sounded rusty, almost like she was losing her voice. I sank back into the tree because if all my friends have endured this then I can too.

She began in almost a whisper and I found that intriguing. I leaned around the tree closer to the Storyteller.

“This story is from my old country, one from where I was a beautiful dancer.” Her accent made the story sound foreign, something I loved. And it was also about when she was a dancer like I was now. I was impressed within the first sentence.

“I never wanted to be a dancer my mamma always tells me to go though. She says to me she says ‘babushka, you must go be the dancer believe me you are most beautiful girl in the vorld you must show you must.’ So I vould never vant to dissappoint my mamma. I vent to the shows and I vent to the classes but I never have any fun. All my friends they seperated from me and I was a lonely girl vith my tutu and my skirts.”

The woman swayed as she told the story, and she picked pieces from the large willow tree that draped down like curtains. As she picked she wove the flexible branchesinto a circle, and continuously built upward as if she was making a bowl.

“So I still did my showings and I was good to my mamma. One day the rich man saw me dance and he says to me he vill make me big star, and so my mamma tells me she knew dancing would be good for me. The man he put me in the big showings and he made me and my family much money from me dancing. I danced for many famous people and my name it is known in my old country. Ve travelled then to the America so the man could make me much more money. But vhen ve got to the new country the man he kill my mamma and he made me marry him.”

The lady had finished her woven bowl which was tightly wound and beautifully symmetrical. She sighed and turned to me, as if she were looking at me with her empty eye sockets which drooped unhappily in their place. I stared straight back unable to look away.

“He gave me the gift of child but I never vanted it vith him. I have beautiful daughter but I have never seen for long. He told me I vas too old to dance and he told me that I vas a vash up. He told me that I cannot follow him vhen he take my daughter avay from me but I loved her. Vhen I tried to follow him he took my eyes from me and left. I had to learn to live again vith no eyes.”

She whispered the last words, and I felt my face burning with the urge to pull my eyes from my head and give them to her. There was a connection I felt holding my heart to hers and I hadn’t understood it. Surely I’m not in love with this woman, I just loved her. When she hurt I felt my body ache and long to hold her and make it better.

“Jaelle,” She said my name to me like she had longed to for years, which surprised me because I had not told her my name. I opened my mouth to speak but I didn’t comprehend how she could’ve made such an astounding guess in such a vast catagory of names. ”The man he put you into foster homing vhen you vas only baby and I found you there but he took my money so I couldn’t take you home vith me. The men at the homing vouldn’t believe that you vere taken from me and I had to sit back and think of you until the day you vere taken home vhen you were six. I vas alvays there vatching over my daughter, my daughter Jaelle.”

Subtly the woman set her hand on my shoulder, and touched the sides of my face. Her hands were dry and callased and worn and they caught on my skin but I didn’t mind it.

“I found her in small town and von day she come to me, she come home.”

I stood and looked at the woman, who seemed to fear that she had scared me. She reached her hand up toward me expecting me to take her with me.

“Jaelle, Jaelle don’t leave me again.”

“I will come back every day until I am convinced. But for now, I have to go home.”

The woman dropped her hands by her sides and sunk into the willow tree. She turned her head toward me and said to me “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I turned and walked down the dusty trail past all the broom bushes and down my street to my house. When I looked up toward the willow tree the woman was not there anymore, and I went into my home. I looked at my foster mother and sat down.

“What happened to my real parents?” My foster mother sat down.

“It all began with a dancing girl.”

Although I am very young, I think I’ve had a few life shaping events. Some of which are people I’ve met who have filled me with their experiences, thoughts and advice. We were supposed to come up with five, but I don’t think I’ve had that many life changing events, I’ve only come up with three.

I think an experience that has changed me a fair amount is gymnastics. Although it might not seem like it, gymnastics made me feel sheltered, for what reason I don’t know. I liked to keep to myself because girls would sometimes give me bad advice to change my routines and make me lose my competitions because of awful choreography or skills I couldn’t complete properly. Because of this same reason, gymnastics made me independent, and strong. It altered my life keeping me fit and active, and also gave me a competitive edge which many people bring out of me once in a while. For the several years of my life that I was in gymnastics, I didn’t have much of a social life other than in school. It took up so much of my time that I didn’t have time for friends, and I was okay with that. It gave me motivation to exert myself, made me strive for new skills, and push myself to the limits.  

Camp Homewood also changed my life. Although I am not a strong christian, I do believe in Christianity even if I do keep it to myself. My faith has introduced me to many people and been the glue in a strong bond between me and a few people. Camp Homewood taught me about the religion, and it gave me skills and traits I will keep with me my entire life. Camping for a week in the midst of no where (I go to the woodsman part of Homewood which is honestly in the middle of nowhere on a lake) has taught me some impressive skills. I have learned my knots and am now an expert at bracelet making. I’ve learned to fight fears with random things like flipping kayaks over and going down a massive zip line. I have improved thoroughly on my kayaking, canoeing, hiking and swimming skills just by being there for a week. This changed me by opening me up, after sheltering myself for years. I went to Homewood every summer for a week and met some of the most interesting people who have told me their stories and built up that love in me for the outdoors. Ever since Homewood, I’ve loved setting up homemade hammocks, building small shelters to overnight in, climbing trees, swimming, all that outdoorsy stuff most people dislike or overlook.

A life changing person that I’ve met was my cousin, and I’m so glad I met her. Emily taught me to sing in front of people, to not worry what people say about me. She was with me since I was just a child, and we’ve been best friends since. She constantly tells me I’m beautiful which boosts my confidence like no other. It’s a different meaning altogether when it comes from her rather than if it comes from someone else. Emily taught me to go with my intuition and to make the right choices because the bad ones have consiquences that go beyond when your parents ground you. Emily taught me to wear the right amount of make-up, and taught me that laziness is boring. She doesn’t know how much she has taught me, because she does it without words. I learn from her actions as if we were the same person.

Love is impenetrable like a boulder,
Solid as stonehenge,
Yet gentle as a summers breeze.

Love is generous as a girl guide,
Soft as the velvety spring floor,
Yet heartwrenching and difficult to endure.

Love is trusting without doubt,
Laughing at nothing in particular,
Yet serious in times of need.

Love is comfort in eachothers presence,
Whether we’re playing with childish toys on a livingroom floor,
Or laying side by side in the sunshine.

Love is holding eachother in the midnight hours,
And enjoying eachothers embrace during the day,
While cherishing every moment you can look into eachothers eyes.

Love is generous and giving,
And letting the other get the last word,
But telling them every thought you have.

Love is missing eachother when seperated,
And rejoycing when reunited,
All whilst in the public eye.

Love is a melody the birds cannot sing,
Nor can the whales in the ocean match it’s beautiful tune,
Which stands amongst the world of silence.

Love is a variaty of emotions good and bad,
But the majority of the feelings are incomparable to anything else,
And unforgettable to say the least.

Love is a photograph on a blank wall,
Showing the best moments of life as a whole,
And never fading to match the dank backdrop.

Love is an attraction that’s impossible to ignore,
Pulling two together like magnets,
And never letting go.

Love is an act of respect and gratitude,
An unexpected hug from behind,
And surprises along the way.

Love is uncontainable and impossible to describe fully,
Not a cage can wrap the idea nor a force to push it away,
It whisps over the world uncaptured and free.

A HOMELESS CHILD
A POLLUTED STREAM
IN EARLY SPRING
SOMEONE FEELS LIKE GIVING UP

It’s early spring, meaning new beginnings everywhere. The flowers open up and shine their beautiful faces to the sun who extend their heated rays in glory. The birds chirp merrily and flutter through cities and towns, over the heads of the awkakening people. The hibernating mammals awake from their long nap and come to join the animals who had endured the long, cold winter.

That typical spring time has changed over the years. Now we find the creeks and rivers polluted, and the sun coughing and fighting to get his majestic beams through the thick smog. Along side a small stream a child lay her dirty head. The fish in the stream are as dead as can be, drowned in the man-made contamination. The small girl has no home, she lay aside small rivers and creeks and finds places in the thickets of woods to keep herself somewhat safe.

The small girl pokes her head out from under her arms and looks up with one brown eye. Her supposively blonde hair not in pigtails like the other 8 year old girls, but filled with filth and sticks. She sits up in her two sizes too big gray sweater, holes allowing her arms to expose themselves to the many hungry insects. Her pants are too small, and there are many holes in them as well. They only go til just below her knee cap, so her legs are scratched and eaten away by mosquitoes.

Shining her lonely eyes to the sun which wishes to engulf her and hold her in it’s rays, the girl stands up unsteadily and walked to the edge of the stream. The water chills her fingers as she dips them in slowly. Goosebumps raise every so slowly, and the hair stands on end on her arms ever so slightly. Her ripped hands form a cup, and shakily the girl brings a mouthful of water to her face. The water bites at her throat as it goes down with an odd taste, but she takes more and more mouthfuls trying to satisfy her thirst.

Inside the girls stomach chemicals are mixing and things aren’t sitting right. But she gets up and walks. Unknowing to where she is going she looks for slight civilization, hoping to steal a morsel from a dumpster or anyone offering. Sometimes hours pass, sometimes days before the young girl finds civilization, and she is forced to live off berries and such from the woods. Having little knowledge of what is poisonous or not, the girl eats whatever she finds.

It had been three days however since the last day that this girl had found any sort of society and her heart wasn’t quite set. She was losing hope, and had lost her grip on reality a few years back when she was seperated from her parents. After four hours of walking straight toward nowhere in particular, the forest seemed to look all the same. The girl felt that she had been walking circles for days and she hadn’t even known. In a fuss, she sat down and began to cry. Her stomach was growling and howling and needed to be filled with some thing with substance.

Her stomach began howling in pain as she felt the chemicals in her stomach burning their way out. She grabbed her stomach and yelled in pain. Tears streamed from her innocent face. She held her stomach tightly and didn’t dare let it go in fear of it falling to pieces. She thought of her parents, and she thought of her old life in a house with food whenever she wanted. Smiling faces instead of pity stares. She cold hardly remember what a real child was supposed to live like. Tiny fingers rubbed around her little belly button as she began to halucinate in a malnutrition spell.

The trees swirled, the sky spun, the birds were a whole new species, some freightening and some funny. The homeless girl looked at the ground and found it retro colors, and then she blacked out. While the girl was asleep, her stomach began to create ulcers, and ate itself inside out. Not a soul wandered into the wood to find the girl dying on the ground. Her mouth opened slowly as she let out a short breath, which was never followed by another. Her hand slipped over her little stomach, ribs poking from her gut, and fell into the edge of a stream, where the dead fish swim and the water is drowning in the pollution.

So the fact that I have writers block
Has stopped my creativity flow.
Then in my mind a silent knock
Suddenly the words I know.
A little voice says to me
Write the words I speak.
Am I crazy? phsycho? odd?
All other thoughts go bleak.

Out of all the things in the world
I could write about a boy and girl
About the beginning of a new life
The tired relationship of man and wife.
A thing that I have done this week
Still my mind will only speak
Of the one thing that I decline
The lack of words inside my mind.

So this little voice continues on
Telling stories when I want him gone
All my thoughts are drown my him
He’s stealing all my inspiration.
It’s weird how things work like this
Out of my frustration I granted a wish,
A piece was wrote and his voice was heard
Which I assume is what he preferred.

Once I lost a best friend. She didn’t die and she didn’t stop being friends with me, but she was lost and there is no doubt about that.

My best friends name is Carlye-ann and she was the best friend I have ever had. There is not a single person I could constantly be with for months at a time. The longest we had ever faught was ten minutes, and the longest we were apart was a day, and that was heartbreaking. I didn’t know what I could do without her.

Her father is in the military and her mother takes odd little jobs around everywhere. They aren’t married and they never were. Sometimes they lived together and they got together as a couple every so often, but a lot of the time they faught and lived apart.

One day Carlye told me that the family was moving to Nova Scotia, where she used to live before she moved here. She said she was a little bit excited that she would get to see her friends that she hadn’t seen in years. She had also been really unhappy here, because a lot of people made fun of her, which I don’t understand. She was so beautiful, hilarious, and just a fun time. I was upset she had to leave but I didn’t want to show it because I just want her to be happy.

I didn’t lose Carlye when she moved away, we still talked all the time and sent eachother mail and emailed and talked on msn. I didn’t lose Carlye for the first three years that she was gone.

The first three years Carlye was in Nova Scotia she was relatively happy. She missed Comox, but she had a few good friends there.

It was this year which I lost Carlye. We don’t talk as much now, and every time we do she is upset about something. I lost Carlye to all her bad decisions. When she began to drink ocassionaly I thought to myself, a lot of kids do that and she still seems the same. I told her to be careful and not let it get out of hand. When Carlye told me she got a boyfriend, I was happy that she was happy. I was heartbroken when she told me that her boyfriend dumped her a few months later, and even worse when she told me they had been having sex all the time.

A few months passed and things weren’t going well for her. She had numerous boyfriends, they came and passed and I learned to accept that she was going to do things she was going to do. I told her a few times that she should hold back and wait for a long time before doing things with boys, because that is something you share with someone you love. She wouldn’t listen.

I lost Carlye when she told me that she had been doing drugs. That was the day I realized she wasn’t the same Carlye anymore. She swears a lot, she drinks, smokes, has sex. This isn’t the Carlye-ann I had loved for the past 5 years. When she was my Carlye, she was so against drinking and drugs. She thought sex was sacred and to be saved until marriage. But she lost herself and I lost my best friend.

I feel your warm breath on my skin,
I give in
faster than the blink of an eye.
Mistakingly I think your a magnet
and I’m trapped in your forcefeild
and I like it.

I peek around this room out from my arms
I search around this place confused by your charms
I kick my feet gently in the air.

It’s bigger than hunger,
It’s bigger than lust,
It’s bigger than the ocean,
When I give you all my trust.

The comfiest thing I could think of tonight,
Turn to my right,
And cuddle up to your handsome side.
Utterly drawn in I wear your shirts to bed,
Breathe in the soothing smell of you,
Then lay my head.

I’ll dream good dreams when I think of you,
I imagine good things when I’m dreaming too,
I subtly flicker my eyes when I brush aside my hair.

It’s bigger than hunger,
It’s bigger than the sky above,
It’s bigger than the ocean,
When I give you all my love.

I hear your soft voice in my ear,
You draw me near,
Soft skin wrapping my arms.
Dumbfounded I break my regular docket,
Sneak through the darkest streets to be near you,
Keep my heart in your pocket.

I’ll guess what your thinking and pretend that it’s right
I’ll know what I’m thinking in the midst of the night
And I’ll picture us two as a pair.

It’s bigger than hunger,
It’s bigger than a fling,
It’s bigger than the ocean,
When you dangle me on your string.

I’ll stroke my shaking fingers on your smoothe face,
Not a spot out of place,
And I’ll shiver happily.
Overwhelmed by your perfectionist friendly eyes,
I get lost and can’t find my way out,
But I want to stay where your heart lies.