One Day

The Mountain We Climb  Don't know the name of The mountain we climb Swayed by paths both  Tried and true  We need a guide It’s easy to fall So don’t you dare look down  To the great chasm below Pickpockets of Earth Waiting to suck you in  The slopes we climb Wide as the political divide Several mountains along the slope Ways of speaking: Thoughts and opinions With no one to share An elated release of victory You have climb Everest Yet there are still things to do New countries to visit Ancient mysteries to gloss over Now homebound, books become Planes and videogames  Become houses here We float away under a blanket of clouds Waiting for the chance to rise

 CHAPTER ONE - THE BOY WHO LIVED  Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Privet Drive were the last people to be involved in anything strange or mysterious. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.  He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, and a large mustache. Mrs Dursley was thin, blonde, and had twice as much neck for spying on neighbors.  The Dursleys had a small son named Dudley - the “finest” boy around. The Dursleys also had a secret, and they were afraid someone would discover it. They couldn’t bear it if someone found out about Petunia’s sister’s family - The Potters. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, and they did not want Dudley associating with a child like that. It was a peculiar morning.  Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out a tie for work, while Mrs. Dursley gossiped away as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed the large, tawny owl flutter past the window. Mr. Dursley got into his car and backe

Spencer was beautiful. Dorky glasses, dirty blonde hair. He had a deep mind, one that I connected with right away. When I met him, I was worried immediately, cause I had never felt so strongly for someone before. He invited me to meditation club, where the electricity between our bodies would be a live magnet. We would also walk around the campus together, discussing the most deepest speculations of the universe. After all those years of staying quiet, keeping my nose in a book and staying out of trouble - I finally found a guy as interested in me as I was in him. It FREAKED me out.  He did not know how innocent I was. He thought we were a meeting of the minds. We were, but we simply were not in the same place. I found myself wishing that I had more life experience, wishing I had wasted time on Matt or Devin just so that I could simply say I was as mature as he was. He learned all too quickly that I was too innocent for him. I hadn't kissed a boy in years - it was only one time, an

In times of COVID-19, there’s been discussion of whether to keep learning online or virtual. Right now, the expectation is that everyone can go get vaccinated so that they can begin their lives. There’s still another view however, that a “new normal” has taken over the world and that virtual learning is here to stay.  During my graduate program, there was an expectation right out of the get-go that I would be a virtual teacher. I was made to focus on online materials like PowerPoints and Google Slides with a bunch of links and images.  At some point in the fall, they introduced Google Classroom and Microsoft Teams. I had to complete one of the trainings. The questions, like on many standardized tests, reiterated every specific and redundant details - unnecessary rewordings of the main ideas. On top of this, every video was an overzealous testimony to what technology did in their classroom - making it sound as if the teachers were both and horrified at the prospect of technology replaci

I just wrote a post on Wordpress that took a whole hour. I said something very important about the shooting in Florida, but nobody wanted to hear it. It was about drugs causing the problem of mass shootings in America. I'm infuriated, upset really, that I can't help but only get hateful comments when I mention one thing that someone doesn't like - like gun control. The commentor will likely remain anonymous, even though he agrees with what I say on the drugs. I just need someone to understand. Do you know how hard it is for me to write? I used to be so good at it, but I've been through so much it is impossible to do anymore. I understand that discussion should be allowed online, and that people have different opinions, but I would like one person to please support and respect my ability to write online. Do you know what PTSD is like? It really sucks. I've been raped, abused, physically assaulted, verbally harassed; and I'm writing on here. I'm trying to fi

You get beat up enough Dissapointed enough You learn to stop trying