Pride is the greatest plague on humanity today. Lately, I have been having some very humbling experiences. Sometimes, the occurences are numerous but insignificant. However, other times they are large demons that I have to deal with.
I'm not sure why I have been put through all this as of late, but I am sure it will all turn out for the best.
One of the things that keeps tearing at me is that my mom has CONSTANTLY been nagging, criticizing, and insisting that she is right ( but to be fair, I'm not sure whether it's because of mood-swings I'm having or just that my mom is acting differently). I cannot go a day without her having said something dissapproving. In response to these trials, instead of talking back or arguing (the which I have never done or dare to do) I just go to my room and try to escape. But then she gets all upset and says I don't spend any time with her any more.
Hehe, yes it is a vicious cylce.
One of the other major occurences that have been happening recently is the Track Meets. I am a fast runner, and somewhere deep inside myself I'm sure I know that. However, I keep feeling the need to prove myself. Everytime I run a race, when I'm done I know I could have done better (whether I actually tried my best or not).
I guess my biggest problem is that I want to be noticed, important, and maybe even admired. I want so bad to be the best in all that I do. But with the way I choose to spend my time, I know this to be impossible.
I dunno how I will get over such things, if ever, and I do not know what will become of me after. Perhaps, I may not even get over it at all.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Chapter 2
Almost 2 years had past since Xeran vanished from the village. Towards the setting sun, he ran, into the mountains. There he was hidden by the craggy rocks and mountainous dunes of the desert.
In time, the village started to forget all about Xeran. He was as real and important to them as a shadow. Noone ever spoke of him. Children were raised in ignorance of him or heard a ghost story told by hateful parents who distorted his image and turned him into a monster.
Even those who Xeran regarded as parents began to turn their minds to more important things and forget him.
Steadily, he faded out of memory. He had become a phantom, a dream, but to some, a nightmare. When strange or unsuspected things happened in the village, as a joke, people would begin to blame the accidents on him. A roasted pig left over the fire to long and burnt, strange foot prints at night, sudden gusts of cold night air, or an unnatural silence; all was "Xeran's doing."
Those who did remember him however were convinced that he had fled to far off lands. Some even insisted that he was dead. They would laugh at the thought of him being eaten by Horn-Demons or starving to death in the wilderness.
But no matter who it was, whether they remembered him or not, or whether or not they knew of him, none would go into the mountains into which he fled. Few remained out after sunset. And to those who believed him dead, they couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching them, constantly, from the shadows. Something was out there, something was comming.
And they were right.
Almost 2 years had past since Xeran vanished from the village. Towards the setting sun, he ran, into the mountains. There he was hidden by the craggy rocks and mountainous dunes of the desert.
In time, the village started to forget all about Xeran. He was as real and important to them as a shadow. Noone ever spoke of him. Children were raised in ignorance of him or heard a ghost story told by hateful parents who distorted his image and turned him into a monster.
Even those who Xeran regarded as parents began to turn their minds to more important things and forget him.
Steadily, he faded out of memory. He had become a phantom, a dream, but to some, a nightmare. When strange or unsuspected things happened in the village, as a joke, people would begin to blame the accidents on him. A roasted pig left over the fire to long and burnt, strange foot prints at night, sudden gusts of cold night air, or an unnatural silence; all was "Xeran's doing."
Those who did remember him however were convinced that he had fled to far off lands. Some even insisted that he was dead. They would laugh at the thought of him being eaten by Horn-Demons or starving to death in the wilderness.
But no matter who it was, whether they remembered him or not, or whether or not they knew of him, none would go into the mountains into which he fled. Few remained out after sunset. And to those who believed him dead, they couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching them, constantly, from the shadows. Something was out there, something was comming.
And they were right.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
This one would have been an Insight, but I don't know what I would have entitled it.
Generally speaking, people at our school are fairly respectful to each other. Yes, we have some real morons out there, but noone is a complete jerk.
However, there is a select group of people at our school who have never been rude, or violent, or uncaring, or even mad at us and yet many people shun them like the plague.
I'm talking about the Special Education kids.
I don't understand it. Why is it we treat these people so badly? It's not fair, they are not animals. They are just like you and I. The only difference between us is one chromosome; we have 46 most of them have 47.
I have noticed as they walk through the hall, people will stop talking, back away and stare as if they are watching a procession of ebola monkies. Some laugh even have the audacity to laugh or smirk at them when they go by or are scared of them as if they will somehow "infect" them with a horrid disease.
One kid in particular, who's name I will change to protect his identity, Eddy, is one of them happiest people I know. He's quite bright, and yet most everyone I know, especially my friends sadly, treat my dogs better than they treat him. Eddy is kind of like a child in that he mimics what my friends so. If they start slapping each other on the back, it's fun for them, but if Eddy does it, they yell at him and tell him to leave.
Honestly, I've talked to him before. He's harmless. He has an innocence that I find refeshing. It is something few people have anymore, especially at that age. He's not "annoying" like a lot of people say, but is just full of energy. He always has a smile on his face which transfers to me aswell. Then when he leaves me and goes to talk to someone else, the atmosphere around him changes. Once again he is verbally, and maybe even physically abused. That isn't cool. However, because of his mental handicap, I don't think he notices or minds the treatment he gets.
But still, my friends know better than to treat another person that way. I think they loose sight of that fact or maybe even disregard it simply because Eddy is different from them.
This whole thing pains me, it really does.
I think to myself, "What If I was in Eddy's shoes and he was in mine?" He leads a "normal" life while I am then shunned by all.
I am all alone, things that were once simple to me now make no sense as if written in an alien language.
I can't work my hands the same way anymore.
Maybe I have to concentrate just to walk now. Perhaps I see a boy opening his locker getting his books out for his next class.
I go over to him to say hello.
It's Eddy. What does he do now? Does ignore me? Does he tell me to go away? Does he just humor me or mock me? Does he dehumanize me?
Or maybe he smiles. Unlike all the others, he treats me like an equal. He talks and walks with me. He is my friend.
But the thing that saddens me the most is this; most of the Special Education kids, the ones with Down Syndrome (Trisomy 21), will most likely live past 21 years old. Some won't even make it out of their teens. What will those who once shunned them feel now? I'll bet you anything it will be crushing guilt. Guilt for making life a living you-know-what for another person.
Generally speaking, people at our school are fairly respectful to each other. Yes, we have some real morons out there, but noone is a complete jerk.
However, there is a select group of people at our school who have never been rude, or violent, or uncaring, or even mad at us and yet many people shun them like the plague.
I'm talking about the Special Education kids.
I don't understand it. Why is it we treat these people so badly? It's not fair, they are not animals. They are just like you and I. The only difference between us is one chromosome; we have 46 most of them have 47.
I have noticed as they walk through the hall, people will stop talking, back away and stare as if they are watching a procession of ebola monkies. Some laugh even have the audacity to laugh or smirk at them when they go by or are scared of them as if they will somehow "infect" them with a horrid disease.
One kid in particular, who's name I will change to protect his identity, Eddy, is one of them happiest people I know. He's quite bright, and yet most everyone I know, especially my friends sadly, treat my dogs better than they treat him. Eddy is kind of like a child in that he mimics what my friends so. If they start slapping each other on the back, it's fun for them, but if Eddy does it, they yell at him and tell him to leave.
Honestly, I've talked to him before. He's harmless. He has an innocence that I find refeshing. It is something few people have anymore, especially at that age. He's not "annoying" like a lot of people say, but is just full of energy. He always has a smile on his face which transfers to me aswell. Then when he leaves me and goes to talk to someone else, the atmosphere around him changes. Once again he is verbally, and maybe even physically abused. That isn't cool. However, because of his mental handicap, I don't think he notices or minds the treatment he gets.
But still, my friends know better than to treat another person that way. I think they loose sight of that fact or maybe even disregard it simply because Eddy is different from them.
This whole thing pains me, it really does.
I think to myself, "What If I was in Eddy's shoes and he was in mine?" He leads a "normal" life while I am then shunned by all.
I am all alone, things that were once simple to me now make no sense as if written in an alien language.
I can't work my hands the same way anymore.
Maybe I have to concentrate just to walk now. Perhaps I see a boy opening his locker getting his books out for his next class.
I go over to him to say hello.
It's Eddy. What does he do now? Does ignore me? Does he tell me to go away? Does he just humor me or mock me? Does he dehumanize me?
Or maybe he smiles. Unlike all the others, he treats me like an equal. He talks and walks with me. He is my friend.
But the thing that saddens me the most is this; most of the Special Education kids, the ones with Down Syndrome (Trisomy 21), will most likely live past 21 years old. Some won't even make it out of their teens. What will those who once shunned them feel now? I'll bet you anything it will be crushing guilt. Guilt for making life a living you-know-what for another person.
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