A speech about immigration

    There is something that all humans have. Despite gender, race, personality, upbringing, or class, you possess; emotions. Throughout the years emotions have been twisted, kindled, and overlooked. Though emotions can open your eyes they can also compel you to slowly close them. Kind of like when you are in congress and you are really tired and you let your eyelids slowly fall from the boringness of an immigration bill. Yeah. Like that. When in government, it is fairly easy to “slowly close your eyes”, or, manipulate your emotions. One congressman might say; “We are people and should be compassionate towards others…. Why don’t we help out the needy, low, poor people by taking from the greedy, gluttonous, rich people.” Though this makes perfect moral sense, it is also known as communism, which is in fact immoral. This congressman tricks your emotions and makes you forget it’s not right to force people to choose the “right.” You should never rely upon a way a speaker makes you feel to base your moral opinions on, especially when involving government.

    One issue in our nation today very near twisting people's emotions is; immigration. You will be persuaded feel compassion towards immigrants and their impossible situations, which will then lead you to illogical reactions and vague “solutions.” Such as getting rid of border control completely, or giving illegal immigrants driver's licenses, jobs, and health care. Or letting other family members join parents before they become citizens. Don’t get me wrong, I do have compassion for immigrants. It’s rather rude to kick people out of your country. Yet it’s the same thing when kicking your little brother out of your room, when he is purposely breaking your things or belongings and unfolding freshly made clothes. One way to prevent your brother from doing this, is to instruct him before he comes in, making sure he will respect all of the peace you’ve worked for. If he doesn’t, you kick him out. Is it rude? Is it necessary? Should you let your brother destroy your room on behalf of feeling compassion for him?  Though I have empathy for immigrants, I will not let me feelings, no matter how right they seem, lead me to manipulating myself.

    So to help immigrants, to help your little brother understand the importance of respect, in attempt at keeping him and your room peaceful, we must kindly, though forcibly, do just that. Teach him respect. To do this for immigrants we may have to increase border control, yet before that, we have to go to the very heart of the problem. The respect teaching. Citizenship. The path to citizenship, or naturalization, can be very challenging and complex, and can prevent immigrants from becoming a citizen. In this bill you can see that this process will be simplified. If this bill were to take effect immigrants would not have to spend and invest as much time and money (that they do not have) in getting a green card, or permanent residence. We can be one step closer to solving the immigration problem. We must stop relying upon our compassionate emotions to lead us astray in politics. We know what is wrong and what is right, and we also know it’s okay to feel empathy for immigrants, yet we cannot deny that allowing people to do illegal things, because of what we feel, is wrong. Instead we must see logic, and understand that a simple, justified path to citizenship is necessary for immigrants.

My Two Dearest Friends

All of us go about our day

Doing this and doing that 

Theres hardly constants

There's hardly regulars 

Yet every Thursday, I meet my two friends

The sunflower and the sunset.

And how they match so splendidly! 

The yellow sunflower hues, and the orange glow of the sun, never leave and never waver.

When I come across their picture, it's never windy, never rainy, never looking weary or labored. 

And every week leaves comfort, for I get a glimpse of my two perfect friends.

Their silent words of peacefulness, never fail to send.

On this particular week,

I was particularly eager to see them

To remember how magnificent a scene, they made.

The day was grey, the sun hidden, and I was concerned for the sunflowers wilty stem.

Yet, as I drove past their sanctuary, stopping my car at a light, as I leaned my head on my arms in anticipation, to savor this short sight,

my eyes took in,

the absence of,

the darling, golden, sunflower. 

There was no picture,

There was no warmth,

My friends had been hidden, hewn, taken, cut down.

I drove away, wiping pitifully at my eyes, refusing to be sour.

And I went about my night 

Doing this and doing that

With no constant, and little to rely on, with nothing,

But a charming memory of my two dear friends. 

An old hero report

Aspire Scholar Academy

Dr. Mary Edwards Walker

Hero Report

Ella Johnson

April 30 2015

    Mary Edwards Walker was born on November 26 1832 in the town of Oswego, New York. She was born the fifth girl to Alvah and Vesta Whitcomb Walker. Her father believed in equal rights for his girls, and also believed that woman's clothing was tight-fitting and immodest. Perhaps Mary’s beliefs were founded upon her fathers, for Mary grew up to be an enthusiast for womens rights. At the end of her teenage years she actively sought out an education in the Syracuse Medical College, (the nation's first medical school and one which accepted women and men on an equal basis) paying $55.00 for all three 13 week semesters. Mary was the only woman in her class. She graduated with a doctor of medicine degree in 1855. Mary, now Dr. Walker went into private practice and married Albert Miller, though her feminism was displayed when her attire at the marriage ceremony was trousers and mens coat, not to mention she also kept her own name. They both started a medical practice in Rome, yet the public was not yet ready to recieve a woman physician, so their business floundered. They were divorced 13 years later. When war broke out, she came to Washington and tried to join the Union Army. Denied a commission as a medical officer, she volunteered anyway, serving as an acting assistant surgeon -- the first female surgeon in the US Army. As an unpaid volunteer, she worked in the US Patent Office Hospital in Washington. Later, she worked as a field surgeon near the Union front lines for almost two years (including Fredericksburg and in Chattanooga after the Battle of Chickamauga). In September 1863, Walker was finally appointed assistant surgeon in the Army of the Cumberland for which she made herself a slightly modified officer's uniform to wear, in response to the demands of traveling with the soldiers and working in field hospitals. She was then appointed assistant surgeon of the 52nd Ohio Infantry. During this assignment it is generally accepted that she also served as a spy. She continually crossed Confederate lines to treat civilians. She was taken prisoner in 1864 by Confederate troops and imprisoned in Richmond for four months until she was exchanged, with two dozen other Union doctors, for 17 Confederate surgeons. She was released back to the 52nd Ohio as a contract surgeon, but spent the rest of the war practicing at a Louisville female prison and an orphan's asylum in Tennessee. On November 11, 1865, President Johnson signed a bill to present Dr. Mary Edwards Walker with the Congressional Medal of Honor for Meritorious Service, in order to recognize her contributions to the war effort without awarding her an army commission. She was the only woman ever to receive the Medal of Honor, her country's highest military award. In 1917 her Congressional Medal, along with the medals of 910 others was taken away when Congress revised the Medal of Honor standards to include only “actual combat with an enemy” She refused to give back her Medal of Honor, wearing it every day until her death in 1919. After the war, Mary Edwards Walker became a writer and lecturer, touring here and abroad on women's rights, dress reform, health and temperance issues. Tobacco, she said, resulted in paralysis and insanity. Women's clothing, she said, was immodest and inconvenient. She was elected president of the National Dress Reform Association in 1866. Walker prided herself by being arrested numerous times for wearing full male dress, including wing collar, bow tie, and top hat.

She was also something of an inventor, coming up with the idea of using a return postcard for registered mail. She wrote extensively, including a combination biography and commentary called Hit, a combination autobiography and commentary on divorce in 1871, and a second book, Unmasked, or the Science of Immortality, about infidelity in 1878. In 1872 in Oswego, Mary E. Walker attempted to vote, one of many women who made the attempt over the years on the road to full suffrage. In 1890, Mary declared herself a candidate for Congress in Oswego. The next year, she campaigned for a U.S. Senate seat and, the following year, paid her way to the Democratic National Convention. She died in the Town of Oswego on February 21, 1919 and is buried in the Rural Cemetery on the Cemetery Road. Ironically, the 19th Amendment giving women the vote was ratified that same year.

    People like Mary Edwards Walker were the beginning of the woman's rights movement, a movement that has shaped and sculpted our country in ways the founding fathers couldn’t have. She was independant, yet she wasn’t selfish. She had a good head and heart, and was able to discern the serious problems in her society at that time, when almost no one else could. How could people with that gift not contribute their time? She was also determined to help out in the war, to use the skills she earned through her schooling. If the United States did not have brave people that were willing to risk everything for something they worked hard to believe, we would not have a United States at all. Mary was a not the only courageous one. Yet her courage must have helped numerous others as her Dad’s courage helped hers. As Mary concluded in 1897, "I am the original new woman...Why, before Lucy Stone, Mrs. Bloomer, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony were—before they were, I am. In the early '40's, when they began their work in dress reform, I was already wearing pants...I have made it possible for the bicycle girl to wear the abbreviated skirt, and I have prepared the way for the girl in knickerbockers."

    We, like Mary, have the opportunity to use bravery. Have you ever been the first one to give a standing ovation? Have you ever said “hi” to your mean neighbor? Have you ever had to give a speech in front of a LOT of people?

    This, to me, is courage, of the most tedious kind. These things are perhaps what some would not even call real bravery, yet they are what we face today. Dr. Walker didn’t only have to exercise this “tedious courage,” she had to face the bullets wizing past her head as she helped the wounded. She had to face law enforcers when she wore men's clothes. She was not only brave, she was determined, persistent, she observed, discerned, and was independent and immovable. Though Mary might’ve died with only one (women’s rights) principle engraved on her headstone, she could not have obtained the recognition for this principle without many other attributes.

    Dr. Edwards story many not be one that brings tears to my eyes and fragile emotion, rather, it pushes me rim-rod straight, gives me a resolute gleam in my eye, and gives me power ringing through my heart and soul, in short, a determination to be like God. The difference is in a soft, touching, haunting hymn, sung by a few beautifully trained sopranos. But rather, Mary’s story is a full base-alto sound, belted and cried with power and strength of soul. That is what I feel when I read of Dr. Mary Edward Walker. I feel a power in maintaining freedom throughout my country. I feel strength in understanding the importance of being in the world but not of it. I feel the responsibility of serving my fellow men. I feel with sincerity the importance of a life led by God. I put a foot boldly forward each day. In the end, tears do come to my eyes through the zeal and tenacity, the power of God in my life, influenced by Dr. Edwards. The power of God in Mary’s exceptional story. The power of God in our song deeply cried without restraint.

World Wide Web:

Women Of Courage http://www.northnet.org/stlawrenceaauw/profiles.htm Written and produced by the St. Lawrence County, NY Branch of the American Association of University Women

Changing the Face of Medicine http://www.nlm.nih.gov/changingthefaceofmedicine/physicians/biography_325.html From the National Library of Medicine

Medal Of Honor News; The 1st and only woman Medal of Honor recipient: A statue in her honor http://www.medalofhonornews.com/2011/02/1st-and-only-woman-medal-of-honor.html Posted on Sunday, February 20, 2011 and posted by Homer L. Wise

Books:

Harness, Cheryl. Mary Walker Wears the Pants Published by Albert Whitman & Company

The little rosebush

The little rosebush

On its claimed yards of grass

Watching and waiting as the cars wiz past

Trimmed to overfill its shape

And the bareness overestimating its size

Not wild nor free-reined, but full and lonely.

It's not hard to imagine, this rosebush with thousands of its friends. 

To imagine a different landscape, where the mountains never end. 

Where the skies are filled with happy blue, and the clouds are filled with joy.

But instead it was planted in the middle of Provo, on a skinny awkward piece of land.

And all who witness this rosebush, only witness that it stands.

To create, to swap, to zip past new backgrounds, and find the right one for this poor plant.

To pose it, to grow it, to decide its fit, and wonder at its slant. 

But this rosebush has been branded, and given so long of a space, it is not designed to fill.

Yet it still kneels there, growing ever still. 

'MERICA

I DO NOT BELIEVE IN 'MERICA



But I will forever believe in AMerica.

Vivian Park

What the civil war time-period means to me.

What the civil war time-period means to me.

Ella Johnson

“The people were superstitious. They believed in dreams, signs, and omens. They would not begin a journey on Friday. If a dog crossed a hunter’s path when he started out in the morning, the hunter would have an unsuccessful day unless he at once hooked together his two little fingers and pulled until the the dog was out of sight. If a bird alighted in a window or a dog was heard baying at certain hours of the day, it was regarded as a sure sign that death or some other form of calamity would visit the household. Potatoes and other vegetables yielding their fruit under ground must be planted in the period when the moon was not full; but those bearing their fruit above ground must be planted in the full of the moon.” -Wilbur F. Gordy

The 1800’s, specifically in the civil war area, was a time where people were good. Yet people were confused. There was much talk of religion and righteousness back then. People were aware of it. Yet people were not quite sure exactly how to implement those things. They believed in slavery. They believed the United States should not allow secession. Perhaps the most blessed thing about this generation, was their ability to remain simple. Not so much simple in clothes or in laws, but simple in heart and mind. Because there was much confusion, these people could only rely on a humble bible, or a simple conscience. They had a desire for truth.

Today with our technology, our heaters, microwaves, lawn mowers and tractors, our agnostics and atheists, we don’t care. We don’t desire anything. We only lust after it. We only do things because we must. Everything window is so clear, we don’t know what window to look through. So we don’t look through any. It’s funny how confusion leads you to assuredness, and assuredness leads you to confusion.

Abraham Lincoln was simple in writing, simple in speech, and simple in attitude. Lincoln gives me hope. Hope that simple people, sometimes sad people, and ordinary people, can save a country. I love Abraham Lincoln. I love his courage, that gives me courage. I love his honesty, which gives me honesty. I love the simple way his life was explained, on old smelly pages, that make the grey life seem so very worth it. Not wonderful or splendid, or fun or extravagant. But so very worth it. Lincoln’s life was hard, and not in the way our lives are hard. The only joy he found was in reading the bible next to the fire at night. To understand the life of Abraham Lincoln you need only take a look at his picture, and there you can see all of the sorrow, intellect, humility, fortitude, and integrity. I know Abraham Lincoln is a man of God.

Though it’s nice to think everybody back then was like Lincoln, I think it’s safe to assume they were not. Many knew the truth, yet didn’t live it. People who knew slavery was wrong, yet never ceased to exercise it. It’s the one’s who sought out truth and found it, feasted upon it, who died with peace blanketed over their face. The people who were willing to be be arrested for their beliefs, the ones who would be beaten to death because of owning a bible, people who sincerely went to war and sang America the Beautiful with ardor. These people are no worse than Abraham Lincoln. Their lives are simple, and sometimes not recognized, yet they bring tears to your eyes because they were so very worth it. They are what the civil war time-period means to me.

Abraham Lincoln Book Review (by that Gordy guy)

Abraham's life was so simple, and thanks to the author the book reflected this simpleness.

Questions:
Because Abraham Lincoln suffered from depression (or whatever you want to call it) did that make him less of a person?

Here's what I thought of so far about this question:

Our world seems to be overrun with happiness. There is a time and place for it, but a movie theater is not the time nor place. LOL and ROFL on a bright face in a movie theater distracts those around you, you don't want that, and neither do we. Here at Cine mark we want our customers to enjoy their movie FREE FROM Distractions....................... This movie theater commercial is my favorite especially when you apply it to happiness... Seriously though, being happy is good. Being happy is fun. Being happy is what we all strive for. Yet don't we also strive for thoughtfulness? Sincerity? Mourning with those that mourn? You'll see people all around, especially poor unfortunate teenagers, that are so learned in happiness, they don't know how to be sad!
 Ecclesiastes  Chapter 7:3 Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. 

There's also that one scripture that I really can't find about you can't have joy without sadness, etc. You know what I'm talking about.

Even the very word happiness sounds hallow and artificial. Maybe if we even used joy or jubulancy it wouldn't so much be a problem. The 1828 dictionary explains it PERFECTLY:
HAP'PINESS, n. [from happy.] The agreeable sensations which spring from the enjoyment of good; that state of a being in which his desires are gratified, by the enjoyment of pleasure without pain; felicity; but happiness usually expresses less than felicity, and felicity less than bliss. Happiness is comparative. To a person distressed with pain, relief from that pain affords happiness; in other cases we give the name happiness to positive pleasure or an excitement of agreeable sensations. Happiness therefore admits of indefinite degrees of increase in enjoyment, or gratification of desires. Perfect happiness, or pleasure unalloyed with pain, is not attainable in this life.

The requirement of happiness always taught, is part of the problem of people "not overcoming their trials." OR "wondering why trials happen to them" OR "asking God why He did this to you." Happiness is somewhat of a selfish and even unobtainable feeling. When people tell you to be happy, I believe what they are trying to say is: be more confident. Find fulfillment in life. Be good and you will find joy. etc.......................... So then, why do we not say that?

Not only this concept has been twisted. Depression itself has. When someone says they have depression, (in my unfeeling bias inexperienced opinion) it means they aren't satisfied with life, they don't find "happiness" in anything.

Abraham Lincoln's type of sadness does not seem to fit this description. He was still able to find joy in things, yet specific times in his life brought him to mourn. Such as when his sweetheart died, before he married Mary. Or probably when the country was falling under the temptations of slavery. Abraham wasn't so much depressed as understanding, and able to think and ponder about the serious issues and frustrating experiences in his life.
The fact that Abraham Lincoln had depression, means he cared about things. He thought about them. He didn't only think about things, he felt them.
No one likes being around sad people... False. People loved being around Abraham Lincoln. And sad is still not the right word to explain it. 
So again I ask; Because Abraham Lincoln suffered from depression did that make him less of a person?

I'll get to more questions later. 

If you want a good laugh.....

If y'all want a good laugh I suggest you look at the following blogs:

http://whyidontdotjed.blogspot.com/

http://whatismattwalshwrongabouttoday.com/

I would totally try to debate all of their enlightening arguments, but that would denounce my afore stated deceleration of humor.

Civil War Poems

These aren't very polished:

DEATH
What makes this so
unusually grim?
If this was not so frightening
Horror would be unusually dim.
Some people think they understand
and claim if for themselves
Yet to truly understand
The hand that clasims a life
Must not be your own.
Then what makes war
so terrifyingly prone?
Why must this be the first thing we
choose to settle things
we can't settle
on our own?
What makes us so eager
to take a life?
Perhaps the same thing
That makes us want to
end an argument with strife
Perhaps for others
This is not so
Perhaps for others
They simply must go

Though war does not make
ethical sense
It is impossible to avoid
As much as we wish
this thing not to be toyed.
The more we wish
The less we realize
To understand death
We never ask God our whys
To understand death
You must realize this:
Though you'll wish they are there
though you'll desperately miss.
everyone dies
It's the killing we should fear
everyone dies
and God is still near.

Slavery
There was a man
who hung himself
which seems a terrible fate

There was a man
who was beaten and bruised
who had no family
and was horribly used
which seems a terrible fate

The answer to
The question you
 might be asking in your thoughts
can only be found
through the sound
of whipping and sobbing
chains clinking and reminding
that you will always be caught

Have you answered yet
the question of
whether the man who was hung
or the man who was beaten
had the worser fate?

The story must end
in explaining, my friend
that the two men
were the same.

We are Unjust
More than one slave
More than one injustice
If all was fair and equal
would this be known as bliss?
We have more than one right
More than one freedom
If oppressing is a right
why can we only oppress some?
There is more than one human
For humans are the same as us all
Would it be fair then,
if one was short and one tall?
There is more than one slave
Always, more than one injustice
How can we realize
WE are the unjust?


Ella Johnson

A speech I wrote

In the spring of 1861, Scarlet O'Hara, a young conniving flirt, can’t bear the fact that Ashley Wilkes is getting married to a frail simple girl named Melanie. And here the story begins in the well known Gone With The Wind. As the tale continues, and the civil war progresses, Scarlet finds herself having to deliver Melanie’s child while bombs go off around her. Having to make a quick getaway, Scarlet, with the help of her friend Rhett, make it out of Atlanta where Rhett abandons her and leaves her to drive the carriage, hauling Melanie and her new-born child, through Yankees, deserters, and soldiers. After a very strenuous journey, Scarlet makes it to her home, where she finds more troubles and heartaches. She begins to rebuild her home, working for weak Melanie, and is furious when the tax is raised on it. Through lying and cheating she somehow finds herself a husband that can give her the money she needs. One day she is attacked by two black men. Another she falls down the stairs. Her father and mother both die. She kills a Yankee soldier. Her husband dies. She marries Rhett. She has a daughter, Bonnie, and she dies. After all of these monumental circumstances, Scarlet never changed, and was still a young conniving liar.

Today our circumstances are hardly dire. Once in a while you lose your job, you don’t get a good grade, you offend someone. Most of us have ever been truly starving, and our heaters and blankets keep us warm at night. But this life isn't without opposition, we are human, we still make mistakes, and we still have hardships and “trials” if you will. And for often an unknown reason, people expect you to get another job, they expect you to increase your grades, and to apologize to the person you offended. You are expected to push through trials, to fix mistakes, and to ultimately better yourself all the time. There is no doubt that humans are always refining and improving themselves. We do it naturally. You can see proof of it in a child learning to talk of their own accord. It’s exhilarating to learn a new word, take your first steps, and eat your first bite of real food. Yet……. there is something that is hindering this exhilaration. There is an inconspicuous wall that is blocking our path to refinement. This wall takes the form of a phrase. A phrase that we all somewhat believe, and it is this: circumstances refine us, so that we don’t have to refine ourselves.

Permit me to explain through the following analogy: When you are in your teens, and even younger than that, you are most likely taught to be nice to everyone, especially children. We are taught and we learn from experience that there is things you can do to be a better teacher and example towards kids. And here comes the false mentality that we all so readily and foolishly agree with: Parenthood will make us into good parents…. why not wait for that to be better?

I think we all know that this is foolish thinking, yet, don’t you somewhat believe it?.... We know things we can do to become a better parent, we have learned lessons, but then why do we wait until the last second to refine a skill? Why do we think becoming a parent will make us a good parent?

As we rely on parenthood to refine us into good parents we become dependent on our circumstances to refine us into good people.

But we are forgetting much. Circumstances, like parenthood, only have the power to teach us, not change us. Until you apply these lessons circumstances teach, they don’t make you better in any way at all. Knowing was never doing. It’s rather like the phrase, “you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink.” Circumstances do not refine us, the implementations of lessons learned from them, do.

In the famous story Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand, Louie Zamperini, an aspiring Olympic runner, became involved in WWII, and like many other enlisted men, Louie Zamperini and a crew of 11 crashed their plane into the Pacific Ocean. Louie, Phil, and Mac, were the only survivors. Left with two rafts, two chocolate bars, some water, and a couple other resources, they began to realize their fate. On their first morning Louie woke up to find that the chocolate bars and water were devoured by Mac. After being questioned, Mac simply stated that it didn't matter. Mac’s decided fate was obviously an impending one. It seemed impossible to see any other fate than death, yet, death was not the only fate. After many restless hours and days on their rafts, Phil and Louie began to talk to one another in an attempt to keep their minds sharp. They often asked Mac to join in, who often declined. Phil and Louie had also decided their fate, and they were determined to make it an objective one.

After 33 days in the Pacific, Mac died inevitably. Phil and Louie were still survivors after 47 days of dehydration, starvation, and torture. They still went on to survive two years in Japanese prisoner camps.

One fact remains with this story. Louie and Phil were able to look past their seemingly inescapable fate, and survived, while Mac broke down and succumbed to this "fate”, and died.

This tale proves that we can’t rely on our circumstances to refine us. Louie not only learned about being strong through intense struggle when he was younger, he WAS strong when he was younger, which made him ready to face the Pacific Ocean and all it’s horrors. Phil was a religious man and relied on God. This must have not only taught Phil to be strong, Phil decided TO BE strong. Louie and Phil made the decision to refine himself, instead of relying on their circumstances to make them admirable people. During Mac's life, he most definitely had struggles. Yet Mac had not fully practiced this unbreakable strength through struggles, therefore he was not ready to face true opposition.

We cannot rely on our circumstances to refine us, unless we want to end up like Mac.

Though this concept is rather difficult to grasp, many people truly understand it:

Brooker T. Washington said: "Character, not circumstances, makes the man." Similarly, Martha Washington stated; “The greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.” Benjamin Disraeli: "Circumstances are beyond human control, but our conduct is in our power." Thomas Jefferson: "Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances."

As these people understand this concept, we must understand it. If we don't….. well, lets take a look at the outcome of people who do not refine themselves. Parents everywhere are frustrated at their children and perhaps will never not be. Mac is abandoned in the great Pacific ocean, with a sad fate, and a sad ending. And finally, Scarlet O'Hara, the girl from Gone With the Wind, was left by Rhett, her third husband, right after she realized she truly loved him. She was left in complete hopelessness, with so many lessons learned but not implemented.

The outcomes of these examples were not because their circumstances led them to failure. It was because of their small acts of unwillingness to change. It’s easy to be left just like them, with deep sadness, little amount of self worth, and an inability to face upcoming struggles.

How can we avoid this fate? How can we overcome this wall of not understanding circumstances that is blocking our path to refinement?

The answer is simple: We must decide to refine ourselves. When circumstances teach us a flaw, we must fix and refine this flaw.

To do this, we can learn from other people struggles and circumstances. We can refine ourselves from others experiences, and be ready for circumstances similar to their own. Read the story unbroken, and find yourself becoming more unbroken. Listen to Scarlet O’Hara’s story, and change in yourself, what you see she needs to change in herself. Find people who have truly come to understand this concept, people like Martha Washington and Benjamin Disreali, and come to understand it as they have.

We all want to be better, it’s in our nature. We celebrate becoming better every year on our birthdays. And in order to permit this natural feeling to carry us forward on the path of refinement, we must tear down this wall built with the indoctrinated belief that circumstances make us better, so all we have to do is "bear the trial." We must tear down this long forgotten wall. I have made you notice it, I have brought it to your remembrance. So now we must tear down this wall we have built with tears of self pity glistening in our eyes, brick by brick. We will tear down these circumstances, these despicable excuses.

Ladies and gentlemen, We CANNOT rely on circumstances to refine us, we must decide to refine ourselves.

Today our circumstances are hardly dire. Once in a while you lose your job, you don’t get a good grade, you offend someone. Yet a day will come, when you are faced with profound hunger, complete cold, or teaming sorrow. And you will see either, hope, or hopelessness.

Decide now.

As Ella Wheeler Wilcox once wrote:

“We will be what we could be. Do not say,

"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."

No fate can keep us from the chosen way;

He only might who is.”

A feeling

I want to explain a feeling
And I know it won't be fun
In fact, it's many feelings all jumbled into one
It's rather like hopelessness
but not quite
It's almost carelessness
but that still isn't right

This feeling only comes when older
when old enough to feel
It's trying so many times
yet finding that your trying wasn't real.

When this feeling occurs nothing is ever done.
As I said, it isn't at all fun.
Gladly this feeling goes away
But sadly it comes back..
just the second you realize it's gone.

Clutter and mess,
Never getting dressed
Sitting and thinking
of standing up
Standing and thinking
of sitting down

I don't really like this feeling.
It doesn't suit me at all.
So after all this I have one resolution
to not feel it at all.

-Ella Johnson

Reliance

Oh how much do we rely
on everything?
Our shoes are to carry us, cats are to cuddle us,
and our voices are required to sing.

Oh how much do we rely
on a simple hair clip?

Let me tell you, there is oh-so many things
We rely on feelings, mentalities,
Summer, winter, fall and spring. 

What would the world be like
if we'd have nothing to rely on?
Would it be more selfish or less selfish?
What would it be like, if dependency was gone?

How would we go about forming opinions,

How would we treat our friends?

How would the world contain us,

If our self-reliance was never to end?

But with reliance, comes humility. 

With reliance, comes love.

Yet when we rely on everything,

What would we ever think of?

My short story

Prologue

(you better read this you dirty rotten reader who always skips prologues)

Ever since Gertrude had learned how to say “why” as a child, it became her favorite word. She asked it about everything. Even as she grew to become more mature her brain always turned to the “why” rather than her mothers “when” or other peoples “how.”

She treasured this attribute, but only at times. Some days she tossed it aside, thinking it too selfish to keep, too imperfect to treasure.

For treasure is dangerous, unless it is shared.

The thoughts of Gertrude Fitzgerald

Nothing was quite perfect.

Lawns were mowed, houses cleaned, school learned, and life lived. But... Something wasn't quite perfect.

Parking lots were painted as often as the borderlines of a soccer field. Traffic was hethenistic and therefore it never transpired. Curling irons were used everyday to coil hair in the most optimal shape. Life was perfect.

But it wasn’t.

There was just the right amount of people in this specifically ideal neighborhood. With many imperfections, it was perfect. It looked perfect therefore it was. The people looked perfect therefore they were. In this absolute neighborhood there was a girl. And she was different.

She was this way, only because she chose to be. Her name was Gertrude.

………………………………..

In a life-time, people aim to become better. Most ordinary people intend to be a better person at 98 than they were at 13 years old. It’s only human nature to progress. And as present becomes the past and the future history, we expect each other to become better together, to learn from the history, to use new inventions, to wear nicer clothes, to speak more refined, to be healed from sicknesses more efficiently, and therefore, be more perfect than the past generations. But we are not. The fact is, people are born equal, and they shouldn’t expect one generation to make better choices than the last one.

Moral progression does not come as a society.

And so were the thoughts of Gertrude Fitzgerald as she let her feet dangle above the pavement and pound down into a depressing rhythm. She often had thoughts like these. Perhaps they gave her joy. Perhaps they didn’t.

“What are you thinking about, Gertrude?” Nancy Witherbee stated artlessly while crossing the street towards her.

Though the statement was without art, the day was not. The sky was as blue as a robins egg with wisps of cloud painting itself above jagged and colorful mountains. The sun was a cup of hot chocolate, filling your soul with warmth. Flowers (that still had life within them) smiled and became confident again.

“I bet you're worrying about all the homework you have to catch up on. I have so many papers to write….. and I don’t even have the patience to calculate and add them all up.”

Gertrude smiled in understanding, and watched Nancy’s coiled curls bounce up and down and the impeccable style of her outfit.

“Heather!” Nancy exclaimed and sprinted away from her with a wave of a hand.

Gertrude walked to the school in rhythm, sloshing through the doors that whooshed a wave of bleakness all over her freckled skin.

This school consisted of stout brown bricks piled together in absolute order. Not just the bricks were stout, the entire air of the school stank of stoutness. It’s edges were many, and curves very few. Gertrude knew this place like the kinks in her hair, the chubbiness of her cheeks, and the shortness of her stature.

She trudged from class to class always in her rhythmic pattern, observing much. Lucy, somewhat of a gossiper always had something to say in her shrill whisper. Margaret, a peacemaker in any kind of turbulence,(including harmless discussion) always calming and explaining with expertly pedicured fingers. Perhaps Gertrude judged these people a little too harshly. Perhaps she didn’t. After all, they did try, and things they thought they understood were believed and lived fully. But Perhaps Gertrude had the most to say about Nancy. Without anyone acknowledging it, (because everyone unconsciously refused to) she was the leader.

………………………...

In Gertrude’s last class, she was pleased to be assigned to write a about why the fall of Rome came to pass, and how you think we can prevent the United States from falling today.

This was a fun topic for Gertrude. Though she hated writing, she did enjoy expressing her opinion. In fact, it was a strange topic……. No one would be able to predict how strange the outcome was of it.

And it all began with Nancy. Her paper, written and turned in the following week, was read aloud in class by the teacher:

“The Fall Of The USA

Nancy Witherbee

September 6th 2015

The Roman empire was the biggest empire ever recorded in history. It’s roads and cities stretched out all the way from England to where Iraq is now. The biggest question with this massive Government is why and how it fell. I am here to tell you my theory on how and why the biggest empire in history demolished itself and how we as The United States Of America can change this process, and maintain our strong Government, or, build a new and stronger one.

Rome was too immoral. That’s all there is to it. Even during Pax Romana (A long period from Augustus to Marcus Aurelius when the Roman empire was stable and relatively peaceful) there were 32,000 prostitutes in Rome. Emperors like Caligula and Nero became infamous for wasting money on lavish parties where guests drank and ate until they became sick. The most popular amusement was watching the gladiatorial combats in the Colosseum. Those morals and values that kept together the Roman legions and thus the empire could not be maintained towards the end of the empire. Crimes of violence made the streets of the larger cities unsafe. And in the end, they fell because of it.

In America today I believe there is a decrease in values. We are dangerously close from failing like they did. The only way to change this, of course, is to stop the decrease of values. Simple conclusion to a not so simple problem. It seems far too simple, but let me explain it before we jump to dishonest conclusions.

People will always be immoral. This is a fact. There will always be liars and cheaters and haters, etc. Because Governments are not successful when too much immorality goes on, does this mean that our Government will have to eventually fall? Never! It means we must establish a Government where we can eliminate immorality. The USA has done an okay job of doing this, yet I believe we can do better. There is things we can do to change it and make it better. We must change it. History repeats itself if we don’t learn from it. Why wouldn’t we learn from the fall of rome? Why wouldn’t we better the Government today? Why wouldn’t we do all that is in our power to keep our Government sustainable, as long as possible? There is no answer to these questions, no answer that would outweigh our bigger purpose. We must do everything in our power to not end with a fate identical to the sad one of Rome. We must do it, for our children, for the fathers who founded us, and for the bettering and perfecting of everyone.

If we do not, America, our blessed nation, will fall.”

The teacher commented on it. We congratulated Nancy, and went on with our lives.

It wouldn’t have been thought of again.

………………………………..

“I believe differently. I think there is many things we can better. Would you go up to a person and say, you are as good as you can get? People can’t be perfect, yet can they be better? Just think of all of the war that these people have just gone through, that YOU have just gone through. Would you go up to those people, would you tell people who have gone through hell, that we can’t be any better. There is no hope. War will carry on because Government can’t stop it? That not just war but violence will continue, that abuse will continue, people could die in the streets from lack of governing. And you would tell them there is nothing you can do about it. Really?”

This was the content of a club Nancy had started. Surprisingly, people did in fact join, most likely out of their inability to understand moral obligation. This club, was specifically for people who believed the Government was something they had to be involved in. If they had any chance at being perfect, they had to be involved in the world. Besides, Nancy always made cookies.

Gertrude, often curious, would stand against the door to this club, always attentive and listening to their words, yet never willing to step inside.

Today, Nancy had brought up the possibility of a World War. She had explained; if we (“we” meaning the group of youth sitting in chairs trying to discuss serious things) were to be the only ones left, the only people to build a new Government, how would we do it? How would we stop war, and how could we regain peace under an orderly society?

This brought up the question of maintaining our current Government. To which Nancy answered with a powerful and emotional guilt tripping listed above.

Though these kids were trying to discuss serious things, they didn’t realize how effective their trying would be, and how very serious their discussions were.

Gertrude even began to wonder. She tried to push it aside, shove off these thoughts as unimportant. Yet she knew they were. Deep down, these thoughts were begging to transform into opinions, opinions that somehow were to become the most important.

Even after this club, people began to wonder, to think.

The discussions sat, as all important things do.

…………………………….

There were so many characters. So many. They were all talking, all shouting, all voicing a new idea, a new opinion. And the carpet, it was ugly, full of rainbow twirls and swirls. It was too hot. The humidity in the room would cause an asthmatic person to have a loss of breath. The space. There wasn’t enough. The ceiling was giving in. The light flickered off and on like a strobe light. There wasn’t enough of it. The colors flashed on and off with the light and mixed all of the commotion into a disturbing churn.

It was too much.

This was the containment of Gertrude Fitzgeralds mind. There was no escape for her. Unless she took the escape everyone else was taking.

And that was……………… The shouting of characters began again as Gertrude tried to wrap a hold around her world.

Her silent tears cooled her flushed cheeks as she fell asleep against her pillow.

……………………………..

Gertrude walked past houses, looking exactly like one another, and blending in with the fall colors. Black, brown, grey, cream, and dead. The dark road was the only black thing in sight, yet there seemed to be a blackness in the air. One could see the darkness of it by watching the way it tickled the trees, and then ferociously slammed into them, knocking off what little leaves they had left. For Gertrude, this wind could only arouse goose-bumps, and push her forward, as the wind always did in the fall, reminding her of the real darkness that she had yet to defeat. She saw the color of cream in the sky, being a very pale day, the blue friendly heavens were hidden by clouds that couldn't decide if they wanted to be gloomy or not. Nor could they decide if it was going to rain.

Gertrude observed all of this in her usual rhythmic pattern of marching, listening to the leaves crunch under her boot. Perhaps she was listening a little too keenly though, because it wasn't until something got extremely close, before she recognized the sound of more leaves being crunched directly behind her.

"What a felicitous day for me to find you here Gertrude."

She woke with the inability to breath.

Nothing serious, just fatal….. Gertrude thought with an attempt at laughing not screaming out in complete terror.

({interjection from the author})

At this point, you are confused…... It would be nice to say that all that had happened so far flashed through Gertrudes mind, a tricky explaining tactic used by many authors. Yet I don’t know about you, but if I was unable to breath at the moment, I would not be thinking of the unpleasant things in the past. And you see ladies and gentlemen, we come to a dilemma. Gertrude needs to breath, but more importantly, the reader needs some explaining. This dilemma can obviously be fixed with a simple explanation right at this moment:

Nancy’s club had become very successful. Under Nancy’s direction, they had talked to their congressman, made it to the news, etc. It’s not as if Nancy was the new President, but  without anyone acknowledging it, (because everyone unconsciously refused to) Nancy was a born leader.

It’s not that just she was inspiring enough to gain like, a lot of power, it was also her arguments. People dared to believe them, then actually started to, and then it was hopeless, because they knew them to be true, why wouldn’t they be true? How couldn’t they be true? They made perfect sense.

And so it was up for Gertrude to decide. And she decided to be different.

Which caused her to suffer. Especially after she expressed her feelings to Nancy. Again, it’s not as if Nancy had any real power over anyone. But again, here was Gertrude, kidnapped by the people who most disagreed with that very thing.

({Interjection from the author has ended)}

Her head was spinning, and fingers tingling, she was unaware if these were symptoms that signified being close to death, but they were anything but pleasant.

She just knew she had to breath. She must breath. She HAD to breath.

Yet she didn’t, she felt herself slowly slipping away, slowly her swirling head and tingling skin overcame anything and everything else.

…………………..

“What are your last thoughts Gertrude?” Nancy stated artlessly.

“I hate you.”

“I wasn’t finished! What are your last thoughts after I ask this question….. Why are you so determined prove me wrong? I want an honest answer, I deserve one.”

“I am so determined to prove you wrong Nancy because you are wrong. You are wrong about everything. I know that choice must be value-”

“Oh this is good. Heather, go get a pencil and paper to write this down.”

“Above all else, freedom is my most treasured gift.” Gertrude said louder. “People will make mistakes, people will knowingly make them. They will be cruel and naive and utterly stupid. Just like you, Nancy.” She said with a smile. “And the world will still go round. But guess what, if we do not have the ability to choose, there will be no morality.” She was yelling at this point. “Because that itself is the biggest sin. You are wrong Nancy.” She screamed. “You are wrong!”

“I’m done with her.”

Suddenly Gertrude found herself in the recently referred to state of feeling like everything and anything was too much. She was in that terrible room again, that terrible state of utter confusion and churnings. Lights flickering, carpet swirling, people shouting things that should make sense but didn’t.

But it changed.

Suddenly, it became totally opposite, and Gertrude knew that her short-lived pain had ended. The room turned white, harshness was removed from the lights, the carpet was soft and sinky, and the voices disappeared, leaving plenty of room for Gertrude to simply smile.

Life could finally be perfect.

Authors Note:

If this book left you quite puzzled, that would make two of us.