Dog Walking

Yesterday, Karmon and I met up and took our dogs on a walk. I should say our kids, because that is what they are treated like. Karmon has a little, fluff ball named Daisy. My dog is named Maddie. She is a miniature rat terrier, and believe me she definitely gets called a rat all the time. I happen to think that she’s the cutest thing in the world. She is white with black spots all over her, and she has huge, satellite like ears.
Now that I have told you a little bit about our dogs I can get on to the story about our walk. It was really hot out on Tuesday and Karmon and I decided to go for a walk with our babies instead of going to the gym. Our dogs have never met before that day and when I put Maddie in Karmon’s car the two dogs didn’t seem like they were going to get along very well. Maddie started to growl at Daisy as soon as we got into the car. To my surprise they didn’t bite each other.
We drove to Donnelly’s so that we could park the car and walk around Crawfordsville. The whole way there Maddie and Daisy had to hang there heads out the window. I have no idea why dogs do that, but they seem to love it. Karmon and I decided to walk through Wabash to see one of her friends. I have never been in Wabash before, but it was actually a really nice place. We walked around Wabash for a while with her friend, which I don’t remember his name. I am really bad with names. Then we left to go get the puppies some ice cream from Dairy Liscious.
I got a Bahama-mama, Karmon got a coke, and the dogs got vanilla ice cream. Neither one of the dogs ate their ice cream. It really amazes me that when I am eating Maddie begs for food, but when I actually get her something she doesn’t eat it. Then maddie got out of her collar and was running around Turtle Park like a maniac. She definitely made me look like a fool chasing her around in circles. I finally caught her and she jumped out of my arms again. I was thinking oh god here we go again, but this time she just rolled over and stayed. Thank god she did that because I really didn’t want to chase her all over the park again. I already had enough people looking at me as it was.

The end of the semester stresses me out!!

I am so excited that we only have two and a half weeks left of school until summer break. This semester has been a long one and it can't get over soon enough. I always seem to get burn out on school towards the middle of spring semester. I hate that I do, but I really have no control over it.
I think that maybe I get this was because I get sick of having no life besides school, work and studying. The warm, summer air is a taunt to me when I am stuck in classes or at work. I love summer and the hot weather it brings with it. It's so hard to actually get things accomplished when the weather is extremely nice. I would rather be outside enjoying the sun than be cooped up in my house studying for a test, doing homework, or writing a paper.
I do get all my work done for school, but it's definitely a struggle to do so. Classes are about to end and more and more things are being due each day. Kind of like the bloggs. I really can’t wait to be done doing writing bloggs. I believe this is my eight blogg so only four more to do. That means since we only have two weeks of school left I better get my butt in gear. I will have to write 2 bloggs this week and two next. That doesn't seem so bad, but it is when I have so many other things to do. It's totally my fault for having this many bloggs left to do, because as usual I procrastinated until now. Now its crunch time and I must get everything done.
I know that I will get everything done, because I have to try and get A’s in every class in order to be accepted into the RN nursing program. I will be upset if I don’t get in. I feel like I have put so much work into school and getting the best grades that I can, and If I don't get in I will have to go another semester re-taking classes to improve my graded. I never realized how hard it is to get into the nursing program here at Ivy Tech. I have to work really hard to get what I want and what I want most in life right is to be a nurse.

my teddy

Everyone has something that is irreplaceable to them, whether it is a loved one, a material object, or whatever. I have something that fits into that group- my teddy. I know it sounds funny that a 22 year old has a teddy bear, but he means the world to me. He is almost as old as I am. I got him when I was very young, maybe 1 or 2 years old. This bear has been with me through thick and thin. His appearance has changed throughout the years. He is no longer light brown in color; he is more of a faded brown. His once soft fur is now well worn. He used to have a little green bowtie on his neck; I have no idea what happened to it. It came off a long time ago. Where the bowtie used to be is now a hole. I sewed it up myself when I was young. I felt like I was performing surgery. There are little white treads poking out at his neck. The fur is completely rubbed off on his left arm. There is also a little hole at the end of his hand. When I was little I used to rub that arm for comfort. I sometimes find myself subconsciously rubbing it now. Most of the stuffing is gone in his left leg; it is caused from the way I used to hold him. The leather from is nose is torn off and now reveals a hard plastic nose. When I was little I used this as a weapon. Whenever my brothers would gang up on me, I would whip out my teddy and hold onto his legs and swing. The plastic nose would make contact with my brothers and then they would run off and leave me alone. They told me later how much it hurt to get hit by that nose. Whenever I come home from a hard day, the first thing I do is grab my teddy and give him a hug. He has a smell to him, a smell of home that comforts me. My family gives me a hard time about keeping my teddy for this long, but I don’t care. My teddy is my safety net, my comfort.

new school = new beginnings

I carefully tied my new Nike shoes. I grabbed my new backpack and slid it across my shoulders. The bag felt so light and stiff, for there was nothing in it but a few notebooks and some pencils. The bag smelled fresh and new and was gleaming with a color of pink. As I walked across the kitchen floor towards the door my shoes squeaked. I took a breath and opened the door. The morning light hit my face as I walked up the driveway. I could hear the birds chirping, it was as if they were saying “good morning!” I got to the top of the driveway and began my wait. It was the first day of school and I was very nervous. Not only was it my first day at school, it was my first day at a new school. I was starting my seventh grade year. That summer my family and I moved to Crawfordsville from Indianapolis. I had anticipated this day all summer and now it was finally here. The school bus pulled to a stop and it caused me stop daydreaming about my old school and friends; they were long gone. As I boarded the bus I felt like Forest Gump on his first day of school. It seemed that I was one of the last to get picked up and the selection of seats was slim. I finally found a place and parked. I sat down and rested my head on the back of the seat. The vinyl of the seat started to stick to the back of my legs and the bus smelled musty and was not appealing. As the bus started to roll down the road I said a silent prayer for strength. I knew that I would need it for what lain before me. The girl beside me turned and introduced herself. “Hi, my name is Ashley. What’s your name?” I couldn’t believe it. One minute on the bus and I already made a friend. Going to a new school was going to be easier than I thought. As I turned to introduce myself, I said another silent prayer, one of thanks.

comparing the red chevy

After reading the essay by Juli Bovard entitled “The Red Chevy,” I evaluated what trauma can do to a person. According to my “College Writer’s” book, “Psychological research has shown that people remember trauma more vividly and with more detail than other events.” In order to see if this was correct I thought about two experiences of my own, one that was traumatic and one that was enjoyable. Even though the traumatic event that I thought was no where near as traumatic as Bovard’s, but it was upsetting to me nonetheless. The traumatic event that came to mind was when I got hit with an arrow in the forehead. I can remember every detail of the event even though it happened almost fifteen years ago. I ended up in the hospital that evening and three stitches in my forehead. The other memory, the happy one, was when I got my first car when I was sixteen. I can remember a lot that happened that day too. The car was a surprise and was a special event that I shared with my family and best friend. Even though these two experiences were totally different, they were both growing elements for me. However, I don’t think that these two experiences really support that psychology research. I think everyone has their own memories and they can decide what they remember or not. I do realize that there are some occurrences that happen that you can never forget, but I have read where sometimes in a traumatic event you block things out to forget them. Like I said, this are my thoughts and opinions, and someone else may have something entirely different to say about this subject. I think it all in how the person is and how well they can carry on with their lives.

12. My Roles

My role changes dramatically throughout the course of a day. I never really thought about it until I did a workshop in a communications class. We were told to think of all the roles we play in a day. In doing this I had to walk myself through a day and saw myself changing to fit the roles of others. When I wake up in the morning I am myself. But, in being myself I must look at my roles as a person. I am a mother of four, a fiancé to John, and a freshman at Ivy Tech. In preparing to go to school, I am a fashion critique to myself, kids, and John (fiancé). I am a cook, as well as a meteorologist. I am judge and jury when the kids argue. It is my role to keep the peace, plan dinner and pay the bills.
When I am at school I am the student, however, I also take on the role of a tutor to those who ask me questions. I am an overachiever, a perfectionist, and a procrastinator in my school work. After classes I go to the house we are remodeling. There I am a painter, carpenter, drywaller, cleaner, go for, and a fiancé (should John want kisses).
When my mother calls I am a daughter. I take on the role of being the strong one. I reassure her that things are going to be okay when she misses my brother. When my friends call I am a carefree woman. If a neighbor waves I smile and wave back, forgetting the nuisance they are.
In the evening I am the guardian of my children, I am the enforcer of curfew, I am the law. At bedtime I am a storyteller and defender of the children’s fear of the dark. In my own bed I am a tired woman with four kids. I am overwhelmed with life. I am planning my next day’s meals, cleaning, and errands. I am a mother, daughter, fiancé, student, teacher, cook, maid, meteorologist, accountant, friend, and lover.
No matter what role I am or for whom I am still a thirty one year old woman. I do my best to keep life together everyone in my family. When my mom told me I could be anything I wanted I didn’t realize she meant all at once.

11. My Kyle

I was allowed no response. I was not given an opportunity to say anything. No goodbyes, no I love you, I could not try to talk you out of what you did. My advice was not asked for, my thoughts were not wanted. There was no time to stop you, because I did not realize you needed to be stopped. In the moment of loss my soul seemed to be suffocated with grief. Unexplainable sorrow, unrelievable pain, unforgiving misery. The thought of losing you seems to crash down on me in the most awkward times. It seems as though I relive you death over and over. I have wanted to pick up the phone several times to tell you what is going on in my life. Only to recall you are not there. I try to comfort myself with the thought of you being in heaven, however I am selfish, and it isn’t enough. I see your friends. Some will speak of you. Others do not mention your name, I believe it is too hard for the, to think of you being gone.
I get angry with you at times. I wish you could be here just so I could kick your ass for all of the pain you have caused so many of us. My youngest son cries for you, our mother weeps uncontrollably while I sit and watch, trying to find a comforting thing to say. There is nothing to say. You are gone. Period. You are not coming back and try as I may I cannot find the purpose in all of this. Life seems to go on. At times I wish it would stand still if only for a moment. And while I am wishing, I wish you were still alive. I wish I had seen you one more time. I wish I had held you a little longer when we hugged on Christmas. I wish I had stopped by that day and may have found a way to keep you here, if only for a little while longer. I wish I knew some way to subside the pain at times. I wish for you Kyle, all the time. I pray for you as well. I pray you are happy and at peace. I pray for me too. I pray I will get through this. I miss you Kyle. With all of my heart and soul, I miss you. I love you.