Because these things will change.

'packmates'
by jessie swink

Some people might think machine
We are effortless in our movements, after all
Synchronizing with one another, easy as breathing
Our movements are reflections of the other
But no machine feels as we do
Nothing powered by oil and grease could match
Nor ever begin to compare to us
We are emotion itself, feeling and reaching
Unstoppable as a hurricane
Perhaps we are more like a force of nature
After all, something higher calls us together
My mouth cries the words ‘family’ and ‘friendship’
But alone they aren’t enough
Something stronger ties us together,
Something more than human words can capture
Things like ‘pack’, ‘spirit’, ‘soul’, they come close
But above all, we are simply more

And I'll do anything to see it through.

You’re well-renowned for your skills, although some might scoff and claim that they’re totally natural. However, you know that whatever your talents may be, you’ve worked hard to perfect them over time. That being said, you DO have a fair bit of natural talent and there are things that you’re able to do that other people never could. There’s likely something about you that sticks out as abnormal, but it’s such a common make-up of who you are that people hardly ever bring notice to it. In fact, people probably use it to identify you often. You also have relatives that might have similarities to you, but at the same time, are totally different. There is no doubt you fit in with them, but your behavior is notably seperate.

When it comes to manipulation, you can be particularly devious and even hurtful. Generally, your manipulation, while not noticeable on the surface, is very direct in its intent. You will manipulate for those you love, in order to seek revenge for them, or for your own selfish reasons, although you don’t often do so without just reason. Similarly, if you suppress anger or any other vivid emotion, you can become dangerous in your reactions to others. It isn’t unlikely for you to lash out in such a state, usually without the intention to harm. You are simply running off of some emotional high and it has to be released in some form or fashion. Such casual, if not extreme, destruction is easy to spot in those closest to you, because it is so unexpected. If it continues too long, it’s likely that you’ll slip into an ‘unhealthy’ state, where you are full-on aggressive.

When it comes to relationships, you prefer large groups to socialize inside of, although you really only attach yourself to one or two people. You firmly believe in companionship and encourage the idea that a group is far stronger than any one individual, if working together. Within your group, once you stir their anger, you can often command massive amounts of damage, should you chose to do so. More often than not, however, you and your friends are relatively peaceable and you don’t display a lot of territorial aspects, except perhaps towards those select few special people. You are, however, prone to holding a grudge against someone and you don’t quickly forget it, taking opportunities to snap at them whenever you get a chance to subtly do so.

You’re unexplainably attracted to the idea of some things, or to some people. It isn’t something you fully grasp, you simply ARE. You aren’t very difficult for others to put up with, due to your general, easy-going nature. Even if you can be roused into excitement with little effort, you do not require it and you do just fine on lazy days as well as fast-paced ones. However, god forbid anyone touch a sensitive topic of yours. It’s very likely that they’ll get a mouthful from you and should steer clear of you for a while.

All in all, a PIKACHU soul is FRIENDLY, PROUD, and CONTROLLING.



Be back later, guys, settling as a pikachu nao. <:

But I believe in whatever you do.

((When I was around seven, my dad bought me an electronic pikachu toy for a birthday present. It was THE thing for poke’mon fans (aka little nerds like me) to own at the time. I still have it to this day. It’s probably my most prized possession, which may sound slightly ridiculous, but its importance has only climbed since that day. I love activities like this, so forgive me if I go on a bit.))

I won’t try to philosophize, I’ll just take a deep breath
And I’ll look in your eyes. This is how I feel.

There isn’t much I remember before meeting my Jessie. Darkness, mostly. Or perhaps that’s not true. There were faces through the plastic, but they were blurred. Voices too, but they passed over me. I had crispness back then that I don’t quite have now, but crispness is overrated, in my humble opinion. And then, one face swam in. Not my Jessie, she wouldn’t come until later, but another that I would come to recognize with time. I was removed from all the voices, from the harsh light – but I was placed back into darkness. There were voices, yes, but they were muted (it wouldn’t be until later that I would learn that I was inside of a closet) and in the droll shadow, I waited. I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly, there was light again. I was moved – moved, and passed into her hands. You see, there wasn’t much of a meaning to my life before I was in hers. Before then, I was nothing more than an object on a shelf, the real meaning of “inanimate”. But beneath her fingertips, I came to life.

I feel like a hero and you are my heroine,
Do you know that your love is the sweetest thing?

I began to discover all sorts of things about myself in her care. My appearance, it would seem, wasn’t proper. I wasn’t like the Pikachu from the TV shows that she liked so much. The marks on my ears were too round, so she made them jagged. There was, apparently, a lack of hair on my forehead – that, too, was drawn in, since I couldn’t grow it. But those things weren’t important, not really, although I felt guilty – I wanted to be perfect for her. Because that was my job, my life’s goal now, to comfort her and offer her solace. Oh, and to be beside her during her adventures. She was young then, you know, and that meant that everything was an adventure. Heck, I was young then too. And if she could bring me to life, then it was through her eyes that I saw the world. There were countless battles we tackled. I was given a name then, too. “Pika”, while it seemed simple even then, was the one I was blessed with, and everyone came to know me. At first, it seemed like I was just another toy that she took with her places, but as I lived in her eyes, others began to see the life in me too. Rather than “I guess you can bring your stuffed animal with us”, it became “Pika can come as long as you don’t lose him”. I became a part of the family. I would learn that the face that was the first clear one I saw was her father. He would tease us about how inseparable we were, but it was light-hearted. He was one of the ones who knew I was alive.

I’m feeling like a newborn child
Every time I get a chance to see you smile

A lot of time has passed since I first entered my Jessie’s life. It began as physical adventure, those days when I was always in her arms. It eventually faded into a time where I didn’t often leave her bedroom, although there always was (and still is) a place that I fit perfect beside her in her sleep. Still, I had my own adventures. It was through her eyes that I had came alive, after all, and it was her mind that would give me my own exclusive world this time, in the pages of her writing. And that’s not to say that I didn’t still go places with her or provide reassurance. Certainly not. If she was ever going away from home, I was tucked either in her arms or into a bag. And my fur has been stained again and again with tears. Every time she’s had her heart broken, she’s held me close for comfort. When she was afraid, I was her safety. When we lost her dad, we both ached inside. Her pain is my pain, her warmth is my own. And it’s a nice place to be.

Repeating history and you're getting sick of it.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror


I think I'll do three people. Just because I can't pick between three, because all three have been there for me when I've needed them.



Iris -

She's the Joker to my Harley, what can I say? I'm the outgoing, buoyant one and she's the quieter, plotting one. She picks who we're going to kill and I grab the hyenas and say LET'S GO DO IT PUDDIN'. It's how we ~roll~. She REVS UP MY HARLEY, VROOM VROOM. Haha. <3 We've done a crapload of crazy stuff together as well. Between random, spur of the moment drives to places and MILKSHAKES to 99 RED BALLOONS, it's been an insane ride for us. <3 <3 <3 We're fighting to find our place in this so-called REAL WORLD and we're not quite sure what to do with it yet, BUT GOSH DARNED IF WE AREN'T GONNA FIGURE OUT! She's the Joker to my Harley, as I said earlier, the Calvin to my Hobbes, the Cat to my Dog, the PUPPY to my PIKA (HAHA), (similarly) the Persian to my Raichu, the purple to my blue, the Kikyo to my Kagome. Calvin to my Hobbes because she's more snarky than I am (haha, ilu), the Cat to my Dog because duh, the Puppy to my Pika because stuffed animalllls <3, the Persian to my Raichu because duh, the purple to my blue because they're similar but not the same, the Kikyo to my Kagome because INUYASHA REFERENCE PLZ.



Maria -

"You set my soul free like a ship sailing on the sea." <3 My Mariaaaaaa. I want to sing that to her every time I call her Maria, haha. I said in my status earlier all the "blanks" to my "blanks" that she is, SO YEAH. THAT'S WHAT SHE IS. A bunch of those are almost... Inside jokes. Inside meanings. She's the Hatter to my Hare because... Well, she's obviously the Hatter (I bought her a hat once that was the Hatter) and I'm the Hare because Jon is always the Hare in our RPs. She's the 'Dee to my 'Dum because of an Alice in Wonderland poem I wrote once for her. She's the Vulpix to my Raichu because DUH HELLO SHE'S A VULPIX and I guess I'm a raichu because raichu fits me better than pikachu, even if pikachu is more my icon. :'3 I guess she's technically more the Ender to my Ali. Salaam, my friend. <3 And DUH on the Alice to my Jon because HELLO. IF YOU KNOW US YOU UNDERSTAND THIS. She's made comments lately about feeling connected to deer, so that explains that, because I'm obviously a wolf, and she's the Maria to my Todd in more ways than one - ourselves, but alternately, and from our first ever Sweeney Todd roleplay. <3



Jake -

I'll bet he wasn't expecting to be slapped onto this list. That's kinda the reason he is being slapped on this list. I can't think of a single time I haven't been able to call Jacob and rant/cry/just whatever. I can call him for any reason, whether it's to rant about someone who's irritated the crap out of me, to cry because I've been hurt, or just to be like HEY THOUGHT I'D CHECK ON YOU. He's at the hospital right now (idiot doesn't know how to be careful grrr) because he hurt his shoulder, but hey. He's like the best big brother I could've ever asked for and he's my packmate in all ideas of the word (even down to the also-being-a-werewolf part ;3). I know that I could pick up the phone and call him if I ever needed him for anything and that's amazing to me. I cherish that. There aren't many people who would do that for me. Or put up with me almost every night for weeks on end because I'm upset and let me cry and just LISTEN and yet STILL offer input if he thinks something needs to be added. I don't know what I'd do without you, bro. <3

You know it's all the same, another time and place.

It's Wednesday and the day I've been looking forward to the most out of this week? Why, you ask? I've met this guy that I find to be pretty interesting. I love finding interesting people. :D He seems pretty fascinating and the kind of person I'm going to truly enjoy getting to know.

I don't know how much it says about my life that this is what I've been the most excited about all week. I'd like to say it makes my life awesome, because I can look forward to something so simple all week. And still have a really nice week, all in all.

Dunno.

Song that I heard today that fits my mood:
you gotta be bad
you gotta be bold
you gotta be wiser
you gotta be hard
you gotta be tough
you gotta be stronger
you gotta be cool
you gotta be calm
you gotta stay together
all i know is that love will save the day

Somebody else gets what you wanted again.

There are nights where I hurt. I don't like to hurt because it says to me that somewhere inside me, I'm weak, and the only times I've ever been hurt are the times I've been weak.

It sucks to wake up one day and realize you can't love someone anymore.
It sucks even more when you realize that ending something so suddenly like that is going to leave scars on your heart that must be healed by someone else.
But what sucks the most is realizing that your scarred-up heart now needs to be protected more than anything else and it makes it 10x more difficult to find the person to help you cure it.

And it's a sad picture, the final blow hits ya.

Switching up lyrics. Anyone who knows music will recognize that the lyrics before this have been "3 AM" by Matchbox 20, who are probably my favorite band, although I like other independent singers. Like Taylor Swift, who is taking the next position. It's "Change" by Taylor this round and this song is probably a good as one as ever.

So, this past summer had me abruptly falling out of love, which is something I had mentioned in some blogs before this one. Wanna talk about some rose colored glasses... Man, I think I had rose-colored CONTACTS. :'3 But all is well now. There's been some fighting patches, but when it comes to life, I'm a fighter. I'll fight for what I want and what I need. In this case, I needed to be free again. We'll see if another guy comes along. In the mean time, I'm enjoying not having a collar 'round my neck again.

I'm obviously in college now, for anyone who cares about my life. :'3 If you're reading this and you don't care about my life, then wtf are you doing reading it anyways? Shoo.

I have literature classes and communications and dance and yaaaaah, it's great fun, even if it is the Community College. I kinda like Community College better, there isn't as much responsibility, still a fair amount of freedom, and waaaaaay cheaper.

So nyah on you haturz.

Well, I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes.

Wow. High school, huh? It's a whirlwind and a rush and I can't believe it's over now. It's kinda scary to think about, actually. But what have been my best moments? Let me try to put them into categories.

Freshman year; Lunch every day. I had all my friends in my lunch, since most of us shared classes. We formed a huge group and would laugh and talk and joke during every day of lunch. I loved every second of it.

Sophmore year; Biology class was so much fun. I had just two or three of my friends in it, but we laughed so much that it made up for all the stuffy work we had to do sometimes. Laughter is good for the soul.

Junior year; This was probably the year that I was the most oblivious and the most happy, purely because of how much more innocent I was than I am this year. I've experienced a lot more hardship my senior year, but my junior year still held all the youthfulness that I still try to cling to. Every day had something different, some other happiness and some other frustration. I started to do better with rifle team, and I started branching out in different directions.

Senior year; Wow. Everything, can I say that? Disney trip is the first single thing that comes to mind, just because, ohmygosh, how can you NOT love the Disney trip? It's fantastic. But on a wider scope, this year has been amazing because everything that has happened to me. I lost my dad before the year started, so I was returning to school missing one of my best friends. I would also come to learn who my real friends were, and who should and shouldn't matter to me. I learned to be myself, no matter what the situation. I fell in love for the first time, and have happily stayed that way. I've matured, and I've become someone who can see the world as what it needs to be for me - which might be even more important than being able to see it for what it is, since that's different for every person.

But outside, it starts raining.

To my friends, my confidents, my companions, my packmates:

Jessica E.: Streetlights, people livin' just to find emotion, hidin', somewhere in the night. We've had a long five years together as close companions. We've been the best of friends, and at times, we've been the worst of enemies. Although our senior year has tugged us apart, nothing can erase those memories that we've had. It would be impossible to imagine my high school years without you, and I wish you all the luck in the world.

Jessi H.: Hello, my friend, we meet again, it's been a while, where should we begin? Middle school is well-known for being the time of life that you struggle to find your identity. We met that together, head first. We were both strange, geeky little kids, who found a common denomonator that pulled us together. When high school came around, band and JROTC forced us to divide and conquer, but I'll never stop seeing you as someone to rely on in the harder times.

Jacob Y.: You may not like where I'm goin', but you sure know where I stand. Despite our rather strange and unorthodox way of becoming friends (largely due to me, but you can't place all the blame in my court), you have become nothing less than a brother to me. But you already know that. I've always wanted a big brother, someone I can rely on, someone who will beat the crap out of anyone who messes with me, etc. You've been more than willing multiple times to provide all of the above. Thank you, and thirty minute drives should be no problem in the future.

Kirstan B.: And you don't worry now, because you've got soul. You're a newer addition to my group, but I think you deserve a place either way. AP Englishdisheartened me at the beginning of this year. I had people I knew, but no one that I could truly talk to.You opened yourself and became that for me, and through our mutual rants and rambles, we found friendship. Thank you for helping me survive this year, and you are explicitly not allowed to not see me next year.

Katie R.: It's not what I gave to you, it's not what I sold, we are born like this. All my heritage at this school, whatever meager amounts that it might be, I leave to you. You're my protegee, the proverbial Robin to my Batman, my young ward who is more than capable of taking over when this old Bruce Wayne is gone. Fight well, my feathered friend, and you'll be seeing me.

Jonathan R.: I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind. Like Katie, we've had a lot of times together. Gone are the days where at least three or so hours are spent in each others company, but none-the-less, we each know that we can rely on the other. We're the same type of people, you know, very blasé and doing what we can to help others above ourselves. More often that not, if we're selfish, it's out of revenge. That's just how it works, right?

Rusty W.: Feeling alive all over again, as deep as the sky, under my skin, "Like being in love, she says, "for the first time." Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm feeling right where I belong with you tonight. I would be very amiss if I didn't have you on here. You're last because you're so important - not to mention the person I know will be beside me in this "next journey" of my life. I had a huge change in my life this past summer, and I was finding who I was all over again, testing the waters and looking for the place I belonged again. And, to my pleasant surprise, I discovered that it's beside you. Thank you for everyprecious moment you've given to me, and for all the ones to come.

She thinks that happiness is a map that sits on her doorway.

The first teacher I can think of that has really influenced me as far as my future goes is Ms. Shelton. She has a willingness to teach any student that cares enough to listen, and she was probably one of the first teachers I've ever had that actually recognized me as a person, rather than just another student. She solidified my desire to be an english teacher one day.

Mrs. Pittman is the next, following right after Ms. Shelton. She probably doesn't realize it, since we've had a few rough patches (namely me being a procrastinator), but I look up to her. Everything she has in her life is what I want one day - a happy marraige, beautiful children, a job that to do just because I love it, the respect of my peers, and the ability to accomplish what I want to accomplish.

The Major cannot be left off this list. You come into JROTC with wide eyes and a little fearful. Sergeant Major is your first experience with the program, and his gruff attitude is uniquely his own - however, he also can play favorites, and is known for his favoritism on drill team. There's no hope for a little freshman like yourself. And then you enter the Major's class. He has his quirks (strongly disliking ketchup, hating most music, and affection for most comic strips being the main ones), but that's just it - you are a person to him, and he is a person to you. He encourages you to be nothing less than your best, and for that, I am grateful.

And the clock on the wall has been stuck at 3 for days and days.

My biggest change in high school from my freshman year and to who I am now is really how I interact with people. As a freshman, I started out like a wide-eyed puppy dog. I was willing to do whatever it took, no matter the situation. In JROTC, I wanted to overachieve, to do great things - but the biggest problem with that was that I was (and might still remain) too soft-hearted to be threatening enough to get where I wanted to go. Reflecting on that in my senior year, I see now that letting others triumph over me, despite what I wanted to do, made me suffer.

My biggest achievements, though, were also in JROTC. I have made lasting friends within our program (lovingly called my "packmates") and I could never regret all the laughter and happiness they have given me. One of my biggest recent achievements was being at the MCJROTC Chamionships, where I was placed as an Alternate on our "A-Team" (aka Varisty), but then proved myself by becoming the 6th individual shooter in the nation (2nd place female competitor!). It's been a long road to get here, but the people by my sides are more important than anything else.

She believes that life isn't made up of all she's used to.

My parents and I have our simularities - but we also have our differences. The morals I have in my life are largely those inspired by my parents, although they didn't quite follow them when they were my age. That's the point, ya know? They learn from their mistakes, so I learn from them too, so I don't have to suffer through the same ones.

When it comes to my mom, she and I are similar in some respects. We both enjoy a good cookout, we're both very compassionate, and we both have respect for our superiors and feel duty-bound to those people that we've got respect for. We're different, though, in our ideas of what's "normal" in life - for example, I have absolutely no problem with people randomly showing up at my house, or surprising someone by showing up at theirs, while my mom thinks it's rather rude to show up without calling ahead.

My dad and I, however, were incredibly alike. We had the same ideas about your friends - friends are your family, and therefore deserve to be treated as such. I love nothing more than a day spent with my friends. Daddy always worked his butt off all week long - but as soon as friday hit, he was with his friends and his family, enjoying the time he had. He believed that you should take things as they came, and I share that.

And she screams, and her voice is straining.

"She dealt her pretty words like Blades --
How glittering they shone --
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone --

She never deemed -- she hurt --
That -- is not Steel's Affair --
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh --
How ill the Creatures bear --

To Ache is human -- not polite --
The Film upon the eye
Mortality's old Custom --
Just locking up -- to Die."

This is "She dealt her pretty words like blades" by Emily Dickinson. I read this poem back in middle school, and I'm not sure why it has such appeal to me, but it does. Something about it seems bold and passionate, even though, in the end, in speaks of death. The woman in this poem seems to be one of determination and skill.

And she only sleeps when it's raining.

Streching upwards, every branch straining to the sun.
Curled in this foliage, I can't help but think of you.
The brushed red of the bark, the green of the leaves,
The songbirds that seem to overwhelm the air.
The wind that rushes in is pleasant,
But even it makes me no lighter than your smile.
And despite the steady limbs that hold me,
It can never begin to compare to your arms.
I run my fingertips across the maple's texture.
It alternates under my touch, rough to smooth.
It would seem that this trait too, you share.
And as if a child proclaiming their name,
You have carved yourself into my heart -
Not even Time himself could steal you away.

She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, goregeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson

I know, I know, it's really long. But I can't imagine omitting part of it, not to really get the full feeling of the text. I didn't live by this for the longest time. I did hide myself away in the shadows for a long time. But I overcame it and I'm pushing onwards.

In a color portrait world, she believes that she's got it all.

Ah, I'm old now. I'm knowledgeable, I'm wise, I'm intelligent. ... Right. If everyone says so, I'll believe it, but I think I can find enough people to contradict that fact that it's likely not true. BUT I have learned a few things along the way, that much I'm certain of. And honestly, the most important thing I learned should really be common sense. Do not let people walk all over you. I don't care who it is. I really don't. If they are abusing you and, in turn, changing who you are, put a stop to it. This doesn't always mean you have to cut whoever it is away completely. But it does mean that you have to know how to exercise your own self-confidence. And that's a hard thing to generate at an appropriate level. Most of the time, people either have too much or too little. And I'm hardly going to claim to have complete mastery over mine. Heck no. I'm still learning. I still struggle every day against people who underestimate me, or knowing my place. It's a hard thing to do. But it's something that's neccessary to be successful.

She's got a little bit of something - god, it's better than nothing.

Create a top 10 list for your ideal mate/husband/wife.
OKAY. Ten traits. Fun stuff, this was, but incredibly difficult. It's hard to narrow down to ten things - so I decided to be pretty specific about some stuff, instead of being very broad.

The first of this is a Christian. I've done the "dating outside my religion" thing and... Yeah, I didn't really care for that. I'd go as far as to say that this is a definite requirement. I can't share a household with someone who doesn't believe in the same things I do - my faith encompasses me. Next, I have a love for dancing (not ballet, more like ballroom and country-western) and it would be great if my husband shared that love, so we could pursue that together. Also, I'd like for them to be able to appreciate childish things, if they don't enjoy them. I still watch cartoons, probably always will, I love video games, I own shirts with Pikachu on them, and I have an undying love for Batman comics. Even if they don't like the same things I do, they should be able to at least be good natured about me loving them. Sort of similar is the willingness to get excited about something. When I learn that there's some movie coming out that is based off something I love (ie. Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland), I will... Fangirl. That's really the best word for it, and it's so degrading. ;.; So, yeah, they don't have to be a fangirl (fanboy?), but they do need to be able to get excited with me, or at least put up with me being excited.

I enjoy doing spontaneous things when I get the chance. I can remember my best friend and I spinning around and around in the middle of my mom's bank, just because we could. I love to do things very spur-of-the-moment, and I don't want to be with someone who would pull away from anything like that. Similarly, I want to travel to all sorts of places, and I'd like to be with someone who I could turn to and say "Let's go to Charleston this weekend!" and they respond with "Let's make it happen!", or at the very least give an excellent reason why it couldn't take place. But, also, I'd hope that they had a strong sense of home, because even if I travel all over the world, I want a place to come back to. Also, I've always seen a husband as the protector, so a willingness to defend would be pretty awesome as well.

The last two are pretty simple. First, that they wouldn't mind clinginess, or would even be clingy themselves. I'm a pretty possessive person. Second would be that they'd enjoy socializing. I have lots of friends and I like being around people. (:

What do you know now that you didn't know then?
I know this is a loaded question, but I automatically knew when my "then" was. I've mentioned already that my dad died half a year ago - well, that was my then. Before that. I've changed rather dramatically, becoming a stronger, more confident person. It's been a long process, admittedly. I still mess up, I still make mistakes. But I'm learning and changing. Despite becoming a tougher individual, though, I think that ignorance was bliss, in some ways. It's hard to be the carefree, happy individual I was so long ago. I'm still content with my life, but it's hard to just be happy. There are always worries pressing on my mind, stresses that I have to deal with, and things I have to fight. Sigh. Which is why spontaniety is really important to me, because I tend to get stuck in a rut and need some sort of crazy action to get out of it.

What minor character(s) in your life have had a pivotal role?
Alright. I had someone influence my life and I can't even remember his name. Great, huh? During my freshman year of high school, I was wearing my JROTC uniform out in public, going to eat at Scoggins. My family and I were enjoying dinner when a gentleman at the table next to us struck up a conversation with me. He was curious if I was in the military. I explained that I wasn't, but we had a long talk about the respect that we do have for people in the armed forces. He also told me that he was a preacher, and introduced his wife to me. They finished first, and left before us. When we asked for the bill, we discovered that he had paid for our entire meal, which was at least twenty dollars. Maybe that wasn't a lot of money for him, but that random, and totally unwarranted, act of kindness just blew me away. I thought it was amazing. He didn't know us, but he paid for a meal for us. I was struck by his generosity, and I think a lot of my own mannerisms have adjusted thanks to his actions that day.

"And the rain's gonna wash away what I believe in."

More often than not, if I'm involved in an arguement with my parents, it's for or about chores or grades. I'm a pretty good kid, I don't get involved in a lot of things that kids my age get involved in. I call them my "morals", but the common name they get around my friends is my "code of conduct", like it's some stuffy, rigorous thing. I don't really mind. So no arguing over catching me having sex with my boyfriend, or staying out late and drinking, or doing drugs, or anything like that. No, it's usually over the mundane. "Jessica, you need to sweep the floor in the kitchen." "These dishes are NOT clean." "Just remember, Cs are acceptable, but we'd prefer to see As and Bs." That sort of thing. I figure there are worst things to argue about, so I don't mind it at all.

And she says, "Baby, I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes."

"Tea for Two"

Let us join into this dance,

And frolic in our happenstance,

Of dormice and an Alice each,

Rejoice in what our minds can teach

Perhaps you and the Maddest waltz,

You'll find him not the slightest false

Meanwhile I shall take my tea,

With the Hare, sugar three

The Cheshire can keep his taunts,

Limited to selfish flaunts,

You can be as bright as 'Dee,

And silly little 'Dum I'll be

So it's dancing that we'll do,

All night long, just us two

We'll take our sleep with sprinkled sand

And drift into these Wonderlands

And she says, "Baby, it's 3 AM, I must be lonely."

"All and Only"

I carry many things on my shoulders

I carry a backpack, which holds notebooks

Pens, pencils, folders

All for school, all for study,

Only occasionally for play

I carry many things on my shoulders

I carry clothing, which expresses me

Blue, black, green

All for individuality, all for pizzazz,

Only occasionally for uniform

I carry many things on my shoulders

I carry scars, which are emotional

Hurt, sadness, pain

All for love, all for lessons,

Only occasionally for endurance

I carry many things on my shoulders

I carry stress, which defines me

College, classwork, shooting

All for honor, all for glory

Only occasionally for necessity

It is the things that I carry that become me

Whether I carry backpacks, clothing, scars, stress

Whether it’s pencils, blue, sadness, shooting

Whether for honor, love, individuality, school

It is never against my will

And she screams and her voice is straining.

I really fail at coming up with topics about anything. I abhor ranting about things I don’t like where other people can read them, because I’m not overtly fond of arguing things if it’s not necessary. So… That brings me to a few topics of conversation I could entertain. They’re all generic, but I assure you I’ll bring my own personal pizzazz to them – that’s what being a writer, particularly a creative writer, is about, right? However, after much personal debate, I have decided upon a topic.

PB&J.

No, that isn’t code for anything. It means exactly what you think it means. Peanut Butter and Jelly. I know what you’re thinking “A BLOG ABOUT SANDWICHES”? Serious contemplation has proved that there’s a lot of controversy about these lovely delights. Simple, you say? Hardly. There are so many ways to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But I’m not going to call attention to all of those. I’m going to talk about mine.

I’m a fan of the old fashioned pb&j. I like some plain white bread with peanut butter slathered on one side and grape jelly on the other. There are ways, of course, to perfect this sandwich that can be enhanced. The deluxe version of said sandwich is with oatmeal bread, organic peanut butter (ground at the store), and homemade grape jelly. That being said, my style can waver. I rather like peanut butter sandwiches with chocolate chips on them, and I can’t say no to a fluffernutter sandwhich either (peanut butter and marshmallow). Both are equally delicious and good to satisfy a sweet tooth.

I can eat mixed peanut butter and jelly, but I’m not really a big fan. :/

… I guess that’s it. The topic said anything, so… Here’s anything. 8D

And she always sleeps when it's raining.

I have the firm belief that the world we live in nowadays is one in which no one can truly escape having a real burden upon them. Granted, burdens are different for each person – for some, it may be heartbreak, for some, it may be loss, but whatever it is, we still have our own defining struggles. For me, the main focus of my pain would probably be losing my dad over the summer. I’ve had other things that have been hard, of course – who hasn’t? – but that’s certainly been the pivotal moment for me.

It was just another day of the summer. I was sitting at the table in my dining room, drinking some apple juice and texting a friend. The highlight of my coming weeks was getting my senior pictures taken in three days, then going to rifle camp the following week. I got a phone call from my stepdad, asking for Darren, my godfather’s, number. While I thought it was a little strange, he used a good excuse (“I just found a guy who wants to buy some restaurant equipment.”) so I didn’t think anything about it. It was thirty minutes later, when my mom called for my Aunt Lisa’s number, that I started to get suspicious. She wasn’t so careful, saying that no one had gotten in touch with my dad over the weekend, which started the worry to build in my stomach. I suddenly remembered that I had texted him Saturday, asking him about the trip to New York we were planning together. He hadn’t texted me back, something that was a little odd for him. Concerned, I texted him again, with no reply. Perturbed, I tried to call and got a message that informed me that his voicemail box was full. My dad was a salesman and his phone held his life. His voicemail box was never full.

Ever have a bad feeling that something is going wrong, like really wrong? Well, 90% of the time, those feelings are totally wrong. Well, it REALLY SUCKS when you realize the feeling is right.

About that time the phone rang again, with my mom on the line. She asked to talk to Amber, my sister. When Amber got the phone, Momma instructed her to remove my phone from me. She immediately did so and ran off with it. I was furious and chased after her, wanting to keep trying to get in touch with my dad. I begged, pleaded, but nothing worked. It was when Momma and Jamie walked in the door that I knew something was really bad. I flew down the stairs, demanding to know why Amber had my phone, because I couldn’t get in touch with Daddy.

They walked me to their room, sat me down on their bed, and explained that Daddy had been on his way back from Shelby and had suffered a heart attack. It took a minute to wrap my head around this, since he was only 36, but I managed a feeble “is he okay?” I guess an overwhelmingly large part of me really hoped that he was just hospitalized, but I still knew, knew that it wasn’t the case. My mom shook her head and broke down into tears, leaning forward to hug me. “No, baby. No, he’s not.”

It’s really hard to explain the emotion you feel at a moment like that. I guess there really isn’t a word for it – it’s more like a blankness sweeps over you, and you don’t really feel anything. I didn’t start crying until a few minutes later, when I insisted on picking up the phone and calling my best friend to try to explain what had happened, on my way upstairs to get dressed so I could go to my Memaw’s house. My mom had to take the phone away because I started crying so bad.

The following week was a crazy blur. I couldn’t sleep at night – my mom had to give me medication to help me do so. And since I was his only child, and he and his wife had been in the middle of a divorce, it fell to me to decide things for the funeral. What music should be played? What sort of flowers? He was being cremated, so what urn would you like to have used, Jessie?

I couldn’t be left alone. If I was by myself for more than five minutes at a time, I broke down into sobs. But if I was around people, I couldn’t cry. People were concerned for me, because they never saw me shed a tear. “She should be crying,” They said, “It’s bad for her if she keeps it boiled up inside.”

It was too hard to explain that I didn’t want to put my own agony off on other people. They were people Daddy loved, people he cared for. It was hard for other people to look at me – it still is – because I look so much like him. The same eyes, same hair color, same shape of face. They looked at me, and they saw him. To cry, to mourn him in front of them, it seemed like something I shouldn’t do. I should be strong for them, because he would have been.

I don’t really want to write any more about it, because I’m finishing this up in English class, and I’m about to start crying as it is. .__. I refuse to cry in front of my classmates. So I’ll just wrap it up by saying that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through – and am still going through.

She said, "It's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault."

The reason I chose the particular phrase I did for my tombstone is because I’ve always been very attached to the expression “When I get to Heaven, I don’t want to arrive in pristine condition. I want to slide in sideways, beat up and winded, then jump onto my feet and say ‘WOW, what a heck of a ride!’” I want to live my life that way, so that, one day, I can look back and say those words were true. I rode the roller coaster, I danced in the rain, I lived life to the fullest extent that I could live it. I want to be able to say that I wasn’t afraid to take that leap with someone, for someone, or just for the sake of leaping. I’ve always held the firm idea that life is supposed to be full of… Well, life. I’m not showing up to Heaven like it’s some garden party I’ve been invited to; I’m sliding in like I’ve just won the Daytona 500 and it’s time to do some victory donuts.

Note: My tombstone was -

“Here I am, God,

sliding in sideways,

just like I promised.”

She's always worried 'bout things like that.

You know, asking me to write a story about my life is probably the worst assignment I could have ever been given. No, really! It is! But not for the reasons you’re probably thinking. It’s not that I don’t want to do the project – oh no, quite the opposite – it’s that I’m not sure where to start, or how to condense it down into this blog that I’ve been asked to write. My autobiography for Coach Gray’s class was 17 pages, without being as descriptive as I could have been.

The writer in me sobs and begs, but my common sense is muffling it and saying “YOU CAN’T DO THAT AGAIN, JESSICA”, so I’ll do the condensed version, yeah? And tell a story or two.

I was born on one of the hottest days of June in the summer of 1992. It was the 28^th, and I was my mother’s first child. Her name, in case you were curious, is Crystal Hoppes. My dad’s name was Ralph Sroufe (I’ll probably focus more on him later). I was never given much of an opportunity to be an “only child”, since my sister was born a little over a year later. No, I’ve always been the big sister. I’ve heard some things say that the oldest sibling is supposed to be organized and efficient – well, that skipped me. I’m pretty unorganized and more than a little unorthodox with my behavior, particularly in comparison to most teenagers today. I abhor the idea of fitting into a stereotype, although I’m sure I do touch on some of them, and I really am a writer at heart. Literature is my driving passion – heck, I even like grammar! (I like grammar, not grammar worksheets.) I’m always amused beyond belief when people make the assumption that I’m “quiet”, because I’m actually quite far from it. In classes, if I don’t really know people, I tend to just sit back and watch, or confine myself to my desk area. I actually enjoy being around others and interacting quite a lot; anyone in my JROTC platoon will verify that.

So, where to begin? Well, I never went to preschool. I was, however, taught how to read, my ABCs, and my numbers before I started Kindergarten (the result of a young mother who wasn’t sure how much I needed to know). The school in question was Rutherfordton Elementary, although I would start Spindale in second grade, just for a change of pace. It would be in Kindergarten that I’d meet my first friend, an upset little girl on the first day of school. I demanded to know why she was upset, then proceeded to drag her away to play kitchen. Elementary wasn’t dramatically different from middle or high school, simply a younger curriculum. I did AIG in these years, participating in the Creativity section and the Battle of the Books for the first of five times. Once I moved on to middle school, I’d do BoB in 6^th and 8^th, and ICC Challenge in 7^th. And, of course, in 8^th grade, I met my best friend, a Miss Jessica Eberhart. Aside from a name, we both shared a love for reading and for the same television shows. To this day, we’re still tight as ever, and I’m sure her name will come up again.

So… That’s through 8^th grade, yeah? :D Awesome. For now, everyone, salut, ciao, sayanora, adios, au revoir, goodbye.

She says, "It's cold outside", and hands me my raincoat.

People are pretty complex things, aren’t they? Gotta love that about us. Admittedly, we can be pretty simplistic at times too (I spent thirty minutes the other day on my screened-in porch, watching it storm), but I think I like that about humankind. The fact that we can be so overwhelmingly complex at some moments, but still be peacefully simple in the next. Sometimes rage is just rage and love is just love. (Or maybe that’s just the poet in me, but oh well, I have to sound like I know what I’m talking about.)

But I digress. Most people here know me, but Mrs. Pittman doesn’t. I’m Jessie Swink (or Jessie Hunt to some of you, because sometimes people get hung up over that old name), and I turned 17 over the summer. The past few months were an overwhelming mix of things for me – I got to visit Charleston, a city that I love for its capacity to be both complex and simple, and also lost my Dad, who was, quite possibly, one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I’ve been blessed to have people there to support and guide me through it, namely my mother and my Dad’s best friend, as well as my own two best friends, one of which most people won’t have to even guess (Jessica Eberhart), the other of which lives on the other side of the US and most people won’t have met (Mary Covington). I’m pretty content with who I am in life, my defining label being “Christian”, and other things adding to my personal flavor. For example, I have an obsession with Batman that exasperates some people (admittedly it’s the villains I love the most, and the pretty obscure ones at that) and also have a penchant for Pikachu, as seen by t-shirts or bedroom shoes that may be seen frequenting the classroom. I’ve never seen a reason to change who I am, because I have people that love me and my quirky habits. Contrary to what some people would have you believe, weird people, too, have a place in society (even if they like to pretend society never holds them).

Because of my love for writing and internet, I have friends from all over the globe. Scrolling down my MSN, I see someone who lives in Hong Kong, two people that live in Denmark (“ Halløj i hytten, mennesker! Denne dansker hilser jer fra den anden side af havet, og ønsker dem, der gider læse vores allesammens humoristiske Jessies blog, et rigtig godt skoleår!”, says one of them now, although that’s translated to “"Hello in the cabin (Hello there), humans! This Dane greets you from across the ocean and wish those, who cares to read everyones humoristic Jessie's blog, a great school year." - Apparently "hello in the cabin" is some idiom there?), two or three Australians, and numerous people from all over the US. I do consider them friends, even if other people look at me strangely when I start mentioning people I know in China.

I read all kinds of things, but writing is my passion in life. I do a lot of paragraph roleplaying (that’s not Dungeon & Dragons, ladies and gentlemen) as well as poetry and short story stuff. My goal in life is to be an English teacher, but my wish in life is that I can write a novel. It doesn’t even have to be best-seller (although that’d be nice), as long as I can get it done. I’m hopefully starting up a Creative Writing Club this year, so if you like to write too, keep an eye out for it, yeah? I have a ton of favorite things, but I’ll keep it simple and just state that my favorite color is blue and my favorite animal is a wolf. This class seems pretty promising, thanks to the fact that I’ve already been given an opportunity to ramble here a little bit, so I’ll leave everyone with a quote –

"People think it's an obsession. A compulsion. As if there were an irresistible impulse to act. It's never been like that. I chose this life. I know what I'm doing. And on any given day, I could stop doing it. Today, however, isn't that day. And tomorrow won't be either." - Batman