Coffee Date

If we were having coffee right now, I would be gagging.  Coffee is like the nastiest thing on the planet…   Hot chocolate on the other hand, now that is what is up! 🙂

I’m not a fan of coffee.  I don’t like the taste, the smell or anything else when it comes to coffee.  I’m the person who goes to the coffee shop and gets chocolate milk to go with my doughnuts!  (Dunkin Donuts for life!)

But if we were having coffee (well, you might be having coffee), I would have a cup of hot chocolate.  We might be visiting about all sorts of things.  If we were really close, I would be talking about my daughter’s first birthday (I even wrote her a letter) or how I can’t wait for Halloween.  I mean, who am I kidding, I am telling everyone about my love for Halloween!

If you were on of my writing minded friends, I would talk about NaNoWriMo.  Are you prepared?  Have you plotted anything out?  What region are you in?  What is your idea about?  Are you going to be involved in some write ins?  Which ones?  I would also ask how your other projects are!  I would also cheer you on about any achievements you have reached.  I would listen to any advice you have found online or something you learned about this week with eager ears!

If you were one of my mother friends, I would ask how your little on is and what they are up to these days.  I would listen to your stories about what trouble they had gotten themselves in and how you had to handle it!

Whatever friend you are to me, I would listen with an open ear to any problems you might have. Are you having trouble balancing life with work?  Is your child getting more stubborn within the last week?  Are you feeling forgotten?  Do you need a break to take a bath.  I am here for you (well, are close as I can be via the blog and the internet).

If we were having coffee, what would you ask me about?  What would you want to talk about? Tell me below!  🙂

Until next time…

The Window

Today in writing 101, we had a choose of one of four picture to write about.  I picked, “The Window.”  This is with the main characters of my current sci-fi project.  Well, I will let you just get at it.  Let me know what you think!  🙂

Sam’s Dream

Samantha slowly opened her eyes to a dark room. She slowly sat up and looked around. It wasn’t her quarter. The air was heavy and smelled stale. She lifted her left hand up and felt the space next to her. It was a wooden wall. She slid her hand across the grain, the roughness of it pricked her fingertips. She felt small nail holes where two boards of wood met. A small smile formed across her face. Then, her reality sunk in.
Over to her right there was a dim light filtering in through a sheer curtain. Sam slowly stood up and discovered that she was wearing her night gown. A white, sheer, gown with single string straps. It wasn’t the uniform she last wore.
She pushed herself to her feet off the ancient wooden bed she was laying on. A small breeze brushed against her skin as she struggled to see in the dim light. Behind the curtain was the light source. Her guess was a small window but there was so little light it was hard for her to take an educated guess.
She reached out her right hand to pull the curtain back when she felt a hand and arm wrap around her midsection. Sam froze and looked back. Nick stood behind her. He was wearing nothing but his boxers. His body was well in shape; it threw her off guard. She pushed back from him and through the curtain.
His hand reached out to her as she stood facing the curtain. “Help me,” his voice cried out. Sam went to reach for his hand when the floor jerked her into the wall. She looked behind her to see a window. Samantha struggled against the shacking of the floor and the cries of Nick to get to the window. More cries began coming from behind the curtain. The closer she got to the window the faster her heart pumped.
Outside of the window was black nothingness of space. Tiny speck of starlight filtered in. The air in her lungs evaporated as her mouth swung open. Behind the curtain, everything went silent.
Samantha turned back to the curtain only to find black nothingness where the bed and room she was just in. She turned back to see the window open. A strong force was pulling her into the window. A cry for help went unanswered.
Samantha shot up from her slumber and looked around where she was. She was sitting on her back, on floor of the storage room. Vincent stood over her. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear him.

I had times myself for about 15 minutes.  I could have gone on and one; so I cut it here.  I hope you liked it!  (Again, a little disclaimer here.  This is equivalent to a free write which then in turns means it’s not edited [completely] and etc.  Please just enjoy it without trying to destroy it!  Thanks!)

Until next time…

Quote challenge

I was nominated by Hopefrom this blog post.  Thank you for the love!

The rule is that you have to post one quote a day and tag three people in one post.

That is what I will do!  🙂 But first, let me share a quote.

‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.’

Alice in Wonderland

This one of my favorite quotes of all time.  It’s from Alice’s trail in Wonderland and it hits the nail on the head so well!  As writer’s (or just humans in general) we like to talk and tell others what has happened in our everyday lives.  But was all share the same problem (from time to time at least), we tend to have trouble deciding where we start a story or when to end it.  The latter is often a bigger problem in everyday life while where to start is one common problem in the writing world.
I don’t have a magically cure all, but I can tell you this, start at the beginning.  I know what you are thinking – oh that’s just SO helpful Steph.  But really, do it.  Think of your main story.  Say your character has to go get milk from the store and on the way she gets kidnapped.   Should you start with the day she was born or with her getting out of bed wishing for an adventurous life?  Which did you pick?  I would totally read the beginning with her getting out of bed and wishing for an adventurous life; and, as she gets the milk for her cereal she finds out that is all lumpy and …  This could go on and on, but do you get a little bit of what I was saying.

That was just a very broad blurb about beginnings. Endings are often the ‘fun stuff’ and almost everyone loves to write them (but readers often hate them!  No one wants things to end.)  But that is for another blog post.  I’ll have one on endings soon enough!  🙂

Well, no challenge is complete without challenging others!  So, per the rules, I have to tag three other bloggers.  Here it goes!

  1. Tracey
  2. Deborah
  3. Miss Ky

I picked you guys out since I really enjoy your blogs and I can’t wait to see which quotes you guys (well, I should say ladies!) pick out!

Until next time…

Writing 101 assignment.

Alright, here is another Writing 101 assignment.  This time this is a ‘one word prompt’.  It boils down to you pick one word (here are the words: treasure, regret, home, love, uncertainty, secret.) and then write about it.  Sounds great?  Well, to me, it is!

I like to time myself when I write.  15 minutes was the magic number this time.  (For my fiction writing I give myself 15 minutes and for my other writings I tend to give myself 10!)  I feel it helps me get the words out.  Not everyone likes that, but for me it works.  One top of that, this will be a sample ‘rough draft’ of my current work in progress.  It’s a little odd, but when I looked at the writing assignment, the next scene for my current project popped into my mind.

The word that popped out to me was Secret.  So I hope you enjoy!

Here is a little back story.  This is a futurist science fiction novel.  The main character is Sam, a redheaded woman with a secret.  She is currently under ‘house arrest’ and is just trying to get something to eat.  **Note:  This is a rough draft of my current project, this is no how perfect.  I just wanted to share a little bit of writing.  I know that it’s not perfect; that what editing is for. (I know grammar is off, descriptions are more tell-y than show-y – that is what the second draft is for! 😀 )  In the meanwhile enjoy!  You are welcome to leave some feedback if you wish, just be polite and nice. Thank you!

Samantha walked into the mess hall and looked around. All conversation had stopped and all eyes were on her. She took a deep breath in and walked over to the counter. Bryant stayed close but didn’t get within two steps closer to her. She froze in her track when she noticed that Haniyyah wasn’t there. It was the younger man who often covered the night shift. Samantha stepped forward and forced a smile.
“I would like to have the basic human survival meal,” she chuckled to herself. It wasn’t the time or place but her words made her laugh.
The young male looked at her with wide eyes. His eyes shifted from her to Bryant standing behind her. “I was told to only produce bread and water for you. Captain orders.” His tone was soft and weak and his words were soft.
Sam nodded her head, “I understand,” she replied. “I’ll take that then.”
“Okay,” he answered. He walked over to the food processor and punched in her order. He walked back to her. “H told me to make sure you were okay?”
“Who is H?” Bryant butted in.
“Oh, she’s just the old lady that is here,” he replied as he gulped. “She’s kinda like a mother to everyone.”
“Hm,” he nodded his head. “Just tell her not to worry about this one.” He moved his eyes toward Sam.
“Just let her know that I am fine,” she said with a high tone of uncertainty. For the first time in her short life, she was feeling nervous and scared. There was a secret going here and somehow she was the center of it. Most of her life she had to hide, keep secrets and distance herself from others. Right now, she couldn’t tell if being different was going to help her or hurt her. It wasn’t directly her she was worried about; she worried about her father, Haniyyah, Nick and the rest of the crew. Was she putting them in danger?
The mess hall doors open and Nick walked in. They locked eyes. With every ouch in her being, she tried to swallow her emotions and become the computer she always had to be.

So, what did you think?  I got about 365 words done in fifteen minutes!   What did you get written!  Share it below!  🙂  Thank you!

Until next time…

Writing Wednesday – Sample

Okay, so I have brought back one of my trademark (well maybe!) blog post series. It’s Writing Wednesday.

A little back story, I started this series a very long time ago. I am a writer and I do a lot of writing. So I thought that I would share a sample each week of some of my writing. That being my school writing, personal writings, old writings or anything that I had put words in a special order to get something across.

On top of just samples of my writings, I am going to post some advice, things I have found and my progress on my current project(s).  Overall, Wednesdays will be all about my writing!

My writing for today will be a raw look at my current project.  It’s RAW!  Means that it had very little editing done to it.  I did go through and check for any spelling or really bad grammar but other than that, very little has been done to it.  Why?  Because I haven’t finished this current project and I don’t know if I am going to have to do a lot of editing to this or what.   But for the moment, I am sharing it with you.  I want you to know that I know it’s a work in progress. Nonetheless, I feel like sharing it with you and I haven’t really shared anything with you guys about my current writing project!   So, here we go!

The ship jerked causing Captain Christophe Shepherd to roll out of his bed and on to the floor. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore but he wasn’t an old dog. Before he could stand, his second officer barged into his quarters and ordered the lights on.
“Sir,” his first officer spoke as he expended his hand to help the captain , “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but you are needed on the bridge on the double.” His second officer’s soft blue eyes were tight and focused directly on his captain .
“What the hell is going on?” Christophe demanded as he stood up and reached over for his rob. Christophe had been a starship captain longer that his second officer was out of diapers; never has he been demanded on the bridge in the middle of the night.
“I understand if you are more than upset but,” he paused and rubbed his chin. He was struggling to grow a beard to show his actual age. “I don’t know how to tell you, but… You need to just go on the bridge. I think it might be the only way you’ll believe it.”
“What the hell? Why did the ship jerk? Did we loose navigation? What did we loose?”
“We didn’t loose anything, sir.” He stepped toward the door and pressed the button for the door. “We gained some -” he paused again and just pointed to the door.
“This better be worth it!” he replied as he tied his robe in front of him.
The pair silently traveled down the hallway and into the lift. The lift slowly opened up to the bridge.
The two men slowly walked onto the bridge. They came in through the back door which caused everyone to stop and turn to then. Christophe was not happy about being on the bridge during the night shift without his uniform on. In the very front of the bridge was a large screen that went from the ceiling to the floor and showed Jupiter. Just in front of the screen sat the pilot and the navigator. Between the two seats sat a toddler.
Christophe stepped back, place his hand in the air and looked at his first officer, “Why the hell is there a baby on my bridge?”
“That is what we gained,” he replied. He walked past the work stations on the port side and walked in front of the status station.
“Was no one paying attention to the lift doors?” He walked up to the status station. “Surely someone noticed a child walking up here.”
“No sir,” his second officer replied. “I was right here, checking in with Ensign Frey. I was facing the lift doors.” He looked back to the Ensign at the station. “Then he froze and pointed behind me. Just then, the pilots did the same thing. That is why the ship jerked. We were all startled by,” he paused and looked down to the child, “By the child.”
“Bullshit,” the Captain replied. “A child can not just show up on my bridge.” He leaned onto the main work station on the bridge. It was often nicknamed ‘mother hen’ since it over saw everything in and outside of the ship. “Is there any reports of missing children? Is our numbers off by chance?”
The Ensign looked at the Captain, “No sir; no reports of missing children. We are plus on our numbers.”
The Captain took a deep breath in and looked at his first officer. “It looks human,” he finally said.
The toddler looked over to the second officer and the captain. A large smile formed on the child’s face. It held a purple dog looking stuffed toy tightly in its hands. The toddler was silent. She had reddish hair and deep green eyes. Freckles covered all her exposed skin. The only thing on the child looked like an ancient potato sack with holes for her head and arms.
The lift doors opened and the new ship’s Doctor Hopkins walked on the bridge. “I was notified that I was needed on the bridge.” She walked over to the Captain and smiled at Commander Blackstone. “Is there an emergency?” She looked at Blackstone and noticed when he pointed just behind him. Her eyebrows raised as she looked at the child.
“What do you want us to do with the child?” First officer Blackstone asked.
The Captain sighed. “Take it to the clinic. From there we’ll figure out our next steps.” He looked over to the doctor. “I’ll be down tomorrow to see what you have found out about the child.”
“Do you mind if I assist the doctor?” Commander Blackstone asked as he stepped backwards and squatted toward the child.
“I didn’t realize that you -” Captain Shepherd stopped and looked at Blackstone. A small smirk crept across his face. “You may help the doctor bring the child down but I need to up here. We have an important meeting with the Martixkin. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”
“Understood sir,” he reached out toward the child. He expected the child to panic but instead the child pulled herself up to her feet and waddled closer to him. “That’s it,” he softly spoke as she stepped toward him. Once she was close enough to him, he picked her up and stood up. The child giggled. Blackstone looked at Shepherd. His eyes were wide and his arms crossed in front of himself. “Are you alright, sir?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he snapped back, “Just be careful, you don’t know what infections or diseases that child brings.”
Blackstone chuckled, “It’s only a child. I’m sure,” he paused and lifted the child above his head and then back to his side, “I’m sure she isn’t going to hurt you.” He walked around to where Shepherd and Hopkins were standing.
The Doctor smiled at the little girl. “Do you have a name?”
“Sam,” the little girl replied. She reached out to the captain. He immediately leaned backwards away from her reach.
“I think I shall go back to my quarters and try to get a little bit more rest before the day head of us,” he nodded his head and turned to the lift in the back. Just as he turned to leave, he felt a little hand touch the back of his balding head. Christophe quickly turned around and saw the little girl smile at him. Something inside him turned as he smiled back at her and lifted his hand up to her to grab. He looked at Blackstone and looked back at the little girl. “Maybe I’ll bring her down to the clinic. You should stay on the bridge.” He reached out for her and pulled her to him. The captain saw Blackstone’s face and patted him on the shoulder. “You will be able to see Hopkins later.”
“I thought that you were worried about her infecting us…” His sentence stopped as he watched Shepherd and Hopkins head toward the lift.
“With what? She’s a child. I’m sure she’s harmless.” He smiled and tickled her belly button. Her laughter filled the bridge. “Ill bring her down to the clinic and then I’ll go to my quarters to sleep.”
“Never-mind than, sir.” Blackstone smiled and bowed his head. “Sleep well sir.”

Okay, so there is that.  I hope you enjoyed it…  Tell me what you think!  Once I’m done with my project and I start editing, I will post again this little blurb and see if you can spot the differences!  🙂

Until next time!

Wednesday Writing Piece Part Six

Here is another installment of my writing pieces.  This is a definition essay.  I am defining that I’m not crazy, did you get that memo?   Enjoy!

I’m not Crazy!

I am not crazy. I am not someone who is running around without clothes on and screaming out the greatest song of the ‘70’s. I am not living in some sort of housing building and have to rock as I speak. I do not holler all night long for some dead relative who have been dead longer then I have been alive. I am not lithium or risperdal. I am not someone who listens to the voices in my head. I do not believe that the government is going after me because I am know too much. But I am not normal. I do not with my parents. I do not follow the normal news stories. I do not use proper grammar while I am speaking to my teachers or to my boss. I did not grow up with normal parents. Matter of fact, I did not even grow up with my parents most of the time. So, what am I? I am me, end of story.

Crazy is defined as mentally deranged; demented; insane; senseless; impractical; totally unsound. When you put it that way, I am crazy. I talk to myself, I don’t make the smart decisions in life, I am not practical, I waste my time and most of all, I am no where being sound. I don’t think the human body make that much sound, only the vocal cords make sound. I am not complete deranged, only when I go crazy. But aren’t I always crazy? By many standards I am crazy. But why? I do not understand. I babble, I do not wear dresses at fancy dress events and I babble at those events. I am a woman. I am a redhead. I am a young adult who really is confusing about why life must suck so much and I am wondering why the hell I was in such a rush to be at this stage?

I also know that I am not normal. I had a mother with bipolar disorder with borderline personality disorder. My father has paranoid schizophrenia. My grandfather (who I lived with) has aspergers. My grandmother really didn’t like children. My other grandparents where just as crazy. My other grandmother didn’t know how to handle or speak to child (she had three children) and my other grandfather let my read Stephen King and the Brothers Grimm as my first reading books. I could tell you stories about things I learned and things that I figured out early in life. You never disturb someone who is yelling about the government and is waving around a knife. You do not buck someone you just listened about baseball for four hours. You do not ask your mother about being fat while she is in the “evil mommy” mode. You learn that you are not as important as the television and the reruns. You learn that being a redhead is just another curse and that people will touch your hair all the time. But overall, you will learn that your life will give you great material for a sitcom and it is great to scare away nasty looking boys.

Again, I will repeat myself that I am not crazy. I am special. I am Steph. I am woman. I am a redhead. I am smart. I can be a smarty-pants! But I am not crazy. I am not crazy. Again, I am not crazy. I just know things that you don’t know. I dealt with things that you haven’t dealt with; I have funny stories that you don’t. And most of all I know I am not normal.

Wednesday Writing Piece part Five

Okay, here is part five.  Again, another one about zombies.  But this one is just a comparing the different zombies.  🙂  So enjoy! It’s short and sweet.

Differences with Zombies

Zombies, like humans, come with similar and different attributes. No two zombies are the same (just like not two humans are the same.) Zombies do not have the same attributes that humans have and vice versa. You cannot match zombies on how big they are or how hunger they are and you cannot lump humans together by how they burp or how often they blink. They have to be strong characteristics among the zombies.

All zombies are soulless walking beings. They do not have a mind of their own and they are often controlled by something else (there are different things that they can be controlled by but we will go over that later). Another thing that all zombies share is that they are slow moving creatures with an easily recognizable walk (with exceptions of course). No zombie can speak because they do not have that advance controls over the body. All the zombies are dead and often were once human. Most zombies are rotting walking creatures that reek to the point of vomiting. Zombies only have one goal – to spread. This is often misunderstood to be “feeding” but really all the zombies want to do is share what they have with others. One more attribute to all zombies is how they have to be killed. All zombies need their brains taken out and beaten to death. After the brain is destroyed, the body needs to be burned. All zombies need to be destroyed in this fashion.

Zombies have different origins then the average person. Some zombies can be from religious purposes and it is part of the Vodou belief, which is often referred to West African Vodun to differ it from Haitian Voodoo. The two are very similar but there are some differences. Both have a “priest” or some sort of controller that controls the person or the now zombie. In West Africa Vodun, the priest or the bokor controls the soul of the person through some spiritual way. In the Haitian Zombie, the priest or sorcerer control the zombie by way of some sort of potion. Some zombies are created by a powder called Tetrodotoxin from puffer fish that is kind like a blocker of the nerves from the brain to the rest of the body. Other zombies could be created from a virus or a mutated bacterium. They attack the brain and mess up the way the body talks to the rest of the body. Other zombies are caused because of some government testing gone wrong or some drug company’s new drug testing goes all wrong. Some zombies (especially from folklore) zombies are brought back to life because of some sort unmet physical need that was not met during the humans lifetime.

Zombie can be grouped together by different traits that can bring them together and can tear them apart. Most zombies are dangerous and you do not want to mess with and there really isn’t a ‘nice zombie’. Zombies also have different origins and can vary how you need to fight them. Overall, zombies aren’t completely scary if you understand the basics and can take a deep breath in.

Wednesday Writing Piece, Part Four

Here’s another addition to my Wednesday’s writing pieces; and it’s another one about Zombies.  I really like zombies.  This one is a process essay.  It might be a little gory for a select few people, but over all, it shouldn’t make anyone loose their lunch. Enjoy!
On a side note, it’s my mother’s birthday.  This should be fun.  Okay, now back to the writing! 
How to Kill a Zombie
Zombies are mindless beings that only have a goal of spreading whatever it has to other non-zombies. Zombies are not like humans. Killing a zombie deals with several other factors that the average person would not think about and wouldn’t know. A zombie does not die from a shoot to the chest or lost limb. There are no arteries to try to cut. There is only one way a zombie can be stopped and that is with its head taken off. 
The very first thing a person must do to be prepared to do is to actually kill something. The zombie may look like a family member or be a dear friend. The first thing you need to remember is that the zombie isn’t human anymore. All the lifetime memories it once had are gone. Your mother isn’t your mother anymore once she has the zombie virus got to her brain. Zombies do not pick and choose who it will attack (unless it’s another zombie.) Once this mind set is in place, the person can go on to the next step.
Once the mind is in the right place, you need to make sure that the distance between the zombie and the person. The closest someone can be to the zombie and still be safe is about and arm length away. The safest distance from a zombie is in a different zip code but it’s often hard to achieve that status. One side note to take notice of is how far you need to be with your weapons to do what you need them to do. Distance is an important factor but knowing when to fight or fly is even more important.
With every move you make like breathing, blinking, sleeping and other activities, burn calories. During a zombie outbreak, food is going to be rare. Burning tons of calories will not be the best bet if you do not have the food to back it up. Knowing the difference between to fight or to run is important. If the zombie is posing a large threat to you at that moment, you will need to fight. If the zombie has noticed you and you are at a distance, then you can run and do not need to fight. If you hear more one zombie, you can run. If you get surrounded by many zombies, you need to fight your way out and then you run. Once the flight or flight reaction has been figured out, if you need to fight, then you can fight.
Fighting a zombie is not like fighting your little brother. A zombie can only ‘die’ but removing the brain. This means you have a short period of time to achieve this. It is important to know different weapons that have different pros and cons. For example, gun are great for long distances but need to be reload or the machete is a great for multipurpose tool but for fight zombies it put one too close to a zombie. A zombie’s brain needs to be disconnected from the body. This could be a crushing the brain, cutting off the head, cracking the skull open and any other way of getting the head away from the body. The brain is where the virus or the controller is located. This is where the orders are being given and you need to cut that tie. The simplest way of cutting the communication is cutting the head off. But this puts you within arm’s reach which is a dangerous game of chance. You must destroy the brain. This is extremely difficult though because the human skull is created to protect the brain and not let it out. The best way to break the skull open is from the side (like placing your heel behind the ear). Between the sphenoid and the temporal bone is the weakest area of the skull (because it is the slimmest area of the skull) and with enough force it should break. With whatever weapon you are using needs to be able to smash the brain.
Once you have destroyed the brain, you need to burn the body. Just pile all the zombies you have destroyed in a pile and light the mother lover pile on fire. This prevents other animals to eat the bed flesh. Also, this insures that the zombie will not come back. To be safer, once the fire has engulfed the bodies, you need to leave. You do not want to waste time and you do not want other zombies to find you.
Killing zombies is an important skill to have. With practice killing zombies will get easier and you will develop your own sense of what you need to do. Once killing zombies are down pat, gardening will have to be your next goal to master. 

Wednesday Writing Piece Part Three…

Here it is! This one is aimed more at a classification style essay. My others have been description essay, narration essay, and example essay, in that order… Can you name the pieces? haha. Well, enjoy this one!

I Forgot my Excuse

Excuses come in all shapes and sizes. There are the real excuses, the creative ones, the classic ones, the broken ones, and a small percent of excuses that are the truth (like I forgot or I didn’t do it) one. Teachers have learned a system of how these excuse are used, and how to figure out if it’s an actual excuse. Well, without more filler words, let’s hit this out of the park.

There are excuses that are real. These one often can be valid with the simple fact of a note or a second person’s word. These excuses can be anything like “my mother is in the hospital” or “my grandmother just died”. Often these excuses are after a few missed days or a sudden disappearance of the said person. Be careful not immediately jump down the said person’s throat about these. They are sore subjects to accuse the person of lying while this person is crying in front of you.

The creative excuses come in many forms. The simplest forms of these are just spoken words. “The aliens next door took my homework” or “Bob Villa said that doing homework damages the flexibility of my fingers” are just a few of the creative ones out there. If you have a smart “class clown” and few ones that could be heard are: “I made it into a paper plane and it got hijacked”, “I put it in a safe, but lost the combination” and “sorry, but my friend was hungry for knowledge, so he ate my essay.” Sometimes creative notes from ‘parents’ are often worth a good laugh and can almost be worth credit for the actual homework. Some notes can be about “my son can’t play football because of her period” or “please excuse my son; I didn’t make him do it because I didn’t want to add to more work for his teacher’s already heavy workload.” The creative ones are the fun ones to read or to listen to, most of the time, they are just creative excuses.

The classic excuses have been around for ages and no one on this earth can miss them. They smell from a mile away. The most common classic excuse is “my dog at my homework.” There are a small percent of classic excuse that started out as creative one but now are common place and are often jokes about among teachers. A few examples are: “the homework assigned was against my religious views”, “I work better under pressure”, and “I left it at home.” No one can mess with the classics but everyone knows them so there isn’t much effort into those. At the creative excuses had a little thought put in them.

The broken excuses are pretty self explanatory. These come in the range of a broken computer to a broken pencil. Anything that could go wrong could possible go wrong for a student. But it is very rare that everything possible could crash at once. Common broken items for no homework doing are broken computers, no internet, email is down, corrupted files on the broken computers, no paper in the house and broken pens or pencils. Murphy’s Law can strike all on once but for everything to not work or to be broken for months at a time is highly unlikely and must mean that person lives in the Stone Age.

The ‘I forgots” are often the truth. “I forgot to do it” or “I just didn’t do it,” are very honest. If a student says this then most likely they are not trying to fluff you over. They are often the straight to the point. There isn’t much else to say to explain they guys to you. One might want to ask about if the student understands the material. If the student understand everything class then the student may just feel like they do not need to do anything. If the student doesn’t understand the material then you have to help them with the homework. If the student just forgot and it is a once in a blue moon thing I wouldn’t worry too much. We are human!

Second Part – Wednesday’s Writing Piece

Okay, here is the second part of my sharing of the old writings. This one is one of my favorites, so please enjoy it!

Redhead’s in Public 
The first time I realized that being a redhead counted as being a different, was when I was about five years old. I was at church with my grandfather. Every Sunday was church, no and’s, if’, or but’s about it, we had to go every Sunday, but this time it was different. I sat with him throughout the service. This was in fact a very different thing, since most children went to Sunday school. Most of the service went on without a problem. Then came passing of the peace, (which is kind of like a seventh inning stretch but for church folks). Passing of the peace is an act of passing God’s peace to your neighbor or “pew buddy”. It involves shaking hands and saying a lot of “God bless”, but no one is usually sneezing. Anyway, as my grandpa and I went to shake hands and bless our neighbors, I noticed something very odd. Every little blue haired lady, every old school gents, and a lot people looking for the Holy Grail, started touching my hair; not the little hand that stretched out for their giant hands for me to bless them. No, it was red hair that they were more interested in. Not the pretty Sunday dress that my grandfather made me wear, or the little shiny black shoes on; it was nicely brushed hair (which was actually brushed for once) in their grubby giant hands. This was one of many times I have come to the reasoning that I am different and it is all because of being a redhead in public. 
Later on in my life, I was in grade school I believe; I had another memorable encounter with a non-redhead. I was maybe eight years old and it was play time at school. One little kid came up to be in the reading section, where I was reading the great novel of our times – minding my own business, mind you. The kid looked at me and said, “Your hair is weird.” I looked at him (or her, I really can’t remember the gender of the child) and shrugged my shoulders. His partner in crime came up behind me while I was staring at the other child and cut a huge chunk out of hair. It scared me for life. I had to beg the teacher to let me go home and see if my grandfather could glue my beautiful red hair back to me – it didn’t work. I wasn’t the only redhead target for the bullies. There was a redheaded little boy in the same grade but the room next door. I remember seeing him walking out of the classroom with the principal. I later found out that a few of the kids where telling him that his head was on “fire”. This poor redhead friend started to panic (because his mother taught him that fire was bad) and started to run around his classroom crying. Once he calmed down, he realized that the kids were making jokes about his red hair. 
Still not getting the complete picture here? Okay, during my middle and high school years, any class that could bring it up, would bring it out the fact that I’m a redhead. In Spanish class, every teacher would make sure that the class knew that I was a pelirrojo. In any science class, it would be brought up to any one’s attention that redheads have more has far more of the pigment pheomelanin than any other hair color and the least amount of hair follicles compared to the other hair colors; or, the fact that the redhead gene in on chromosome 16. Also, they would mention how rare redheads are and that is a very recessive gene – both parents are required to have a copy of it to pass it on. In math we always had to find the ratio of redheads to the “normal population” since redhead account to maybe one to maybe two percent of the total world population. In history or any social studies class, it was made very clear that Queen Elizabeth I was a red head and that some Neanderthals were also known to have red hair. Occasionally, around Halloween, we were taught that some people believed that redheads were devil workers and cut their hair and killed them. Once in high school, I had to take an acting class (the other option would have been a speech class which I could only imagine the pain); every time we did any acting, I always had to do something relating to Lucie Ball. One way or another, my red hair was the center of attention instead of my brain power. Besides, in psych class, we were taught that red heads have bad or fiery tempers, which generally is not true. I will have to admit that I have showed my fiery temper when my hair comes before me as a person. 
Growing up, I have slowly realized that being a red head has some perks and bad feelings with it. I can stick out in any group. For example, I go to a Mexican restaurants and I stick out. I can bet a lot of money that I will be the only redhead. Anywhere I go, people ask me if I know and leprechauns or if I know the Irish gig; neither do I actually know about. Others ask if my parents have red hair and I reply with a no and they always follow up with the question, “Where did you get it then?” I have replied once that I pulled it out of somewhere not so sunny area and that story didn’t end well. One thing that I am proud of is that I am always known as ‘The Redhead’. I am rarely forgotten (as long as I mention I am the redhead). It means I am hardly confused for any other people with my name and I am a super hero for sarcasm. 
Recently through, there have been times that redheads have taken a few more hits below the belt. In two separated studies during the 2000’s, researchers have found that redheads are more sensitive to thermal pain, that red heads need more anesthetic medications; but, the reasoning is all about something crazy to do with vitamin K. On a bring side, redheads need less pain medication than any other hair colors. On top of that, redheads always tend to bruise easier, and again, researchers’ have discovered this is also a fact. Most recently through, redheaded egg or sperm donors and been REJECTED from actually donating new material or the eggs and sperms that already been donated are being dumped from some huge biological storage companies. Almost every online news channel has been talking about it. The companies behind this are saying that there is not enough need or that the costumers do not want any redheaded children. This was a huge hit for many redheads around the world. It’s a sad day for us as humans. 
Either way you look at this, redheads are people too. We are a dying breed. Redhead need to bind together and bring back the glory days. My suggestion is that redheads need to start mating like crazy before we die out. Here are a just as a few tips to treat us like normal humans follow; please follow them. We don’t always like our hair man-handled like it’s a new born baby. Having red hair doesn’t always been we have bad tempers. Those rumors were all started after people started to man handling our hair! Don’t get confused over where our hair comes from, or be shocked by some creative answers you may get. Do not, under any circumstance, misjudge a redhead for being a Neanderthal and especially for the short redheads, do not call them a leprechaun. Most of all, when you see a little redheaded child in her Sunday best, trying to pass the peace, please take her hand, not a chunk of her hair!