but the greatest of these is love

So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
-1 Corinthians 13:13

Although I didn't realize it was from the Bible at the time, I first read this quotation perhaps a week ago in what has become one of my favorite books, Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card. A few days later, I was reading my Bible - 1 Corinthians 13 - and chanced upon it again.

When I did, I felt a sort of connection to these words. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe it was because the words rolled off my tongue, like lovely poetry. Maybe because it's a verse that rings true.

And while I wasn't planning on doing a one word for 2011, I realized that this verse held the one word I need to keep in mind this new year:

Love.

I need to love this year more than ever. Love my family. Love God. Love my friends. My enemies. Myself. People I don't know now and won't ever. The people I do know, as much as I dislike some of them. Those in need of help, and those who aren't. I need to bring an open heart into every encounter so that I may be free to love as Jesus loves, without prejudice or profiling. 

This year, I need to love.

the child at the redbox.

Lately I've been finding the adult American society way too childish for my liking.

Today, I found something that made it even more so.

I shall explain with the story of the child man at the Redbox.

My dad and I went to the Redbox at our local Walgreens to rent some movies today. As we drove up, and I was getting out, some other guy drove up as well. I got out and went to stand in line.

After I'd been standing there a good minute, waiting for the family in front of me to finish, that *$%@# man got out of his car, and went in front of me in line! Just cut me in line!

I'm sure I sound very childish with that last line, but that's about what he did. He acted like a little second grader - you know how standing in lines is so important to little kids.

I didn't say anything. I'm not sure why. Maybe I didn't know what to say. Maybe I just didn't want to sound childish and immature. Maybe I didn't want to... I don't know.

Now I'm regretting that I didn't say anything. That I just let him take advantage of me. Like it doesn't matter that just because I'm a teen, an adult can go and do that to me. People like that make me so mad!

And what's worse, right after my dad and I were done, the same sort of thing was repeated again. A man had been waiting in his car for us to finish, while some other guy drove up and jumped in front of him.

Had that man asked us if he could quickly rent something because he's in a hurry, sure, I'd have let him. Of course. I mean, while we were waiting for the child man to finish, a lady drove up and asked us if she could quickly just return her movie. We said yes.

It's people like that lady who restore my faith in humanity. Thank you, lady with long blond hair. You're amazing.

P.S: I've changed my Blogger username to my real name, Kinga. Also, my last post was very upset-sounding (thanks Brooke for letting me know) so I've decided to delete it. I was sort of frustrated at myself when I wrote it, I guess. So forget everything I said in that post, except that I got Photoshop CS5 Extended for Christmas :)

Politics

I have never yet met a honest politician who really has the people's best interests at heart.

Correction: I haven't really met many politicians, face to face. But from those about whom I have heard, none are the sort of people I'd trust with governing our country/state/county/city well, equally, and honestly.

Maybe, somewhere, out there, such a politician does exist.

Or maybe not.

Does politics do that to you? Takes an honest person who just wants to better his home, and turns him (or her) into someone who gives pay raises to friends? Someone who lies about themselves to make it seem like they are better citizens and better would-be elected officials? Someone who, during campaign season, blasts ads saying that their opponent is, indeed, a selfish lying stupid fiscally irresponsible dunce (when as a matter of fact each of those terms could be better used to describe that first politician anyways)?

Or is dishonesty what it takes to succeed in the dirty world of politics? If someone who would be willing to lower their own pay as a mayor or other elected official in order to buy better books for poor schools, or to give every family who needs it a substantial meal that is free, would that person just not be elected?

Or, worse, would they be elected, and then turn dishonest, because of the power they hold?

Politics is a frightening world.

New Blog Name and a Tag

I am horrible when it comes to blog names.

Seriously. When I was still twelve, I loved my first name (Musings of a Twelve Year Old Poet). Once I turned thirteen, I couldn't think of a new title and this blog became 'untitled.' And I couldn't think of anything better for half a year.

But now, I {think} I have it.

Like it? Don't? Please comment and vote on the poll at right.

And now for the tag:

Thank you so so much Brooke for tagging me!

Name three colors you love:
Blue, gray, and green


Would you ever dye your hair any of those colors?
Nooo way!

If you could choose one skill to be fantastic at, what would it be?
Hard one. There are so many things I really want to do. I think that I would love to know how to survive off the wilderness, like in the book My Side of the Mountain. But that's just one of the many skills I'd love to know how to do.

Do you like to decorate your room with pictures and other decor?
Not really. I sort of have two bedrooms, one that I share with my brother and I sleep in and the other just sort of there. The reason for this is that we used to have people living on the second floor which is where the other bedroom is, and I got a room up there but I prefer the one downstairs.

What was the most shocking moment of your life?
When my grandfather died. I was in sixth grade, and I knew he had cancer and it was his time to go, but it sort of shocked me. I never had a chance to say a last goodbye, as he lived in Poland and it was the middle of the school year, October really, and plane tickets are so expensive.

Name three songs you love (please include the artist!):
Johnny Johnny by Avalanche
Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell
Flames of Love by Fancy (yes I do love oldies!)

Have you ever, quote "danced the night away"?:
Not really. I did go to my cousin's wedding that lasted really late at night- maybe until 2-3 am. But I didn't really dance at all.

Who's your favorite author?:
Too difficult! It's always changing. Currently... I'd say Margaret Peterson Haddix. I've just read her book Turnabout, and it was amazing! I really recommend it!

Did you like this tag?
I loved it :)

Tag any number of people you like (link his/her name to his/her profile/blog):
1. Alex
2. Rebecca
3.Becca and Zippy
4. Maya'Lee

In other news, I am super close to finally opening my own blog design blog, and I am super excited! Once it is ready I will post about it here.

Abortion

"A women went to her gynecologist and said, 'Doctor, I have a serious problem and desperately need your help! My baby is not even 1 yr. old and I'm pregnant again. I don't want kids so close together.'

So the doctor said: 'Ok and what do you want me to do?'

She said: 'I want you to end my pregnancy, and I'm counting on your help with this.'

The doctor thought for a little, and after some silence he said to the lady: 'I think I have a better solution for your problem. It's less dangerous for you too.'

She smiled, thinking that the doctor was going to accept her request.

Then he continued: 'You see, in order for you not to have to take care of 2 babies at the same time, let's kill the one in your arms. This way, you could rest some before the other one is born. If we're going to kill one of them, it doesn't matter which one it is. There would be no risk for your body if you chose the one in your arms.

The lady was horrified and said: 'No doctor! How terrible! It's a crime to kill a child!'

'I agree', the doctor replied. 'But you seemed to be ok with it, so I thought maybe that was the best solution. The doctor smiled, realizing that he had made his point.

He convinced the mom that there is no difference in killing a child that's already been born and one that's still in the womb. The crime is the same! "

That story, one I read in my church's bulletin, sums up my view on abortion. I really loved it, and I wanted to share it with you. I copied and pasted it from here.
 
I don't support the killing of children, even if they are not yet born. Babies in a mother's womb are alive, and abortion is murder. I could never truthfully say, "Abortion is ok." It's just plain not. What are your views on abortion, and why?
 
{I understand that some people may not share my view, but let's respect each other's decisions, please.}

Words

Words. They describe everything. Some things better than others, of course.

I was recently writing an "I Love.." piece for school. My chosen topic was nature.

I wrote of "the soothing whisper of leaves in the wind as I walk my worries away, forgetting everything but the green and the brown and the beautiful wholeness of it all."

I wrote of "digging my hands into deep, rich dirt and letting life sift through my fingers."

I sought, and I found, such beautiful descriptive flowing words to show how glorious nature is. But then came words that stopped flowing and instead crashed into my tongue like a speeding taxi cab in Times Square. Concrete. Steel. Building.


Industrial words. Fake words, even. Our cities don't flow. Words, at least mine, can't give them much credit. They cease the fluency of my writing and stop it short with ugly, unnatural sounds.

Don't get me wrong. Words like concrete, like steel or building are necessary. In some contexts, with the right writer guiding their existence, they can even be quite incredible, quite beautiful to read. But when compared to words that describe what is, at least to me, true beauty - nature - they shrink. Everything we see today comes from nature, no matter how far removed. Yes, the steel, the concrete, the buildings, they are all made of what we as humans found useful in nature. We extracted what we needed, even today.

This has been a nice rant. :)
If you'd like me to, I will post my "I Love" paragraph on this lovely little blog here. Based on the quotes above, would you like me to?

aching for... something

Sometimes, the moments right here right now just don't content me.

I mean, there are places to see, people to meet, photos to take and careers to contemplate. And so much more!

There is a world out there, and it is waiting for me!

It is days like these that make me wish for the future in 5, 10, 15 years. Going to college. Having a job. Being an author, a teacher, a mayor of a small town, a vet tech, a dog trainer, a diner owner, a photographer, or maybe even something else. Getting married. And one day, hopefully, having kids.

 I have all these dreams, all these ideas, that cannot be fulfilled in the cream colored suburban house with a tiny backyard in a city named for onions. I'm sure many girls wish to live where I live. But I wish to live somewhere else. Somewhere rural.

 That's why I love road trips oh so much. Seeing all these houses and imagining the lives of the people who do call them home. Imagining myself in their place. Wild dreams. Hopeful dreams.

Even déjà vu sort of dreams, like driving through small towns and feeling as though you have been here before and as if you will one day be back.

That's exactly how I felt driving through a particularly charming town in rural New York state. The countryside outside of the town was so pleasant, and then I felt oddly as though I've been there before.

Maybe even as though I'd be there again someday.

Who knows? I just might.

(Note: these pictures have zero to do with said town. I stupidly did not take any photos there...)

Intense

A deep, dark, navy blue sky to the west punctuates the few people outdoors hurrying about their business before the storm strikes.

Streelights click on.

Lightning, still in the distance, flashes ominously behind the clusters of houses and buildings that reduce it to simply lighting up the sky, providing an aura around the concrete world. The wind picks up, rolling dead leaves across the quickly emptying streets and flopping Beagle ears.

Then the first few rain drops: drip, drip, drip, drop. Drip again. And real lightning, true lightning, closer and closer and defined in all its glory.

Now real raindrops, hammering roofs and freeing the crackly red leaves not yet dead enough to depart their homes, their trees, on their own. Then silence. Ethereal, whole silence, of which there are nearly as many different kinds as of sound.

Like this silence, merely a break between storms. Like the one soon to come, bidding good-bye to the thunder. Until we meet again, it says. And the storm agrees heartily with one last lingering rumble of thunder. Silence need not reply.

School Means...

Sleep-deprivation. Too much homework. Ridiculous, demeaning binder systems. Feeling too skinny and too young for my age again. New turf fields. Ten hour long school days counting over-long, late bus rides. Chilly autumn air. Friends again. Immaturity. Stress and aches. Reality.

What does school mean for you?

It's been three days of eighth grade- nine of September- and already I look back into summer and wonder, did that even happen? Lounging in the warm sunny grass, wearing short shorts and tank tops without shivering, and endless hours that can be filled with whatever one desires- it all seems so long ago. Just about a week ago it was hot, humid, sunny and delightful outdoors. But then September struck, and ever since it's been chilly.

It's odd, isn't it? How once September rolls by the weather seems to cool down, however reluctantly, as though the earth knows and understands our odd calendars? As though Mother Nature must mourn the beginning of school and the loss of inquisitive children exploring her beautiful nooks and breath-taking crannies?

School begins. Reality starts. Summer (and freedom) ends.

And, to top off the summer, I leave you one of my favorite photos of Kusy:

Odds and Ends

This is going to be a post for all the collected odds and ends I haven't gotten around to posting yet.

First, I won Trinity Shea Pulse's photography contest. If you'd like to view my entry, click here. Here is my award:

Thanks so much Shea!

Second, I am entering a giveaway at (Of) Horsefeathers. Olive Tree is very talented and it is a pleasure reading her blog! Here is the button for the giveaway:

Third, about the cats: the orange tabby  is still coming by my house, just at different times each day. I was up reading The Hobbit on my roof on Saturday around noon when my brother noticed the cat walking down the street. I rushed out, hot dog in hand, ready for when the cat would walk back. I waited for around an hour, but the cat hadn't walked back yet. I left him the hot dog on the curb. I could have kicked myself for just barely missing the cat walking by! About the kitten: after reading your comments, I have decided that, should I ever catch sight of the kitten again, I will ask the cat man about her. I haven't seen the kitten or her mother since the day I blogged about seeing her. Hopefully I will see the kitten again, though. Her chances of surviving in urban streets (especially in the coming winter, and because of the coyotes in the area) are slim. Two-thirds of feral kittens don't survive the first year of their life!

Fourth, school starts tomorrow! Eighth grade, here I come! I am just upset that this year, my school will be using this ridculous binder system as though we are little kids who can't organze ourselves. The teachers will even be checking to see whether our work going home is on one side of the folder, and our work coming to school is on the other side of the folder. Ridiculous for 8th graders, especially since I'm in a 'gifted' program. Maintaning a binder organized to other people's standards won't make my work any easier.

Fifth, an update on Kusy. He is an incredibly talented bilingual (hopefully soon to be trilingual) dog. He knows sit, down, come, give paw, beg, roll over, and walk (a word for heel). My mother discovered that his previous owner must have taught him the command 'walk' because when he hears it, he heels! Incredible! He knows to beg and give paw in Polish (służyć and podaj łapę, respectively) and I am trying to teach him Hande Ho (well, it's pronounced like that), which is German for put your hands up in the air. I know this from watching old WWII movies. Anyways, he begs and I push his paws up, say ' hande ho!' and give a treat. We're also working on coming reliably. After that, I'll teach him to spin in a circle, and maybe close the door (it's all possible!). I also have this crazy idea to teach him to bring a tissue when you sneeze. Quite possible, but this will take ages and ages, I'm sure.

Sixth, I have my first photo contest entry! Thank you so much Mimi! Now hopefully you will just have some competition! If you'd like to enter, go here! Remember, the first prize is a complete blog makeover by me- that includes a header, background, signature and button, maybe more! The contest ends a week from tomorrow.

The Sun Never Settles

raconteur (n.) a person who exceeds in telling anecdotes

The raconteur was an elderly man who lived in a ramshackle cottage with a crooked fence and a giant elm towering overhead. A scruffy, limping mutt and three bony hens called the overgrown yard attached to the house home. That could also be said for the man, whose graying, silver hair and beard was hard to spot amidst the long forgotten hedges and roses. Only his piercing, kindly blue eyes- miraculously bright and eager for a man of his age- set him apart from the world of green surrounding him.
In a crumbling barn set off in the distance, a rusted bridle was hung on a metal hook, long grimy and dusted with mist, sorrow, and lore from the ages. Its well-worn leather blended into the ancient wood of the walls. All that set it apart was an infrequent glimmer of light and of hope, before the rising sun escaped into the shadows. The birds looked upon the barn with hope, wondering when its unsightly figure on the horizon would crumble into absolute nothingness.
The man would sit on a creaking bench, nearly as old as the man himself, amidst a tangle of rose petals and blueberry bushes. Stepping stones that spread across the garden were barely visible beneath the messy gnarled vines that snaked through the garden, then coiled onto the cottage, holding its weakened walls upright. To even the casual passersby, it seemed obvious that without the endless support of the weed, the slight building would have been lost to the elements long decades ago.
This raconteur would never have a care in the world. He would sit, solemn and lonely, in complete solitude, and tell stories to the earth, to the wind, the stars and the soaring birds. His wise words would carry through the rushing air, till they reached the spiral of ideas that falls upon each of us. Some would carry even farther, dreams in the night sky, and whisper themselves to the sun and the moon. And all the while the man would sit, quietly, and speak with the wisdom of the ages, of those who had gone before, of those who cannot bring themselves to tell the world, of those who never had a chance to explain their thought and their actions. He spoke of days gone by, and pondered the reasons for sorrow, for happiness, for guilt and destruction. His wise words would reach the ears of each of us. Whether or not we listen is up to us, yet the man still speaks. The entire world is for us and up to us, he tells us. The sun is our friend, and the moon our teacher, the provider of wisdom. War is the way of the demons, and a simple act of peace can change the earth. Respect the world, the seas, the forests. The sky and the water are one. We are one, and never doubt that you are beloved and sacred to the beings of the world.
His wise words endure for centuries, for millenia, for eons. They spread across oceans and skies, across planets and throughout the universe. The words of the raconteur are sacred truths. Even when he leaves this earth, his words will still echo throughout. And the barn will collapse with a resounding thud, scattering the birds and freeing the few phrases trapped inside.

A Frigid September Day

Autumn is definetely in the air. This morning even wearing a fleece North Face jacket(btw I don't usually wear designer brands but it was on sale and my mom insisted...) didn't stop the wind from chilling me to the bone. During recess my fingers positively froze and in Algebra I could not write a single linear equation!Thankfully I am planning to wear a scarf tomorrow. I am SO glad to have knit so many scarves last year and the year before... that reminds me I think a few days ago was my knit-o-versary! Two years since I've started knitting! Ha ha...

Thanks for reading!

Hello Everybody...

Today was(and still is) a day of squirrel chasing and volleyball with beach balls on the deck and mouse seeing and Goldfish cracker eating. As well as putting off homework. Ha ha ha...

10 Things about myself:

1. I like doing magic tricks.
2. I like birding and feeding birds.
3. I love dogs and really want one.
4. I secretly like some aspects of playing football(but its not so secret now is it?).
5. I like making greeting cards.
6. I am Polish and speak the language fluently.
7. I love camping trips.
8. I love photography.
9. I have a crush that begins with a C...
10. I LOVE writing poems, books, short stories, etc...

Thanks for reading.

A Well-Earned Day Off!

Tomorrow is a day off from school, and it is definetely well-earned. A break to work on my novel(s) and edit my short stories, and write more. Working on poems and perhaps going shopping are also on my agenda. I am also hoping to jump-start my Science Fair project as well as numerous other factors such as practicing magic tricks and maybe even playing foot ball. It's not too bad you know. Although confusing and extremely boring to watch. It's fun especially when you throw the ball and the other team has to get it and run to the end line/ touchdown line or whatever. I almost tagged Chris at school today when doing this but he slipped away by a centimeter.

Anyway, tomorrow will be an opportunity to throw my legs up and relax. A chance to melt away the stress that has gathered on my right shoulder and has since taken on the job of hurting at the times I deem the least helpful. Relaxation is what I need. It's the name of the game. A dog wouldn't be too bad, either.

Earning $5.43 writing for Triond has lightened my spirits greatly. Writing about pets brings the most cash in. My payment will arrive October 10th! I'm so excited to get a bit more cash for either a) a D-SLR camera, b) a dog, or c) various and miscellanious other obects I may need/want including books, shirts, yarn or crafting stuff. But I'm a saver, with over 400 bucks saved so far over the course of the year.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy my pic of my feet propped against the upstairs living room wall.

School Goes On

Hello to everybody! School is going great apart from the fact of too much homework. I even have a new crush. I won't give you the privilege of knowing his name, however. It starts with a C. Okay, I'll tell you. It's C****. I'm short on time so bye for now and thanks for reading.

PS just want to share a great web site I found: http://www.kmreadsalot.webs.com/ !

Ah... The Joys of Seventh Grade

Today was the seventh day of seventh grade. Although, it was far from lucky. Very far. Apart from the fact that I got a very low B without doing anything wrong is part of it. The other part is the kind of unexplainable thing, maybe stress, maybe Science fair, maybe a million other things. Or, perhaps, the knowledge of certain horrific facts that I would much rather not ever hear about. Unfortunately, I have and I cannot manage erasing them from my mind. I would, as a matter of fact, care to share: lebotomy, making a person lose all emotion forever, known thanks to my teacher who provided us with a poem chock-full of swear words and other objects not of desire. As well as that rat hair is in hot dogs, rat poop is on all bananas, and at least five other unneeded facts. Perhaps one day I'll bring myself to telling you...*shudder*

And, again, not having a second of time to relax and work on my stories may be a great part. I am already two chapters behind my goal for one story. The other one has no goal, the third doesn't either. To make it even worse(or better, as you may put it) I have ideas for at least two other books that are just ideas at the moment.
Learning Algebra I may be another cause, as well as learning just how high the expectations are for high school. Add in some completely unnesesary French homework, and yes, you have a small idea of my current situation. But hey, it's actually not too bad... all the time. My refuge is Sunday, because church and free time(actual hours of whatever-you-could-ever-want-to-do-and-can-do-it time!) are a pretty good combination.
Thanks for reading. Please leave comments and feedback.

Another Day of Reality

Having been so recently thrust into reality, I am finding school to have its challenges in a way like never before. The work is much more challenging(although Science Fair seems really simple and easy the way my teacher explained the whole deal in less than 11 minutes today). I believe that I owe the fact of harder work to that teacher who is very tough. His scary side was revealed today. He called a boy in my class. The kid didn't hear. He called him again. The kid said, "huh?" Then, the teacher(who I shall call MAK) yelled, "COME HERE!" Or you may call it boomed angrily. At that the class became dead silent. Everyone looked up at the teacher, fear glistening in their eyes as they observed him scold the boy. The girl who sits next to me leaned over and whispered her statement of fear. I nodded in horrified agreement, transfixed.

Later another girl picked an eyelash off my cheek. Holding it on her outstreched hand she grinned at me. "Make a wish, then blow." She said. "dog" I immiediatly thought, then blew. The little eyelash moved a centimeter before settling down again in her pale palm. So I huffed again, harder. This time the eyelash flew out of sight, to be carried throughout the school or perhaps burned on an unsuspecting Bunsen burner come Monday.

Anyway, if anyone understands about reflexive, nominative, objective, possesive, indefinete, and relative pronouns(among other personal and impersonal pronouns as well) please leave a comment as I am utterly bamboozled at this concept.

Also, I believe you must have noticed how I like using the phrase "thrust into reality." I do. I really do.
As many of you know today is 8 years since the deadly 9/11 terrorist attack. We talked about this today, about feelings and emotions and what we remembered, and how some people who heard it thought it was a hoax. My greatest regards to those who lost loved ones in that attack.

Thanks for reading.

Thrust into Reality

School just started, and I have been thrown into a whirlwind of stress, endless work, and a tough teacher. If that wasn't bad enough, its seventh grade and a huge science fair project is due in three months! Sorry that I haven't posted but I've been busy researching Ojibway, writing purpose, hypothesis and materials, and thinking of annotations for The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe. Add in working with something that can burn your lungs in science, and you'll have a pretty good idea of my life right now. And did I mention my bus driver who listens to a horrible radio show very loud? But life isn't all bad... today I received a copy of my very first published work: a poem, Bona Fide Black. You see my poem was published in an anthology of poems from kids in Illinois and Indiana. Never mind that some two thousand other poems are included in the book as well.
I guess there's no other way to put it: I've been thrust into reality (and have been dealt a teacher who dresses up as Alice in Wonderland for Halloween. A male teacher, that is...)
What more is there to say? School is school. I have a pizza party tomorrow. (I know, your eyes are boggling out of your head as you're thinking, What! a pizza party in the first week of school!) Yes it’s true. I’m a Wirehead meaning I help out in my computer lab at recesses and we get a pizza party in the beginning of every year as well as points going toward getting a piece of smelly red carpet with a big letter “B” stamped on it. The carpet thing means you’re participating in extra-curricular activities, but it’s nothing more than that: carpet.
Between French classes and Science classes, as well as some much-needed recesses I must say that life is going on very well at the moment. School, I mean. Life has always been great. Just lacking in a dog.
Meanwhile my Internet has been slacking off in the midst of a huge Social Studies speech and I have been somewhat slacking off in the matter of my freelance writing. Since school has started I haven’t managed to squeeze a sentence of my story in, save for a paragraph for a quite dumb scary story that was very quickly scribbled, then put away until the ebony clock ceases its horrendous chiming and I return to dreamlike state of summer.
As I sit writing this wondering when my internet will turn on so I can copy and paste this from Word I think of how I managed to read an hour a day last year of other books. I have just only finished the Thief Lord today, when I started it on Monday. Really horrendous if you ask me, as I wouldn’t of finished it quite so fast if not the fact that Monday was Labor Day and thus free from the prison our society calls school.
It is at times like these that I turn my mind to books I have read and dream of a time-turner like Hermione’s or a dog like Fanny’s(from Harry Potter, and Protecting Marie). At this very moment I wonder when my back will stop aching and my legs will cease their hurt. I try not to think of the horror that happened today in P.E. (I prefer to call it gym, although Mr. A would have my hide for that). I might as well explain…
I’m sure many of you are familiar with the black fences that surround many American schools? With one horizontal pole on the bottom and one on the very top, plus a bunch of vertical poles? Well a team of six had to stand on this fence and switch spaces with their opposites without touching the ground (i.e. the two people on the edges must switch, etc.) This consisted of some rather awkward movements that made people appear, shall I say, on top of each other? Not too comfortable. I have noticed that my writing has exceeded a page on Word, so I’ll say bye for now.

Thanks for reading.

If months were people...

January would be a stern, wizened yet unforgiving man who walked with his head high, never looking beneath his feet. He would be elderly yet filled with the energy of a young boy. His eyes would be cold and hard, with no compassion or love, yet dignity would be present there, clear and blue as a winter sky.
February would be a little girl, small and feeble with a peeping voice. She would be alone, but would bask in her solitude and the simplicity of her young life. She would, very simply, not care about what you and I think of her slight, weak figure. Bundled up in a scarf,with the miniscule buds of tulips and daffodils decorating her thick wool coat, and boots made of the strongest sheepskin, she would skip along the icy lane, leaving minute footprints filled with melting snow.
March would also be a child, a young, frolicking boy who wore a lopsided hat and a thin blue jacket. With a frozen stick in hand, he would walk the world once over, pulling emerging buds and flowers up through the freshly fallen snow. As he would scamper around the globe he would leave a trail of sodden footprints, which would melt more and more each day under the bright sun. The sun, the mother of March, looking over her beloved boy, keeping him safe.
April would be a teenage woman, wearing a thin pink scarf that would flutter in the slight spring breeze. She would follow March on his trek around the earth, opening the flowers that he pulled up. The sun, her mother, would watch over her also.
May would be a young boy, slightly older than April, wearing a t-shirt that would be in the brightest, purest green. Birds would sing around him, and grass would turn the shade of his handmade, carelessly worn clothes. His eyes would be a greenish blue color that would win the heart of every fair maiden whose path he crossed. Yet his only devotion was to June.
June would be a girl, the same age as May, and would love him with her whole, great heart. Under her tender care flowers and and fruits would begin to grow, and the sweet Amalanchier would serve as their evening meal. Together they would blossom into a young, lovely pair.
July would be the carefree daughter of May and June. She would love everybody, the other months and the flowers, the birds, the bees buzzing around her and the sweet vegetables that would grow with her.
August would be a middle-aged woman with blonde hair. With shorts and flip flops on her rested, tanned body she would sit beneath the flowering apple tree and write poems to her world. As her pen would cover her page with beautiful script, she would read melodiuosly aloud to the chickadee and the goldfinch who would sit on her shoulder.
September would be a teenage girl with flaming auburn hair that tumbled around her shoulders wildly and would be ever so slightly curled. Her yellow turtleneck sweater would be all the shades of the trees around her. Her eyes would be a deep, energetic chocolate brown.
October would be September's twin brother, with even more unruly, even more red, hair that would be clipped short, yet look attractive. Together the two would pull leaves the shade of their hair off dying trees, in wait of the dreaded bareness that was soon to come.
November would be a man with dull brown eyes and limp brown hair. He would be handsome in a special way and would turn the brilliant leaves of yestermonth into dry, dead, crackling leaves the shade of his hair, sprinkling snow here and there in preparation for his wife, December.
December would be November's wife, midldle-aged, sister to August. She would be a jolly maiden with vigorous brown hair and bright blue eyes. With a green dress lined in white on her slender, jumping body she would bring gifts to the world, showering the globe with snow and love. On New Year's Eve she would kiss her grandfather January on his cold, dry cheek at the stroke of midnight.