The Chronicles of Alex Wagner.

My name was Alexandra Rose Wagner.
When I was of legal age, I had it changed to Alex Wagner. My father did not approve. He was the one who wanted me to be named Alexandra, and have that rich, female name. It did not suit my personality. I did not like the girly connotation of being Alexandra Rose Wagner. He was not happy when he realized I changed my name. It caused a huge fight…not like a fight was anything unusual for my family. He eventually cooled. My father has always been the only one who could call me Alexandra.
But that was who I used to be. Now no one even calls me Alex. No one knows me by who I once was…save myself and those who brought me here. The ones who took me away tried to erase any and all memories of who I once was, but they just couldn’t get deep enough. I still remember.
I can remember the way my mother looked the last time I saw her. Panic-stricken as usual. She was afraid that going out when the weather was so shifty was unsafe. But I had to assure her.
She was right.
She must love that.
I can also remember the way his hands felt on my skin that night, how they slid over my bare flesh in the back of his car. It was the last time he touched me, the last time he saw me.
What would they think now.
They call me Hawk. Yes, Hawk. Supposedly it suits who I am and what I am. Its not a lovely name. Its not girly, or elegant, or something that looks good on resumes. My family won’t see that name and think of my face, or the clothes I was wearing that night. No, my name is just Hawk. There is no room for a nickname or anything personal. Its just what I am now. Something and someone completely different from who and what I once was.
There is nothing I wouldn’t give to go back to being Alex. But its too late for that now.

I tell you these things as a warning. I am not like them. I know who I was. I know the life I left behind. I had family, a fiancé. I had a degree and hopes for work and a family of my own and dreams of growing old. And I can remember those things. Those around me cannot even remember their own names. Their real names, the ones that their families remember them by. The names that matter.
But I have all of it, stored deep in the recesses of my mind where they cannot touch it. Where they cannot take it away.
My name was Alex Wagner.
I was just like you not so long ago. Until they took me, and took away the ones I loved. They took away my identity and even though I am one of them…I want to see them die. I want to see us die. I want to die myself. I want to be able to forget the memories of the past, the things I have done, and the undeniable future that awaits for those unlike us.
I write this…in hopes that someone will put it in the right hands. I want someone to know my story and to know who I am as intimately as I know myself. Perhaps then we can all be saved.

Time.

My private blog rarely goes a day without a new posting. But this one has simply been waiting for some time.

I don't want to get rid of it because it is so much more...real than the private blog. That probably doesn't make sense to a reader of this, but I understand the difference. There is something inately more me here. And I don't want to let it go.

I'm not sure what to do with this. I may turn it into a book blog, or just write when the mood strikes. We shall see.
-allie-

Wowzers.

It has definitely been some amount of time since I have thought of my blog here. Perhaps it is time to give a little update so that my life is "caught up."

I am currently finishing my second semester of student teaching. I am placed at a junior high in Utica, and it is a wonderful experience. While I have 2 mentors teachers, they are both phenomenal in their own ways. And while it can be a pain to go back and forth across the school all day, I love the kids I have (obnoxious they may be) and am enjoying my experience. I teach 2 hours of both 8th and 9th grade. I definitely prefer my 9th graders, but I have been teaching them since I started there, so we have a closer bond.

As it gets closer towards the end, I am debating my path and choices for next year. While my parents, or rather my mom, prefer that I stay here, I think I might go elsewhere. As tempting as it may be to stay home, find a substitute position and go from there, I am really craving the opportunity to have my own classroom. I am not planning on finding a job in Michigan, as they are hard to come by and there are already so many people here looking for jobs. That's not to say I won't try, but I am trying to be semi-realistic in my expectations.

My first love would be to go north and teach in Alaska, but my mom seems to think that is so far, so now I have turned my attentions westward, particularly Colorado, although I am also going to apply to districts in Oregon, Montana, and Washington. I think a move would be good for me. It will be nice to be on my own and while I will be poor, it will be a great experience I think. But, we'll have to see what happens. Ideally, I want a job here and I might have a few "ins," but that doesn't mean a thing.

In other aspects of life, my big brother Eric is getting hitched in September to Lor-Lor, which makes me all levels of happy. I am a bridesmaid and Matt is a groomsman by the way. Also, I am standing up in Matt's sister's wedding, which should also be exciting. That is coming up on June. In all, I have six weddings in 4 months, so it will be a lot of dressing up, which I am not complaining about.

I have been reading voraciously, which shouldn't be surprising for anyone who knows me. I wish I had more time to write, but I am currently working on a project (with my TE class in mind) that I think I am going to try and get published. It is a memoir/reflection/student piece of work that is pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. Mike, Mr. English TE prof, thinks that its unique and the end result will be "inspiring." I hope it turns out.

Other than that, life is going well. Time is flying by. I wish I had more time to see friends, but in all honesty, I find myself turning more and more to my family. These are all good things, but I do miss the silly nights at college...

Untitled...for now.

So, I started a new novel. One that I have been mulling over the last few weeks...It's different from anything I have written before, but I think it's a good story.

Anyway, the first small part is written (not revised, so this is not BY FAR a final draft) but a beginning.

Enjoy.

She swore under her breath as the lone bulb dangling from the ceiling flickered. There was a small whir as the electricity punched into overdrive from the small power failure. Shoving aside the rumbled newspaper on the tabletop, she reached for the phone on the wall and punched the all too familiar number into the key pad and waited.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line was heavy with sleep and she rolled her eyes, picturing the man’s state of being based solely on that one word.
“Mr. Slemmes, if the power surges one more time because of your crappy wiring, I am moving out,” her voice was testy, full of the aggravation of too many months in such a small and cramped apartment.
“Now, listen here missy…” his voice lowered in volume until she found herself pressing the earpiece tighter against her ear to catch his faltering words, but regretted it as he started yelling the next phrase to cover up for falling asleep, “That wiring is fine! You just can’t have more than one or two things on at once, that’s all!”
“You mean to tell me that sitting at my kitchen table with one light on and the radio is overusing electricity Mr. Slemmes?”
“Err, perhaps.” She could hear humming growing loudly over the phone line.
“If it is not fixed by tomorrow, I am calling the city to complain and they’ll come and find your numerous violations!” Her eyes caught the edge of the newspaper, tipping precariously over the edge of the table. Snatching it, she saved it from falling over the side and onto the cracked linoleum floor.
“Now see here, you can’t threaten me.”
“As a paying tenant, I most certainly can Mr. Slemmes.” With that, she slammed the phone back on the wall and let out a loud grown to the empty apartment.
The state of the apartment had changed little in the time she had been living there. The floors in the kitchen and bathroom were cracked, the edges by the molding pulling up and curling. The carpet was stained in the tiny living room, and a large water stain the shape of Texas dominated the ceiling above a small camp bed in the closet she called a bedroom. The living room held a small futon and a large array of boxes, most still packed from the day she moved in. There were books in stacks all over the floor, coupled with old newspapers and notebooks. The kitchen was empty, save for a small coffee pot, a avocado green refrigerator, and the beaten up card table she bought from the man upstairs for $5 when she had grown tired of sitting on the floor.
Pushing away from the table and newspaper, she walked to the small window overlooking the courtyard three stories below. In the fading light from the setting sun, she took in the yellowed grass from lack of rain and the few trees which were stunted and awkward in such a confined space. Her back ached from the hours sitting in the chair and she stretched slowly, back cracking up her spine as she did so.
Had her eyes not wandered, she might not have noticed the boy in the grass below. He was half-hiding under a tree, looking around nervously. Slowly she opened the window a crack and was greeted by a small breeze of cool air. It looked as though he was talking to something, but she could see nothing else in the courtyard.
Nodding, she took off out of the small apartment and walked down the stairs to go investigate the boy’s actions. No one really used the courtyard. It wasn’t a pleasant place to spend any length of time and she was unsure of whether it was even safe to venture onto the scorched grass.
With that in mind, she proceeded cautiously once on the main floor towards the cracked glass door leading outside. The boy was still under the tree, kneeling and cradling something in his hands.
He turned to stare at her when she came out to meet him. Realizing instantly that he was far older than she suspected, she almost turned around and went back in until he stood and a quick glimpse of what he had been cradling flashed before her eyes.
“You’re Bridget, aren’t you?” His voice was deep and oddly familiar.
“Yes, and you’re Andy. You live next door to me.” He nodded, eyes sharp and darting as he looked behind her. “I’m alone.”
“Yes, well…” Weight shifting from one foot to the other, she caught another look of the red object on the ground.
“I saw you, from my kitchen. I thought you might need help with something…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his shoulders tighten and eyes narrow.
“I don’t need help with anything.”
“Well, I’ll be going upstairs then, won’t I?” Turning on her heel, flip-flop slamming against her foot, she moved back towards the door.
“Wait.” It was said softly, but she had been listening for it. She stopped and waited, refusing to turn back to look at him. “I could use some help.”
“You won’t be rude to me again?”
“Rude?”
“I’ve had enough rude encounters today, with Mr. Slemmes.”
“He’s a horrible landlord.” She smiled and turned around.
“I’ll help you, simply for saying that.” He reached for her with a small smile on his face, beckoning her to the spot under the tree and the flash of red on the ground. Kneeling, he motioned for her to do the same.
“I found him a little while ago.” Directly in front of where he was kneeling lay a small reddish colored bird. The feathers were vividly colored, streaking with not only red, but deep orange and a small patch of gold beneath his beak.
“He’s beautiful.” Reaching to touch him, the bird turned his head sharply, cocking an eye to stare into her own. Thinking it was only the last rays of the sun, she brushed off the gentle feeling of warmth on her face. “I don’t think I’ve seen another bird like him in the area.”
“Neither have I.” Andy’s voice was soft, as if he were afraid to spook the little bird. “I think he’s hurt.”
“That would explain why he isn’t moving, wouldn’t it?” She smiled, realizing her comment might be considered crass.
“I don’t have anywhere to put him though, or anyone to take him to.” She stared down at the small bird once more, which was still eyeing her suspiciously.
“I can take him. I have more than enough room and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
“Yeah…” He blushed a little before going on, “I notice you are all alone.”
“I choose to be alone.” It was sharp and harsh and she immediately bit the side of her cheek. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I say things without thinking them through and in a way that’s not very friendly.”
“No, you can choose whatever you wish. It’s your life.” She nodded slowly, watching the bird and avoiding Andy’s gaze. “Bridget, we should move him upstairs before any other curious neighbors come down to see what we’re up to.”
He scooped the bird gently in his hands and moved towards the cracked door. Bridget took a moment to grab some leaves and twigs to make a small nest before joining Andy on the stairs. They creaked beneath her thin flip flops and she stared at the small of his back as they climbed to their floor.
Her door was cracked open when they approached and she remembered that it didn’t always latch.
“Damn that man,” she muttered it quietly under her breath as she led Andy into her small kitchen. He snickered slightly and walked further in and looked around.
“How long have you been living here again?”
“About eight months, why?”
“You need to decorate.” There was a wide grin on his face and she couldn’t help but return it.
“Oh, but I already have decorations, including my own replica of Texas on my bedroom ceiling.” He looked confused, so she led him into the small room and pointed up.
“I think I see the Alamo.”
“You and me both.” She could tell he was curious, looking around and seeing nothing on the walls but the paint, nothing in the room besides the camp bed with its blankets and a small crate next to it.
Watching him out of the corner of her eye as he looked, she opened the small door that led to the closet and grabbed an old blanket and moved out into the living room. Andy followed, still clutching the bird in his hands. Realizing she was making a nest for him, he knelt beside her and set the bird down in the small hollow of the blanket. The bird was eyeing both of them, including the twigs and leaves she was arranging to make an actual nest.
“He’s pretty quiet, isn’t he?” Brushing her hands together to loosen the small pieces of plant life from clinging, she leaned closer to investigate the new roommate.
“He was chirping before I found him, but as soon as I started to help him, he quieted down.”
“Do you know what kind of bird he is?” Her blue eyes found his own, almost a perfect match in color.
“I’m not much of a bird lover.” He smiled and lifted his hands in mock helplessness.
“What kind of a lover are you then?” She whispered it and he jumped, eyes searching his own.
“Umm…”
“You don’t have to answer.” Standing, she started searching her boxes, looking for a book that might be helpful. His eyes were boring holes in her back as she dove into the cardboard and set books down on the outside. With a small cry of success, she pulled out a small volume and sat back down by the bird.
Flipping the pages, she could still feel his eyes on her, but chose to ignore them. Colored pages of birds flashed before her eyes, but none that looked similar to the small creature in the blanket before them. He sighed beside her and turned away, looking a little closer at the lack of objects in the room. She knew he was investigating, thinking about how little she had and what her story was. In frustration, she set the book down. The bird was not in there.
“If you want to ask me a question, go ahead. I don’t bite.” He jumped a little and stared at her.
“You’re kind of blunt, aren’t you?”
“I can’t be “kind of.” I either am, or I’m not. But that’s for you to decide, isn’t it?” Leaning back on the palms of her hands, she waited.
“How old are you Bridget?”
“Twenty-five, and yourself?”
“I just turned twenty-two.” She cocked an eyebrow into a defining arch. “I know I don’t look that old, but I swear I am.”
“I believe you.” He settled back into sitting Indian style, facing her and keeping the bird between them. The bird was staring at both of them, alternating staring them down one at a time.
“I heard you guys singing happy birthday a few weeks ago. Was that for you?”
“Yes.” Blushing, he turned to look at the bird.
“Who do you live with?”
“Just my aunt.” She nodded and turned her attention to the small creature as well. He was still staring at Andy, his black eye focused on his face.
“Do you have a job?”
“I work at the public library.”
“So you’re a book lover then.” Grinning he caught her eye.
“You could say that.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I am as well.” She gestured to the boxes and small stacks of books behind her against the wall.
“What is it that you do?”
“Nothing at the moment.”
“Nothing?” The bird was ignored for a moment.
“My parents died and left me a small fortune, so I am living off that for the moment.” Slowly he nodded. “I didn’t get along with my parents, so I’m surprised they left me anything at all. So was my older brother.”
“I don’t have any siblings.”
“You can have mine if you want.” She grimaced and pulled down her shirt in the back. “He’s a pompous asshole. Tried to take the bit that my parents left me, even though they left him his own money. Said I didn’t deserve it, but what can you do?”
They were quiet for a moment, looking at each other and sizing up their impressions.
“What did you do before then?” Andy had started picking at imaginary lint on his t-shirt, lifting the pieces and flicking them from his fingers.
“I was a graduate student.” Raising his eyebrows she went on, “I thought it was what I wanted-to be a great scholar. But I realized it wasn’t for me. At least the subject wasn’t for me.”
“What subject? Literature?”
“Oh heaven’s no. I wouldn’t study anything I really loved. It would take all the fun and enjoyment out of it,” her laugh was soft. “No, I was working for the Chemistry department, doing research and earning my degree.”
He nodded again and stopped picking lint from his shirt. He was intrigued now, she could tell, by the deepened lines in his forehead from utter curiousity.
“May I ask why you quit?”
“No, you may not.” It was said quietly. “I’m sorry Andy, some things I still need to keep to myself.”
“I understand. We just met.”
“Yes, we did.” Again, she caught his eye and smiled. “What about yourself? School?”
“I have a bachelor’s in English, thus the library job.”
“Wonderful. Why do you live at home?”
“My uncle passed away two years ago, right before I graduated from college. My aunt asked and I moved in to help her out.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart.” Turning away, he stood up.
“I should go.” He began walking to the door and had placed a hand on the doorknob before she caught up to him. Grabbing his forearm, she turned him around to look him in the eye, catching the sight of a large purple bruise edging out from the edge of his sleeve.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. I have a habit of saying things I shouldn’t.” He wouldn’t look at her. “I’m just curious….I hear things…through the wall. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
At that his eyes caught her own and she stepped back from the anger she saw in them.
“You eavesdrop on us?”
“No, not on purpose, but sometimes…I hear things.”
“I can’t believe you. What happens over there is MY business, not yours.”
“Andy…” His eyes were flashing with anger and she took another step back. Shaking his head he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. The lights flickered with the power of door and she grabbed her chest. Her heart was beating quickly, fluttering beneath her fingers.
Then she heard it, the small chirping from the living room. She had forgotten about the bird, still nestled in the folds of the blanket. It was staring at her as she approached. She sat next to him and reached for it. Surprised, she cradled it when it jumped into the palm of her hand.
She heard him enter the next door apartment and then the screams. His aunt was angry and she could hear the distinct sounds of Andy being hit. His aunt was a large and formidable woman. Bridget had met her once when she first moved in and was scared by the woman who had greeted her none to friendly.
When the noise quieted down next door, she pulled the bird away from her cheek where she had been nuzzling it and noticed its feathers were wet from her tears. Laughing, she set the bird back down on the blanket.
“I must be losing it, to cry over nothing.” It said nothing in return, but turned a black eye to her own blues ones. Again, a feeling of warmth, like the sun kissing her skin enveloped her. He chirped once and the feeling was gone.
Tired, she stripped and crawled onto the bed. She could hear him through the wall, sniffling and muffling his cries in his pillow. Placing a palm flat against the wall, she reached for him, the boy who had been keeping her company every night for the last eight months. He was there and she would help him.

Placements.

The morning of my graduation (at midnight, to be exact), I got an e-mail saying I was placed at a high school in Detroit for my internship. I immediately burst into tears. I was upset. I'm honest, i can admit that I was judging the school by its location.

It took me a little while to adjust. I was freaked out, imagining all the bad things that could happen, while ignoring the good things.

But I grew up. I stopped judging and as I learned more about the school, I got excited. It was a specialized school and the programs looked great.

So, I called the school to set up a meeting to talk with the teacher. Nothing in response. I figure she is busy, misplaced the message after a week of holding on to it, so I called again.

Yep, no response. I wait another week before e-mailing the coordinator for the Detroit area. I let her know what was going on and how I was getting nervous. She e-mailed me back and said she would look into it.

A week and a half goes by and I hear nothing. I get a random letter from Detroit Public Schools saying that they "Accepted" me as an intern in their school system. Well, that's fine and dandy for them, but MSU's paperwork isn't done, as I have not met or talked with the teacher, so technically, I'm still not placed.

I had this dream, a long while back (actually, the night before I got my placement) that they wouldn't find a place for me down here. It was a horrid nightmare. Instead of having a placement in the Detroit area, they had to place me in Lansing, and I made the drive back and forth every day. Some nightmare, huh?

Anyways, I was thinking about that nightmare today as I drove back from Lansing from class. I was singing along to my radio while I pulled onto M-59, when my phone rang. It was a 248 number, but not one I recognized. Normally, i don't answer numbers I don't know (and let's be honest, I just plain don't answer my phone), but I picked it up.

Good thing I did. I was offered an internship in a different district, Ferndale and at a high school. The teacher, who I will dub Scott*, was really friendly and very welcoming. Then he says, "This might be creepy, but I know who you are."

Err.

Turns out its not creepy. I went to high school with his son at Rochester, who was two grades below me and in marching band. So, Scott has known me from when I was drum major, etc, which is awesome. He also lives in Rochester, so he gave me good directions on how to get to the school and such.

I'm pretty stoked. I'm meeting with him next week to get a small tour of the school and to talk with him. Hopefully we'll get along (which I think we will based off our phone conversation), so I will be actually placed in that school. The classes he's teaching next year are awesome as well: He is for sure going to be teaching an hour or two of 9th grade english, an hour or two of American literature, and a new class that is designed for students who failed english the first time around. In the second semester, he is for sure teaching an Ethnic Literature class and a humanities class. He said he might also have an hour of AP English, but he wasn't positive. Essentially, he's going to have a mix of classes, which will be awesome for me to learn from.

Anyway, I am so glad to "have" a placement that seems to be working out. It's closer to home, I know what the classes are, I already have a small relationship with the teacher, and i know what's going on. Let's all just hope that our meeting goes well!!!

*I changed his name for protection.

To New Beginnings.

I have always been better at keeping up electronic diaries/journals more than a paper diary. I still do keep a paper journal, but write in it so sporadically that it jumps from year to year, big issue to big issue. I generally save it for the moments when I really need to be in my head and sort things out on my own. I do keep another online journal, which is updated daily, but I keep it realitively private-to save myself embarassment and further explanation of my innermost thoughts.

Anyways, the paper journal has been retired as I move on in my life. For my college career, I filled 2 different paper journals with my "big moments," but when I went to write about graduation and the feelings I am going through now, nothing came out. I need to go and get a new paper journal, to my new beginning. I'm not "Technically" in college anymore, so I need to start over...

I have a theme in my life of starting over, of wiping the slate clean to begin again. I do it often because I feel a need to continuously change, reinvent myself and move onwards in life.

In other words, I am also restarting my place here. I always found this place kind of awkward. Mostly because it was open to everyone-linked in my profile and all. But I also felt that it was a good way for people to get to know me on another level. People who rarely speak to me could read my thoughts, comment if they wished...and those people who have taken a step out of my life could decide if they could ask to be let back in...

It's also a space and time for reflection. Coming out of college, I realize I made a lot of mistakes in terms of letting go of people I shouldn't have, of distancing myself from others, from not doing as much as I wished I would. There are a handful of people I am not close to anymore and I can't decide if that's my fault, theirs, or some natural progression of life and friendship. One of those I kind of miss, but its not surprising we haven't talked. I think we both, in our heads, decided that our friendship was scarred and we needed to separate for awhile...but that doesn't mean I don't miss it...

I don't really know where I am going with this. Perhaps only that I admitt I made a lot of mistakes in the last 4 years. Some bigger than others, some only minor. Some I regret, some I don't (I mean, all mistakes are great learning experiences). I do wish I had done things a little differently.

But most importantly, I need to look forward...I'm student teaching next year, In Detroit Public Schools, which will be an experience in itself. I'm looking forward to it, being in a high school with those kids, I should learn more than they will. ;) It's just another step forward towards my eventual future...

It's still hard to see myself as a teacher. When i was in high school, I would look at my teachers and sometimes think, how do they know so much? And I look at myself and think, how can I possibly teach these kids? I've come to the conclusion that teaching is not really about what I know, but about what I can get my students to learn about themselves. In the long run, having students learn about themselves and their capabilities as people is more important. Shaping them into good people is more important than teaching them what genre or a 5 paragraph essay is. In knowing themselves, they can succeed in anything.

I think this is long enough for one night....

A Little of Everything.

I apparently suck at trying to maintain a website. I have tried it before, but I simply fail miserably at keeping it up.

Anyways, I have done a lot of thinking, ecspecially since viewing my brother's Multiply site, and I definitely want to utilize this space more (can you tell I want to be a teacher by how I worded that? It's gross). I want to start posting book reviews, movie reviews, etc as well as posting more writing here in the blog.

I am also working on getting more pictures up as well as trying to find a site that will host a guestbook for me.

Anyways, continued to come back and see what I have added....

The Summer of Changes.

Perhaps that title is cliche. But it is fitting for my mood so early in the morning, and the thoughts that have been running through my head since I came home from school.

It might have been noticed that I have not been online in a while. Certain circumstances in my life have prevented me from ever being on my computer and the fact that Torrie has taken hostage my desktop. The only time I ever feel inclined to go on is late at night before bed to check my e-mail and attempt a stab at writing for myself. It has been failing to calm me, or to even matter.

I guess the first big change was my hair. I cut off ten inches, while not seeming to be a big deal, it was for me. When I chopped off my hair during my senior year, I did for reasons other than wanting a change. I had recently been through a great deal and wanted to separate the two eras of my life from each other. What better way than to cut my hair, signifying the cut in myself from who I once was and who I was becoming?

In cutting my hair this summer, perhaps I was begging for another change, another transition from one version of Allie to another. And perhaps I am well on that new path, determining which way to set my course and my direction.

The second change was the death of my step-grandfather. Watching my grandmother break down at his funeral was something that really got me. My step-grandfather and I were not close, but death is a unifier, bringing people together in ways and in circumstance they normally wouldn't be. There is something in death that tells you to rethink the steps of your life, the path you are taking and where you are headed. It's a big shove from God, telling you to wake up and realize where you are headed.

Then my dog collapsed for a second time and had her surgery. When we found out it was cancer, it was a blow. How can my nine year old dog be sick? But the vet said only 3-6 more months. And every day when i see her, my heart breaks to know that it could be the last time she looks at me with her eyes without pain, or its the last time she'll remember me. Does that make sense? Losing my dog will be losing a part of myself. We have a connection, her being born on the day I hit my head. She's my baby.

And of course there is my grandmother and her cancer. She too has a limit on her life, much like the limit my dog is now faced with. And every day i wonder how bad it will be to have my grandmother leave to go find her place with my grandfather. And I almost wonder if it would be better, to escape from the pain. But I don't want her to give up fighting, or struggling for the sunlight and the nights when the moon is full.

And beyond the external factors weighing so heavily on my shoulders this night, there is also the personal, the things within myself that I am purposely changing because I don't want to be associated with that image any longer. I want to separate the Allies from each other. I want to be different. I want to view myself as different.

I wonder if that is a seflish wish, a selfish want to be so entirely different from the person everyone knows me as. But if I am not happy with myself, how can I expect to gain any affections or friendships from anyone else? How can I expect anyone else to see me in a positive light when I see myself so negatively? I can't. I can't hold people to hold expectations of me, when i can't hold them myself. So, changing it is, for the better, I assure you.

I even feel like my writing is different. Is it? I think it is. It sounds cold and harsh, like I am not here to press the keys, but instead am trying to dictate a formal letter...

Anyways. Perhaps this entry was meaningless to anyone who even cared to read it. But it meant something to me, a signifier or everything that has been and that has yet to come my way this summer. And perhaps I sound cold and harsh and not like myself, but I am in a place where I do not know myself. Or what I stand for. Or where I want to be any longer.

The End...

I am sitting on the verge of my senior year of college. Being a senior isn't the special part, since I have technically been a senior all year, but it is the idea of finality that scares me. And excites me.

To be honest, I have never been more anxious to get the heck out of East Lansing. I am sick of the tiny room, of the classes and endless papers, and just everything. I am ready to go home, spend some time with my family. And curl up on the floor with my dog and a good book. Plus, my cousin Kate is in town and I'd like to spend some time with her before she goes back to Wisconsin...

I really am just burned out. Six big English classes will do that to you, as well as two paper intensive History classes. I want to add up how many pages I have written for class this year, but I am lazy, and not all the papers are on this computer. I bet its a disgusting amount. I am just tired of interpreting what profs want and all that jazz. I am ready to just graduate and get on with it. Start my life. In Alaska. :)

I guess the only exciting news coming from this week is that the Deparment of History is honoring me with some award on Thursday night. I have no idea what it's for, but I am excited about it. Little ol' me got an award. :)

The summer is looking nice-working at Spencer for the third and probably final summer. I can't see myself going back there again. It will be nice to have a final hurrah and then move on. Plus, my aunt just hired me to be her nanny as soon as the kids come and what could be more fun that watching 2 little boys? Nothing. It'll be fun.

But that is it. No major changes for me lately. Just anxiously awaiting friday and that final trip home to Rochester and away from here.

March Booklist:

I rate all books out of a possible 5 stars.

Fiction:

1. Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli (186 pages): This is another book by Spinelli geared towards young adults. I had heard about this book when it came out, but never read it. It’s basically a rebelling story-one weird girl gaining and losing fame with her classmates and ultimately deciding not to conform to their standards. It’s funny, but unrealistic. And I loved it, cheesy as it was. I give it **** out of five.
2. Lord of Snow and Shadows by Sarah Ash (574 pages): This is book one of the “Tears of Artamon” trilogy. I received the first two for Christmas and finally read them. This one was good, but all throughout the book, I was annoyed with the writing style. It almost seemed as if Ash didn’t really “get” her characters until halfway through the book. But the story and plot was wonderful and unique-something rare in new fantasy. The story basically centers on Gavril Angar as he learns of his new inheritance, including the inheritance of a daemon dragon that lives with him in his body. This book mostly sets up the conflicts and introduces many of the characters, and there are a lot of them. For the first book, I give it *** out of five.
3. Prisoner of the Iron Tower by Sarah Ash (542 pages): This book made me like the first one more than I did. She finally got the hang of her characters and it was easier to trudge through (it was long, like the first). Her writing in general, improved from the first book and it was easier for me to get through the sometimes awkward wording. But, again, the plot and now the characters saved it for me. This whole trilogy is unique in its own way and I am anxious to read the third one when it comes out. I give it **** out of five.
4. Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers (309 pages): I read this for the infamous YA lit English class. At first I was not into this book, as I consider myself pretty well versed in Vietnam. It took me a while to get into it and I found myself enjoying, especially the character Peewee. He kept me interested in the book. I can see why boys would like this book-it has war, glory, cuss words, everything a boy could want. But I also enjoyed it to an extent. It would be good to use in a history class as a second assignment. I give it *** out of five.
5. Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood by Benjamin Alire Saenz (291 pages): I loved this book. As someone with a specialization in Mexican history and studies, I was really excited to read this. It was wonderful and provided such a...different view of life in a Mexican dominated barrio in the United States. It centers on Sammy Santos who lives in a barrio called Hollywood. It follows his life during his senior year of high school and the way he grows and changes with his friends. Simply amazing. This is a book I definitely want to assign in my classes, because it also ties in a lot of other issues besides race. I highly suggest this to anyone, not just for young adults. I give it ***** out of five. And this is definitely my favorite book of the month.
6. The Wish List by Eoin Colfer (252 pages): Colfer is known for his Artemis Fowl series, which I have also read. I got this book for 2 whole dollars at the local B&N! Yay for cheap (and good) books. The book moved very quickly and it was funny. But definitely very young adult. There was nothing really deep in it, but I liked it for its simplicity. But I am only going to give it *** out of five, because so much more could have been done with it.
7. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier (263 pages): I love all things Robert Cormier. This book is very dark though and the ending made me sad. There is a sequel and I am debating going and getting it. It follows Jerry, who refuses to participate in the school’s annual chocolate fundraiser. At first kids idolize him, and then they begin to hate him. It’s the ending that really makes this book and it will be something I want to have on my shelf in a future classroom. I give it ***** out of five.
8. The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve (293 pages): The first book I read by Shreve I absolutely hated. But I decided to give her another chance. I liked this book, and enjoyed it until the end. It was a good ending, but I don’t know if I actually liked the last 50 pages or so. I didn’t like the reason Shreve gave for her husband, and I hated the way Robert came in. It didn’t suit the story. You can disagree. But I liked it at the same time, so maybe I don’t need to like the story. I don’t know. But it was definitely an improvement over the other Shreve book I read All he Ever Wanted, which was creepy and stalkerish. I give this one **** out of five.

Total Fiction pages read: 2, 672

Non-Fiction:

1. When I was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago (270 pages): This was a memoir, which is why I am putting it here under Non-fiction. I really liked the book. It was well-written and insightful. It was also easy to read and reminded me a LOT of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Which might be why I liked it so much. Some parts, however, I had to stop reading because it was a little too graphic for me. I give it **** out of five.
2. Bird Girl and the Man who Followed the Sun by Velma Wallis (224 pages): This was a collection of Native American folktales. Both were passed down to the author by her mother and follow the Inuit’s in Alaska. I like the way she wrote it, weaving two almost unrelated tales into one larger tale, bringing them together at the end. I used to soak up Native American books when I was kid, especially stuff by Scott O’Dell (Island of the Blue Dolphins anyone?) so I really liked this. I give it **** out of five.

Total Non-Fiction pages read: 494

Manga:

(keep in mind pages are subjective, since most pages are primarily pictures, with only a small amount of text)

1. Immortal Rain by Kaori Ozaki volumes 4-6 (576 pages total): Um. Yeah. I am in love with this series. It’s just too bad that the next volume isn’t out yet. Book 4 is definitely my favorite of the series. And I think it’s the artwork that does me in. I think that anyone would enjoy the story line-because they are so different and familiar at the same time. I am glad I picked up the first volume now I will be haunting the site online waiting for the next volume to come out. Simply amazing. I give it ***** out of five.
2. Rurouni Kenshin by Nobuhiro Watsuki Volume 1 (208 pages): Torrie had told me to go get this, so I did and I loved it. It’s very different from the other two series I have read and this whole set is really long. I think there are 24 volumes in the stores right now. That’s a lot, but I can see how the characters could get drawn out into that. I think this series is more traditional in terms of Japanese culture and really different in art from the other two series. It also has more violence, but a lot of the Manga I have read is violent. Anyways, it’s wonderful and volume 2 is sitting on my shelf. I give it **** out of five.

Total Manga pages read: 784

Pages for the month: 3, 950!!

Yeah, I read a good chunk this month-mostly over Spring Break.