Wednesday, April 27, 2011


New Poem written at like midnight last night. that's that time i get my story/poem/etc ideas (between 12-3am cuz, you know, i'm cool like that...)

Insecurity - April 27, 2011

Too tall
Too short
Big nose
Small hands
Squished eyes
Stretched mouth
Big feet
Crooked teeth
Nose job
Tuck job
Too thin
Too fat
Not cool enough
Not popular enough
Not smart enough
Not pretty enough
Why can't I look more like her?
Why don't I look the way I want to be?
Why is this the me I have to see?
You messed up God, look at me!
Why aren't I PERFECT?

But wait,

I was made lovingly
Perfectly, hand-crafted
Knit together in my mother's womb
Made to be me
I am how I was made to be
When I insult me, I insult Him
The maker, designer, the perfect creator
I was made in his image and
I Am Beautiful
I don't need to reach the world's standard
They aren't my judge, I shouldn't be theirs'
I was made to be above pretty
Above looks, coolness, and popularity
I was made to be friendly, honest, and kind
Made to be loyal, and a good listener
Maybe I wasn't made to be a model
Maybe I'm a teacher, a doctor, and friend, a mother
I don't have to look like the magazine girls
I was made for a reason
Each uniqueness is there for a purpose
I am made perfectly by His standards
And that's all that matters
I am the me I was made to be.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


Blogs are brilliant. Just saying...

Blogs give you a place to rant, to rave, to have an opinion (even if no one cares0, they give you a place to VENT!
Can you guess what's coming?

I think my teachers are in a gang. All of them. Like in the same gang. Their goal: to destroy my social life.
Now hold up Becky, you say. You have a social life?
Exactly. This is my point!
All my teachers will PILE ON THE HOMEWORK for one week, we have projects, test, assignments, and heaps of homework in every subject imaginable, and then the next week...I'm so bored I read multiple novels, write poetry, and communicate with the living (not that I've ever communicated with the non-living, it's just I'll have been a hermit the week before). I come out of my dark cave of a basement room, blinking confusedly at the sunlight, gasp in delight as I see the snow is gone and run outside without a jacket (only to find that I do live in Winnipeg and wind is cold).
See, no life.

This is one of THOSE weeks. Not the nice lazy oh-sun-exists? weeks, one of the JUST-KILL-ME-NOW-AND-GET-IT-OVER-WITH-I-WON'T-MAKE-IT-THROUGH-THE-WEEK-ANYWAY! weeks.
Ya. Basically.

See I'll give you an example, I have two tests this week, two infront-of-the-class-with-a-powerpoint presentations (one being a 40 minute long one) an massive ELA project due, an ELA book to read, questions to answer on the ELA book, observations to write down on the ELA book, homework in every subject in addition to the above-said insanity, I've been up past midnight every night for the past week and I'm working next Saturday so I can't catch up on sleep then AND I'M BEING MEAN TO MY SIBLINGS!
Though I doubt you're surprised at that last bit.
Hey I'd like to see you be in my place during a JUST-KILL-ME-NOW-AND-GET-IT-OVER-WITH-I-WON'T-MAKE-IT-THROUGH-THE-WEEK-ANYWAY! week. Seriously? Want to trade places for a week? Call me okay, we'll arrange something!

Thankfully next week is a three-day school week so in the possibility of me surviving this week, next week should be easier and with Thursday and Friday off (and I'm not working that Saturday!), I should catch up on some MUCH NEEDED sleep.

I'm using a lot of caps this blog arn't I?
I can't spell iehter. I left those mistakes in after correcting about a million, just to prove to you i can't spell.
Can you tell I'm stressed? I'm not even correcting speling!
Oh deer.

I'd beter go stduy.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Spring Poetry!

I have 47 days of high school left. Ever. This is so weird...

Since I've been unpoetic all of March I must make up for it in April. Spring is mostly here for some of the time and I like it. (I got a little scared when yesterday's rain morphed into snow but it didn't last,thank goodness!)

Spring (written March 31, 2011)

The twentieth of March is not the first day of Spring
That is to say, not always the day on which it does begin
Spring cannot be assigned a day on which it must occur
It starts in parts, in parts it starts
The coming of the Spring

In dirty snow, the roadway's slush
Through frozen puddles of frozen mush
The dreary grime, so grey and bleak
Here starts a part, the parts do start
The coming of the Spring

The icicles drip and puddles melt
Grey clouds gather, drops are felt
Away the dirt, the soot, the grime
Here start more parts, the parts do start
The coming of the Spring

Through patchy snow peeks yellow grass
Overnight puddles freeze, smooth as glass
Sun reappears and shares her warmth
Here starts a part, the parts do start
The coming of the Spring

Snow's gone to stay and grass grown green
The streets are once more clear and clean
In flowerbeds the plants now bloom
Here are the parts, these parts there are
And now has come the Spring