One Awesome Little Girl

Ball State Family Picture :)

These are some of the most fantastic people!! But we're missing a few other super fantastic people in this picture. Chirp! Chirp! :)

Songs About Cosmetics; Who'da Thunk It?

Cosmetic Clips

When I read this, the first thing I noticed was how much I enjoyed the setup of this paper more than any other paper we have had to read. I think I like it because it doesn't seem as much because of it's broken/multi-article setup. I also liked the article itself. I found it interesting and I just enjoyed reading it. I didn't find it difficult to continue reading it and I didn't find myself forcing my eyes to continue down the pages.

Miriam's Song

This paper made me sad. All I could really think about while reading this was how horrible it must have been. I thought she did a wonderful job, and I hope her step-dad read this and was ashamed of himself. I also hope he was embarrassed for being such a jerk and knowing that his step-daughter's professor, or whomever the reader ended up being, had read this. What a jerk. On a lighter note, I again enjoyed reading this style of paper. It is all sorts of fantastic.

Angel or Devil, She Ruined My Life

I decided to post my memoir because I view my life as an open book. So, I really have nothing to hide. That and I'm happy with my writing so why not? :) Here it goes! Oh, and just so you're aware, it is really lengthy.

I have always been the youngest in my family. Ever since I was born I have been the baby, and treated accordingly. My brothers and sister would taunt and tease me, as if it was their job, their duty. And in a twisted way, I enjoyed it. I was the center of their attention, and I soaked it all up. Don’t get me wrong, there were times when their words cut a little deeper than intended and I would go crying to my parents, but over all it was something I enjoyed. And then she came into our lives, and my world was sent spinning.

Let me set the stage for you. I was twelve or thirteen when she came to live with us. I was excited because she had been at our house once before and I thought she was amazing. She had been my little buddy and I was convinced that she was going to be again. The entire week that led up to her moving in, I was pumped. I wanted her so badly to just get out of that hell house.

Her dad was in jail and his ex-fiancée, “Lynette”, was looking after her. I had heard from my mom what Lynette would do to Selina. At night she would tie a jump rope from doorknob to doorknob to stop Selina, and the others, from leaving their rooms at night. This technique worked quite well because the doors opened inwards. However this preventative measure hindered Selina from being able to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. If she would wet the bed, Lynette would yell and scream at her, like she was a dog that had piddled on the floor. I cannot even fathom someone treating another human being that way, let alone a child. Remember, Selina was only four.

The day had finally come. She was going to get away from that place. She wasn’t going to hurt anymore and we were going to take care of her. Mom had talked to all of us about it to make sure it was okay. We were all in agreement. We all felt it was necessary to stand up for her, to stop this abuse from continuing on any longer. She was going to be there today, when I got home from school, and she was going to stay there. We all knew it was a temporary thing, but that didn’t matter. It felt as though we were getting a new addition to the family, and I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t focus at all during school that day. All I could think about was going home and having her there. No longer wondering what they had done to her. I swear to you it was the single longest bus ride of my life. It was finally my stop and I could not burst through that front door soon enough.

And there she was, Selina, this precious, china doll of a little girl. The blonde hair placed in perfect little ringlets around her angelic face. And she had these eyes that were in beautiful contrast. They were sparkling blue pools that were filled to the brim with laughter and joy. They held within those sparkling blue pools, the innocence of the world and trust me when I say, no child could have thought the world a better place. Nothing said joy like her laugh. I can still hear her laugh. The way it would reverberate through the room and make everyone smile from ear to ear. She had this way of becoming the center of attention. She was so goofy and cheerful. Everyone just wanted to watch her to see what she’d do next.

She became the little sister I had always wanted. The one I had always dreamed of and asked my mother for. Selina moved into my room because I had the most extra space. We blew up an air mattress for her to sleep on and found princess sheets and we gave her her own little space. My parents bought her toys, books, games, and lots and lots of girly clothes.

I would take her down to the park near my house and play with her as long as I could. We would play board games and put puzzles together, not to mention play dress-up. Whatever she wanted to do I was more than willing to do it with her and she wanted me there. I would help her take a bath, and I would find toys for her to play with in the bath. I was her keeper in the beginning.

I was there when she would get all of the compliments on how cute she was and how precious and sweet she was. And smiling, I would wait for my compliment, the compliment I would normally get, but it never came. However, I would not let it bother me. I could not let it bother me. I was older, I knew better. So, I continued in my duty. However, being thirteen and used to being the baby, I was starting to grow tired of having this little sister best friend. I was more interested in my friends and what they were up to, than a little girl whom I had to share my room with. The same little girl who, whether I would admit it in the beginning or not, stepped on my toes as the baby of the family. So I began to lose interest. I wanted to do fewer things with her and for her. Just like a big sister, I began to do my own thing and I didn’t want to have to drag her along.

At this point I began to think about how my sister felt when I was little. Did she feel like I was stepping on her toes? Like I took her attention for myself, and left her out to dry? I think I started to become more aware of how my sister felt. How my stealing the limelight affected her. I wondered if she felt the same way about Selina? I didn’t ever ask. I guess when you are thirteen you don’t really care how everyone else is feeling, especially your siblings. But there was one sibling in particular that Selina had grown attached to, and he to her that really got under my skin.

This lovely connection was with my oldest big brother Zeke. In my family, the children always paired as so: Abbie and Zach, and Zeke and Torie. However, when Selina came into the picture, Zeke was home all day, so Selina was with him constantly. No big deal right? Right. Or at least I thought it wasn’t until I saw what was unraveling right under my nose. After the first month or two she had been with us, I began to notice how my brother did all sorts of stuff with her. I mean Zeke and I didn’t hangout every chance we got, but if I had an issue or anything I could go to him. But when that little jerk was there he was too preoccupied about her being his buddy to even notice that he left this little buddy out in the cold. It got so under my skin that this little girl could just come in with her perfect Aryan features and take my brother from me.

“Buddy can we go watch Cinderella?” She’d say in her sweet voice, but to me it was nails on a chalkboard. Without missing a beat, he’d reply, “Of course, Buddy!” At the sound of this, a dark storm of jealousy would come rumbling within me and flashes of anger would consume me.

But she did not just take either of my two brothers, that little snot took my favorite one. I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs because he was my brother, my buddy, not hers. She didn’t even know what we had done for her; what I had given up for her, so she could live with us. She was ungrateful and I wanted her gone.

However, this little ungrateful did not stop at my brother. She continued to step on my toes even more when I heard her utter one word. “Mom.” It seems like a sweet, innocent word. And I would agree that it is quite harmless, but who she directed that to just irked me. There I was, in the computer room with my mom when she came in and was about to ask my mom a question. Not really caring one way or the other, I lean back in my chair and wait to hear that sweet little voice say Sally but what ends up reaching my ears rocks my world like a 7.2 Earthquake.

“Mom?” I shift my weight in my chair and listen again; to make sure I heard her right. “Mom, can I…” I stop listening. Did she really just call her that? Am I hearing things? I look at my mom, hiding my shock and disgust, just waiting for her reaction. She calmly responds, “Sure sweet pea,” At this point I’m unsure of what she asked to do, but I do know that I don’t like the way she addressed my mother.

When the perfect little girl leaves the room I ask my mom, in the calmest tone I can muster, “Does it bother you that she calls you mom?”

She replies “No.”

That’s it?! No?! Are you kidding? I wanted to shake my mother and tell her it should. That to call her mom was something special and only children that are legally hers by birth or by adoption should be allowed to use that word in regards to her. As upset as I was, I didn’t let my mom know. She would have told me I was being silly and that I needed to let it go. And even though I knew what my mom would have told me, I couldn’t let it go. It seemed as though everyone else in the family saw Selina as this perfect little angel, but she wasn’t. She was rotten. But I guess it didn’t matter to them. So she stayed and I was stuck with her, even through Christmas.

When Christmas came around, I was in a better mood. Selina had been with us for probably three or four months. I was starting to get used to having this annoying little sister around. It may have been the Christmas spirit, but I was starting to like her. She was cute and funny to watch when we’d talk about Santa Clause. One of our favorite memories as a family is her pushing my dad’s beard up more towards his face and saying “Look guys, Bob’s Santa!” I don’t think any of us have ever laughed that hard. However, the lovely, warm feeling didn’t last when we started to divide out the presents. I wasn’t completely jealous that she had twenty presents and I had six, just a little. I understood that she would look back at this Christmas and understand that we had taken care of her and given her a Christmas from a storybook. It just bothered me that she was getting smothered in presents when my family was struggling to give gifts to each other. However, the jealousy dissipated when she opened the gifts. I cannot even describe to you the pure joy and happiness that flooded her face when she opened those gifts. She could not have asked for anything better, and I was happy for her. She finally had something wonderful given to her in the wonderfully magical spirit of Christmas.

I saw that same joy three days later when she woke up on her birthday and saw the bicycle my parents had bought for her. It was your typical girl bike, a Disney Princess Bike that fit her to a T. Because safety comes first, we also bought her a helmet and elbow and kneepads. However, because she was so tiny, these were just oversized blobs on her tiny little joints. She was finally five and was so very proud to be five! And to be honest, we were all happy for her. She was an adorable little birthday girl at five years old. But the best birthday present was just a few days away when she got to see her daddy.

Some may be thinking, what about her dad? During the majority of this story he is in jail up in South Bend. My mom had been writing him letters and working it out so that she could take both herself and Selina to see him (you can’t let a four year old go on her own). When it finally all panned out to where Selina could go up and see her dad, she was so very excited! She couldn’t stop talking about it and she wore a little dress that we had said came from her daddy and she was all smiles and giggles. I was happy for her as well. I couldn’t imagine living without my dad and she had been doing so for almost a year. The visit went great, and she came out kind of sad because we had to leave. However, my mother came out with some exciting news. Selina’s grandparents were going to be moving up to Indiana from South Carolina.

Because my mother would never refuse anyone to their family members, when Selina’s grandparents moved up here, my mom encouraged her to go and visit them. Being five, she had no objections and she did so. I also, was a fan of this because of what it meant for me. She started to stay with them first for a weekend here or there. Gradually, she started staying with them more often. It was starting to become closer and closer to her dad’s release date and I must admit, I was pumped! This “little sister” of mine was going back to her family and she was going to be out of mine. I didn’t want her to go back to a place where she was going to be hurt, but I didn’t want her on my turf anymore. In my opinion, she had overstayed her welcome. There was, however, a tiny piece of me that didn’t want her to go. She had become part of the family. She was my little sister and I loved her like one. But my overall opinion was get the heck out of my town.

And she did. One night in the week, my mom told all of us that she was going to live with her grandparents because her dad was being released from jail. Everyone was somewhat shocked and very saddened by this news, but I was ecstatic. I was going to be the youngest again! She was going to be gone and I could finally have my throne back! The weekend came and we packed up all of her stuff that we could find and loaded it into the car. During the car ride up there it began to hit me. She wasn’t coming back, and even though I didn’t want her to, this was my little sister. She had become part of my family and they were taking her away from me. We pulled into a junky driveway and started unloading her possessions. The entire house smelled of cigarettes and dirt. She shouldn’t be staying here. This place isn’t good enough for her. It’s not good enough for anyone! But that didn’t matter anymore. It was time for us to leave and I gave her a hug and a kiss.

While hugging her, I told her, “I love you.”

She replied, “I love you too, Torie,” in her sweet little voice.

The moment we left is the moment my heart broke. The moment I realized that I couldn’t hate her, and that I never did. She was my little sister and I didn’t want her to stay in that place. I would share my room with her forever if need be, just don’t let her stay here. Please! Dad, just turn around! I’ll give her everything I have! Please! We can’t leave her there! Please! Just turn around and take her home with us! But the words wouldn’t come. I just sat there, in the back of an old Buick, watching the scenery go by and driving away from the last precious moments I would ever have with that angel.

"I Was A Baby Bulimic"

When I began reading I Was A Baby Bulimic, I was unsure of what I was getting into. But after reading it can I just say this, WOW. It blows me away that people struggle with their weight and body image that much. I have been blessed with a higher metabolism than most, but I still have some body issues. However, never in my wildest dreams would I imagine myself going to such extremes. I mean, I guess he didn't either, but wow. Anyway, I thought it was like the other memoirs in the sense that it was very much a big part of Frank Bruni's life. It effected him in the sense that he struggled with it every day of his life starting at 18 months. (Wow. Sorry, still shocked by the story) I thought that in a way it was more like Salvation in the sense that this story was sad. To think someone struggles with their outer being so much that they start feeling insignificant on the inside. It just sends me into a state of Shock and Awe. Wow. Okay, so I think that's everything that really came to mind in comparing these three memoirs. Thanks for reading!! :)

An American Childhood Vs. Salvation

The thing I liked the most about An American Childhood was that it was exhilarating. I felt like I was there. It was as if I running right beside her. I could feel the cold, sharp winter air in my lungs and cut through my throat. I was feeling the exhaustion and adrenaline that came with the chase and sensed the disappointment when the glory faded and the stranger only chastised them. I also connected with the idea that we see strangers as heroes. I feel like there are moments in our childhood when complete strangers do something that forever idolizes them. They become the hero/heroine of some part of our childhood. All in all, I enjoyed this excerpt.

I thought there was some prominent variations between An American Childhood and Salvation. The most substantial difference is the tone and mood of the stories. On one hand we have the author as a small girl who sees this stranger as a hero, an idol almost, for he does not give up. The man "threw himself at the back of their knees". Then we see the mood and tone with the little boy. To be frank, it is depressing. He is disappointed in himself for not seeing Jesus. And not only is he disappointed, but then he feels guilty because he "lied" about hearing Jesus call the little boy to him. It was heart-wrenching because he was so upset about something that he had no control over. However, they were both major events in both authors' lives. There were definitely similarities and differences between the two excerpts. Both stories were powerful, but my favorite was An American Childhood, hands down. It was my favorite because it was a happier story and I liked the outcome better.

This a Test. A What? A Test.

This is the very first post of my brand new blog. However, it is just a test to make sure I know how to post a blog. So this is a test. Sorry if you're hopes were up that I was going to have a witty saying on here. I guess the wittiest thing is the title itself. :)