Hookah Bar

     My friends and I went to a hookah bar in downtown Clarksville called Tarboosh. We smoked flavored tobacco out of hookahs and had a good time.

Faceless

Inspired from the movie The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.
Drawn with Pen.

My greatest Christmas Surprise

On December 15th 2011 I had the biggest Christmas surprise of my life.

My boyfriend had returned from 5 and a half months from being in Europe!

His father was stationed in Belgium for 3 years, but then got promoted to rank E9, so the whole family will be returning in June. Dylan, my boyfriend, had planned on coming back this December for Christmas to surprise me!

It's amazing to me that I am that romantically special in someone else's heart, especially since I've been through a rough heart break. Plus, I know he hasn't had the best of past girlfriends either. To finally have found a decent person who loves you equally seems almost rare to find in a society where cheating and whoring yourself is "the thing" to do.

Individually, we both had internal struggles, especially throughout high school with relationships and discovering what we really want from ourselves and each other. It was tough, and personally I had almost given up after graduation because of the emotional turmoil I dealt with, but I wouldn't change anything. I wouldn't change the pain or the drama because I wouldn't have been able to grow and be stronger from it. I know he and I would not be where we are today if anything were to change.

I am finally happy with a compatible partner who knows the values of what a relationship requires.
I love you Dylan.

Classy vs Nude

You can find beauty in anything.

But which do you prefer, and why?

My Favorite Clothes During Winter

     I absolutely love sweater dresses in the fall and winter. I don't know what it is about them, but just wearing one makes me feel warm and secure, and feeling cute!

     Scarves are another favorite of mine to wear on a chilly day. My great aunt makes me the best scarves in all sorts of colors and varieties. I love wearing them all with different outfits!

     Finally, boots are another favorite of mine to wear with a thick pair of cotton leggings and a cute sweater dress. I do not have many boots, but I hope to change that this Christmas!

Really, what is anxiety? (Part 1)

One of the most difficult things ever to master is how to control your body with the power of your mind.

Copyright image from newsone.com

The brain is a powerful organ in your body, and controls everything subconsciously, systematically, and consciously. The hardest thing to master by yourself is how to manage and deal with uncomfortable levels of anxiety you may feel randomly, or because of situations you are put in.
First, an important thing to learn about yourself is what is causing the panic to arise in your body? Is there a trigger? Is it random?
What is happening?
The most basic thing to do is identify the reason for the panic, and then managing it from there.

Biologically, some people like myself are more prone to anxiety and depression. It's just something you are born with. I even noticed feeling and behaving differently from other kids at a very young age in elementary school. In my family history, my aunt has it, and my grandfather had it. It's a biological fact I have learned through a psychology class in college. A fact I have come to accept and believe.

Currently, I am 18, and my story with anxiety began almost two and a half years ago. I was diagnosed with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) after a terrible months long episode of misery. I will never forget the pain I went through physically from the incurable syndrome. But, something else just wasn't right. I felt deep down that it wasn't just IBS that was causing me pain. I was having other rising odd symptoms and feelings after the time that this was happening to me.

After accepting the fact I needed help, I met with a therapist. After a few sessions he told me what was up with my attitude and behavior. He diagnosed me with depression, agoraphobia, and Panic disorder. Even though I had all these titles to my medical history now, it really didn't mean shit to me because I hadn't understood what all of it meant. It wasn't explained to me very well by anyone I could discuss it with. I had needed someone who felt the same feelings I had felt. Anyone.
It takes one to know one.
But there wasn't anyone around me who could fully understand. Later I would learn, that it was okay. It would just make me stronger, and set an example for others who may go through the emotional turmoil I had. But at least that person would not be alone.

At that time, I didn't want to leave the house to go places. I was prone to being sad and wanting to be alone most of the time. I would have tingling cramping sensations in my hands and body, feelings of nausea, shakes/shivers, and an emotion of impending doom. I felt everything was a threat. I even developed a fear of the food I would eat because of how much I would vomit.

Before experiencing a full blown panic attack, I felt what could be known as a prerequisite: General anxiety. That's the technical term for it. You feel continuous tense apprehensiveness. My body was in hyper mode all the time; I could not relax. I could feel this days, and even weeks at a time. I felt something dreadful was going to happen to me. I was creating an unneeded panic for myself. My body felt it was about to die.
Soon I would go into a full blown panic. I felt terrified, I would puke, have shivers, become skinny, depressed, and had an escalated heart rate.

I had realized something after those panic attacks.
Panic cannot kill me.
There wasn't a real threat that was going to happen to me.
I am my own threat.
I am the fear I was causing myself.

With a combination of drugs and therapy, I was able to at least tolerate and finally begin to accept me for who I am. That is the MOST important thing you can ever do for yourself. Accept it all. Be happy you are the way you are, even with your flaws. Because if you accept who you are, and embrace it, then more than likely others will. It's healthy for your conscious.
Know you aren't alone.

But now that I know this, at the age of 16, what do I do? Where do I go for myself from here? Why can't I be normal like other people my age?
Why?
How?

To be continued...

Lunch at Yamato!

Yesterday I went with some friends to a Japanese Sushi bar and Grill called Yamato. The food was really yummy! I tried sushi for the first time and liked it :)

 I ate Beef teriyaki, miso soup, 2 bowls of fried rice, a slice of fried potato, a sushi roll, secret yum yum sauce, skillited vegetables (like zucchini and carrots), shrimp, fried broccoli, and my favorite: MONDU!

My friends Jessica, and Sangwoo. Jessica is ordering what she wants off the sushi menu!

My old friend Shanette who came to visit from Georgia for Thanksgiving!

Comic of Fall 2011

My first semester of college is coming to an end. I can't believe finals are already around the corner. I can't believe I have to register next semester's classes on Thanksgiving! I am going to force myself to stay awake all night so I can be one of the first to register. Hopefully I can pull it off, because I am known to fall asleep at 9 o'clock. I believe I want to declare a major in Radiology in the spring. Currently I am undeclared. I have to take Human Anatomy 2010 and 2011 (which is a lab). The course is pretty tough, so I need to step up my game plan and study. I have not been as bad as I was in high school with procrastination which is pretty good :) I am afraid of getting a job though and becoming side tracked or too busy to focus on my studies. My friend Sangwoo encouraged me that 2 days with an hourly pay per week won't do much to keep me off of school, and he has 2 jobs! (he quit one because of korean issues ^^;;)
Anyways, I will be busy with Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, Youtube videos, and paying for my tuition.
Catch ya around!

(Open in another tab if you'd like to read my little comic!)

Cute Colored Couple Sketch

Myself included~

Dragon Sketches (Drawings)

Written on October 21st, 2011

One of my favorite things to draw in my past time are dragons.

I don't know what it is about these mystical creatures that makes me so fascinated with them. It takes me a long time to perfect and sketch out just how I want a certain dragon to look.

Sometimes I want it to look like a traditional Chinese dragon.

Other times I want it to look like a traditional European dragon.

Sometimes I put my own twist on how I want a dragon to look. 

These different dragons make me wonder how the creature came to be on two different sides of the earth, since there are dragons in old Chinese paintings, and on ye old Europe back in the dark ages. 

Can two ideas really occur at the same time and recorded down in history and not just be more than a coincidence? Besides, this was back before the 15th century when it was a certain someone's mission (Christopher Columbus) to find a route to connect Asia (who wanted to remain cut off from everyone) to Europe.

It's just interesting to ponder about. Maybe it is coincidence, maybe, it really isn't.

Amicable Moments (2011)

Written on September 27th, 2011

One of the greatest things I find in my current life is how I'm reconnecting relationships with people who I fell out of contact with in middle and high school.

I'm a freshman in a local college, and I am around my 6th week of the fall semester.
Fall is already here, which is my favorite season. I feel autumn cools down everyone's minds, personalities, and creates a zen-like atmosphere.
It's the perfect time to develop new and friendly relationships with people.

Recently I attended a childhood friend of mine's funeral. He was suppose to go to the same college as me. He was a very popular young man and well loved by everyone. It makes me think, when I finally pass, who will be there to remember and honor me?

Anyways, his passing encouraged me to keep developing relationships with people around me. I think it would be a great way to honor his memory.
I've already made a few acquaintances, and already made friendly relationships with people who seemed to have slipped out of my life as quickly as they reappeared back in college.

I'm happy, and I am loving the freedom of my campus. I love my schedule, and the opportunities that await to be taken advantage of by me.

Even though I do not know what I want to do with my life yet, there is no rush and I have 2 years to find out what I want to make of myself.

My friend's death gave me a reality check about life, and just how sudden everything can change, and at the same time, what good things can occur from the tragedy of it all.
Death shouldn't be feared, nor mourned for too long over.
Death should be embraced because soon everyone is going to end up passing away.
Instead of fearing, it should be accepted and embraced. People should remember to live their lives.

Besides, a flower only blooms once, before it dies next season.

Miranda Poem (2011)

Wrote on: 8/17/2011

Marvelous, adorable one.

Intelligent, bright as the sun.

Radiant, a lovely smile.

Angelic, a beautiful woman.

Natural, a one of a kind.

Darling; special to only one other’s heart.

Affectionate, a gift from above.

I am Miranda. I am me.

Into The Darkness (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Into the Darkness

Miranda Smith

Like a string bow, I pull back and smack.

Slinking and panting, I rowdy run rushing to the fox pit.

With only small cuts, a bruised ego, and low ammunition,

I helplessly stare at my comrade.

His leg is smashed in two like a twig.

He has glazed eyes, unable to comprehend the figure that was me in front of him.

Urgently, I place my gun down, careful not to make too much noise, and wrap his arm around my neck, and sling him over, emitting a ghostly groan from him.

I whisper sweet sayings silently to soothe him.

“We’ll make it!”

“Squelch, squish, squirt!” oozes out the blood.

Across enemy territory,

Through the thicket,

And into the darkness where I, the woman soldier, came through, back to safety.

Breaking The Odds (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Breaking the odds

Miranda Smith

We walk together holding hands,

Proud and mighty,

Ignoring the stares haters give,

Ignoring the whispers haters give,

Ignoring the confrontations,

Our kisses should be proof enough of our relationship.

I am as free as a bird.

His warm embrace is a security blanket to escape to.

We love each other even if we are the same gender.

Our passion supports and holds us.

So to all who believe we are not meant for each other,

You know nothing.

Christmas Plane (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Christmas Plane

Miranda Smith

“Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk” went the rollers form the suitcase onto the plane.

The flight attendants greet the passengers,

With fake smiles and pleasant hellos,

Just like cheshire cats,

With rosie cheeks and snow white teeth,

As the passengers begin to take their seats.

No worries, no scurries, no hurries,

Blankets and scarves and cuddles to go around,

Look out the window and you can see flurries,

No one knew the events bound.

The plane rolled off into the night air,

Bouncing and shaking,

So far so good,

Only bumping.

An hour into the flight,

There’s a terrible rumble,

And a loud explosion,

And suddenly the plane is vibrating violently.

Panic and screams are hollered out,

It’s only when the captain’s voice is heard,

That the passengers quiet down and follow instructions to remain calm,

And pray.

It’s almost Christmas, and the captain must get everyone home safely,

With a flick of a few buttons,

And a harsh turn to the right,

The captain lands the plane,

And all is alright.

Because the Forbidden Fruit Tastes Sweeter (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th. 2008

Because the Forbidden Fruit Tastes Sweeter

Miranda Smith

Pinching, picking, and plucking,

Pinching, picking, and plucking,

That’s what the slave man does.

All day and even through night,

So much pinching, picking, and plucking.

But one day during his daily plucking,

A woman that caught his eye kept him still.

Her fragile, frail face that only kept the blush of her make-up framed her beautiful cheeks.

The two exchanged looks, both intrigued by the other, but quickly returned to their activities when the porcelain skinned woman’s fiancé walked outside.

Her shy, growing smile that was once for the man out in the field marred into a small frown at the sight of her prickly fiancé.

As time goes by, the slave man out in the field and the beautiful porcelain skinned woman’s interaction grew.

As time goes by, the slave man out in the field knew that his close relationship with the porcelain skinned woman was too dangerous.

The two would have to run, run, run,

To be able to have their son, son, son,

So they did what had to be done, done, done,

And they knew the crowd would cry, “Shun, shun, shun!”

Duties To A Master (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Duties to a master (personification)

Miranda Smith

Ever since I was a young pup,

I would always nip, yip, and skip,

And you would hold me close,

And rub my fur,

And speak to me,

And I would holler like your baby.

Training to work by your side,

To bring down the bad humans the reeked of sin,

Was a thrill and a pleasure,

To keep you and the public safe.

So as you hold me close,

And rub my fur,

And speak to me,

Remember that I will always nip, yip, and skip,

To keep you and the public safe,

Even after I have served my years.

The Easy Way (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

The easy way

Miranda Smith

Do not give up,

Get out of that water,

Swim back up,

You don’t belong there.

Jump out from that dark place,

The crevice in your heart you sank into.

Don’t stop losing hope,

I’ll save you.

Like a gapping fish on shore,

You struggle to breathe as you realize,

Giving up your hope,

Giving up your faith,

Giving up your chance at happiness,

Is not the best way to go.

Keep trifling though your troubles.

As you flutter through the day,

Keep your courage and do not sink back.

You will make it, begin by trusting me.

Fire Soldier (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Fire Soldier

Miranda Smith

“KA-KRACK!” snarls the flames of the furious fire.

The fire soldier only had seconds to spare to save anyone left abandoned in the burning building.

“Make a noise so I can find you!” the fire soldier screamed.

His uniform slightly deafened his ears, so listening over the roars of the fire may be next to impossible.

But fate blessed the victim, for the fire soldier heard loud cries over the blazing fire, and made his way like hell's angel to the helpless soul.

He kicked a door down with a mighty boot, and spotted a figure huddled, and he scooped the person up, and hurried back through the falling logs of death out into the night, where paramedics waited to treat the injured.

Close Call (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Close Call

Miranda Smith

My vision is blurry,

My mind is foggy,

My speech is slurry,

But I can drive.

I slam my keys in the ignition,

Bringing the car to life.

Like a speeding bullet, my tires skid over the street and I zoom off.

But I can drive.

Driving is boring.

I drive with one hand.

Soon I am snoring,

And I roll onto land.

But I can drive.

I grew conscious as I swerved off land and into the wrong lane.

I jerked the steering wheel to the right and I heard the honking of the angry driver I almost collided.

But I can drive.

My buzz kills away as I realize what just happened, or rather, what almost happened, and what could have happened.

I hyperventilate and begin to weep.

No more will I drink poison and think irrationally.

I admit my mistake,

And I can’t drive.

Confusing Crimson (2008) Poem

wrote on: December 11th, 2008

Confusing crimson

Miranda Smith

(Based off of true events of Kody Kindever)

Like streaming rivers, blood flows down my head, through my hair, over my face, and drenching my clothes.

It’s like nothing is real, and my wounds were all just an illusion.

Was I on a movie set?

Was this really happening to me?

I feel as though my mind has left my body as I lay there unmoving. I can feel myself becoming very cold, but too weak to shiver.

I can see a black tunnel itch its way closer and closer.

Wait, something isn’t right.

I can’t give in.

What happened?

Am I dying?

Why?

I don’t want to go.

It’s not my time!

I remember groaning and twitching my fingers,

Then slowly raising my arms to push up and off the ground.

The black tunnel slowly receded.

I sluggishly ran towards a phone.

My neck felt weird.

I remember feeling for my neck with my hand,

But it seemed like I wasn’t touching anything, like the sensation from when your hand goes numb and you touch it with your other hand.

The black tunnel crept its way back over my eyes,

And my legs were about to give out.

But I don’t want to give in.

Not now.

Not yet.

I reach a payphone.

I stumble in,

And flipped the phone off the receiver,

And dialed those three blessed numbers.

I won’t be alone, help is on the way.

I slump down,

Thanking who ever is up there in the sky.

I’m not dead.

I have survived.

Memoir of a frighting experience (2008)

Wrote on: October 9th, 2008

   I expected my piano practice to presume just like every other day.

  

   I am eleven years old at the time, and my piano teacher has just been fired from her previous job since it was no longer as popular around the town as it had once been. Because of that, my piano teacher, Ms. Garris, has now moved her job and her principal investment to her house, where there for the remaining time of my Piano “hobby” I will remember.

   To be honest, I have always felt that taking piano lessons is dull and surely uninteresting, especially since I have taken piano for seven years. I find myself remembering that I haven’t complained to my parents much about why I am being forced, every Saturday evening, to go to piano practice and learn the beautiful ways of how to stretch my fingers and hit the right notes with this finger and not that at the right moment to perfectly imitate the way the actual song plays.

   The reason for putting up with the tedious deed first started out as just a little girl of seven years old just listening to what her parents had instructed her to do in hopes that the musical lessons will somehow help me in my future. As I came every Saturday to that little, cramped, complex music store, before Ms. Garris had moved her job to her small cozy house, we would more and more often do less practicing, and a little more chatting, the faster she and I grew a friendly relationship.

  

   Now Ms. Garris was a truly kind and smart woman and very talented at playing the piano. She loved to talk and share her thoughts about what problems you have been having and give some advice, or numerous things that have been happening to her, specifically about her children. Ms. Garris was not the healthiest woman though. She was extremely passionate and knowledgeable in her Christianity religion, and would hold her piano recitals at her Baptist church every Christmas.

   When she had moved her job to her house, we began to slack off more increasingly and trailing our thoughts out in exchanging words to one another. We had been frequently, one way or another, talking about Christianity the most.

   Ms. Garris is responsible for having an impact on my life positively, and in a way negatively, that has changed my life.

   I have never in my life, have been to church more than four times at least, and knew slightly about God, and even less about Jesus, other than he was an important idol for Christians. That does not mean I am not Christian to this day.

   When she had talked about God and Jesus I would be attentive and would draw my attention to her like a mosquito sniffing out for blood. Since I had not even a grasp of information about God, learning so much about important life lessons and principles the Bible had provided out because of God and his son Jesus was most intriguing, but that wasn’t the only thing she would tell me.

   Ms. Garris would tell me frightening stories of how demons would grab hold of people’s lives and even kill people. She would tell me of how she preached and prayed a powerful evil demon out of her own child.

  The Bible and the demonic stories changed my way of thinking, and made me transform into a much better person towards others out of fear, and respect for God.

   I began acting out of character at school and at home. At night, I would stay up severely late pass twelve shivering and wondering when the demons would come to drag me to hell.

   My father had enough of my bitterly quiet nature and nocturnal habits of sleep. My mother had told my father that one evening, after hearing another one of Ms. Garris’ hellish tale during my “piano practice”, I walked to the car from her pebbled driveway in shock and as soon as my mom had began driving the vehicle to home I had cried and began muttering for God’s forgiveness on my unclean soul.

   Hearing of this tale had angered my father so much, that he had called Ms. Garris right after that appointment. I still remember the words clearly.

   “Hello?” Ms. Garris said.

   “Ms. Garris,” my father’s bold tone stated. “I would like for you to know that Miranda Smith will no longer be doing any more piano lessons from you.”

   “Why is that?” she questioned.

   “My daughter has no more interest in playing the piano,” he said curtly. The anger in his tone could not be heard, but the look in his eyes said other wise.

   I went through a three year depression, an extremely dark hole in my pre-teen life, and that has given me to this day quiet a fear called Stigiophobia.

   I do not blame nor hate Ms. Garris at all for the affects she had on me, rather I accept all of the memories, even the scary ones.

   I am thankful for the things she had told me, because that has changed me as a more concerning, and most understanding person, and has given me a better conscience. That experience has certainly opened my eyes from an illusion to a larger world and made the best out of me be seen.

    Every night since I have met Ms. Garris, I always pray to God and Jesus, and that has made me happier.

Amanda Sutherby (2010)

((AN:// On September 2nd, 2010 a special girl I know needed help with an autobiography for a class in highschool. She sent me a message and asked for help. So I told her to tell me about a memory she had of something important that affected her. This is her story written by my fingertips.))

Momento Mori

Rest In Peace

     “When life gives you lemons, make beef stew” – Andy Milonakis.
     When I returned home to escape the reality of the day, I went into the kitchen to at least get something solid into my stomach, since I neglected to eat much all day. It is difficult to have an appetite for anything, when you just returned from your mother’s funeral.
     I grabbed a few crackers and sat in one of the wooden chairs that gave off a squeak when sat upon, in the kitchen. I wiped some of the crumbs on my nimble black dress. Oddly, I noticed there was a DVD carelessly sitting on the kitchen table. I read its title, and I honestly didn’t know whether to cry, or just laugh. I saw sitting on that wooden counter the movie Death at a Funeral.

     How ironic.

     I quickly averted my eyes from the DVD and my gaze floated across the poorly painted room until they fell upon a mirror facing me.
     It was, and still is, hard to look at myself in a mirror without seeing a little bit of myself dying, and a little bit of her growing in my features. We have the same hair, although she bleached hers since she was about my age. I have her eyes, a golden shade that's never quite brown but that no other color can compare, that is, until we cry. Then our eyes turn green, bright green. Mine were looking greener everyday and the bags under my eyes kept getting darker. Maybe the bags helped my eyes to look greener. With the summer wasting away, so did my tan, but the ever so prominent freckles were still there. They were her freckles. I felt like they polluted my face; a never-ending toxin that would not let me forget my pain.

     I like to imagine what more things we could have possibly done together. There was so much more to do. She had so much to do in life. A woman in her forties still has much life to live. Her wedding would have been yesterday; married to a new husband. I would have been her maid of honor. I glanced over to the calendar on the wall, and a cheetah gleamed at me from a branch somewhere in Africa.

     My mom loved cheetahs.

     Her wedding would have happened yesterday. I'm losing track of the days passing by. But now, instead of a happily ever after, there is mourning and melancholy at this once planned event turned sour. It is hard, but sometimes I imagine how her fiancé feels, about standing over his beloved’s grave.
     I stopped living with my mother and little brother in Tennessee, after she got arrested, when I was about thirteen. I had to live with my father in Florida, and I quite enjoyed it there, much more than with my mother in Tennessee. My mother and I bickered tremendously, and I realize now she was only trying to give me some life-advice, but I basically lived a solitary life not run by anyone but myself. I guess I see now how close I can compare my mother to myself, just from that. I used to feel so isolated and alone in her house. She constantly had to work or sleep to support herself, my little brother, and me.

     I did not have a bond with my mother. I did not console to her, much less give her insight about who I am as a person; what I think; what I feel, unless we are arguing. Maybe the reason I did not go back to live with her was because I did much less arguing with my father.
     The only times I felt somewhat at peace around her was when we went out on car drives in downtown Clarksville looking at the old architecture. I think that is when I grew a love for stick-shift cars. I have not realized how much I craved her affection and attention until now.

     Too little too late…
     If I could change something in the past, it would be that I would actually listen to her more, and maybe abide to what she had to say. I am positive I am walking in the same path as she did in her youth, and as a mother she only wants the best for me.
     I picked up the binder full of all her paperwork off of the table. I had been avoiding going through it for the longest time, I guess it is now or never. I turned the binder sideways to look into the never-ending contents. I did not quite understand how that much paper could fit into such a small binder, but that's my mother for you.

     Unattached to any legible piece of paper, a silver star fell from the contents, I picked in up and stared at it. It was a small star pin with a carved heart and the word “Service” carved just below it. This was the pin she was given after her time spent as part of the U.S. Army in Germany.

     I broke down right there.
     I just wanted to truly make her proud of me, and she is not going to be around to see my graduation from high school, leaving for the Marines, getting married, having children, and most importantly of all, bestowing upon me her genuine grace of approval, and love. I could give up just about anything to have at least one day with her. To fix this gap filled with problems, I feel I created, between us.
     After mourning for several days, I was still depressed and just a complete wreck. I could not accept the shock that my mother is dead, and there is no sugar-coating that fact. I learned I have to know the consequences of each choice I make. Now, I have to live each day with no regret, because life is too short and nothing can be expected not to happen. I feel closer to my family than I did before, and now I truly value the extreme importance of family. I feel so lucky to have them.

Hanging Tree Poem

((AN:// This is a poem from 2008 I typed from the novel "The Hunger Games." It was not written by me.))

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we both met up at midnight in the hanging tree. 

Defending The Death Penalty (2009)

Wrote on: November 30th, 2009

Defending the Death Penalty

   The Death Penalty, also known as “Capital Punishment,” is the process by which convicted criminals are executed by a governing authority (Issit 1.) Within the United States, the Death Penalty is one of the most controversial and debatable topics of discussion. Debates over the legal, moral, and ethical turmoils regarding the Death Penalty are not only held in conferences in America, but throughout the world.

   Capital Punishment is needed to save innocent American lives. Capital punishment produces a strong deterrent effect that saves lives. Between 1977 to 1996, Professors Hashem Dezhbakhsh, Paul R. Rubin, and Joanna M. Shepherd found in a study that in over 3000 counties each execution, on average, resulted in 18 fewer murders (David 2.) Between 1960 to 2000 executions and murder incidents could be and were compared before, during, and after the U.S. Supreme Court’s death penalty moratorium. It was found that executions had a highly significant negative relationship with murder incidents (David 2.) Criminals are no different from law-abiding people who make their own decisions by their own self interest, so an increase in the risk of apprehension and punishment for crime will deter individuals from committing crime. Furthermore, in a 2006 Gallup poll, 71% of Americans approved of the death penalty and 65% believed that the use of the death penalty is not immoral (Issit 2.) Furthermore, alternative punishments such as life imprisonment only had 46% believing that life in prison is a better alternative (Issit 2.) There is a consistent 2:1 ratio in favor of Capital Punishment. It is proven that the Death Penalty does, in fact, deter crime.

The opposers of the Death Penalty bring up that minorities are treated unfairly. According to Professor Berk’s re-analysis in 2005, he states that for both capital charges and death sentences, race either played no role or a small role that is very difficult to specify (David 2.) It is very difficult to find convincing evidence for racism. “Race may have a small influence because cases with a black defendant and white victim or other racial combination are less likely to have a death sentence’” (David 2.) The decisions to seek the death penalty are driven by characteristics of crimes rather than by race, as it should be. There is little evidence to suggest that minorities are treated unfairly.

Also, opposers of the Death Penalty add that innocent men could be executed. The fear of accidentally executing an innocent person is a valid concern. However, less than half of all individuals are actually declared innocent of their crimes; most are released on technicalities (Bowman 1.) Out of the 6930 inmates on death row in the U.S. between 1973 and 2000, only 34 were released with claims of actual innocence which represents less than .5% of death penalty cases – hardly enough to justify claims that capital punishment is unfair and in any serious danger of claiming innocent victims (Bowman 1.) In 2004, Congress ruled that all inmates on death row are eligible to receive further investigation when DNA evidence is available, in order to prevent the execution of a wrongly convicted innocent (Issit 3.) States cannot carry out an execution until an extensive review of the case has been conducted. The chances of an innocent being executed are extremely small.

If all else fails, some states even commute the death sentence. Commuting death sentences is deadly and dangerous. It gives hope and encourages terrible crime to the criminals outside and inside the jail bars. For each additional execution, on average, according to a state-level data from 1977 to 1997, about five murders were deterred (David 2.) Unfortunately, for each commutation, on average, five additional murders resulted (David 2.) A removal from death row is associated with an increase of at least one additional murder. To further support the deterrence effect of capital punishment, Paul R. Zimmerman conducted 2 studies. He found that each additional execution, on average, resulted in 14 fewer murders (David 3.) In his second study, he found that executions by electrocution are the most effective deterrent (David 3.) Each additional execution appears to deter between 3 and 18 murders. Commuted sentences and death row removals appear to increase the incidence of murder and crime.

The opponents of capital punishment will face an internal struggle of morality. If each execution is saving lives, the harms of the death penalty would have to be extraordinary to justify its cause.

Justice is only achieved when a crime is met with the proper punishment. Each execution is associated with at least three fewer murders which includes both crimes of passion and murders by intimates. Executions deter the murder of whites and African-Americans alike, and there is little to no evidence to suggest that minorities are treated unfairly. Shorter waits on death row are associated with increased deterrence and a life is saved. Capital Punishment ensures that murderers never murder again, and provides justice for murder victims and their families.

Reference Page

Bonnie Szumski, Helen Cothran, and Scott Barbour. The Death Penalty. Thomas Gale: Farming on Hills, 2006.

Bowman, Jeffrey, and Tracey M. DiLascio. “Counter point: Crime and Punishment.” Points of view: Death Penalty (2007): 3. Points of View Reference Center. EBSCO. Web. 29, Oct. 2009.

Cass R. Sunstein, and Adrian Vermeule. Capital Punishment Is Moral to Prevent the Taking of Innocent Lives. Current Controversies: Capital Punishment. Ed. Paul Connors. Detroit: Greenhaven Press, 2008.

David B. Muhlhausen. The Death Penalty Should Not Be Abolished. Opposing Veiwpoints: Criminal Justice. Ed. David M. Haugen. Detroit: Greenhaven Press, 2009.

D. J. Herda. Furman vs. Georgia: The Death Penalty Case. Enslow Publishers, inc. 1994.

Issit, Micha L. “Death Penalty: An Overview.” Points of View: Death Penalty (2007): 1. Points of View Reference Center. EBSCO. Web. 29, Oct. 2009. http://search.ebscohost.com

Nancy Day. The Death Penalty for Teens. Enslow Publishers, inc. 2000.

Roger Smith. Prisoners on Death Row. Mason Crest Publishers. 2007

Why Should I Care? (2007)

Wrote on: April 1st, 2007

((AN:// I wrote this after a stage in my life where I was very angsty and hateful. This is an autobiography of an intense experience I had in 2007.))

I felt like screaming.

The anger I felt then was something so, unreal at the time.

I thought of myself as a different person, but the look on her face said otherwise, that in fact, I was the one who did that.

I who caused her the pain.

Who told the truth to her face so she could realize what she really became.

What society and herself allowed and controlled her to do.

She became someone I know longer knew, she let the few deadly sins that takes peoples lives destroy hers, with my words.

I felt like a jerk.

But I didn’t care right know.

Tears started to form at the corner of her eyes, and then flooded over her lids.

She dropped to her knees, then on all fours so her face couldn’t be seen. Soft sobs started to escape from her lips. Her delicate fingers with those well filed nails dug into the carpet floor beneath her. And she felt pathetic.

I towered over her cowering body. She looked helpless.

How pathetic.

She was the one who did this to herself. I just told her exactly what was seen through my words. What everyone thought of her as. I don’t care what she thinks about me now.

But it felt good to let those words out of how ungrateful and selfish she had become.

Her sobs became heavier. Her attempts to stop crying became harder, the hot tears became abundant.

She kneeled down, head on her arms and curled up in defense from my voice, trying to block me out.

But I already invaded her mind with my venomous sayings. She was already lured in.

I glare at her, and continued what I had to say about her. What everyone had thought and already knew, but couldn’t muster to say.

But something I said had struck her, and she looked up at me, and I saw her eyes.

Eyes, that glimmered new tears ready to burst, and could remind anyone of the sparkling ocean with her deep azure colored eyes.

Her eyes, widened and fear struck, stopped momentarily to look at me. To see what I was saying was really true in my eyes.

“Why do you let popularity manipulate you till you’re nothing but floating rumors? Because people thought of you as some kind, cute girl, you just let that pride; lust, anger, and envy take over huh? You wouldn’t even try to start acting better would you? You’d just crawl back to society and cry your little heart out to get attention.”

Tears returned spilling over her eyes. It seems every word I said struck a cord in her heart painfully.

Because she knew I was right, and she couldn’t help herself, so why should I.

That’s why I gave no words of comfort to her if she really did want to change herself.

That’s why I left her there alone to cry in her misery, her self-pity of what she is.

She will never have the intelligence of what few possess that I know of.

I walked past her, not uttering a blink, and kept my face as impassive as it was when I started this dialogue with her.

Her cries echoed after me, trying to haunt me, but I ignored it, thinking of it as a small nuisance to not worry about.

“Hey what’s u-!” I heard the words of a friend.

But one look that she took of me explained everything that I just did.

She was also friends with the girl who’s kneeling away grieving, and she knew, just by looking at my face, what I had done.

She rushed past me, and down the hallway from the room I just came out of at the very end.

All I did was turn back around, exit the building, and left to go home, letting the sunshine that bloomed in the sky welcome me into the light.

Why should I care if she didn’t even want to help herself?

Sundays (2007)

Wrote on: April 22nd, 2007

It’s a very nice day out many would say.

The sun was high in the baby blue sky and no clouds could be seen for miles, and the sun light has as ever to hurt a gaze when stared at.

Summer’s glimpse in spring has begun to appear. Evidence shows the dark green leaves on the trees. The shades of grassy green and such on the bushes in my yard, and the amethyst colored stems and leaves on the budding crimson peddles of roses, along with the long light green leaves with white lines coursing down the leaves on the orange tulips. They all sprang up at the early signs of summer time.

The wind even complemented the sunny, hot day.

Cool winds blew over the hills and through the strands of my hair continuously through big gusts and soft, low ones. The sun was even starting to burn my skin red, but the oil and lotion I rubbed on my soft skin would keep me safe for awhile.

No one except me and the birds singing in the distance were outside, and I was completely content with that. Silence doesn’t bother me.

I always seem to forget what the warmth from the sun’s rays is like.

Yup, Sundays always seem like the perfect day, to do nothing.