The flowers I folded out of pages from an old art textbook. My husband (I am still not used to that...) and I met in an art history class so it meant something--even if nobody else knew it! I was very to see after the wedding that no one had taken a good pictures of the entire centerpiece! Oh well, maybe a relative has one that I can get later. You can see them in this picture.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
DIY Wedding #1
The flowers I folded out of pages from an old art textbook. My husband (I am still not used to that...) and I met in an art history class so it meant something--even if nobody else knew it! I was very to see after the wedding that no one had taken a good pictures of the entire centerpiece! Oh well, maybe a relative has one that I can get later. You can see them in this picture.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
DIY Cake Stands
Ta Dah! Aren't they beautiful? All the stands are made of are glasses turned upside down, and plates. The shorter one actually has a candle holder as a base instead of a glass.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A Different Take on History
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Shades of Gray on Shades of Grey
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Eating Cheap in College
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Job Hunting
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Psycho exercise
For my creative writing homework, we were supposed to write a frightening scene. Not sure I'm happy with this result.
--
Rich shouldn’t be home yet. I massaged the shampoo into my hair, waiting for him to come tell me he was back. Nothing happened, though I could swear I heard something scrape against the wall. I turned the water off, standing a moment to listen. The house was silent. I stepped out onto the bathmat and wrapped a towel around me. Opening the door, I peered down the hall.
“Hey, Rich.”
Nothing. I couldn’t see into the kitchen from here. As I stepped out into the hall, I called out again.
“Hey, Rich, is that you?”
A thin bent shadow darted across the wall. That wasn’t Rich. Something was in the kitchen.
I froze paralyzed. I took a step backwards, never moving my eyes from where I had seen the shadow.
It appeared around the corner. The figure was black as if clothed in a robe. It leaned against the wall, fingers scraping as it moved. Its wide staring eyes filled my vision. The scream would not escape my throat. I threw myself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I tried three times before I could get my trembling fingers to lock the door. I pressed my body up against the wall. I could feel sobs welling in my throat, and behind my eyes.
The scraping came closer, and closer, and closer. Then silence. I tried to hold my breath.
The doorknob rattled.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Erasers
Saturday, January 29, 2011
A Teacher Makes all the Difference
Everyone has teachers they remember, for good or bad reasons. Being home schooled until my junior year of high school, I didn't really have any interaction with teachers beyond my mother. In about Eighth Grade, I started watching taped lessons, but I still could not interact with these teachers. So, it wasn't until my junior year of high school, when I started dual enrollment in the local community college, that I really experienced being in a class and interacting with a teacher.
I'm not complaining about my earlier education. In fact, I believe I benefited greatly from home schooling, and I would not go back and change it. Now that I’m in college, I found some professors that think highly of me, and have high expectations of me. One professor in particular has high expectations for me. I'm amazed at how much more I am willing to work when I care, not just about my grade, but about what the teacher thinks. Since high school, with a few exceptions, I’ve been able to get good grades by not putting forth too much effort. Just by having a professor that believes in me, I’m pushing myself 3x as hard when I don’t have to. I've raised my stress level 10x, but at the same time, I'm happy to work harder. I'm afraid of failing, and in this case, failing would be not living up to the high expectations that are placed on me.
I'm pushing myself. I’m growing. I'm working at least 3x harder than I am for my other classes, and though I'm stressed, I'm learning 3x more. Everyone should have a professor that inspires her to work this hard at some point during the college, or high school, career. I almost don’t want to graduate in May.