Where Problems Do Not Exist

My dormant body wakes to the sound of the music that blares through my alarm clock. Another dream has come and gone. Another day is made anew. I remove the covers from over my body and rise from the comfort of my warm bed. As I trudge to the bathroom I reminisce on how wonderful it would be to climb back in bed and fall into a deep sleep. To dream without an end. As the rain comes down outside my window, I step into the comforting warmth of the running shower which arouses my body. Why must I leave the comforting warmth that envelops me in my shower and bed. The sleep, which surrounds me in the nights, helps me to forget about the troubles which one must face when awoken. When you sleep, you do not have to think, decide, or work. The peace that is brought with sleep is one that I do not want to leave when my alarm clock goes off. How can one find reassurance in anything else? The rain outside does not help because its problems of the world. Under the covers, the warmth is soothing and problems cannot reach you. You begin to forget about the rest of the world and dream od other places, in which problems do not exist.

Simple to Complex

White is the color of the board. Fake leaves are located at the top of the board. It is lined in metal.

The board which lies in front of the classroom is portrayed as white, but there is a tint of blue where the stains of the blue ink have been erased. The board is accented with orange, yellow, and red flake leaves which twist along the top.

Through the board’s gleaming cream surface, stains of the blue ink have left traces of hard work and knowledge from classes which have come before our class. The vibrant fake leaves which are found on the top of the board signify the fall weather which has taken hold of us. Its expression is blank as we look upon is with longing eyes hungry for knowledge. The board holds many signatures of students who have placed their knowledge upon the board or taken knowledge from it. Yet, it is not the board who gives the knowledge, but the knowledge that is given on the board.

The musty board which lies in front of the students depicts the story of the classes that have come before us. The board was once held knowledge which was written along its creamy surface. The stains of knowledge have been left within the tiny particles of blue ink left in crevices of the board. This board once held imagination and creativity, but now it has grown blank with the help of the eraser which is stooped on its cold, metal rack. As a class, we stare at the board, as the board stares back at us with an empty expression. Light gleams upon its surface and is reflected unto the students who yearn to learn from the writings which were once placed on the board. The knowledge-hungry students’ desire for the board to tell them more, but it stares back blankly.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

“What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think."
This quote is something which caught my eye with great interest. Society has difficulty this day and time with worrying about what people think about each other. At Athens Academy this is a pretty big dilemma because there are so many people worried about what other individuals think about the clothes they wear, what they drive, how they act, things they do, etc. It's depressing how people will change their personalities and actions to suite the likings of others. Emerson takes the other perspective of not caring what people think. He finds that being active and doing things in which he finds important is better than worrying about what others think. Consider how much time people waste worrying about what other people think, during that time Emerson is wondering about all the tasks which he needs to complete. There are more important tasks to be done in the world than worry about insignificant opinions of others. The reason why this quote appealed to me is because I tend to be the kind of person who says what is on my mind without caring what people think. I do not do this with intentions to hurt feelings, but I am not the kind of person who will spend hours trying on clothes to wear to school because to me it is more important that I get time in to study or finish homework and these are issues that concern me more than worrying about what people think about me.

What is an American

A 21st century American is this kind of man:


Who lives in this kind of house:
Who drives this for his family car:
Who uses this on the weekends:

To go here:




























And then on Monday goes back here:






















Now, the idea of what an American is defined as can be a controversial issue. Some view the American as I do, a man working hard to get to the top in order to fill his life with expensive things and make a good reputation for himself. Now, I am not saying these pictures describe every hard-working American. It seems like the average American is hard-working, but there are not always those who are striving to reach the top and buy their dream car, all they wish to do is provide food and shelter for their families. There are also hard-working women who can be described as 21st century Americans (but in this case we used a man). Overall, an American is someone with their own personality and opinions and has strong goals for their lives no matter how small that goal might be. Americans want to be successful, but success is different through each individual's eyes, therefore all perspectives of an Americans are different.

Practice makes perfect.

Practice makes perfect.

“Practice makes perfect.” This is a common phrase which is used by many coaches of different sports and teachers of different subjects. This phrase is incorrect in the way that the more you practice something, whether that something be a specific area in a sport, or whether that something be a lesson in a subject, when you practice you get better. Getting better in something depends on how much time you spend practicing, but no matter how much time you spend practicing you can never reach perfection. You can become tremendously talented in that subject or sport, but you will never be perfect. Perfection is the idea of never making a mistake, ever. Humans were made with flaws thanks to Adam and Eve, therefore, there is not a single human that can achieve perfection through practicing. Even when you practice to fix the mistakes made, new mistakes are always going to occur. Therefore, practice does not make perfect, but practice does make you better in a way of striving towards perfection. Since perfection is something which can never be reached, it is almost if practicing, which makes you better, allows you to grow closer to perfection, but you can never ultimately reach perfection.

Practice does not make perfect.

In a secret place where I once stood (1), upon which they saw there was no way but to take him by force (2). Here more than two hundred of those grim courtiers stood wondering at him, as he had been a monster. (3)It seemed as if there had been a thousand Hatchets going at once. (4) I can remember the time when I use to sleep quietly without workings in my thoughts, whole nights together, but now it is other wayes with me. (5) After this they fell to great licentiousness and led a dissolute life. (6) Thus stands the cause between God and us. (7)

(1) Anne Bradstreet

(2) William Bradford

(3) John Smith

(4) Mary Rowlandson

(5) Mary Rowlandson

(6) William Bradford

(7) John Winthrop

It's interesting you see

Alright, now Im not really sure what we are suppose to post, but Mr. Connell said play with it so hey! Now, not sure if we are suppose to use this as a journal, a place to write poetry, or stories, but I think Im just going to play around with it. Well, this may be ultimately wrong but I'm in the mood for poetry...so let's have at it shall we? Now Im not asking anyone to read this so do not judge it...just think of it as you like. It's interesing you see, How life begins to be, When years grow old, and life grows cold, It's interesting you see. As time flys by, you begin to cry, for those once near, are the ones you fear, It's interesting you see. It's as if you're looking on from somewhere else to a place you use to belong, but the laughter is stale to you, but yet there is nothing you can do. You bang on the glass, but they look at you as a stranger, no words to be exchanged, your life has been rearranged. It's a strange thing being replaced, as if you were never there, which is so difficult to bear.
to be continued...