CAMP

As most of you know, I go to sleep away camp for the entire summer. Camp is starting in only thirty three days so I decided to make this blog a dedication to the summer of 2010!

I don't think anyone knows what sleep away camp is until you actually go. No one knows the kind of friends you make and no one knows the feeling of just being in camp until you go and be a part of it.

Camp changes you. I don't know how and I don't know why, but it just does. And the change is really amazing. Being able to live in a world that is completely isolated from everything else makes you learn a lot about yourself and people. And when I say camp is isolated, I mean it. I actually had my mom send me a newspaper because you have no idea what's happening in the world. Sometimes that's a really good thing. Anyway, I have learned a lot about myself going to sleep away camp for five years now. I know what kind of people I like living with and my living habits. You don't have anyone picking up after you or sweeping the bunks or making your bed or folding your laundry. You do everything by yourself. Some people can actually have a neat living area like myself. If anyone knows me, you would obviously be able to tell that I’m a neat freak. :) And then there are the people who never make their bed and I find their socks in my sheets. I don't know how they get there but they sure do!

Activities at camp are the best. Sports, arts and crafts, drama, and many others are all at camp. Every single day has all of those activities in it! It's so exciting to be able to have a wide range of things to do at camp. And there are a lot of camps strictly on sports or on arts, but my camp has EVERYTHING in one!

If you didn't know, I go to a Jew camp. Now this camp is NOT an extremely religious camp. We have Shabbat Friday nights and Saturday mornings, say a few prayers here and there, and learn about our culture and Israel. That's about it. Some people who aren't even Jewish go to my camp. So it isn't a very orthodox camp. Very reform.

One HUGE aspect of camp I'm going to write about would have to be the friends. Friends are the best part of camp. That's really why I get so excited about camp. There is an expression that goes like "You don't really know people until you live with them." Well that holds true here. And not in the perverted sense. Seriously, you don’t know a lot of things you think you do about your friends until you spend weeks living in the same room. I know more about the people I have lived with in camp than I do about the people I have gone to school with for years! And it's really true. I only see my camp friends for one to two months and they are some of my best friends! The bond you have with friends from camp is probably the most powerful thing about friendship. The things you learn about your friends is really astonishing. And I’m sure you can see that I keep in touch with my camp friends throughout the course of the year on facebook, gmail etc. So I still get to talk to them which is really great!!

The last thing I wanted to write about camp would certainly be the drama. I don’t think one day goes by where there isn’t drama. And one way or another, I’m in the middle of it! But the drama is just overwhelming. Relationship drama, family drama, friend drama, and plenty of other kinds of drama. What other kind of drama is there?? And camp is completely the basis of drama. And let’s be honest. Who doesn’t like drama?

So camp is almost here. All I have to do is take two Regents, two finals and a proficiency exam, and I’m off to camp! I don’t want to lose touch with anyone because not talking over the summer really does a lot to a relationship of any kind! So if you want to write to me and I don’t know your address, please email it to me at juhcub@gmail.com and I would certainly love to write to you! So when I get to camp I shall send you a letter with the address of the camp and you can respond!

So to sum up this entire post, CAMP IS ALMOST HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By the way I don’t think I included the camp I go to. It’s Surprise Lake Camp! I can’t wait to see all of my camp friends and return to my home away from home!! :D

Your Friend
Jacob

Degrassi The Next Generation SEASON 10!!!!

For anyone who watches the incredible and amazing show, Degrassi, I have some really amazing news!! Teenagers all around the world want everything at their fingertips and they want Degrassi!! To give these people what they want, the staff of Degrassi has decided to make season 10 have 48 episodes!!! Starting at the end of July to the end of August, Degrassi will be on Monday-Thursday every week!! But then in October it will continue with one episode each week. They are also bringing on four new characters which will cause drama like always! Now for story lines of season 10:

Drew vs. Riley
- Riley is the star athlete at Degrassi and is also gay but has not told that many people. Anyway, Drew, a new character, will prove to be a big competition for Riley sports wise. And he might even expose Riley for being gay!!

Adam
- Adam is yet another new character on the show. But the most interesting part about him is that this character is played by a girl! So it is suggested that Adam is transgendered.

Bianca
- Yet another new character arriving this season, Bianca is known as "The Girl Who Makes Boyfriends Disappear." The show already has a girl who was a boyfriend stealer but it didn't really work out the way they wanted it to. This time, it will probably be more intense. :D

Anya
- Anya is a character that has been on since season 7. She is known as "The Two Faced Girl." It seems like she's going to have some major character changes.

Jenna
- Jenna came on Degrassi season 9. She was supposed to be a big boyfriend stealer but that went no where. She is known as "The Girl Who Doesn't Know Her Own Secret." No one knows what this is supposed to mean, but it certainly will cause problems in her relationship with the boyfriend she "stole" from her best friend.

Fitz
- Fitz was a minor character in season 9 but he's getting a bigger part this season. Since the show has decided to kick off the major bullies, he's going to take their spot and be the macho man around town.

Clare and Eli
- Clare has been on Degrassi for quite a while, but this season, she's going to have some big story lines. She and Drew (a new character) are supposedly going to become a couple. But then in the promo for season 10, it is hinted that death comes into play with their relationship. Also in the promo, "lockdown" is something that was also hinted. "Lockdown" and "death." Maybe he kills himself? Or brings a gun to school? I can't wait to see how that plays out!!

Alli and Drew
- This kid Dave likes Alli. Alli likes Drew (a new character). Drew likes Alli. See where this is going? Love triangle!

Fiona
- Fiona arrived in season 9 with a pretty small part. But in season 10 she is getting a big story line which involves abuse from someone. Who could it be?

So those are all of the story lines of season 10. For anyone who doesn't watch Degrassi, I highly recommend it!!!

Lastly, at the end of the promo, they had a wheel spinning saying all of these things that are going to happen next season. Here they are:
Betrayal
Sex
Crushes
Deception
Lockdown
Love
Lies
Secrets
Danger
Seduction
Loss
Surprises

My Short Story For English 9H (NEW VERSION!!!!!) :D :D :D

This is my revised short story. I took everyone's comments into consideration and here it is!! I CERTAINLY am not done with it yet. Not even close!! So if you have any other feedback, please write it in a comment. Also, if you have never read my first story, I suggest you read that first, think of some criticism, and then read my second one to see if I fixed what you feel needs to be fixed. Enjoy!!!!! :D

On July 17 at 8:37 P.M., I quietly snuck into a woman’s house and killed her. I threw her down, slit her throat, and left. As I ended her life at the blink of an eye, I felt a marvelous sensation run through my veins. It was the feeling of being able to live, and she no longer obtained that privilege. That’s too bad for her. This poor sucker will never see her family again, or say “I love you” to her beloved son. But that just isn’t my problem. She deserved what she got and I can finally feel relief. This was the first person I murdered, and it surely would not be the last.

Her murder rocked this idyllic community. When a poor, sappy house frau walked by a friend of hers from the book club she would say something like, “Oh my! Your hydrangeas are astonishing!! You must tell me how you keep them so vibrant.” Hearing that everyday walking to school made me clench my fists a few times. Who wants to grow up listening to that!? I don’t care about her hydrangeas and neither should you! So the next morning, the same as the last and the one to come, Mrs. Summers walked over to the woman’s house to borrow her duck confit recipe. As she peered into the window, she noticed the woman lying in a puddle of her own blood. Mrs. Summers let out a loud shrill. At that second, all of the residents on the street opened their doors and ran toward Mrs. Summers. Everyone asked what happened, what she saw, those kinds of questions she possibly could not answer. But yet they wouldn’t stop because they all want the juice. Buzzards. Why can’t they all die? Why can’t they all just stop talking and leave everyone alone!?! And that’s exactly why I do what I do.

So now I thought I would take this time to tell you a little about me. I doubt you want to hear anything about me seeing as though no one in my life ever did or ever will. I am twenty-four years old and I live in a dingy apartment two blocks over from the street on which I murdered the woman. I didn’t go to college even though I know I’m a genius. I scored one hundred and forty five on an IQ test I took while I was in high school. I guess you could say that helps me plan a murder. With my abilities to think logically, planning exactly what I wanted to do for a murder was a piece of cake. And there is a little background on me.

I didn’t kill anyone for a while. I wanted to let the paranoia set in... although one murder wouldn’t signal “serial killer” in anyone’s mind. The police barely cared about it either. That’s the problem with today’s society. Do the police really care that one sad, miserable, lonely woman was found dead in her household where there are no signs of anyone breaking in? They would probably just declare it suicide.
The feeling of killing someone I absolutely hate felt like nothing I have ever experienced. This woman made me so angry. She had it coming. After a few weeks I needed to kill again. I needed to kill people who ruined my life. So I began to plot another murder.

So a month had gone by and I had killed two more victims. Their names were Fred and Hayley Glasco. This couple used to babysit me when my mother went out to parties. They completely neglected me whenever I asked them for anything. So I began to cry because I missed my mother. When the crying interfered with whatever they were doing, they would simply walk over to me, and hit me. Whether it be a slap or a spank, they would hit me. They hit me all the time. And so I stole their lives, but I left their child. I wouldn’t be able to bear the fact that I killed a child. Now it was official, a serial killer was on the loose.

Three months had gone by and it was my high school reunion. I saw all of the “wonderful” people who attended my high school. I saw all of my “friends” there as well. When their eyes met mine, they rushed over to where I was sitting, alone.
“Weakling!!” They all shouted at me. Back in high school I was picked on among my friends because I was “weak.” They would push me, punch me, and kick me because they knew I would never be able to fight back. This was my chance to get them back. I only wanted to kill one in particular. Peter Reynolds was the one who beat me the most. He hit me as a joke, but he never knew how much it infuriated me. I would tell him to stop but he knew there wasn’t anything I could do to make him. But now there was. I asked him if we could talk privately. At first he refrained because it did seem kind of weird. But then I convinced him to walk outside. As we walked into an alleyway, I killed him and threw his body into a dumpster. Again, I felt that feeling. He had ruined my high school career and I had ruined his life. Permanently.

As I walked along the sidewalk the shining sun quickly departed as if it feared me just as much as the people who felt comfort in locking their doors did. I’m sure they know that if I want to get them, I’ll get them. I love taking these walks along the sidewalk of this wonderful street. I get to think about the next person I can kill. When I can kill them, how I can kill them and where I can kill them. These thoughts run through my psychopathic mind twenty-four hours a day. So I can take these walks to sort through these ominous and sometimes scary thoughts that frighten me at times. I walked by the calm and tranquil lake by which I used to play by. Watching the water glisten in the sunset made me think about something else for once. It made me think that what I’m doing is wrong. I’m stealing life from others. I’m taking something from them, so they should take it from me. And then I stopped thinking like that. I started thinking the way I normally do. These people need to leave this world. They caused pain and suffering and they don’t deserve life. I then decided to go home and plan my next murder.

It was extremely difficult deciding who to kill. I had the decision of who lives and who dies in my hands. I was just like God. And then I thought of someone. I thought of the next person I could kill. Maryann Pittman was my next victim. She was the go-to person when you wanted gossip. She would look into people’s windows just to see what was up and then talk about it with all of her friends. She saw my mom and me fighting one time. My mom was giving me a lecture because even though I was the smartest student in school, I could never hold a steady job. I was just fired for the eighth time in two years. My mom started calling me a failure and she was ashamed to be my mother. She said it was embarrassing to call me her son. I was just about to speak up and stand up for myself when her cold and sharp hand collided with my face. The feeling of being hit like that by the woman who raised me infuriated me. So Maryann ran off and called all of her friends. When I would walk around the neighborhood, everyone would stare and point at me and say “That’s the child who was hit by his mother.” And the funny thing is that none of those people did anything about it even though they knew I was being abused. That was not the first time I was hit. My mother beat me for as long as I could remember. So Maryann, say goodbye to everyone, because you’ll never see them again.

The next night, I walked by Maryann’s house a few times to scope out the place. As I was walking, Mrs. Summers was walking her dog.

“Well hello there,” she said.
“Hi there Mrs. Summers. Are you walking your dog?” I asked.
“Indeed I am. You know, I never can remember your name.”
“My name is Adrien. Adrien Cedricks.”
“Are you Linda Cedricks’s son?
“Yes I am,” I replied.
“Well I am so deeply sorry for what happened.”
“So am I.”

At that point, I really didn’t want to stand there any longer and talk to this irritating woman. I had better things to do. Then her stupid dog came over and jumped on me. His filthy paws wiped mud all over my pants and shirt. My favorite pants and shirt. God do I hate that dog.

“Well I best be on my way,” I told her.
“Alrighty then! And I’m sorry about my dog. He can be a little irritating at times, especially when he is able to get into people’s houses. I don’t know how he does it, but he does.”

I was thinking about two things at that point. The first thing was that I hate that demon dog, and second was the urge to kill Maryann. I have to kill Mrs. Summers next, and her little dog too.

The night of Maryann’s death had finally arrived. I was ecstatic about being able to kill again. I left my home at around eight o clock at night. I was planning to break in to her house from her doggy door. Apparently, when she had it installed in her door, it was too big. Big enough for a psychopath like myself to crawl through. I peered into the window and saw no sign of her downstairs. So it was safe for me to sneak in, kill her, and leave. I crouched down, crawled through the door, and entered deep waters.

As I walked through her home I saw pictures of her parents, her children, her college graduation and many other precious moments captured in a single push of a button. I passed two lit candles. I had a thought for a fleeting moment to set the house on fire. I then realized that would not satisfy my addiction. I need to see her eyes lose emotion and feeling. I stopped to think and make sure she didn’t know anyone was intruding her home. She didn’t. I continued walking. I stepped on a piece of glass all of a sudden. Then I heard her dial a phone number. I don’t think it was the police because I heard the tone for more than three digits on the phone. But now I can’t kill her because she’s talking to someone! And who knows for how long!? I thought to myself that I had better get out of there. But something drove me to continue and follow through with my plan. I faintly heard a voice on the other line seeing as though the room Maryann was in was very close to where I was standing. The voice sounded like Mrs. Summers. I could determine that voice anywhere. She started yelling at Mrs. Summers. Then I heard a loud smash. She probably threw the phone against the wall or something like that. At that point, she started down the stairs. Every thud of her foot against the steps was like a thud of my heartbeat. My blood was rushing through me. I was losing patience! I needed to do this now.

She could feel my presence. She knew she wasn’t the only one home. And that is when I walked around the corner, grabbed her by her hair and threw her down to the floor. She screamed as loud as she could, but no one could hear her. I held back from killing her so quickly because I enjoyed her fear. I enjoyed listening to the sound of her scream because I held her life right in my hand. The feeling is something I could never explain. But then I needed to end her life before someone actually heard her scream. Suddenly, she stood up, punched me, and ran into the kitchen. She hit me. She hit me. My blood started boiling. I clenched my teeth and walked toward the kitchen. Maryann dialed 911, and as soon as someone came on the other line, I grabbed her hand, and smashed the phone against the wall. I took my blade, and soon enough, she was lying in her own puddle of blood. I felt rejuvenated.

The demon dog then wandered in through her enlarged doggy door. I then remembered Mrs. Summers telling me this dog arrives in people’s houses occasionally. I guess this was one of those times. The dog ran over to me, barked a few times, jumped on me, and landed in her puddle of blood. I had no time for this dog so I unlocked the front door, and tossed it outside. I then burst out the back door to return home.

A few minutes before, Mrs. Summers wanted to go over to Maryann’s house for two reasons. One was because Maryann was mad at her after their fight on the phone. Second, she wanted to know if Maryann was okay because she heard screaming. So Mrs. Summers wandered over to the house. As she arrived at the house, her dog was outside on the porch. She picked up the dog and it wiped blood off of its paws onto her light pink blouse. It was her favorite blouse. And now she knows how I felt when her dog wiped mud on my shirt and pants.

The police arrived a few seconds later. Mrs. Summers was taken into custody for the murder of Maryann. Everything fit together like a puzzle. She had Maryann’s blood on her blouse and there were dog prints in the house. She was taken to “the big house,” and I got off scot free.

On July 17, at 8:37 P.M., I snuck into my mother’s house and killed her. I threw her down, slit her throat, and left. As I ended the life of my mother at the blink of an eye, I felt a marvelous sensation run through my veins. It was the feeling of being able to live, and she no longer obtained that privilege. That’s too bad for her. This poor sucker will never see her family again, or say “I love you” to her beloved son, me. She deserved what she got and I can finally feel relief. This was the first person I murdered, and it surely was not the last.

My Short Story For English 9H (OLD VERSION!!)

On July 17 at 8:37 P.M., I slowly snuck into a woman’s house and killed her. I threw her down, slit her throat, and left. As I ended her life at the blink of an eye, I felt a marvelous sensation run through my veins. The feeling of being able to live was it, and she no longer obtained that privilege. That’s too bad for her. This poor sucker will never see her family again, or never say “I love you” to her beloved son. But that just isn’t my problem. She deserved what she got and I can finally feel relief. This was the first person I murdered, and it surely will not be the last.

Her murder rocked this idyllic community. When a poor, sappy house frau walked by a friend of hers from the book club she would say something like, “Oh my! Your hydrangeas are astonishing!! You must tell me how you keep them so awe-inspiring.” Hearing that everyday walking to school made me clench my fists a few times. Who wants to grow up listening to that!? I don’t care about her hydrangeas and neither should you! So the next morning, the same as the last and the one to come, Mrs. Summers walked over to the woman’s house to borrow her key lime pie recipe. As she peered into the window, she noticed the woman lying in a puddle of her own blood. Mrs. Summers let out a loud shrill. At that second, all of the residents on the street opened their doors and ran toward Mrs. Summers. Everyone asked what happened, what she saw, those kinds of questions she possibly could not answer but they wouldn’t stop because they all want the juice. Buzzards. Why can’t they all die? Why can’t they all just stop talking and leave everyone alone!?! And that’s exactly why I do what I do.

I didn’t kill anyone for a while. I wanted to let the paranoia set in. Although one murder wouldn’t signal “serial killer” in anyone’s mind. The police barely care about it either. That’s the problem with today’s society. Do the police really care that one sad, miserable, lonely woman was found dead in her household where there are no signs of anyone breaking in? They would probably just declare it suicide.

So a month had gone by and I had killed two more innocent victims. I stole the lives of a husband and a wife, but I left their child. I wouldn’t be able to bear the fact that I killed a child. Now it was official, a serial killer was on the loose. As I walked along the sidewalk the shining sun quickly departed as if it feared me just as much as the people who felt comfort in locking their doors and keeping a light on all night so I would believe someone was awake did. I’m sure they know that if I want to get them, I’ll get them. I love taking these walks along the sidewalk of this wonderful street. I get to think about the next person I can kill. When I can kill them, how I can kill them and where I can kill them. These thoughts run through my psychopathic mind twenty-four hours a day. So I can take these tranquil walks to sort through these ominous and sometimes scary, even to me, thoughts. I walked by the calm and serene lake in which I used to play by. Watching the water glisten in the sunset made me think about something else for once. It made me think that what I’m doing is wrong. I’m stealing life from others. I’m taking something from them, so they should take it from me. And then I stopped thinking like that. I started thinking the way I normally do. These people need to leave this world. They caused pain and suffering and they don’t deserve life. I now decided to go home and plan my next murder.

It was extremely difficult deciding who to kill. I had the decision of who lives and who dies in my hands. I was just like God. And then I thought of someone. I thought of the next person I could kill. Maryann Pittman was my next victim. She was the go-to person when you wanted gossip. She would look into people’s windows just to see what was up and then blab about it to all of her friends. She saw my mom and me fighting one time. My mom was giving me a lecture because my high school wanted to expel me because they thought I was a “lost cause.” My mom started calling me a failure and she was disappointed to be my mother. At that point her cold and sharp hand collided with my face. The feeling of being hit like that by the woman who raised me infuriated me. So Maryann ran off and called all of her friends. When I would walk around the neighborhood, everyone would stare and point at me and say “That’s the child who was hit by his mother.” And the funny thing is that none of those people did anything about it even though they knew I was being abused. That was not the first time I was hit, and it surely was not the last. Yet another reason for why these people need to die. So Maryann, say goodbye to everyone, because you’ll never see them again.

The next night, I walked by Maryann’s house a few times to scope out the place. As I was walking, Mrs. Summers was walking her dog.

“Well hello there,” she said.

“Hi there Mrs. Summers. Are you walking your dog?” I asked.

“Indeed I am. You know, I never can remember your name.”

“My name is Jack. Jack Cedricks.”

“Were you Linda Cedricks’s son? She was such a wonderful woman.”

“Thank you.”

At that point, I really didn’t want to stand there any longer and be grilled by her. I had better things to do. Then her dumb dog came over and jumped on me. His filthy paws wiped mud all over my pants and shirt. My favorite pants and shirt. God do I hate that dog.

“Well I best be on my way,” I told her.

“Alrighty then! And I’m sorry about my dog. He can be a little irritating at times, especially when he is able to get into people’s houses. I don’t know how he does it, but he does.”

I was thinking about two things at that point. The first thing was that I hate that demon dog, and second was the urge to kill Maryann. I have to kill Mrs. Summers next. Along with her little dog too.

The night of Maryann’s death had finally arrived. I was ecstatic about being able to kill again. I left my home at around eight o clock at night. I was planning to break in to her house from her doggy door. Apparently, when she had it installed in her door, it was too big. Big enough for a psychopath like myself to fit in through. I peered into the window and saw no sign of her downstairs. So it was safe for me to sneak in, kill her, and leave. I crouched down, crawled through the door, and entered deep waters.

As I walked through her home I saw pictures of her parents, her children, her college graduation and many other precious moments captured in a single push of a button. I passed two lit candles. I had a thought for a fleeting moment to set the house on fire. I then realized that would not satisfy my addiction. I need to see her eyes lose emotion and feeling. I stopped to think and make sure she didn’t know anyone was intruding her home. She didn’t. I continued walking. I stepped on a piece of glass all of a sudden. Then I heard her dial a phone number. I don’t think it was the police because I heard the tone for more than three digits on the phone. But now I can’t kill her because she’s talking to someone! And who knows for how long!? I thought to myself that I had better get out of there. But something drove me to continue and follow through with my plan. She started yelling at whoever she was speaking to. Then I heard a loud smash. She probably threw the phone against the wall or something like that. At that point, she started down the stairs. Every thud of her foot against the steps was like a thud of my heartbeat. My blood was rushing through me. I was losing patience! I needed to do this now.

She could feel my presence. She knew she wasn’t the only one home. And that is when I walked around the corner, grabbed her by her hair and threw her down to the floor. She screamed as loud as she could, but no one could hear her. I refrained from killing her so quickly because I enjoyed her fear. I enjoyed listening to the sound of her scream because I held her life right in my hand. The feeling is something I could never explain. But then I needed to end her life before someone actually heard her scream. I picked her up, swung the blade and cut myself in the arm by accident. It was a pretty big cut. I soon forgot about it took the blade, and soon enough, she was lying in a puddle of blood. I felt rejuvenated.

The demon dog then wandered in through her enlarged doggy door. I then remembered Mrs. Summers telling me this dog arrives in people’s houses occasionally. I guess this was one of those times. The dog ran over to me, barked a few times, jumped on me, and then fell to the ground. I picked him up, and some of the blood from my cut dripped onto him and the floor. I then let him out of the house. I looked around to make sure I left nothing that the police could trace back to me. I left.

That same night, Mrs. Summers noticed a red liquid on her dog. She took a Q-Tip and swabbed it off of him. She knew he was in Maryann’s house. She probably decided to stumble in and see how he got this red stuff on him. As she entered the house, she yet again saw a friend in her own puddle of blood. Instead of letting out a scream, she stood there dumbfounded. She was ready to return home to call the police. But then she noticed a little bit of blood away from the puddle. Mrs. Summers took the other side of the Q-Tip and swabbed that blood.

The police arrived ten minutes later. She gave the cotton swab to one of the officers. Of course Mrs. Summers felt right by this. She thought she was helping them. And she did. Oh she did big time.

Two weeks had gone by and the police showed up at my door. They took me to jail. And here I am now. Was it worth it? No. Why did I do it? Because the unexplainable urge took me over. And I loved every second of it. So I’m in this disgusting rat hole for the rest of my life. Why not write my story.

On July 17, at 8:37 P.M., I snuck into my mother’s house and killed her. I threw her down, slit her throat, and left. As I ended the life of my mother at the blink of an eye, I felt a marvelous sensation run through my veins. The feeling of being able to live was it, and she no longer obtained that privilege. That’s too bad for her. This poor sucker will never see her family again, or never say “I love you” to her beloved son, me. She deserved what she got and I can finally feel relief. This was the first person I murdered, and it surely was not the last.

Believe, Hope, Wonder: Great Expectations (Not The Book)

We all have expectations. Am i right? We all expect things to happen. And here is the question: Do things turn out the way you expect them to? Most of you will answer no. And why is that? It isn't a question you can answer, but it's a question that's in many people's minds. What is it that makes our expectations so different from what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is life. Life makes its twists and turns every second of every day. And maybe our expectations would actually be met if life didn't turn on a dime. Does everyone understand what I'm talking about. And now to get into expectations. What kind of expectations do you have? Are they greater than what actually happens? Because the problem with having expectations that are too high would be that they are rarely met, and you are let down more often. I would say that having GREAT expectations would be worse than having LOW expectations. Now about having expectations that are too low. If you don't expect enough, you're most likely going to be surprised. This isn't always bad, but not expecting enough just doesn't seem like it could get you anywhere. If you never expect you could get a job, the people interviewing you will see that and they will see you don't expect anything of yourself. Another thing about not expecting enough would be that you show you don't expect much. I don't know how many people would like to put up with someone like that. And I don't know how many people would like to put up with someone who expects too much as well. I guess a good part about expecting too little of yourself and others would be this: you could really surprise yourself. You might discover something about yourself you never knew you were able to do because you never expected you would be able to do it. Then after discovering something about yourself or others could bring up your expectations. And that is probably the best part. But make sure your expectations don't get too great or else you won't be able to discover anything about yourself because all you will be is disappointed. This is a complicated subject and I want to make sure everyone understands where I am. I hope I don't sound like a babbling idiot because I'm really trying to get this point across. It is a VERY important point. Don't expect too much and don't expect too little or else you will have a few good results and a few bad results. Does anyone agree? Does anyone disagree? Please leave your thoughts in a comment!

Your Friend,
Jacob

Believe, Hope, Wonder: What We Can't Have

Well here is another philosophical post for everyone to read and think about. This time, the post is on we always want what we can't have. Why is that? Why can't we want what we can have. Is it because we enjoy the chase? We like having to work for what we can't obtain easily? For instance, love. People love the ONE person they cannot have. There are so many people in the world who love the people you can't be with. Just like in Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." Romeo loves Juliet and she is a Capulet. They are forbidden to be together because of a family feud. It isn't even their fault their families are fighting, but yet they are not allowed to be together. Romeo actually experienced this twice. First with Rosaline. Rosaline did not love him back which broke his heart and then he fell in love with Juliet. And I’m sure that everyone has had a crush in Middle School or Elementary School. Did that person like you back? Most of the time, it’s a no and that’s just the way it usually is. We like or want what we can’t have. I just think it has to be human nature. It’s just a law. Does anyone else feel the same way? Does anyone else disagree? To me, it seems hard to disagree with because I don’t think there is one person who hasn’t ever wanted what they can’t have! Again, why do we want what we can't have, and why don't we want what we can have? It doesn't make any sense!! So please tell me your thoughts on the subject in a comment!

Your Friend,
Jacob

Upcoming Events!

I have decided to post a list of "upcoming events" every Monday. Just another peek into my life. But no matter how many glimpses you can take in my life, you'll never understand me. :)

1. Earth Science Test :( - Earth's Crust
2. Field Trip to "Castle Fun Center" on Thursday - At least that's what I believe it's called.
3. Possibly and hopefully seeing Miss Blogette this weekend!
4. Hopefully hanging out with Jessica Tyler (camp friend) for a Degrassi party seeing as though we are MAJOR Degrassi fanatics!
5. June 30th - CAMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - I know I'm skipping ahead but I'm so EXCITED!!!

The Fish Gadget

I want to start this post by saying I love this gadget! Some of you might be confused on why there is a black box with different red fish swimming around. Well I am here to help! First of all, if you put your mouse in the box the fish will follow. It's pretty cool! But then something magical happens if you click in the box! If you click anywhere in the box, pieces of orange food will appear and they fish will swim toward it and eat it. This gadget really does not have a point, but I think it's a cool thing to have on my blog page. Also, it just is fun to take a second and click to watch virtual fish swim for food. I like this gadget so I decided to put it on my page. I hope you enjoy it as well. And an update!!! - I will be posting my updated short story in the next couple of days. So if you didn't have a chance to read it (Madi), or if you despised it the first time (Jake and Krish) you will be able to read the revised version! And a LOT has changed!

Believe, Hope, Wonder: Thank You For Your Feedback!!!

Thank you to everyone that gave their input on my short story. I certainly will take it into consideration! :D

Believe, Hope Wonder: The Weekend

Thank God the weekend is here!! I have had a very long week with a math test, the incredibly stupid field test, and a global test which is postponed to Monday. I had studied for global prior to the exam for a good three hours and now the test is Monday! Sometimes I get frustrated with that, but it isn't such a big deal. Does anyone else feel like they have had an extremely long week where it feels like a Thursday and it's only a Monday? That's what I have been feeling for a few weeks now and I can't figure out why. The days just seem longer even though when I need more time for something, I don't have enough time! That doesn't sound right at all, but yet it is. So now I have been waiting for the weekend forever and yet I really don't have anything to do except continue writing my short story and blog. Sometimes these things really don't seem right and they are! But I cannot wait until Monday because I get to see everyone again! But a few words of advice. Take every day as a blessing. Because even though you want the day to end, you might not have a tomorrow. Live in the now. Live as if you will be gone the next day. Because who knows if you'll be in the next day?

You're Friend,
Jacob

Believe, Hope Wonder: Life

Life. What are you going to do? Are you going to embrace it? Hide from it? You have so many options!! Why play it safe? Why do what everyone wants you to do? Why not do what you want to do. Why not make your own music? I know I'm asking all of these philosophical questions, but how do you know what path you want to take in life? People always say, as teenagers we won't know what to do with life until we're older. But does getting older make life any easier? Or does it make it harder? We all think life is killer in middle school and high school, but just wait until we embrace adulthood. And that is why I made a blog. I made a blog because as I grow older, why wouldn't I want to look back at what happened in my life twenty years ago? So with life, do what you want. Because even deciding what to do for an hour or what to eat for dinner, will change your life, one way or another. So welcome to my blog. This is where we will believe, hope and wonder.