Poetry

 

     A Farewell to Thee

My heart was open to all you brought

I closed off my mind

and the negative I fought

Now all I wish is to rewind

 

To before I agreed to this wondrous fling

I want to go back

and forget this relationship ring

for the pain is in the heart you attack

 

and if it is time I cannot change

then i want to protect myself from this ever again

to close off the wise range

and never let it begin

 

Stay away from me darkness and deceit

you have broken me enough

I fully retreat

Call my bluff

 

Farewell my love

I shall not lend

to broken dove

Or wits end 

 

     Of the Gardens we Wonder

A heart is but a flower

It can grown and it can wilt

It lives by the hour

Unsteadily built

 

You can water it with passion and love

and cover it from the cold

You can let weeds rove

when your dedication starts to run old

 

You can support its fragile stem

or stomp it lifeless

cut its limbs from limbs

one great mess

 

But a flower is only a heart

and if be so, our body is but Earth

And we can be body and soul apart

Man can still have mirth

 

You may break this one

but there are others

You may break a ton

We are all but quarrelsome lovers

 

 

     The Phone Call

O' how I wait for your word

As I watch the hand move

and plunge in my heart like a sword

with each ticking groove

 

I perch on my chair

eyeing the phone

Messing with my hair

Making my own drone

 

Its late but I stay awake

waiting for you anxiously

too many things are at stake

So I berate myself rancorously

 

O but one word will take my worries away

something as small as a greeting

will make it the best of day

Otherwise myself is in for a beating

 

Write, call, answer; my darling

talk to me for but a second

and I'll be marvelling

This I continually beckon

 

Until you do I shall stay put

I will wait forever to hear you

and with each passing second the greater the cut

and the longer I must wait in the darker shade of blue

 

 

     The Astronomy of Love

You made my cold heart run

My mind play a happy tune

for you were the sun

and I the moon

 

You lit me up all during the night

Nothing could contain us, not a harness

for you were the light

and I the darkness

 

You were daring and admirably bold

While I stayed hidden throughout the day

You were an illumionous gold

and I a shimmering gray

 

You had me on a rig

I was sure to fall

you were big

and I small

 

I needed you to shine and run

To make this love sing on tune

You are the sun

And I the moon

 

     The Modern Old Yeller

His lips trembled in aghast

dispair wreaked from his open wounds

Eyes were focused deep in the past

His lifelong friend was doomed

 

Tears swelled in his blue eyes

as his face crumbled

something in my heart dies

for this pairs blunder

 

The ten year old dropped to his knees

and grabbed his yellow labs head

"don't forget me" was his plee

then the boy took him to his bed

 

A sad air stunk the room

an emotion from the deep

as the dog was lead to his tomb

for an eternal sleep

 

     The Man During Fall

I'm sitting up high, on the roof of my house

watching people

watching kids play- seeing them run in disarray

watching the sunset- and its painted clouds pass

watching stars- looking for the far off Mars

and hearing my neighbors be crass

sometimes the heated arguments sound from my own home

So I go on my rooftop and daydream alone

I'll focus on the celebration of barks

from the streets accelerated choir of dogs

I dream of escaping to famous landmarks

but for now I watch him rake his leaves

a sweaty colorful display

fifty years old I believe

foretold my his hair of gray

He's a happy old man settled with his wife

I can tell from his work he has no regrets in life

Yet he continues scraping them into a pile

wishing the clutter away

But I admire the leaves and their warm colors today

They burn like fires of faith

and put my own fears at bay

 

 

     Her Long Sit

She is sad

clear as crystally so

her sorrow seems terminally bad

and her spirits are unsettling low

 

Off in the distance lies

in those tearful eyes

Away from her troubles she attempts to hide

its clear her trouble, she will not confide

 

Her head is cast down

for what seems like forever

nothing would bring her cheer not ever a clown

with their best endeavors

 

She's lost in her own falling down 

down

down

silence and emptiness abound

No one's helping her, no one will

not until she can face this great hill

 

     There is No Meaning

Life is a cemetery, a collection of stones

with hills and ruts, obstacles in the ground

All there is, is: grass, rock, dirt and bones

where nothing can be found

Sometimes its a place to atone

to others a place to walk on peoples deep graves

where the dead's secrets dine alone

Nothing know but dates and names

Occasionally we pass a flower bouquet

a instant smile, that gradually flees away

for you only just begin to realize

underneath a thousand memories lie

and that darkness is not but in the sky

It's in every tomb and every heart

In every single human part

and they you finally summarize

it can all be over before sunrise

 

     A Disco Within a Gray Skull

 

What is it that you see

for you can see a lot in me

I'm a rainbow of colors

behind my dark mask

you will never know until you ask

 

To my friends, I'm bright and funny

when they're sad, I make life seem sunny

You just don't get the chameleon in me

For all I show you is a dark charcoal gray

I'm not sure why I often shy away

 

I can be red with a fiery passion

I can be the color of the latest fashion

The choice is all up to I

who floats in a haze of pink at times

or grows cash green counting dimes

 

Those you rarely see

Instead you see the blank side of me

gray dark clouds of melancholy

I'm a fusion of color inside and out

but from what you think, you probably doubt

 

 

 

~Short Story Project~

 

Mad Dog

 

by: Jordan Fruit

 

The darkness of my mind pervaded my surroundings.  The room was an endless black cloak hiding everything. It swallowed objects, consumed people, and accompanied me. I wore it like a jacket, welcoming and cozy. I didn’t want to be seen for I liked my hiding place too much.

Anticipation ate at me as I stared off into the illuminated part in the room. One big beam shot down from the ceiling with intensity. It had to be bright in this dark atmosphere. I thought of the bright circle on the floor as my arena. It would be soon. That circle of light was my target, and at any given moment I would leap from the darkness and devastate the light; I would reap havoc in that target.  My eyes glared into the luminous circle as I breathed in.

 

The room smelt of intense cigarette smoke.  The ashtray on the desk before me was full of gray ash droppings. I swiped my nose; the stinging smells of tobacco were burning it. My nose hurt from the overly powerful aroma, but I ignored it as the cigarette sent slivers of gray and white into the air. The room consisted of only blacks, whites, and grays.

Agitation gripped me as I sat waiting. I had a mission. It was an order.

 

My neck hair bristled.

 

There was nothing for me to do in this room, not yet. It was all in good time. I broke contact with the light, and looked off into the far off black corners of my abyss. As if by magic, an image of beauty appeared. In the far off distance there was a fireplace and a family. It was my family. My Children clung to me with their small tight grasps. They held on to me for protection, and cuddled into me with their soft heads for love. Right now I want to be with them. I wanted to be in the light of that fireplace, letting my eyelids slowly fall into a sound slumber.

A loud clank broke the image, and my eyes fluttered open. Alert, my head swung to the light and a growl thundered in my head.  I had a mission. It was an order.

 

My teeth gnashed together.

 

A chorus of crashes thundered from the staircase behind the door; it was my prey. My boss’s friends, Frankie and Nick, were to bring this man to me. They were to hand him over, to place him on the luminous silver platter and let me send him to hell. I had a mission. It was an order.

 

My eyes bore hatred.

 

The enemy was howling in pain. Frankie and Nick must have pushed him down the stairs. The image of a short fat man falling down the stairs in a tight ball came to mind. Anxiety pulsed through me. The time was drawing near, and I couldn’t help but fear. Panting for air, I try to get a grip on myself. “I must do this, I must,” I tell myself. Blood flashes in my mind, and chills run up my spine. I plant my feet firmly and rise. The darkness still holds me from any view. My mind purrs as it runs through rampant images of gore. I hear them as Frankie and Nick run down the stairs to pull the chubby man to his feet.

 

“My legs are broken!” he cries.

 

“Get up!” yells one of the two.

 

The scramble outside my cage of hell rings in my ears. These boys are in for a treat I tell myself. My eyes are focused past the light now. I’m waiting for that door to open, for those men to pull in my prey. I had a mission. This was an order.

The man outside the door is sobbing; his legs hurt from the fall. I can hear the trembling of his voice, the cries of utter terror. He knows he won’t be coming out from this domain. He knows that behind this door he will face death. But this man isn’t ready. I can hear and feel it. We both don’t want to be in this room. I know his feelings, and yet I couldn’t disobey the boss. He owned me, and he gave the orders. I was just to follow.

 

With ears perked, part of me felt pity listening to the man behind the door. But, I knew it was either his skin or mine. I wasn’t about to disobey my boss for this rat. My teeth snarled at the time passing. I was growing paranoid. I was becoming ill with worry. I couldn’t let anyone see it. I hid all my fears in the back of my head, letting an anger and rage take its place. No one would see how scared I was. They would only see my demonic eyes, and cringe. A snarl tore from my throat at the thought.

Time felt like it had stopped as I waited. My legs shake, but not in fear, they shake with anticipation to rip this man apart. Blood flows to my head as I feel a surge of emotion tear through me. Snarls and growls break my silence. This man would die. I would take his life. This was my mission.

 

I felt my body go through spasms. This was tearing me apart. I wanted to kill now. There was no going back now. The truth settled over me as my eyes turned to ice. As the doorknob clinked, and the door creaked open, this man was dead.

The light from outside the room had little effect on my surroundings. It had little effect on anything. I made out the images as they entered my den. Frankie and Nick were of the same fiber. They were tall with big builds, very muscular and very threatening. Frankie was in his 40’s, getting old but still a big bear. While Nick was in his 30’s fresh and cocky. Both men were proud Italians roaming New York City with their sharp Cadillacs and multiple women. I felt a growl grow in my throat but I held it back. The two of them each had a grab on the third man’s arms as they dragged him into the light. This was my enemy.

 

Sliding on his belly the man was dropped into the saucer of light. I watched as Frankie went to close the door, and Nick stepped out of the intense light. ‘That’s right don’t get in my way’ I tell myself, with my eyes wild. His hair was aged gray and greased back. His silver beard whiskers were noticeable, as if he’d been away from home for a few days. He was probably, out on the run.  He was in his early forties, short and bloated: too much alcohol, too much spaghetti, and too much everything. He ate himself into oblivion. He had enjoyed his life; now, I would end it. There were no doubts about it.

 

The man’s eyes squinted into the darkness trying to see who it was. I was invisible to the fat toad. He would only see me when I saw fit. Both Frankie and Nick backed away from the light with hideous scowls planted on their faces. Those two would evoke terror in even the most ignorant of people. They were not a force to be reckoned with. And neither was I.

 

I stepped out slowly from beside the desk. The sound of my footsteps clicked in his ears menacingly. With each step I lost my cool, and a flame burned deeper in my eyes. I stopped right before the circle of light. He could see my figure and my fury. He could see my smile.

I could smell the fear radiating off him, the cold sweat building, and sense the shivers running down his spine. He was scared, more than afraid. His eyes were huge with distress and disbelief. His right eye was painted a hideous blue. There was no pity, only fuel for the fire, and blood.

 

His mouth was coated in dried blood. They must have beaten him pretty good. I wanted more blood to spill. I wanted his blood everywhere. Right now my entire being was enveloped in hate toward this man. He would be dead soon. This circle of light would soon be red. He would paint my floor. I smiled at this, only making the man even more afraid.

 

“Why?” he choked out.

 

I looked down on this groveling man, but all I saw was his being torn into bits. I waited for one of the others to answer his question. My mission was to kill him.

 

“You know why you’re here Sonny!” snapped Frankie with a scowl.

 

“Just let me talk to Sal, I gotta explain ‘is to him,” he wept rising to his knees.

 

“I think you’ve done enough talking Sonny, capice?” yelled Nick.

 

“Besides, Sal gave the orders, Sonny, ya gotta go.” shrugged Frankie.

 

“No, no, no please. I need to explain myself!” he begged hysterically.

 

“There is nothing we can do; ya gotta go,” yelled Frankie.

 

He looked back at Frankie and Nick with terror crying “please, please, please don’t kill me!”

 

Both of them shook their heads ending the conversation. Sonny knew he was going to die. There was no way out of it. He looked back to me and saw his questions answered in my eyes. He trembled at the madness he found there in my eyes. A passion to kill burned out at him

sending him into a frenzy.

 

His face was deformed and sweating pellets. It almost looked as if it were a wax face, melting under the wick of a flame. The tearing sounds rung in my ears as I looked down at him with gnarled teeth. I watched as something in his eyes died. He went straight as a board and low incoherent mumbles escaped his lips. I straightened up at his madness. Alert I watched him shift and stumble and pull himself up to both his feet shaking the whole while.

 

“Please, I have kids.” he whispered in my direction.

 

As if that would change anything, does he not see I am nothing but my boss’s lap dog? It doesn’t change anything. ‘Sonny you will die’ I bark

out.

 

“No, no, no!” he shakes his head and begins backing up.

 

My eyes enlarged at the bloated rat before me.  He was on my target, in my coliseum, and in my cage now. There was no escape; there was no running away. There were only orders and commands. And I followed them.

I leaped at him rapidly. Charging him and crushing him to the ground. We landed with a thud, his head bouncing off the ground twice with a loud crack. His face fell apart with horror as I tore into him as well. Blood splattered into my face. Something twisted and exciting raced through my body. Hysteria roared in my brain, but I couldn’t stop myself as I ripped his face apart. The tearing and scraping sounds seemed unreal as I delved deeper.

 

My eyes glared into his wide begging eyes. They were pleading with me to stop. Mine answered back with a vicious snarl. His mouth began moving rapidly. He was speaking but I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t hear a word. I would silence him forever.

I lunged into his neck now, tearing at his jugulars. Viciously making it spray red. His neck became a fountain of blood, while he continued to thrash on the floor. My hair became soaked with his juices. I was overwhelmed at his defeat. His mouth choked gasping for air. It was useless,

 

I guaranteed his death.

 

I stopped my work to watch the blood drain from him and his pupils dilate to the time of his pulse. The demented roars screamed in my head as I felt chuckles escape my lips. The man beneath me somehow still fought though. Spastically he tried harder to escape kicking and thrashing. As he managed to kick my legs off, a rage resurfaced and my desire to hurt him grew. His arms pushed at me, trying to toss the upper half off. I wouldn’t budge. He was the ‘scared rabbit’ in my cage. I ripped at his arms and cut into them with my superior daggers. His hands quickly began fumbling for his pockets. I yanked his hands away and tore at his fingers. There was no way he was pulling a knife out on me. I listened to bones cracking and popping in his hand.

 

He would die suffering.

 

I felt a low growl in my throat swell and roar out, as Sonny moved his hands to his face glaring at his missing thumbs. His blood was gushing all over. He was convulsing watching his own blood escape his body, while I felt a chuckle in my chest. Death laughed behind my shoulder, glancing at another company he would keep.

 

‘Death enjoy this one, his blood is rich’ I tell death as it drifts over and next to Sonny sipping the last bit of life from him. Sonny’s convulsions end; my eyes close as I sit up thinking ‘a job well done’. Suddenly my world goes black, and I open my eyes to a hard yank by the collar.

 

I yelp…

 

Looking in front of me I see a mess of blood and in the middle of that red circle lays an unidentifiable dead body. Only we know who he is. It suddenly hits me. Sonny is dead, and that’s his blood painted on the floor and on my hands, and my knife. Gasping for air, tears run down my face mixing with my brother’s blood. My sobs shake my entire body as I turn from my mangled brother.

 

When did this happen? How could I have lost control over my life? I didn’t want my brother dead, and here I killed him. I tore him apart like an animal. Instead of running away from this life, I completed my mission; I followed Sal’s order. I killed my own flesh and blood. I was nothing more than his puppet.

 

The two pat me on the back and hold my shoulder. Frankie gives me a nod and Nick a handshake, and they disappear out of the room. It must be awkward for them. Or maybe it brings back memories when they had to follow an order, no matter how cruel. I wipe my stained face and move back behind my desk hidden in the darkness, where I hope to remain.

I will not look at the body on the floor. Instead I stare at the light above me in the ceiling. It blinds me, and somehow mocks me. Only the darkness seems to comfort me though all this. It whispers to me, “Didn’t you hear someone say ‘sick him’?”        

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wiki 5 - Once again, FABULOUS work on your wiki entries....

1. How about the dad in this story? Is he a "good dad" or does he expect too much of his daughter?

Well Firstly, you were not kidding about the crying factor of this story. At first I was expectant of death, I thought I was ready for it, but then it just developed into so much more! The pain the daughter went through concealing her emotions from her mother (thinking she's protecting her) was unbearable. I tried reading it in class, but then after a while I was just like "Let's save that story for my room". But I loved it! I actually understand the dad in this story, and I'm not going to condone-do you mean "condemn" here? him for what he did because he was suffering just as much as everyone else. He had this horrible secret locked inside since talking with the doctor. He felt alone being the only one to know. Plus if I were the daughter I'd want to know! I mean I know how easy it is to say something you don't really mean to your parents, and afterward feel bad about it. If that were to happen and then all of a sudden she died I'd be in a lot more pain. Knowing this, she can keep herself in check, she can change things up a little, cherish the time spent together more. But If you don't know your blinded, you could be a jerk all month and then something terrible happens and you won't feel like forgiving yourself. I almost think that the whole family would have saved a lot of that suffering if they were all in on the news. I understand they were trying to make her feel like everything was fine, and normal; but it wasn't. It was all a lie. And the daughter and dad had to lie to her, when they all could have just been hipped to it. 

~Jordan Fruit~ 

ps. haha yep, i meant condemn. sorry. 

 

2. Makes me wonder if any of you have seen this same dynamic at work in the more "grown up" world of high school... not, of course with beatings, but with making a new person (or outsider) "suffer" just because at some point someone made you suffer.... or feel left out just because, at one point when you were new, you felt left out. Does it happen among us? Is the prejudice to be confronted here that it is okay to dish out what we once had to take ourselves? If we accept that "that's just how it is".... does that mean there's no way to break the cycle? What would it take to change it?

I think this happens in every setting. There's always an order or ranking amongst any group of animals, people, etc. There's a pecking order in every group of friends, company, and even in families. For example, my mom works at Pepsi and she's only been there for 4 years or so, while other employees have been there longer and thereforth and sing a much different tune. In her company they rank themselves on experience. There's even a ranking among siblings. It's really prominent in my family. There's four of us, and I'm the oldest so I've watched this and experienced the pecking order. My little sister hates being the baby for this reason. And it certainly happens in High School. One thing that made me mad in the story "The New Kid" is where Marty's been the loser chicken and knows what its like but acts just as bad as the other kids when someone else becomes the new loser chicken. I mean I understand how he was feeling. He saw it as his opportunity to lose his rep as the loser. He saw it as an escape of his old title, and it probably gave him a sensation knowing he was the one doing damage for once. It's a relentless cycle. Just like my Step-dad. He learned his parenting skills from his dad and so on. So what makes the cycle continue and live on is learning it. If you want to change the cycle you just teach a neew lesson. A better lesson, and hopefully they'll pick up on that rather then the negative.

~Jordan Fruit~  

 

 

9/6/09 Week 4

2.  If you can, explain why Deal gave it the title he did.

I liked the title Antaeus because I could think of a lot of ways it related to the story. It was really a good title Deal picked. Firstly, because TJ became a leader with more power because of his idea of growing something on the roof. In the mythical story Antaeus had all this power as long as he had both feet on the ground. And TJ literally made something he could stand on. TJ was even said to be the Antaeus of the garden they made, and the boys looked up to him because of it. Secondly, Antaeus was said to be this strong giant that won all his battles through the help of the earth Goddess. Well TJ won friends by planting new ideas into their heads (such as the garden). Both are strong, and earthly. It's really easy to make comparisons between the two, and that's why it's such a nicely picked title!

~Jordan Fruit~  

 

3.  Why was it so important for TJ to do what he did at the end of the story?

This part was easy for me to understand. The creation he made was his. He saw it all has his own. It was important to him, and made him feel at home in the big city. When these men said they were going to tear it down it hurt. But I know if I was in his position I would want to destroy it myself too. That's how I am with my things, my stuff, my creations. He wasn't going to give the men the satisfaction of tearing his things apart. This also reminded me of "Of Mice and Men" when George killed Lenny, and when candy's dog was killed. And in the end he got the satisfaction of throwing it in front of the building, kind of a kick in the face to them. But the main idea is that it was important for him to have the final say in his project.

~Jordan Fruit~ 

 

 

 

8/31/09 WEEK 3

Great job on wiki 3! You really got into these!

1. Does this story fall more into the category of horror... or into the category of sci-fi? How do you think it stacks up compared to the original by Poe? Is it better or not as good? Why?

I think this story is more of a horror then a sci-fi. I think, even though it is taking place in the future when people can buy property on Mars and build homes there... it involves the knocking off of people. ALmost 25 people die in the story, under scary circumstances. And Stendahl himself reminds me of a mad scientist, a plotting, dark, and deranged character. The fact that he makes this spooky house just to kill a bunch of party guests is spooky. A more sci-fi movie was There will Come soft rains. He's a serial killer, and in a lot of scary movies that's what people find scary.  

~Jordan Fruit~ 

 

2.  Also, feel free to discuss how the author manages to make you "feel" sympathy for the house.

Well reading "August 2026: There Will Come Soft Rains" I felt sorry for the house throughout the story. The author talks about this house that was built to be some extrordinary piece of work. Its man's dream and creation, it was made to make life practical and perfect. But here this house is functioning perfectly fine, but it's to no use. No one lives in it, no one appreciates it. It just kind of coexists. It doesn't have a purpose and yet it still works. When I really feel sorry for the house is when it comments about how silent it is. And one part  that really stands out is when she computer generated voice is telling a non-present child a poem. And when the computer got no response. It makes you feel sympathetic to the house.       

 ~Jordan Fruit~

 

 

 

8/24/09 WEEK2

GREAT work on wiki 2! I really enjoyed your thoughts on the second question... I guess because you've been involved and have made up your OWN mind on the topic! Good!

1. First question; what is the main reason people have so much difficulty simply being HONEST or at least up front in dating situations?

Ha, well there are a lot of reasons why people are dishonest. Maybe the biggest is just to not hurt others feelings, especially with something as personal as dating. With relationships people put themselves in vulnerable positions, and sometimes people don't want to hurt others when they do have their heart on the line. But... the guy in this story is a jerk. Did he have to say "I'll call you" especially if he knew he wasn't going to. The guy could have gotten away with just a "goodnight", a "farewell", even today's "later ;)" but no he did put her hopes up. Sometimes guys aren't honest to protect another's feelings, and sometimes their just liars. Personally, I'd rather have my feelings hurt upfront rather then be upset for weeks until it finally hits me. But, I'll admit it, it's easier to lie. "Of course your better looking" and "sure you treat me wonderfully!". Sometimes It's just easier to tell them what they want to hear. And sometimes you can slide by the questions without having to lie. The guy in the story didn't have to say anything. Why say something like that to put a girls hopes up? He played with her like a toy, and that's completely different from being honest or lying.

~Jordan Fruit~ 

    

2. To bring this story into a more modern context... today, guys and girls will often accept disrespectful or even abusive treatment from someone they're dating, just to keep the relationship. Does this story offer an insights into WHY teens do this and what they SHOULD do instead?

 Yes, this story makes me think back on my past relationships and how I would tolerate everything just to stay with this person. I guess the reason why people will put up with the disrespect and the abusive behavior of others is because at least they're with someone. At least they can tell themselves "oh well I have a boyfriend/girlfriend, so at least someone's there for me". But when your single and trying to find someone, your in for major let downs. When your in a relationship your going steady, and your not getting your chain jerked around. The story made me realize why being in a relationship feels so much safer. Because when your in a relationship you don't have to make attempts at girls/guys. Your just stuck in tiem with your boy/girlfriend.  I guess the story gives some insight like for one, it's better to be less serious with guys specially over such small stuff. Don't make everything as big as it seems, and don't fall like an idiot at first sight. And maybe the ending even shows how sometimes its just best to laugh it off. I almost think it's best in your teenage years to take relationships less seriously. I used to be a hopeless romantic, but after experiencing just a year of dating, my thought completely changed. And so, I feel that emotionally it's best to just stay unattached until later on. For now, it should just be about having fun; and if your not then get out of the relationship.

~Jordan Fruit~     

 

 

8/17/09 WEEK 1

 

1.

I think Crane titled it “The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky” because the fact that Jack Potter got married changes a lot in the story. Him brining a wife home changes the town and townspeople (Scrappy). Like when Scrappy was ready to shoot him he stopped because Jack was now married. So I think the title fits well. I don’t know why Crane left out her name but he didn’t give everyone names in “The Red Badge of Courage” either. He just gave names like “Loud Soldier”, “Short Soldier”, and “Tall Soldier”. I guess the reason why I think he didn’t give her a name is because she isn’t really an important conflicting character but more or less a solution.

~Jordan Fruit~ 

 

2.Why is violence more often seen as the "easier" answer to a conflict situation? Is it really?

 Well it's just human nature I suppose. When people get to a certain point, reason falters and a more animalistic side slips in. It's so much harder to control your temper then to just go for them. For instance, my little brother and I argue constantly. It's so hard to just not go at it sometimes. When someone pushes your buttons and doesn't stop reason just deminishes. But you know it depends on the person and the person starting a conflict. Like it would probably be easier to fight with a stranger then say a boss or someone of importance. I just think it's a lot easier to lose it then to keep your cool through escalating conflicts.

~Jordan Fruit~    

3. Now the really fun question: Should Grannies go about giving little kids sticks and sending them out to "battle" other kids??? (personally, I am a granny... so I am very curious as to your advice on this!) :-)

   Nah, Give them a sword. That way they have an upper hand. Ha! :-)

No no I'm just kidding. I liked what the crafty grandma did. She boosted him up with an entertaining story, and built some strength in him. But in actuality she was just stalling him so when he did go, he wouldn't have any problem with the valentine gang. The grandma did a good job at helping her grandchild. She solved his problem with reason, no violence, and a confidense jump. I also enjoyed how the little boy was so surprised by the grandma's advice. It was clear he was not expecting that. She sounds like a pretty awesome grandma. :)   

~Jordan Fruit~

 

Good work on wk. 1 - I really enjoyed your ideas.... you also did THREE entries when you didn't have to.. that impressed me!