The Challenges of Sin

Because I felt like typing it out. :)


He was a simple man; although he could hardly claim the title of manhood. In truth, he was naught but a boy with the demeanor of a cold-hearted killer who executed orders given to him by higher powers. He was noble and just, as he would demand the life or item of the client equal to the sin of hiring him to assassinate a chosen individual. He was kind and understanding; as a child he often tormented a friend by forcing her to undergo rigorous training, knowing that she could rise above it stronger and wiser than before. Sin's sky blue eyes withheld all within the dungeon of his mind, yet a single smirk or chuckle could give away his true feelings. He was not one suited for the role of assassin, but he was worthy and skilled so another to be chosen for the task was foolish. It was what he aspired to be, like his father before him, but his father mysteriously disappeared and was rumored to have been captured and killed. Yes, in many ways he was but a child, but his stature and resonance of a calm, resulted aura would fool even the trained eye into believing he were a man. As such, much was expected of him and he met those expectations accordingly. He was responsible and wished to be taken seriously and his loyalty proved just that. Yes, he was still a child in the role of a man and his full transition to one was still beyond his reach.


Fierce as he portrayed himself to be his eyes could not hide the horror, even for the slightest moment, at the command that he must annihilate a special individual. It was the very same friend mentioned before, the one whom he had trained as a child, who was confirmed to have turned rogue and betrayed the people she was destined to rule. Sin searched in the eyes of his employers, the heads of the Council, but failed to find a trace of levity to imply a friendly joke. The command was absolute and the fear and sorrow of such an order gently glazed the eyes of every member; one in particular, the girl's father, was the most noticeable. He along with his wife had little hope for their child; they had believed she could not be a ruler to reign with an iron fist. They had allowed Sin to train her, but results of such were unsatisfactory. Another was called in to take over the process, the very one who stood at the end of the Council seats as the Royal Advisor looking just as shocked and fearful as Sin felt. The reflective feelings were echoed within the Royal Advisor but Sin gathered his composure within seconds. Fear and sorrow no longer clouded his judgement; rather, it was relief and peace he felt beating in his chest. He had been awaiting this day; for you see, he had been present during the girl's transformation into the treasonous and dangerous foe she came to be. He thought, at that moment, he had convinced himself he forever lost the companion he was so eager to see each and every day. No, that girl is lost, he had said, dead to me like the winter's frost that mercilessly kills any and everything it touches. It is what he attempted to convince himself, yet during the confusion and contemplation he watched and allowed her to escape from his grasp.


Yes, there was still doubt and he had been unable to accept it no matter how hard he tried. He needed to be strong; as his job as an assassin, he could not hesitate. Perhaps it was best, he concluded, to face this doubt and the memories of a sweet, determine girl intent on being stronger and step into the reality of a fiend who chose power over friendship. He glanced at the Royal Advisor, also a friend, as she shook her head in disappointment. Then, the pure irony of it all finally engulfed him. Wasn't he just the same?


He could not face it. His ruthless, cold heart began to thaw and crack. He would not kill his former friend. He would do everything in his power to bring her back alive and well. So, with this resolve, the fears of a boy were put to rest and the love of a man stepped onward.


By Alexis Kirtland
Written on 1/24/12

I Will Go Down Will This Ship

Coffee house tonight. It's like a talent show put on by the school. I'm going up twice; once with three others to do a Clap Happy routine, and another time by myself singing a song. I tried singing the song last time we had coffee house, but I was bumped off the list because people thought I "didn't want to do it." I wasn't the only bumped off and another student had to go and re-assign himself on the list. But last time, it was held by the Farm students and there was basically one girl who was on the stage at all times trying to hog the glory. I thought I was fine with it when they didn't call my name, but later I broke down into tears. I was going out on an emotional limb and it felt as though they shot me down.

So I'm going to try again tonight. Totally not ready for this, but at the same time I have been practicing. It's never easy to go up on stage, especially alone. Really, it's the anticipation that kills me than the actual performance. I know I won't break no matter how much I think I will. I just need incentive to keep plowing forward and do it. So, without further ado, wish me luck!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pwT2wiZsg0
Song: White Flag
Artist: Dido
I do not have or claim to have any association with this video.

The Last of My Dark Secrets

... or, "I Need to Vent 3." But really, this isn't something that's overall bothered me. And it's certainly not uncommon with anyone my age. Everyone makes a snide comment here and there about it.


"Me being born is a sin."

"I don't get why you like me so much."

"I'm such a screw-up."

For me, there's a fine line between revealing your innermost thoughts and doing it for attention. But, really, when one is depressed, they do need help to free themselves and sometimes their means of asking aren't always clear or expected. It's stuff we hear on a daily basis. Yet we dismiss it (or others will dismiss it for us) when it might've been the hardest leap that person made to even murmur such words of sorrow. Because none of us want to let it on that we don't have it all together. And when we toss aside our pride for the sake of help by simply uttering a truthful sentence, it is easily disregarded. And while friends will have the best intentions at heart to make sure everything remains the way it is, change is necessary for a strong relationship. It's alright to admit your closest friend is dying inside. It's alright to acknowledge that you may unstable yourself. Because although most of us just want understanding than just sympathy or empathy, our closest ties are what matters. Knowing you're not alone is truly a blessing, in my opinion.

I was exactly like that person stated above. Years before, I mindlessly threw around the idea of the elimination of my existence. I never made an effort to carry out these thoughts, but they consumed them nonetheless. It was especially horrible when I would become upset or angry. And I would've given anything and everything to make sure I never hurt anyone ever again.

My past is hazy so I'm not sure everything I say may be laid down in stone. But the first time I remember trying to reach out, it ended tragically. Or, to me, it seemed that way. One of my friends was revealing her inner thoughts to me as we exchanged texts; how she always thought about dying and taking her life. Here, again, did I feel like the victim. I listen to the woes of others and making them feel better ultimately brightens my day. Yet, they never ask me in turn what truly bothers me. Has Lexi thought about suicide? Has she ever hated herself with a burning passion before? Normally, people will not ask these questions about a person they think has everything. A loving family. A plethora of items and gifts. Popularity with almost everyone they meet. So, finally tired of my failed attempts to cheer her up, I challenged her about which of us was the more disturbed. She dismissed my comment; saying I had everything and therefore no reason to have thoughts similar to hers. I blew up the phone, squeezing as much as I could into 160 characters. I don't even remember what I said. But it was enough to scare her. She replied and told me to never say such things again and how horrible those words were that I relayed to her. It was at least three years ago that that happened. I'm not even sure she remembers it.

Then there came to be a turning point in my thought pattern. No, I still continued to think about losing my life. But, after a deep discussion with my mother over the play Antigone, I realized how powerful and harmful suicide was. Would it put my mind at ease, maybe, probably not, but it would certainly devastate any and all who ever cared for me in life. So, I deliberated. I didn't think I had any right to continue existing, but now there were no thoughts about, "what would happen if I took this knife and cut myself?" or "what if I burned the house down?" Instead I had, I'd like to call it, "accidental" thoughts about suicide. Things such as, "I wouldn't care if a car came and crashed through my window" and "I deserve to be shocked dead" (as I plug in a power cord into an outlet). Okay, so not very suicidal, but nonetheless very depressing.

Sometimes I catch a glimmer of that depression now and again; a thought that makes me wish I had never been born. Mostly when I'm upset or angry, again. So I think it's alright now. I mean, I'm not cured, but social life has definitely given me a distraction. And for those friends who still relay me their innermost feelings, I willingly reassure them how things can turn around and get better. I think my stubborn personality evolved from my depression. I refuse for a friend to be depressed or sad. I refuse for them to give up, knowing they can go on. I refuse to be trapped in the darkened corner of my mind and play the victim when I know there are those out there who really need my support. Because, all in all, making others feel good is what truly makes me happy.

I Need to Vent 2

So, because I'm still in a somewhat crappy mood from last night, I'm going to do another post of personal pet peeves of my past. Actually, just one in particular. And it's the one that I think hurts the most because I have to face it almost everyday on social networking sites.

I've stated before in the previous post that I don't trust my dog to not piddle on the floor as I'm taking him outside to do his business. That's just a small taste of my serious trust issues, which I'd like to believe began with that one event that (I firmly believe) changed my life forever.

In elementary school, I had a best friend who shared the same first name as I. So, because of that, we attempted to find outfits that matched. We would call each other the night before and coordinate our attire to make it seem like we were twins. And like twins, we had a lot of similarities. We liked video games, we liked Pokemon, we watched the same TV shows, and we loved to draw. Yet, also like twins, we also had a lot of opposing traits. She was very athletic, able to do cartwheels with just one hand. She would play soccer with the boys during recess, she was on a local baseball team, she was a risk taker, a total tomboy. And, believe it or else, I was more close to a girly girl than ever before in my life. I wore pink, wore skirts, I liked boys, my favorite thing to do was WALK AROUND THE PLAYGROUND DEEP IN THOUGHT. This is not to say everything I did was of a stereotypical girl. I enjoyed the swings, I drew things for other people because they knew I was good. I even one time colored in a truck completely in black, something that was a "guy thing" back then (which surprisingly none of the boys had actually colored in their ENTIRE truck in black so they were fawning over me~).

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. What I remember most, despite all these things I've mentioned in great detail, were the sleepovers. We had them constantly, alternating between each others' houses. We played with Bratz and Barbies, traded Pokemon cards, played a video game... We were inseparable.

Or... so I thought. That little bubble of perfection was soon popped and opened my eyes to the truth. And it was during my homeschool years, I believe. We arranged to have a double sleepover, at her house first and then she'd come sleep at my house the following day. It was a genius idea and we were eager for those days to arrive. I don't even remember the day and a half I spent at her house. I assume we had a good time, but it's importance has been lost with time. Because it was the second part of the sleepover at my house that mattered the most.

The night of the sleepover at my house we were negotiating and trading Pokemon cards. Some we refused to give up because they were too valuable to us. We didn't trade based on stats; we traded based on the quality of the pictures on the cards. If they weren't appealing to our eyes, we wouldn't trade for them. So, naturally, some trades didn't occur because of that. Eventually, though, we were content with what we had and retired for the night and our game would resume the following morning. Around noon, her mother had arrived and she obliged to help me clean up. Our teamwork quickly tidied up the house and she left. I was satisfied, I was content, happy... I picked up the book which held all the cards I had ever collected and, as a favorite pastime of mine, I looked through the pages to gaze at the beautiful pictures.

And then I was horrified. Of course I panicked and looked everywhere I could but the missing cards were no where to be found. Did they get lost in the shuffle of all our fun? Could it have been a mistake? Three calls were made to her household; on the third count her mother warned her it would be the last call ever made on the matter. Then, finally, she caved and revealed where the missing cards were stashed.

In the pages of her Bible.

I'd like to say I immediately cut ties with her and pushed her out of my life, but, unfortunately, I still believed there was some good in her. So, as a result of my ignorance, four additional thefts occurred. A video game, dolls (which were returned of her own accord), a suspected stolen movie, and bobble headed animals. THEN, and only until that very moment of the morning when I discovered the missing bobble heads, did I severe the small threads of hope for good. And for the next several years, I was happier.

Until her image popped back up around freshman year on the social networking site, Facebook. She friended me, commented on statuses and pictures... as though nothing had changed between us. As though we were still friends. Seeking me out, as she had done to instigate our first meeting, and then forcing me to push her away because of her own actions. And now she wishes to rebuild what was lost.

My mother wishes for me to forgive her, to pity because she's a lost little soul with her tattoos and piercings. She's crying for help, she says, you shouldn't keep holding this grudge. And as sympathetic of a person I am and how non-shallow minded I am, I refuse. I refuse to throw aside the memories just to be hurt again. The scars hurt at the sight of her and I'm afraid it will take an entire lifetime before I can feel maybe even an inkling of pity or forgiveness. I'm not the one who screwed up, who separated us and ruined the friendship that we had. I suppose, more than anything, I'm waiting for an apology.

In the meantime, I can't have my mind dwell on the pain she has caused me. I can't let her control my life just because she is a lost soul in need of guidance. I have learned my lesson and I have already moved on. I don't want to live in the past.

So, that's what I think made me so guarded and not trusting. It may also be why I don't open up my feelings and true thoughts to people. I don't know, it makes me sound like a helpless victim. It's not as if I still don't do what I love or that I don't have friends. In fact, I'd say I have thrived and grown these past few years. I'm still standing. I'm still capable of trust. I'm still me. :)

So, I Have A Puppy...

... and he is absolutely the most adorable thing ever! Five months old, Schnauzer-Poodle mix, nice mellow personality... Only sometimes he forgets himself. This has resulted in numerous scenarios. He's learned how to jump off the couch and recently has accomplished in jumping back onto the couch (this seems to only be possible if he frisky and wants to play)... and then he piddles when he's excited. Now, I know he's just a puppy and there are certain things he can't help and, as his mother, I'm obligated to teach him and remind him the rules of the house. Which was what I had to do last night, after I had JUST taken him out minutes before. Ugh. So, I punished him, told him it was bad, that he was naughty, and the like. Around an hour and half passes by before I decide to forgive him. We resumed playing until he was content with chewing his toys by himself. It was perfect; I had to start on my homework anyhow. My studies were interrupted when my mother, on an adjacent couch to the one where I was sitting, suddenly says, "Oh, he needs to be spanked for that."

Yes, he piddled on the floor AGAIN. In the same night. Within four and a half hours he piddled twice. After I had just punished him and then just began to forgive him. That was the last straw. He would be stripped of the privilege of sleeping with me at night on my bed.

Now, Lord knows why, but whenever he makes a mistake or has an accident, I cry. Out of frustration, sure, and also makes me think I'm a terrible mother. How I can't teach an apparently intelligent breed to NOT go in the house. I know it will take time, but it still disappoints me every time he does it. Especially this time because he did it twice in a row. Like, I didn't punish you just for you to do it again cuz you felt like it. I gave you PLENTY of opportunities to go outside. And you just piss on my hospitality, on my rules, on my love. There was no excuse for that second "accident." And people wonder why I carry him everywhere. Because I don't trust him to not go on the carpet. I'm not sure I ever will, even when he becomes full grown and knows better.

But he loves me. I know he does. He mourns when I leave; he doesn't eat when I'm gone, doesn't play with his grandma, doesn't chew on his toys, doesn't wander around looking for scraps. He becomes little more than a living breathing stuffed animal. And when I'm around, he turns a 180! Very clingy and very one person kind of dog. So I imagine it's very traumatizing to go hours without being with his mother (which he was so accustomed to being with me all day over winter break) and in this state of confusion, fear, anxiety, he forgets his place in my presence. I imagine, I HOPE, it will become easier as he gets older, as this routine becomes natural for him and he'll be more cooperative.

All in all, while I may be a "good mother" as my mother believes I am, this puppy has reinforced my adamant desire of not wanting children. EVER. Lol.

Trimester 2 Praxis Question

Praxis Question:

How do things evolve?


These types of questions are required to be answered in a well researched essay that pertains to the daily life of an individual as well as that individual's classes, technology, community, and the like. A question is presented each trimester; the first trimester's being "What is more beneficial, success or failure?". Afterward, a presentation must be given in groups of three a week later that displays what is understood and interpreted of the question in a new and creative way. These questions are meant to get us thinking; there is scarcely a moment where they have a factual answer. When you get down to it, it is basically a very educated persuasive essay with work from classes as proof as such.

To help clarify a few points of the question, our teacher helped dissect certain aspects of the question. What "things" are we going to discuss? What is the difference between change and evolution? While the first question was easily answered with things such as objects, living things, cultures, and technology, the second was a little harder to interpret. What was the difference, if any? To me, it seemed evident that evolution was a change that responded to the environment that allowed something to adapt and have a higher percentage of survival. This process is slow, often expanding many years before a noticeable change can be identified. Change on the other hand seems more immediate and is brought about more from the mentality than an outside force; or, more precisely, the mentality that we must change in response to an outside force based either on need or want (while evolution is the process of change in response to a need). Change can affect a person's life dramatically and even the smallest incident can bring about an evolution of thought. Someone could change their entire outlook on life, evolving to adapt to that change either mentally, physically, or both. So, once you get down to it, change is a mere stepping stone in the process of evolution.

In my case, I find praxis questions quite enjoyable. I enjoy the conversations with my mother about these things, something she is equally jubilant about to converse with someone about these things. It is only today that I found out about the question. I can't wait to return home and enter a mind teasing conversation with my mother.