fire hazard

first of all, I'd like to say I hope everyone is ok and in their own home, because I can't imagine not having a house anymore. But if you at least have your family around you, you will make it.
OK, a really nice family I know were evacuated, and their house and all their belongings burned down. the parents make chocolate for a living (cool, I know) and lost all the equipment they had. So the mother, one of the nicest ladies i know, and trust me I know a LOT of nice ladies, posted on their website that they wouldn't be able to take any orders, because obviously they were kind of at a loss right? and the mother ALSO said, if anyone would like to help us in any way, please let us know.
And that was all.
come one, they had nothing!
well, some JERKS who i personally think are hateful and horrible and sick, told this woman who had lost EVERYTHING that they "couldn't believe" how the family was "begging" and how they should be ashamed and a lot more crap like that.
so, the nice lady called my mom, and just talking about it made her cry. she said it had come at "a bad time".
Oh. My. God.
A bad time???? she didn't have a home anymore! and people were MAKING HER CRY, because she didn't have enough to think about already!
ok, im calming down, sorry.
and on the other end of the spectrum, a soccer mom heard about the two boys and their plight and decided to donate brand new gear for both of them...
and she didnt even know them.
how can these two kinds of people- horrible and wonderful- be the same species?
well, I hope there are more of the wonderful ones...
because we need them.
love, gabby

i thought summer was over!!!

not that i don't LOVE not going to school (shhh dont tell) but ummm isn't summer over? and if it isn't, the water at the beach REALLY needs to warm up, cuz im freezing my butt off here! oh yeah and i kind of miss you guys. Kind of.
love, gabby

field trip (*cough* vacation)

so my dad asks what educational value our "retreat" has, and i told him none whatsoever. it was funnnnnny! and cool. well today is friday, and i am going to catch up on sleep for the week. happy birthday to brandee!
peace, gabby

turn turn turn

Ok, this is a writing assingment for mr. ross, my teacher. Im supposed to describe a person's life, based on a picture of a random person in a turnstile that i've never met before. here goes-

Cell phones are for losers.
This is the mantra of the single mother as she makes her way to the station. Her three year old is at daycare, her groceries are at home waiting to be put in the fridge, and she's here, romance novel in hand, rushing so as not to fail either one of these tasks. It's 3:30, and daycare picks up at 3:45. If she is late, they might revoke her privileges with her only child. Her milk, meanwhile, sits, curdling in its lonely wait, along with the eggs and cheese. She can't call her neighbor, the Hispanic man with the lisp, to put her food in that her friend delivered, and she can't call the day care, so that they don't think she has left her child, because of all the things that she believes in, she does not believe in cell phones. The social worker unit have a no-excuses rule, so if she is more than 5 minutes late, it might be too late. She struggles not to cry, pushing through the turnstile and hoping that for once, things will go her way. And when she borrows a patron's phone on the train and makes her life slightly sane once again, Ms. Olives realizes one thing.
Cell phones aren't for losers.
They are for people with lives.

haha not funny

(warning- this is a scary joke that makes no sense whatsoever. you have been warned)
THE DARK DARK ROOM

Once, there was a dark dark universe.
And inside this dark dark universe, there was a dark dark galaxy.
And in this dark dark galaxy, there was a dark dark planet.
And on this dark dark planet, there was a dark dark city.
And in this dark city, there was a dark dark street.
And on this dark dark street, there was a dark dark house.
And inside this dark dark house, there was a dark dark room.
And in this dark dark room, there was a dark dark bed.
And on the dark dark bed, there was a DARK DARK box.
And inside this dark dark box, there was...

A Bright Pink Jelly Bean!!!

This is my idea of tranquility, because the guy in the picture is all alone and it's... peaceful.

i am bored

yes this is random but it is also cool! you wish you were as cool as me...
peace love whatever
high five!
gabby

dust to dust

Delilah was seven years old when she was diagnosed with dyslexia. Her mother didn’t know what to make of it- everything her little girl saw was, well, backwards. Delilah was otherwise fine, eating and talking and laughing like any other child would do. But her one flaw was the thing that Delilah’s parents saw, and so the day before Delilah’s ninth birthday, her father took her an asylum, hoping they could fix her “affliction”.

This is Delilah’s story.

Daddy doesn’t look very happy. He says we are going somewhere special. I wonder if he got me the puppy I asked for. I’ve already figured out what I will name my new puppy- Bella if it’s a girl, Bob if it’s a boy.
Daddy tells me to get in the car, but he says it really mean. I don’t want Daddy to get angry, so I hurry.

We’ve been driving for a long time. This place must be really special! I try to be happy, but my stomach hurts. I’m hungry! I ask Dad if we can stop for something to eat. He stares at me the way Mom does when I try to read. Dad says we can’t stop. Why?

Smack! The door shuts. I must have fallen asleep, because I think we’re here. Daddy opens my door, and tells me to get out. I step out of the car, and Dad hands me my backpack. Why did he bring that? A tall man in a white coat comes from the big building we are standing in front of. He starts talking to my dad. Where are we? I strain to see the sign in the dark, but then I stop. I can’t read it anyway. I wish I wasn’t so different! Why am I-

“Delilah?” The man in the white coat speaks to me. He has a low voice that cracks a little bit. “Say goodbye to your dad now. We’re going to go inside.” He smiles, but it isn’t a nice kind of smile. My third grade teacher used to smile at me like that- like I wasn’t a “someone”, I was a “something”. I don’t want to go with the creepy man in the big coat. Daddy comes up and pats me on the shoulder. I go to hug him, but he shies away. What is wrong with me? The man tells me his name is Dr. Sharp. I start to cry. All of a sudden, two people pick me up and take me inside. I just want to go home.

It’s my birthday today!

I will be twenty-three.

Ms. Day brings in my food as usual, but it feels different compared to all the other days. I greet her as usual, taking my oatmeal. But today the gag reflex comes easier to me. Like I said it is a special day.

Dr. Sharp comes in for our monthly check-up, and tells me that he has some news. I hate news. Last time the doctor had news, I was being moved into a different part of the asylum. They said I was endangering the patients, and I needed to better serve my home. I was telling them a bedtime story! And this is not my home. And it isn’t a hospital, either. At hospitals they take care of you. They actually care whether you can sleep at night, or whether you have enough blankets, they care period. Not here. This is no hospital or home or anything even remotely good.

Dr. Sharp tells me that my father and mother died in a car accident. He says he is sorry, and gets up and leaves.

Oh my god.

They’re dead.

And I realize that no one cares. No one comes and says they are sorry for my loss. The loss of two people who probably never cared about me, about anything but themselves. Two people who I loved unconditionally until the day they gave me up just so they wouldn’t have to bear having a different child.

I cry. But not for my parents. I cry for the people like me. Because we still are people. And we always will be.

My birthday was yesterday. No one but me knew. No one but me cared. And so, no one but me will know that I didn’t die today. I was already dead inside.

Delilah died on April 13th. She was twenty-three. She was also patient #376. And now all that is left of Delilah is in a can in a lonely library with the label ripped off. Because more than anything, Delilah hated to be labeled.

poll problems

hey guys- as my poll shows im really sorry about being stupid. I'd just like to apologize again for being an idiot, and i don't actually care how smart you are. Im sorry if i offended anyone in any way, shape or form.
Now about my poll now- i was a.) happy that someone voted for "gabby", b.) happy that 2 people voted for the forgiveness one, and c.) wondering who called me obnoxious twice! jk. so i hope everyone knows just how sorry i am, and i hope that i've said sorry enough because i've just about filled my quota. (vocab word mr ross:)
love! gabby