#rough draft 1

[kaboodlesofdoodles]

very very rough concept of the next piece I'm working in. Thin is what happens when I use zero references, you see that wolf's face? yeah. Use references boys and girls.

[justtaggingalongfortheride]

i finished. it might be terrible but i met the word count. i finished with an hour and 11 minutes to spare =)

having my mom proof read it and then showering and going to bed.

[justtaggingalongfortheride]

533 words. 467 more to go!

[foodmattersincom310byhvb]

Playing with Knives

(problem--solution organization)

Playing with knives and your food shouldn’t always be a bad thing.  Yes, playing with knives can be dangerous, but that’s how you learn the knives are sharp and how to handle them appropriately. As for playing with your food, I am referring to taking part in how it’s made. Too many kids in the United States are completely removed from where their food comes from and how it’s made. We need to start changing children’s relationships to food, starting with school lunches. Pam Belluck, a writer for New York Times, talks about a report that will be published in The New England Journal of Medicine that says the children today could wind up living two to five years less that their parents. Even if you don’t have children, this issue still affects you. Belluck mentions the consequences of obesity affecting issues like Social Security, pension plans, health insurance and health care costs. The report's authors say a positive spin on this obesity issue is that the U.S. may “be inadvertently saving Social Security by becoming more obese" and dying sooner.  However, they also point out that “this 'benefit' will occur at the expense of the economy in the form of lost productivity before citizens reach retirement and large increases in Medicare costs associated with obesity and its complications." So why blame the schools? Why not look directly into the homes? Well, kids spend a majority of their waking hours, five days a week, at school. A study in Pediatrics compared obesity rates in kids living in states with and without restrictions on the kinds of foods sold in schools. Turns out the kids living in states where schools don’t sell junk food are not as overweight. Responsibilities that were once the domain for parents only, such as teaching kids about sex or drugs, have become the school's’ responsibilities. Scott LaFee, from the American Association of School Administrators, quotes Dr. Howard Taras, an associate professor of pediatrics at the University of California, who says “whoever is providing food for our children should be responsible with what foods they provide. In fact, schools may bear a certain increased burden, because as a teaching institution, they need to be a role model.” Jamie Oliver, a trained chef, explains in a TED talk how he went to a class of elementary kids and asked them to name what vegetables he was holding.

None of the kids knew what the vegetables were.

Oliver said “if kids don’t know what stuff is then they will never eat it.”  This constant availability of all the wrong foods has led to an increase in: high blood pressure, strokes, heart attacks, early-onset Type 2 Diabetes, and premature deaths. All this can change by eating healthier foods.  We need to start increasing the knowledge and demand for regional food and sustainable food and we should do so starting with school lunches. If there’s nothing else to eat but what you feed the students, they are going to eat the healthy foods if that’s their only choice. Some opposition to this idea may be that taking away the kids choices only leads to more restrictions of freedom down the road, but Mary Ann Lopez, food service director in South Windsor, Conn., would disagree. “Kids will always buy the bad. It’s all or nothing. [...] Kids need time to adjust to new menus that don’t have the usual unhealthy foods. But they all learn.” If we want kids (future leaders) who are literate and focused, and not likely to have medical issues at a young age, then we need to make a change. The American Heart Association did a review of “evidence-based population approaches” to improving diets. It concluded that evidence supports the value of: intense media campaigns, on-site educational programs in stores, subsidies for fruits and vegetables, school gardens, work-site wellness programs and restrictions on marketing to children.

We need more people to follow in the footsteps of Ann Cooper, the renegade lunch lady for nutritional services in Boulder Colorado. Schools should provide the lunch ladies with the resources to bring healthier foods to the students, starting with kitchens that people can cook in and ingredients that aren’t fused with high-fructose corn syrup.  Even though Ann is openly against big agribusinesses and the USDA (who sets the guidelines for the national school lunch program), and therefore has biased points of view. Cooper points out that a lot of the politics around school lunches has to do with money and priorities. Cooper states that, in the U.S. nobody thinks for a minute about getting a four or five dollar coffee; a five or six dollar beer; or a glass of a ten or twelve dollar wine. “Yet, we’re spending a dollar on our kids’ lunches. We should be ashamed that we’re not caring for our kids the way we do for our coffee and beer and wine.” That’s crazy that we spend as much money on frugal things like coffee, wine and beer and schools only spend one dollar per meal when they’re supposed to provide protein, grain, fruits and vegetables, and milk.

According to the USDA guidelines, chicken nuggets, tater tots (the vegetable), canned fruit cocktail and chocolate milk (with high-fructose corn syrup) is considered a “healthy” meal. Now, at the schools Cooper influences, they spend about one dollar and fifteen cents to give kids roasted chicken, roasted potatoes, salad bar and white milk.

However, Marion Nestle writes in a food politics article that the current trends can be reversed. Nestle reports that Canadian researchers found kids were “three times more likely to choose healthier meals if those meals come with a toy and the regular ones do not.” As Jamie Oliver puts it, "you can care and be commercial."

Cooper also talks a lot about the importance of eating together and creating a community around food.  By changing the eating habits of kids the teachers are noticing a change; their behaviors have improved and kids are able to focus better and study more efficiently. It’s important to remember that kids have to be part of the process. We need to cook with them when teaching them how to cook. Schools should incorporate cooking classes and use gardens as classrooms for students, get them to understand the difference between what a potato looks like and what a turnip looks like.

  School lunches today are less about the food and more about finishing it as fast as you can because you only have 15 or 18 minute lunch periods; or so you can socialize or go out to recess early. Cooper says we should have at least 30 minute lunch periods.         -- get a quote from SSB about school lunches in Switzerland--

For those out there who say we can’t afford to give the kids healthier lunches, Ann Cooper is calling you on that bullshit. Even if you don’t care about children, it will cost you a lot of money to pay for the healthcare of the obese. Cawley and Meyerhoefer’s article in the Journal of Health Economics states that the U.S. spends 190 billion dollars annually for healthcare and lost productivity. Cooper states that we are spending 9.5 billion dollars for a year on school lunches and 260 billion dollars on diabetes and obesity.

Schools can learn how to start changing children’s relationships to food, in regards to school lunches, by using Ann Cooper’s website called “The Lunch Box Project.” This website tells schools how to segway from processed foods to healthy foods (recipes, menus, educational tools, videos).

Take a look at the school lunch silverware, or more so silver? where? They aren’t given knives and forks at lunch, no. They’re too dangerous. As Oliver points out “There’s scissors in the classroom, but knives and forks, no.” Therefore, schools are endorsing fast food because that’s handheld. Oliver believes students should leave high school knowing at least 10 recipes that can save theirs lives, after all, that’s what school is supposed to teach us--life skills. “If you can cook, recession money doesn’t matter,” says Oliver.  

--- still need to write conclusion...

Ann Cooper created a Meal Wheel demonstrating what we should eat.

[notebooksandtea]

Here:

I was so angry at my mother. How could she just suddenly decide that I had to go traveling with my brother? Whenever she left for business trip before she was fine with leaving me at home. But suddenly she decided that I should be supervised and therefore was being forced to tag along with his band on their tour like a dog on a leash. But she can’t control me. That was the reason I had taken the boy from the bar down the street back with me to the house. I wanted to prove to myself that she couldn’t monitor every part of my life.

I let the boy slowly pull of my jacket while his lips kissed on my neck. I pulled his mouth back up to meet mine and he pressed our lips together. His hands held onto my waist softly and I let him slowly push my back up against the wall, our bodies pressed closely together. There was a small bang as I hit the wall. He kissed at my neck again, more hungrily.

“Gentle,” I quietly whispered and he returned to softly brushing my skin with his lips. I heard the front door open and chose to ignore it. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him again, letting our lips meld together. Every time he tried to do something, I pulled him back to sweet kisses instead.

“Your brother is going to kill me if he sees me here,” the boy said softly in my ear as he kissed his way down my neck.

“He won’t mind, he could care less what I do,” I quietly replied back.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to be on the wrong side of Jacob’s temper,” he said, softly kissing my jaw. I froze. He kissed my jaw while I stood there still. I suddenly pushed his away from me and he stumbled back into the middle of the room.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” I said, walking over and finally taking a good look at the boy I had been kissing.

“Yes?” he replied with a confused smirk on his face.

“Aw hell,” I said, putting a hand up to cover my furiously red face. “I knew I should have paid more attention when he introduced you guys,” I said, beating myself up inside.

“Well Katherine,” he said emphasizing my name.

“Katie,” I corrected him.

“I still remembered it from when he introduced you to the band, didn’t I? I’m Nate,” he said with a wink. I pinched the bridge of my nose and pointed to the door.

“Oh god, just get out, please,” I muttered.

“We were just starting to have fun though,” he laughed.

“I have a boyfriend, get out of my room right now,” I said sternly. His face changed with the one word and he quickly and quietly snuck his way out of my room. He was out the front door before Jacob heard a thing.

It wasn’t long before Scott stopped by the house. He always visited every day to give me a kiss and tell me about his day at work. He was an engineer and adored telling me every little detail about it. He walked into my room and gave me a quick kiss and a hug. He reminisced about the day as I went into the kitchen and made us each a cup of coffee. I was just pouring it into cups when Jacob came out

“Got any extra?” he asked casually as he opened the door to the fridge.

“Sure,” I shrugged as I pulled down another mug and put the rest of the coffee into it for my big brother.

“By the way, next time you two decide to make out, try not to bang against the wall so loudly,” Jacob threw casually over his shoulder.

“What?” I said right as Scott said, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh please, I heard you two all up close and personal when I came into the house. You weren’t exactly being secretive, and my room is just down the hall from yours,” he said to me smugly. I swallowed the sip of coffee in my mouth like it was a rock. I had no idea how to cover this up so my brother didn’t find out about his band mate.

“Okay, sorry, next time we’ll make sure to be extra loud when we here you come in,” Scott joked. Just like that, the topic was dropped and all the tension left the air. Instead, it all decided to move to Scott’s jaw, which was tightly clamped shut as he grabbed his coffee mug and motioned for me to follow him back to my bedroom. I hung my head and silently followed him in shame, closing the door behind me. The first thing to happen was for him to spin around and grab my wrists, spilling my scalding coffee down the front of my shirt and burning my skin. Then he threw me down onto the ground.

“You made. Me look. Like a. Fucking. Idiot out there.” With each word another blow was absorbed by my body. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he yelled angrily, kicking me again, this time making contact with my chest and knocking the breath out of me. “Well?” he asked, looking down at me for a reply. As soon as my mouth started to open, he kicked me again, this time his foot colliding with my hip bone. “That’s right, you weren’t thinking. You whore. It was the guy I saw walking down the street away from your house, wasn’t it. Brown hair. Leather jacket. You’re my girlfriend.” He stormed across the room and ran a frustrated hand through his shaggy blonde hair. “Get up,” he sighed, walking over and gripping my upper arm in his hand. He hoisted me to my feet and helped straighten my shirt and hair while I tried to hold my breath, not letting any tears escape from my eyes to show my weakness.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me into his arms and hugging me tightly to his chest. “I just get so damn jealous, and the fact that you cheated on me…” he said, resting his chin on top of my head. “But I forgive you. Just don’t do it again, okay?” he said. He kissed the top of my head and then squeezed my hand reassuringly. “I have to go home now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He looked deeply into my eyes and I gave a small nod in acknowledgement and kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you,” he said before he left my room and closed the door behind him.

The next morning I felt gently at the multitude of bruises that covered my torso. They were all in places easy to conceal beneath clothing; my stomach, my hip, my sides. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a pale pink top, and a green cardigan. I headed out into the kitchen and started to make breakfast for myself, just some toast and eggs. And I carried on my day as if nothing unusual had happened. Because nothing had.

After the kicking today. I was lying with my back on the bed as Scott straddled me, using his weight to hold me down as his fist collided with my face. He must be really mad to hit me in a place that was not so easy to conceal. My eye throbbed with pain as he moved his attack down to the rest of me. I absorbed blow after blow that he delivered to me without so much as a scream or tear. He lifted my shoulders up and slammed me back down, knocking my head against the wood headboard of the bed. It made a resounding thud that left my head in a broken haze. His fist nicked my cheek again and I tried to turn my head to avoid it to no avail. Suddenly there was no more weight pressing down on me.

“What the hell?!” Nate screamed and he pushed Scott back into the middle of the room. Scott was in a fury and rushed at Nate, attacking him with all his pent up anger. The two boys struggled and fought. I slowly rolled out of the bed and crawled across the floor to the corner of the hotel room, where I huddled my knees up to my chest and curled into a ball. Hot tears burned tracks across my sore face as I silently watched the two boys fight. No one had ever come and stopped him. It felt like a violation of our privacy. I watched with wide eyes and no words.

Suddenly Jacob burst through the door; he has heard all the commotion the two were making and had come to investigate. He hurled himself into the middle of the fight and separated the two forcefully.

“What are you two doing?!” he spat angrily.

“This fucking person was beating the shit out of your little sister and I came in and pulled him off her!” Nate yelled back.

“Me? I was just on the bed with Katie and you came in and started attacking her because you were angry that that one time she cheated on me with you didn’t turn into anything else!” Scott screamed back.

“Well one of you has to be lying, so someone just tell the truth already!” Jacob demanded. “Where’s.-” He stopped talking as his eyes met my scared ones from my place cowering in the corner. He gave both of the boys a firm shove toward the door and closed it behind him, but not before yelling to the other band mates, who took the two boys and made sure to keep them separated.

Jacob started to pace back and forth across the floor, occasionally glancing over at me and then looking back down at the floor.

“Who was it?” he asked monotonously. I just shook my head. “How long has this been going on Katie?” he asked frustratedly, and I saw him glance over at me. But he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes were on my stomach, where my shirt had rode up to reveal the large purple bruises that covered my body. I reached a hand up and pulled my shirt back down over myself.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered.

“Doesn’t matter? I’m your brother, you should have told me!” he exclaimed.

“You don’t care. Just because you’re my brother doesn’t change that. Just leave me alone,” I muttered.

“Don’t you even start with me Katherine! Because if it was Nate and he’s been doing this to you while we’re on tour… I swear, I will kill him and quit the and. But if it’s Scott… You’ve been dating for two years now, since you were seventeen, and if he’s been hurting you that long… I will hit him twice for every time he laid a hand on you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Jacob, I’m fine,” I said quietly but forcefully.

“Hell yes you do, look at you, look at the state you are in. You can’t take care of yourself so now I have to do it,” he snarled.

“You don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to,” I said, standing up and pushing past him.

“Where are you going?” he called, trying to follow me. I quickly shut the door behind me and raced out of the building. I hid behind the bushes in the front of the hotel. I put an arm around my body, hugging my stomach that burned from where I had been kicked a few minutes ago. I waited there in intense silence for a few minutes.

I watched as all the boys came out. Jacob had his arm around Scott’s shoulder and was talking to him in hushed tense voices as they walked out of the building. Nate walked out, Rian and Travis on either side of him while they tried to talk the tension out of him.

“Remember to call and let us know as soon as one of us finds her,” Travis reminded everyone before they got into their respective cars and drove off. Once I watched both their cars turn the corner, I stood up and slowly made my way back into the hotel.

I drug my feet as I walked back into my room. My legs carried me into the bathroom and I turned on the shower as cold as it would go. I sat down underneath the water and pulled my legs up to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. I let the frigid water wash over me in silence. It was like ice, chilling me to the bones; I accepted it with open arms. My clothes stuck to me uncomfortably and my hair was plastered down to my head by the stream of liquid. Water drops dripped down my face and into my eyes. Soon the water stopped feeling so cold. My body became numb to match my mind.

I don’t know how long I stared off at nothing under that water, but at some point I realized there was a face in front of me. Their lips moved several times until my freezing ears finally picked up on their words.

“Yeah, I’ve got her, you can all meet me back here,” Rian said into his phone. He saw my eyes focus and quickly put it back into his pocket. “Katie, are you okay? You’re shivering,” he said sadly. I felt nothing. He stood up and searched around the bathroom for a second. He turned off the shower and then returned to kneeling down in front of me. He wrapped a towel around my shoulders and I could see myself reflected in his eyes, small and pale with blue lips and soaking wet clothes. He put his arms around me and guided me out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, gentle sitting me down on the bed. He took up the edge of the towel and started to wipe the water off my face, gentle after the first stroke when the rough fabric grazed my sore, bruised skin.

“Do you want to put on some dry clothes?” he asked me in worry, concerned for me getting ill. I sat there and stared at the wall in front of me numbly. He ran a hand through his dark hair once and then came over beside me and pulled off my dripping jacket, tossing it onto the bathroom floor. He put a new dry towel over my shoulders and then wrapped the blankets from on the bed around me tightly. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until I had seen my hand come up to grab the comforter and pull it closer to me; I couldn’t feel it at all.

Jacob walked into the room, all of his anger from before replaced by how upset he was. He walked over toward me and went to give me a hug, but I flinched away from the human contact. He retracted his hand and I saw the hurt I had just caused him in his eyes. The rest of the boys were out in the hallway, looking in on the exchange.

“Let’s get you into something dry,” he said, digging through my clothes and pulling out a dry pair of underwear, a bra, and some pajamas for me. He walked over to me and I leaned away from his outstretched hand. “For god’s sake Katie, someone has to stay with you!” I avoided his gaze and instead looked at my hands. Then my eyes quickly moved to the face of sweet Rian. Rian of kind smiles across the room, Rian who had found me shivering in the shower. “Fine! Now come get dressed and as soon as you are in dry clothes, we will all leave and he can stay with you, okay?” Jacob said in exasperation.

He guided me to my feet as the blankets fell from around me and carefully brought me into the bathroom. My arms hung limp at my sides and my head drooped down as I refused to be cooperative. He sighed and pulled my tank top gently over my head, then pulled my jeans down to my ankles.

“Kit Kat, you’re not being very sweet. Please,” he asked me nicely, using the old nickname from our childhood as a plea. I took the bra and panties that he held out to me and he spun around while, with frozen fingers, I slowly switched them out in place of my soaking wet ones. I tapped his shoulder when I was done and looked out with unseeing eyes as he pulled the blue t-shirt over my head and tied the strings to my grey sweats and then pulled a pair of socks over my feet.

He went back out and retrieved the towel from the bed and rung out my hair and then toweled the last remaining water off of it. He grabbed a hairband off of the sink counter and awkwardly pulled my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head. The he grabbed my hand and led me back out into the room and sat me back onto the bed, pulling the cover back up over me. The other boys watched me enter but I did not acknowledge any of them. I didn’t do anything except sit there and stare at the wall once more.

“Please man, she’s my sister, just this one time,” I heard Jacob beg Rian in hushed tones. Rian sighed and came to sit next to me on the bed, pulling me into his side and letting me lean my head on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he said sweetly, rubbing my arm comfortingly. Jacob looked back at us once, upset that he couldn’t comfort his little sister, and then left, closing the door behind him and blocking out the faces of the others. That night, I laid out in the bed and Rian was next to me on top of the covers. He rested his arms behind his head and told me little stories about his childhood back in Ireland before they had moved to America when he was ten. It was soothing, just the soft sound of his constant voice, and it soon pulled me into sleep.

The rest of Scott’s visit was tense for everyone. In those few days, Scott acted as if nobody had ever caught us, returning to his loving self. He walked me to the store with his arm draped casually around my waist, he brought me coffee each morning, and he constantly reminded me that he loved me. He did all the things that reminded me why I loved him so much.

Nate, on the other hand, was icy and distant. Jacob had the suspicion that he was the one who had beaten me up; not a bad conclusion to come to considering he had never seen the damage until I had come on tour with them. Because of this, Jacob made sure to always be there with me when Nate was so, as subtly as possible, he could stand between us. Throughout those last few days, every time I saw Nate I was with Scott. Scott would not let him get close enough to talk to me, but even if he had, I didn’t want to talk to him. He had ruined everything, created chaos within my family. Nobody else ever saw, but when he saw Scott holding me, his jaw would clench ever so slightly and his hands would ball into tight fists. But I saw.

There were no other incidents during the visit, except once when Scott slapped me across the face for dropping his toothbrush in the toilet and lying about it. Nobody else had been in the room, and he hadn’t done it, so I shouldn’t lie and say I didn’t do it, because obviously I had. Slap. Apologetic eyes and a kiss and then he left to brush his teeth and I headed off to bed. Since Jacob blamed Nate and I would not tell him the culprit, he found no harm in me continuing to share a room with my boyfriend.

That was what scared her. She knew it was wrong, and yet it worked. Her mind rationally told her to stop, all the reasons it was bad. But her body reacted. And it felt good. And so it became a game of mind over matter. The release that came emotionally from her body also translated into her mind, and just like that, matter won. She knew the consequences, she knew the flaws, and she still chose relief. It terrified her because she didn’t want it to help. But it did. So she let it become her outlet. Pain for pain. She drew the blade across her wrist and felt it flow out of her. In its place came comfort.

I wanted him to yell, to get angry, to hit me. I needed him to do something other than stand there sad and beg and apologize. I needed him to prove to me that he shouldn’t have any doubt, to validate in my mind that I was one hundred percent sure about this decision. But all he did was look at me with teary eyes, make one last plea, and then go.

“Yeah, I’ve been going to a specialist ever since you mentioned it to me. I’m getting better.” And she could tell, not by his words, but by the new way he held himself and the tone of his voice was different, calmer, less aggravated. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Is that a subtle way of asking if we can try ‘us’ again?” I asked, putting my hand out a little toward his. He had changed, I could tell, and I had not fear of him and no grudge had ever been held in my mind.

“No,” he said, forcefully putting his hands into his pockets. My hand dropped down by my side and he saw my upset eyes, so he continued. “Katie, I messed you up so bad, so bad. I feel guilty about it every time before I go to sleep, and I probably will have to live with that until the day I die. No, I could never do that again. I’m already full of too much regret.”

“I would have gone down a bad road on my own anyway, I was so messed up in the head,” I explained.

“I still feel terrible about it,” he said, looking down at his feet in shame.

“Scott, just know something,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You are forgiven.” He looked up and gave me a half-hearted smile. I had wanted a full one. “Do you have a girl?” I asked playfully.

“Well… There is this one girl that goes to my same psychologist. She has really bad anxiety issues though, so I’m taking it slow so I don’t freak her out. We are becoming friends right now, and maybe later I will ask her out to coffee or something,” he said hopefully with a goofy grin on his face. I felt a small weight of guilt liftoff my chest as I realized Scott didn’t hate me for the break up over the phone anymore, and he even had moved on and was happy.

“Thank you,” I said as I hugged him. He held on to me for several extra seconds, and then sighed and let me go.

“I’ll see you later maybe,” he said, waving and heading off back down the street he had come from.

“Scott!” I called after him and he momentarily turned.

“What?” he asked with a laugh.

Why did you ask that question? About a boyfriend,” I asked, perplexed. He only chuckled, pushing his hands deep into his coat pockets. “What?” I said in response.

“How’s your brother?” he yelled as he spun on his heel and walked away.

“Good. Scott! Why did you ask?” I yelled.

“How’s his band?” he said, but before I could respond he yelled once more. “And most importantly, how is Nate?”

“No, we’re not-”

“But you should be,” were his last words before he turned the corner and went out of my line of sight.

“Katie, is that you?”

I looked over my shoulder at the person that had spoken. He was wearing a big tan jacket, his hands pushed deep in the pockets to avoid getting cold from the overcast, chilly weather. His shaggy light brown hair was being pulled into his eyes slightly by the small breeze that accompanied the autumn day. At first the words would not escape past my pale pink lips. When they finally came, there were but a mere whisper.

“Scott?” My mouth was dry as I spoke, my stomach in knots. At the sound of his name, he took a step forward and 

I always loved the sound of rain, it pattering on the roof of my house, making its own little beat of music as composed by nature. I laid down on my bed and buried my face into a pillow, sighing as my body hit the blankets. I was extremely tired after a very long day. I could hear the clock on the table next to my bed ticking quietly in rhythm, adding another layer to the sound being tapped out around me. The beats melded together and I let myself drift off to sleep without changing into pajamas, without taking off my makeup, without pulling the blankets over me. I passed out, welcoming sleep with open arms as it blurred the world around me.

He leaned forward and very softly pecked my lips, then leaned back. I saw his eyelashes flutter as his eyes opened. He watched me, measuring my reaction. I lifted a hand up and gently touched my lips with my fingers.

“Do that again,” I whispered, and he leaned back down and sweetly pressed his lips back to mine. He tilted his head slightly and put a hand up to my cheek to cradle my face as we kissed. I pulled back and felt at my lips again and he started to smirk at my expression in confusion. “I’ve never- Scott was always so forceful and hungry with his affection, and you’re just so gentle and comforting,” I said in awe. He smiled sweetly and leaned back against the wall.

“Well you’re fragile so I wanted to be careful,” he said kindly. I immediately tensed up and my eyes went out of focus as my mind put back up its walls. He noticed the sudden change and quickly tried to backtrack, but too late. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know exactly what you mean Nate. But I’m not a window that can shatter and break at any minute. I am fine. I think I can hear someone calling my name,” I said, standing up from my place seated on the speakers. I tried to push past Nate, but he grabbed my arm as I tried to walk back out toward the stage.

“Katie,” he said in hurt.

“Let go, just get off,” I said, forcefully shrugging his hand off of me and making my way past him.

I couldn’t handle it, I was at tears and my whole mind was slowly breaking down as my emotions deteriorated. I was not at home where I could hide away and have a sink near me. I just took out my house key and stood very close to the curtains. The metal scratch back and forth until it drew blood, and I kept going. I kept sawing until the guilt had washed away, until there were no more tears coming from my eyes anymore. My wrist was a mess and I had no water to wash away the blood, nothing to bandage it up with. But I was desperate for the relief and I could not manage without it this one particular time. I wiped the key off on the stage curtains and pushed it back into my pocket. I gritted my teeth as I wiped of the majority of the blood off my wrist and pressed my hand over it to put pressure on it until it stopped flowing freely. It stung and with each bit of physical pain, the mental pain subsided.

“Good morning beautiful,” Nate said as I walked into the room on my way toward the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. I ducked my head so none of the boys would see my blush. I started the coffee pot and put some bread in the toaster. Then I snuck my way down the hall to the bathroom. I closed the door and locked it and took out my phone, finding the tool I needed. I held the camera up so I could see myself in the reflection of the mirror. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and then opened my eyes with a smile plastered on my face. And I gave a genuine smile because I felt beautiful. I wanted to record this outfit, because according to someone, when I was dressed like this I looked good. So I could wear this again and know I would look nice, and therefore I would feel nicer. I saved the picture and headed back into the kitchen to get my toast before it burned.

“Hello gorgeous,” Nate told me as I came out of my room to fetch a cup of coffee before I headed back into my room. They boys were having a movie day for their one day off, and I was in my room watching my own movie on my laptop. I got my coffee and went back into my room and snapped a picture of myself. Every time he greeted me that way, whether it be beautiful, gorgeous, lovely, or pretty, I just got the feeling of actually being worth something, of genuinely believing his words, even if it was just for a minute or so.

Writing songs was now a necessity. I couldn’t get enough paper, enough notebooks, enough things to write on or things to write with. My room was littered with crumpled up pages and notes thrown across the room. The music was my new outlet; it brought me back into myself.

“What does this page say?” he asked causally, picking up the balled up notebook paper and unfolding it, flattening it out on his jeans before holding it up to the light to read. “Open up my skin and out flows my soul/ I’m always feeling my best when I don’t feel at all.” He looked up at me will sorrow filled eyes and placed the page onto the bed and reached for another.

[sansfaireunbruit-blog]

~Rough Draft~ Help me edit? Ideas? More focuses? Better name?

The Freelice Community presents:  [ Voice of Compassion--Life Support]   

A nonprofit project dedicated to spreading understanding , compassion, helping people in times of need, and growth.

Requires:

The ability to spend x amount of time per week participating/dedicated to the project

Anonymity (this shouldn’t be done for recognition)

Genuine interest in helping both others and yourself (goes along with issues of anonymity) 

User to user interaction via submits, asks, venturing out through tags

The focus(es):

Positive body image

Confidence and the Acquisition of a Passion

Inspirational 

Racism/Racial Relations Discussional Posts

Women's Societal Oppression/Male Privilege Discussional Posts

Positive Role Models

General Support (a)

Needing help against bullying of an individual (sending support)

Needing help for awareness purposes/ raising awareness

Positive support

Emotional Support (b)

Depression*

Going through a tough time/needing someone to talk to (personal issues)

ED’s / EDNOS*

Suicidal *

Anxiety*

[Note for * items: We will not claim to be experts or any form of therapy against serious issues. Blogmembers/mods/followers continue to encourage people to visit their therapists, doctors, seek treatment, and talk out about it, whether it be to yourself or someone they trust.Be there for someone who needs help. ]

Questions:

1. What day should we dedicate to positively going out among various tags and engaging users who may be having a tough time in conversation or leave positive  messages in people’s inboxes? Do you think it's a good idea?

2.  Do you think we should form teams that target specific issues if enough people wish to help?

3. Anymore?

What we still need:

Moderators (so far there are ~1-2 other mods - not including myself) The more the merrier. You don't have to be a freelice, or a freelice follower, a truthblog or anything of the sort to participate. Although, do note that this project is of the freelice community.

Better Name ? >.> It sounds cheesy to me and I don't know how I feel about being the one to come up with the name ...>.< 

Graphic Designer: A pretty poster and a legit looking insignia would be cool ;-; idk, anyone who wants to can submit something for this, I think we should vote for the one we want in the end if more than one is submitted.

DISQUS: What I believe to be a great tool that'll allow for user friendly interaction. Should we use it? Certain posts may be heated, any idea on how we can control a situation where things may get heated or should we avoid it all together?

If you want to mod, please see my last post here and answer as best as you can in an inbox. No need to copy it verbatim or answer each question one by one. Since I know most the freelice blogs, I will happily add any of the blogs  in the directory as a mod also. :)

What do you think?

Rough Draft 1 

2012.06.06

Edits have been made

(2 more discussional topics have been added to raise awareness to certain issues and 1 new question has been added concerning Disqus)

2012.06.07