Blogger by Force, Not by Choice. The ramblings of a high school student. A day to remember, not to celebrate. She looks at his picture and cries. You invite all your friends to your cookout. She sits on his grave and tells her kids all about their daddy.

The man reaches the last bit of the street and ducks into an alleyway; this will be his bed for the night. The man lies down on the lightly dusted ground. His eyelids have suddenly become very heavy. The man rests his head on the snow-laden ground and closes his eyes. I suggest you stop struggling Mr. Williamson I am what you think I am I was never aligned with my fathers aims. If his mind would h.

Why? What exactly is the point of the competition? What does Shane see in it? I mean sure, the publicity is insane, and the media covers the event like wildfire raging through a field of dry grass.

This story is a continuation of my third week paper.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Where else can you find me. Adventures of the time lady. St Patrick and the beginnings of Christianity in Ireland.

Coach Wilburn worked the Kinston High School track team hard. It was a hot day for spring, and the team was sweaty and tired from running. You smell like a pack of seventh grade boys! April 29, 2015.

Another Six Weeks on the Inside. Where else can you find a blog that will only exist for six weeks other than Mrs.

I am a dawg that blogs. Can you come down here for a second? 8221; She says, trying to stifle the playful tone with something a little more harsh. She glances at me, standing in the kitchen, gives a little wink; then looks back up to watch Missy trot down the stairs in her cute little fashion. Tonight is a happy night! Time in a Highschool.