Have you been with your Husband since you were 16? or younger?

I think I've fallen in love.


and i'm 15 He's older than me, he's 23


and he says he doesn't see me as young he sees me as a 20 year old becuase of the way i act,look and know.


We talk about having children and raising them,we talk about Lazy afternoons on sundays just cozing up in the bed watching piontless television or Black books or spaced.


We text allot, and i'm serious about it.


Can i ask you something, I'm having slight doubts, Like i'm gonna go to college next year and i think i might find someone else, but then i remember him,his face,his smell his funny personality and it makes me feel


Well screw the college boys, I love him.


He's everything i've ever wanted in a boy, and looks it aswell.





I dont know whats eating at me?


Any ideas?





xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx





Oh and dont worry I'm a virgin and i'm very strict on that, He says he will wait becuase he can, he lost his V in his teens and knows what its like








xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Have you been with your Husband since you were 16? or younger?
My wife was my next door neighbor we first met has children at the age of 5 for me and 3 for her. Time passed and yes we did get married and we at still together in our fifty's.
Reply:You are only 15, you are not in love with him, he is only telling you what you want to hear, he sees you young, ofcourse he is going to say that you are more mature for your age, he will treat you like a women. You should be going out with your friends, going to the cinema etc, doing what other teenagers are doing. You need to stay away from him, you think you love him, but you don't, this guy seems to be very clever for you, i seriously say to you is that stay away from him, you are too young to be in love, you should be studying for your GCSE's, and if he cared about you, he would not do what he is doing to you. How do you know, if he hasn't got a girlfriend, or he could even be married. Stay away from him, you should tell your parents about him, he is a cradle snatcher.. I am advising you as a mother of two kids who are older than you, but he is not doing you any right, he is taking advantage you, you hear alot about teenagers running away with older men.. Please be careful
Reply:Nope
Reply:no only about 1 in 10 million - and you too yung for him anywahs - he's a baby molestor... call da cops!
Reply:For gods sake ur only young %26amp; he should be wiv someone his own age .


Wot u gona do wen u fall pregnant %26amp; ur aving to stay in every weekend to look after ur child wen all ur mates r all going out clubbing %26amp; U CANT!! so be carefull!!
Reply:I met my husband when I was 16yrs and he was 18ys old we married a year later, We are still to-gether and have just celebrated 53yrs of married life. Yes I still love him and he still loves me, and always will.
Reply:met my husband at 14 been married 30 years this year and dont regret a minuet everyone used to say it wont last we proved em all wrong ...Just be very careful and sure about what you are doing ....Good luck
Reply:18 and husband 25. :) still together married 35 years now.
Reply:go to college and see what happens he loves u he wait

School Burn Out?

I'm currently a junior in college with a Communications degree, and am facing a complete inability to study. I know we all go through funks like this, but mine has been a few months in the running now. It's to the point where I do not know if I will pass my classes anymore.





It's a terrible cycle, the less I study, the worse I do in my classes, so the less I want to look at my text books. I have never been this bad in school, infact, I have always been extremely good with my studies. I have also been doing summer classes and classes over breaks for the past three years. I know I am in major burn out mode. I also do not even know what I want to use my degree for becuase it prepares me for careers I do not want, but I do not know what else to declair. So there is no motivation to even study anymore. I try to study several times a day and fall asleep each time. I know it is not a problem with reading comprehension, as I am fine in anything that is not schoolwork. Any ideas?

School Burn Out?
I'm right there with you, I just had a conversation with my best friend how I thought it would be fun to drive a tractor. You need to take a break, look at winter break as a time to fall in love with what you are doing all over again. As for now I have to swim every day to convince myself to go to class. find something else to do, I take a sword fighting class. Do your best and I know you will be fine. Also remember to take pride in everything you do, and that your grades are a reflection of your own determination.
Reply:Okay you're banging you head against the wall.


There are simply two options.





1/. Knuckle down big time and forget everything else going on around you and really give it 101% with your school work.





OR





2/. Just drop out know to give yourself time to really think about what you want out of life both and school and in the future. You could get a job and save a little money while thinking about it all.





You have to choose what's best for you.


Sounds to me like you really aren't ready for the school choice at this stage though.
Reply:I am a full-time grad student pursuing a dual MPA/MBA program and I certainly feel your pain. There are a couple of options including taking time off and changing your major. The third is, of course, to keep on track and in your rut, but I don't imagine you want that. If you are going to change your major, mayhap something more generic (e.g. business) that can transfer almost anywhere.





To break my rut a bit, I teach Krav Maga classes and workout a lot (and I have a normal job as well). I also minimize my study time to just the amount that I need to learn what I must at that point in time. This may or may not work for you in the short run.





Best of luck!
Reply:I think the problem is that you lack motivation and have no set goals. Maybe you should take some time and critically evaluate what direction/field you want to be headed at career-wise. You need something to work towards. Try to figure out what you are truly interested in and want to do.
Reply:I'm stuck in Life Sciences, and I'm in the exact same situation. The only reasonable idea I've had so far is that I'm just in the wrong concentration, and this is definitely not what I should be doing in life. Consider what's interesting and makes you happy. Maybe you're better off switching to it.
Reply:Get a complete physical then talk to a therapist.

Our New First Family? minus the photos b/c i can't publish them here .?

Our New First Family?








Barack stands behind Kezia (stepmother) in a Kenyan family shot. (Including brother Abongo "Roy" Obama who is a Luo activist and a militant Muslim who argues that the black man must "liberate himself from the poisoning influences of European culture." "Abongo's new lifestyle has left him lean and clear-eyed, and at the wedding, he looked so dignified in his black African gown with white trim and matching cap that so many of our guests mistook him for my father," Obama wrote in " Dreams From My Father"











"Barack Obama with his grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, in Africa in 2004.





This is a lie!!!!





His maternal grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, who seems to be glaringly missing from the campaign trail spotlight. She is refusing to give interviews, citing poor health. I hope this isn't a ruse to keep her out of sight because she is White, Because photo ops of Obama and his white grandma might not be what the Obama camp wants, at this point in time. And the above picture is very telling. Published 8/16/06 with an article about a trip to Kenya in 2004, in the Chicago Suntimes, there's a picture (at least for now) of "Obama with his grandmother (a very black) Madelyn Dunham." None of Obama's people have asked for it to be removed or addressed the issue, considering the photo was supplied by the Obama family.





Below is the real grandmother Dunham with grandfather Stanley. Is Obama ashamed that he is half White or maybe he is just after the Black vote.





Just who you are, Barack? Are your an American who will work as President to improve America? Or are African and your Goals as President is to Improve Africa?





Will the real Barack (Barry) Hussein Obama (Soetoro) please stand up








The autobiographical narrative tells the story of the future Senator's life up to his entry in Harvard Law School. He was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, to Harvard University-educated economist Barack Hussein Obama, Sr., of Kenya, and Ann Dunham of Wichita, Kansas. At the time of Obama's birth, both his parents were students at the East-West Center of the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Obama's parents separated when he was two years old and divorced when he was four. Obama formed an image of his absent father from stories told by his mother and her parents.





Ann Dunham Obama then married Big Oprah, an East-West Center student from Indonesia. The family moved to Jakarta. When Obama was ten, he returned to Hawaii under the care of his grandparents (and later his mother) for the better educational opportunities available in Hawaii. He was enrolled in the fifth grade at Punahou School, a private college-preparatory school where one of his teachers was the sister of Neal Boortz, the radio talk-show host. Obama was one of three Black students among the majority Asian-American population at that school. In an American school, Obama first became conscious of racism and what it means to be an African-American. At this point, his father came to visit him and his family; it was the last time that Obama would see him before his father's death in a car accident in 1982.





Upon finishing high school, Obama enrolled at Occidental College, where he describes living a "party" lifestyle of drug and alcohol use. He transferred to Columbia College at Columbia University, where he majored in political science. Upon graduation, he worked for a year in business. He then moved to Chicago, where he took up community organizing in the Altgeld Gardens housing project on the city's South Side. Obama recounts the difficulty of the experience, as his program faced resistance from entrenched community leaders. It was during his time spent here that Obama joined Chicago's Trinity United Church of Christ





Before attending Harvard Law School, Obama decided to visit relatives in Kenya. He uses part of his experience there as the setting for the book's final, emotional scene. The book includes a good deal of reflection on race and race relations against white people in the United States.

















Obama Pastor: 9/11 Wake Up Call For Whites


The following is from a pdf file of sermon from Barack Hussein Obama’s "spiritual mentor" as published in October 2003 issue of the Trinity United Church of Christ’s publication, "The Trumpet." (Published by the Reverend’s daughter.)





A Message From our PASTOR, Rev. Dr. Jeremiah A. Wright, Jr., Senior Pastor





In the 21st century, white America got a wake-up call after 9/11/01. White America and the Western world came to realize that people of color had not gone away, faded into the woodwork or just “disappeared” as the Great White West kept on its merry way of ignoring Black concerns.





Reverent Wright is the man that Mr. Obama claims got him interested in politics. He speaks of him as his political father and even his surrogate father.














January 21, 2007





When he took over Trinity United Church of Christ in 1972, Rev. Jeremiah Wright Jr. was a maverick pastor with a wardrobe of dashikis and a militant message…





Obama, was not a churchgoer at the time, but he found himself returning to the sanctuary of Trinity United. In Wright he had found both a spiritual mentor and a role model…

















In his 1993 memoir "Dreams from My Father," Obama recounts in vivid detail his first meeting with Wright in 1985. The pastor warned the community activist that getting involved with Trinity might turn off other black clergy because of the church’s radical reputation.





When Obama sought his own church community, he felt increasingly at home at Trinity…





Later he would base his 2004 keynote speech to the Democratic National Convention on a Wright sermon called "Audacity to Hope," – also the inspiration for Obama’s second memoir, "The Audacity of Hope."





Wright cautioned Obama not to let politics change him.

Our New First Family? minus the photos b/c i can't publish them here .?
You raise excellent points. Senator Obama plays up his Black Kenyan family but does not mention that his Kenyan family is ethnically Arab not African and classified as such in the Kenyan census. Technically Senator Obama is an Arab American with a smattering of Black African blood, from which he gets his skin pigmentation.





To qualify for minority status under US Federal law, the person must be 1/8 or 12.5% ethnically of a designated minority. Senator Obama is 6.25% as his last 'Black African' forebearer was a great great great grandmother. The Senator is technically 50% Caucasian (mother), 43.75% Arab 6.25% Black African (father).





Senator Obama gulled Colombia to gain admission as an 'African American', then gulled Harvard Law to do the same, and so far has done a great job gulling the American voters.





Arab newspapers have proudly pointed this out in the past! Why do you think the Senator has had so much financial help from Arabs--Rezko, Al-Sammarae, Auchi?
Reply:I'll just typed madelyn dunham in the images search engine of yahoo and two pictures poped up, both from middleeast.org. She must be the only person in the internet with that name. But there they are clear as day.





It is funny that you do not hear anything from half his family, the half he is not hitting up for donations.
Reply:His deceit ,will be brought to light. People in America are not stupid. the full truth will come full blown, then if people still vote for him. .they are crazy. Thanks for all this research. God Bless.
Reply:Interesting facts indeed.. I am surprised that Hillary does not pick up on it as if he is hiding his ethnicity then what else is he hiding?


But then there is the saying "Who ever expecting a Politician to be 100% honest with the American Public?". I think we all go to the polls hoping that we are voting for the best candidate and hoping nothing comes out of their background to make us ashamed of how we voted...
Reply:Barack Obama's Caucasian grandmother is an 85 year old widower. If she wants to stay out of the spotlight and says it's due to poor health, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.





FYI, I just flipped through my yearbook and Punahou is not disproportionately Asian-American. There are also very few non-military African-Americans in Hawai'i. Is it really so surprising then, that he would be interested in experiencing African and African-American culture? He was raised in a predominantly White-Asian-Polynesian culture by his mother's side.





And does it really matter to most Americans (or even Barack Obama), whether he is half-white? All they SEE is a black man, so he is treated as such. Halle Berry's mother is white, but how many people consider Halle a black actress? One drop rule... We're lying to ourselves if we think we're anywhere near color-blind, as much as some of us would like to think we are.

orthodontics

Were American Indians Really Environmentalists? read and give your opinion :?

Were American Indians Really Environmentalists?


By Thomas E. Woods


Posted on 7/19/2007


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The traditional story is familiar to American schoolchildren: the American Indians possessed a profound spiritual kinship with nature, and were unusually solicitous of environmental welfare.





According to a popular book published by the Smithsonian Institution in 1991, "Pre-Columbian America was still the First Eden, a pristine natural kingdom. The native people were transparent in the landscape, living as natural elements of the ecosphere. Their world, the New World of Columbus, was a world of barely perceptible human disturbance."





If we are to avert environmental catastrophe, the not-so-subtle lesson goes, we need to recapture this lost Indian wisdom.





As usual, the real story is more complicated, less cartoonish, and a lot more interesting.





In his 1992 book Earth in the Balance, then-Senator Al Gore cited a nineteenth-century speech from Chief Seattle, patriarch of the Duwamish and Suquamish Indians of Puget Sound, as evidence of the Indians' concern for nature. This speech, which speaks of absolutely everything in the natural world, including every last insect and pine needle, as being sacred to Seattle and his people, has been made to bear an unusually heavy share of the burden in depicting the American Indians as the first environmentalists.





The trouble for Gore is that the version of the speech he cites is a fabrication, drawn up in the early 1970s by screenwriter Ted Perry. (Perry, to his credit, has tried without success to let people know that he made up the speech.) Still, it was influential enough to become the basis for Brother Eagle, Sister Sky, a children's book that reached number five on the New York Times bestseller list in 1992.





Earlier versions of the speech, also cited by environmentalists, are suspect for reasons of their own. But experts say that the intention of Chief Seattle is clear enough, and that it wasn't to say that every created thing, sentient and non-sentient, was "holy" to his people, or that all land everywhere had an equal claim upon their affection. "Seattle's speech was made as part of an argument for the right of the Suquamish and Duamish peoples to continue to visit their traditional burial grounds following the sale of that land to white settlers," explains Muhlenburg College's William Abruzzi. "This specific land was sacred to Seattle and his people because his ancestors were buried there, not because land as an abstract concept was sacred to all Indians." Writing in the American Indian Quarterly, Denise Low likewise explains that "the lavish descriptions of nature are secondary" to the purpose of Chief Seattle's argument, and that he was saying only that "land is sacred because of religious ties to ancestors."





Environmentalists who have cultivated the myth of the environmental Indian who left his surroundings in exquisitely pristine condition out of a deeply spiritual devotion to the natural world have done so not out of any particular interest in American Indians, the variations between them, or their real record of interaction with the environment. Instead, the intent is to showcase the environmentalist Indian for propaganda purposes and to use him as a foil against industrial society.





The Indians' real record on the environment was actually mixed, and I give the details in my new book, 33 Questions About American History You're Not Supposed to Ask. Among other things, they engaged in slash-and-burn agriculture, destroyed forests and grasslands, and wiped out entire animal populations (on the assumption that animals felled in a hunt would be reanimated in even larger numbers).





On the other hand, the Indians often succeeded in being good stewards of the environment — but not in the way people generally suppose.





Although we often hear that the Indians knew nothing of private property, their actual views of property varied across time, place, and tribe. When land and game were plentiful, it is not surprising that people exerted little effort in defining and enforcing property rights. But as those things became more scarce, Indians appreciated the value of assigning property rights in (for example) hunting and fishing.





$25


"The real story is more complicated, less cartoonish, and a lot more interesting."





In other words, the American Indians were human beings who responded to the incentives they faced, not cardboard cutouts to be exploited on behalf of environmentalism or any other political program.





In some tribes, family- and clan-based groups were assigned exclusive areas for hunting, which meant they had a vested interest in not overhunting, and in making sure enough animals remained to reproduce for future years. They likewise had an incentive not to allow people from other families and clans to hunt on their land. In the Pacific Northwest, Indians assigned exclusive fishing rights that yielded a similar kind of stewardship: instead of catching all the salmon, some were left behind with an eye to the future. Whites who later established control over salmon resources unfortunately neglected this important Indian lesson.





Indians have not always recalled that lesson themselves. Consider the Arapahos and Shoshones on Wyoming's Wind River Reservation, who in recent years (and with the help of all-terrain vehicles and high-powered rifles) have all but wiped out entire animal populations. Whatever happened to their spiritual kinship with nature?





In fact, this is the predictable result when wildlife is said to belong to everyone. There is no incentive to preserve any stocks for the future, since anything you might leave behind will simply be killed by someone else. Without property rights in hunting, there is no way (and no incentive) for anyone to prevent such short-term, predatory behavior. That's why Indian tribes assigned these exclusive rights — it was the best way to preserve animal species and provide for the future.





Say, doesn't this lost Indian wisdom bear repeating?








--------------------------------------...





Thomas E. Woods, Jr., is a resident scholar at the Mises Institute. He is the author of 33 Questions About American History You're Not Supposed to Ask. His other recent books include The Church and the Market: A Catholic Defense of the Free Economy, The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History (a New York Times bestseller) and How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization. Send him mail. See his archive. Visit his website. Comment on the blog

Were American Indians Really Environmentalists? read and give your opinion :?
I am not sure how to respond to such a long statement posed as a question.





Certainly the Indians lived closer to nature than we do. But nature is not what city people think it is. It is not nearly as nice and clean as they think. And the Indians knew this.





And I agree, that environmentalists are just using these stories for the propaganda value. Image is everything in politics.
Reply:Environmentalist by the modern terminology that you are referring to the answer is, no. Archeologists are digging up tons of American Indian trash, items of no value, for years. Items such as; remains of stone tool manufacturing, animal processing, and food caches while a true environmentalist would have little or no waste. While on the subject, let us discuss burial mounds. Moving tons of earth into one spot will disturb the natural ecology of the area; a true environmentalist would not do this.





Environmentally speaking the American Indian and todays “white man” are no different. Each uses what they need and throws the rest away. What is different is that the “white man” today has industrial waste which will not decompose, where as the American Indian used stone, wood, and skins to meek out a living, which will decompose after time.





Good luck with your rhetorical question.
Reply:I'd like to say they were in general, but running entire heards of buffalo off a cliff likely left some wasted meat/hides/etc. behind.
Reply:Your ignorance and racism is showing !


The 'natives' were here for many centuries with no long term harm to the environment. When hunting ,they didn't go after just the biggest trophy animal ! They only hunted for pure survival,and if a hunter did get a larger than usual animal ,his pride was in the fact that more people would share in the feast ! They didn't waste anything ! We have garbage dumps !
Reply:Things were good before the HORSE came. Before it used to take 4 men to bring back a buck. Doe were not hunted even then. 4 men just out of sheer weight. We'd take what we needed, there wasn't much storage of food going on.





when the horse came, it was possible to drag the deer back by just 1 man.





The broad sweeping generalizations in this statement are beyond arrogant and disgusting.





My people did not think if you killed one 10 would just sproud out of the ground. I don't know of any tribe that believes this. It COULD be, but it's not mine.





There is no 'NATIVE AMERICAN WAY"





There are Miwok ways, Lakota Ways, Quamash ways etc.





Slash and burn? LOL


I seriously hope they're not thinking about the Clearing fires we lit on an annual basis to keep the fuel loads down in the forest. It works like this.


Dead wood = fire wood.


Pine needles, leaves, brush, = lightning strike, by by camp, deer, water, etc.





'entire animal populations' Like we all own helicopters and can see how many there are in an area.





Common thought, they moved on for the season.





It's a lot of generalization, speculation and outright LIES.
Reply:Sure, and clinton is a moderat, and obama not muslim, and the tooth fairy will bring you a new corvet tonight. just keep watching!!!!
Reply:Everyone should know that Indians took great care of the Land and actually wasted very little of anything.


I am certain that most (not only) Indians would like to see a return to an older time.


Like living of the Land being at one with Nature,


There are many others that have had these ties to Nature,


The Maori tribes of NZ , The Congo tribes and the Indians in the Amazon delta.


Unfortunately because of our very destructive "civilization"


that will not be possible.


Maybe after the next ice age..???

Can anyone give me an honest opinion of my short story?

Here's a piece of it.





Is it interesting and is it going anywhere?





May could not have come fast enough for the budding group of departing seniors from Colford University. On an evening where the euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads stood still in a blend of blue and tangerine, the day was about to retire into the evening twilight. For the numerous students who packed commuter vans and walked in groups averaging 3-5, their nights were just beginning.





Most were ready to let their hair down after a tumultuous month of papers, exams, and research studies. Among the gallery of white baseball caps, oversized cups and domesticated cackling, stood well known attendees at an off-campus mixer. Ellie Bowden and her group of girlfriends comprised that list. Ellie and her girls were checking out the scenery, as they had so succinctly put into their efforts of meeting men of legitimate dating material.





Across the way, Brendan Rainer had his sights set on the 5’7 tawny-haired bombshell her mother affectionately refers to as 'A little Ellie-fish, about to enter the big pond of life'.


Wearing a striped, button-down shirt, draped onto dreary denim jeans, and parted black hair and sideburns Brenden has had his ups-and-downs with the girl department. To his chagrin, although he valued and respected women, it has most often proved to be his Achilles heel as far as his love life was concerned. He was usually the best friend and he had long since tired of that image. Him and his buddies were also on hand kicking back in the corner and conversing. Was Ellie Bowden out of his league? Maybe. But then again, he had his gameface on. Nothing was going to stand in his way, except for two Capri-sporting, sandal-wearing, necklaced girls who got his attention first.





In the traditional sense, Brendan and Ellie came from opposite sides of the tracks. In lieu of their social standing, neither lacked drive. Besides, they were graduating college next week, so things should even out smoothly.





Early afternoon, Brendan woke up from a semi-drunken stupor to the hammering of the door from his father Don. Right off the bat the everso blunt, yet overprotective old man of the Rainers look his son square in the eye with a sentiment of Son, we need to talk.’ For Brendan this was all too routine. Had it been a cd that lain next to his hundreds of music tapes, a more fitting title of his father's speech would be The Best of Mr. Rainer’s Bullshit Lectures: Volume 1, available in both Stressful and Unnecessary.. Brendan cared much for his parents although he sought to find his own identity in his 4 years of Colford. His mother Beverly was the first to hug the first of the clan to have done anything productive past high school. She and her husband were high school sweethearts who married into their early 20s and raised Brendan when they were relatively anew to their own existence. Over the years, they had gone out of their way to bond with their kid over a variety of topics, ranging from learning to balance his own check book to sex. Brendan beyond hoped it would not be one of those talks.. Admittedly enough his estrangement from his parents at a young age was not something that would deter his parents from doing their part in raising his son with some semblance of integrity and standard. That did not always stay in tact once Brendan started his freshman year, but then again so didn't his laundry habits.





How you been, dad?,” Brendan asked with heavy eyes and semi-combed hair carrying a heaping helping of a month's worth of wardrobe.





Just bring in the rest of your bags---you know your mom and I really missed you.”





He put on weight, Don,” Beverly chimed.





“I doubt that, honey.”





It's been a while since you been at school, and.we're going to have to ask that you switch to living in the basement or possibly moving out,” his father relayed passively.





What the hell?,” Brendan stood dumbfounded. He looked to his mother with a glance in his eye seeking approval if she would be too put off that he curse up a storm. It would not be the first time.





what about MY room, ma ?”





“Look son, we know this has been a hard pill to swallow but things haven’t been on the up and up at work,” his father retorted. “And ever since we came here her and I have had a hard enough time getting aid to put your brother and sister through school. That’s what it is, Brendan. I’m sorry.”





The middle child of the family was feeling like the forgotten one as he buried his head in his hands with an animated grunt and galloped upstairs before getting the attention of his mother. “Bren, we did keep your stuff downstairs,” his mother proclaimed to her defeated son, in a tone resembling a game show announcer letting a contestant know they had still won the complimentary parting prize.








"What the hell is that about, man?," was the initial reaction from his buddy Dennis. "I dunno, they're being weird. But maybe it's for the better," Brendan nonchalantly quipped as he drew devil horns around stick figures emulating his folks.Brendan was a drawer who also liked to write. Since artists who occasionally penned was not a solid major, Brendan took side jobs and apprentice work shops after school to hone his passion for drawing. He used to just stick to comic book superheroes until he figured he move on to bigger and better once he hit campus. Plus he did could do without being taunted for it by potential love interests. That night, Brendan and his sentimental entourage of post-collegiate hopeless romantics took to one of Colford Universities popular off-campus dive bars: Chet's. What started out as a series of walks 3 nights a week amid-st tethered finances and the occasionally overdue midterm take home exam, became a car ride into town, feeling like the had taken the wrong turn at the crossroads of their newly-designated roles in society: Rookie real worlders.





Ellie Bowden felt a sense of loss when she had trouble finding a full-time job after graduating with a degree in finance. She was very involved on campus and was a tri-star athlete who excelled in the class, and definitely knew how to have a good time in between and around her endeavors. At times overly conscientious of her looks, Ellie would tussle her strand of tawny-brown locks and bat her green eyes, along with soft lips and a diamond necklace she wore in tribute to her grandmother. Ellie was a family person at heart. Although she felt she may have done some things at college she may not have done after finishing school, nor necessarily felt proud of Ellie sported lots of energy and personality aside from her good looks. She was also not one to take lightly in terns of pulling the wool over her eyes. Months after finishing school, Ellie took notice of how infrequent she would see her friends from high school, let alone some of her suite mates she had been tight with since her sophomore year.





Ellie had her "return nights" at Colford but it was not the same. New faces, new crowd, new drama. Same old routine. Brendan felt similar at his guys night out at Chet's, sitting at the bar watching ESPN parallel to older townsfolk who sported Keno tickets and cigars. His and Shawn and their friends of their old roommates sat awkwardly ajar a storm of spilt drinks and camera flashes. That night, Ellie babysat for her neighbors, but instead of chatting up with some of her old teammates plastered on her cell phone directory, she brought over a scrap book and glossed over it since one of the pages had a congratulations card that said "Here's Looking at you Kid", and had a baby emblazoned on the front. Ellie wanted children of her own somebody, but finding Mr. Right was not something she took lightly, especially when many of the men who had flirted up a storm toward her at Chet's two nights a week back in her final semester were old enough to be her uncle...literally. She was still her mother's princess, her 'Ellie-fish in a pond.' And it really annoyed her with a passion. Though she loved her mother, she wasn't quite ready to take on a role as a 12-year old girl trapped in a young woman's body. Bickering ensued and Ellie's trip to Key West on Spring Break was now rivaled by bickering over keeping her room picked up.





Six months after the homestretch of senior year winded down, talk show reruns and Gelato proved stale to Ellie--a determined post-collegiate, who had sent out hundreds of resumes but ended up getting called off of most jobs she went for. Temping and waitressing to support herself, aside from the clothes store she clamored at since high school, Ellie got the occasional pep talk of others who hated their jobs and ask that someone with as much potential as her break out of her rut and exit their self-proclaimed retail hell. Then she remembered that her time would come in spite of the prominent mentality that who you are replicates what you make of it. Brendan contributed to several on-line magazines to pad his amateur resume, but nothing that paid off his student loans. Characteristically, those that are fortunate---and there are usually a lot of people, who receive their degrees and get into their fields, were on the opposite of Brendan who had since come to feel that he did not know what the hell he wanted to do with his life. Even though he had not needed much of his parents help when he lived on campus, he commonly never turned it down when offered. Truth be told, both of Colford's fresh new representatives in finding themselves after dusk has overcast their dawn of post-adolescence-- alongside the always prominent 'we're not kids anymore, now what?!' mentality were pawns of the separation anxiety that thrusted what was set to be the crossroads of their journey into their mid-twenties. Both were hard workers, but each had their own parental sparring and runaround responses from job recruiters that they were not quite preparing to see, but were not immune to. The determination and long term goals of each had long since been compromised and their morales were declining.





Brendan stayed around town and frequented the basement aside from his parent's garage. He had grown to adjust to the independence he had long hoped for, but never expected--particularly in the fashion in which it was first introduced months prior. At a New Year's Eve party took out to the patio at Dennis's apartment, an epiphany struck Brendan Rainer, two years removed from his five-year plight of early class, 3am pizza deliveries and the occasional practical joke by his hallway mates. He had come to realize that would likely never happen again, though he could still sing a mean Tom Petty song using a beer bottle as a microphone when playing guitar that night.





Looking back at that time of a college grad's life where the fun and glory of finding yourself on your own, 8 months at a time proved to be overly gratuitous and sentimental. Things would not be the same for either but then there were the inevitabilities of getting older that was also on deck in their own ambiguous agendas.





Then again, there is always grad school.

Can anyone give me an honest opinion of my short story?
This is a good effort, but a short story should first of all, be a STORY -- something actually happens; a problem occurs and is resolved. This describes an interesting situation -- in fact, several situations -- but it's like a snapshot of a chess game in progress when, as a reader, I want to hear about an exciting chess match between characters or forces.





Second, you're in love with words, and that's dangerous for a writer. Readers are in love with plots, characters, activity, movement and dialog.





You like to render ordinary observations in complicated language, as though that will make them interesting -- for instance: "On an evening where the euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads stood still in a blend of blue and tangerine, the day was about to retire into the evening twilight." That's poetic, but unnecessary, s well as confusing. How is the skyline "euphoric?"





So bottom line: Forget writing for a while and work on the plot. Throw out everything that isn't necessary to the story. And tell your story simply and directly -- don't try to dazzle me with your sophisticated vocabulary or ability to write purple prose.
Reply:not bad. you have a very nice vocabulary. it's 8 in the morning though and i started getting a little bored. not sure if its your story or i am tired.

Can anyone give me an honest opinion of my short story?

Here's a piece of it.





Is it interesting and is it going anywhere?





May could not have come fast enough for the budding group of departing seniors from Colford University. On an evening where the euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads stood still in a blend of blue and tangerine, the day was about to retire into the evening twilight. For the numerous students who packed commuter vans and walked in groups averaging 3-5, their nights were just beginning.





Most were ready to let their hair down after a tumultuous month of papers, exams, and research studies. Among the gallery of white baseball caps, oversized cups and domesticated cackling, stood well known attendees at an off-campus mixer. Ellie Bowden and her group of girlfriends comprised that list. Ellie and her girls were checking out the scenery, as they had so succinctly put into their efforts of meeting men of legitimate dating material.





Across the way, Brendan Rainer had his sights set on the 5’7 tawny-haired bombshell her mother affectionately refers to as 'A little Ellie-fish, about to enter the big pond of life'.


Wearing a striped, button-down shirt, draped onto dreary denim jeans, and parted black hair and sideburns Brenden has had his ups-and-downs with the girl department. To his chagrin, although he valued and respected women, it has most often proved to be his Achilles heel as far as his love life was concerned. He was usually the best friend and he had long since tired of that image. Him and his buddies were also on hand kicking back in the corner and conversing. Was Ellie Bowden out of his league? Maybe. But then again, he had his gameface on. Nothing was going to stand in his way, except for two Capri-sporting, sandal-wearing, necklaced girls who got his attention first.





In the traditional sense, Brendan and Ellie came from opposite sides of the tracks. In lieu of their social standing, neither lacked drive. Besides, they were graduating college next week, so things should even out smoothly.





Early afternoon, Brendan woke up from a semi-drunken stupor to the hammering of the door from his father Don. Right off the bat the everso blunt, yet overprotective old man of the Rainers look his son square in the eye with a sentiment of Son, we need to talk.’ For Brendan this was all too routine. Had it been a cd that lain next to his hundreds of music tapes, a more fitting title of his father's speech would be The Best of Mr. Rainer’s Bullshit Lectures: Volume 1, available in both Stressful and Unnecessary.. Brendan cared much for his parents although he sought to find his own identity in his 4 years of Colford. His mother Beverly was the first to hug the first of the clan to have done anything productive past high school. She and her husband were high school sweethearts who married into their early 20s and raised Brendan when they were relatively anew to their own existence. Over the years, they had gone out of their way to bond with their kid over a variety of topics, ranging from learning to balance his own check book to sex. Brendan beyond hoped it would not be one of those talks.. Admittedly enough his estrangement from his parents at a young age was not something that would deter his parents from doing their part in raising his son with some semblance of integrity and standard. That did not always stay in tact once Brendan started his freshman year, but then again so didn't his laundry habits.





How you been, dad?,” Brendan asked with heavy eyes and semi-combed hair carrying a heaping helping of a month's worth of wardrobe.





Just bring in the rest of your bags---you know your mom and I really missed you.”





He put on weight, Don,” Beverly chimed.





“I doubt that, honey.”





It's been a while since you been at school, and.we're going to have to ask that you switch to living in the basement or possibly moving out,” his father relayed passively.





What the hell?,” Brendan stood dumbfounded. He looked to his mother with a glance in his eye seeking approval if she would be too put off that he curse up a storm. It would not be the first time.





what about MY room, ma ?”





“Look son, we know this has been a hard pill to swallow but things haven’t been on the up and up at work,” his father retorted. “And ever since we came here her and I have had a hard enough time getting aid to put your brother and sister through school. That’s what it is, Brendan. I’m sorry.”





The middle child of the family was feeling like the forgotten one as he buried his head in his hands with an animated grunt and galloped upstairs before getting the attention of his mother. “Bren, we did keep your stuff downstairs,” his mother proclaimed to her defeated son, in a tone resembling a game show announcer letting a contestant know they had still won the complimentary parting prize.








"What the hell is that about, man?," was the initial reaction from his buddy Dennis. "I dunno, they're being weird. But maybe it's for the better," Brendan nonchalantly quipped as he drew devil horns around stick figures emulating his folks.Brendan was a drawer who also liked to write. Since artists who occasionally penned was not a solid major, Brendan took side jobs and apprentice work shops after school to hone his passion for drawing. He used to just stick to comic book superheroes until he figured he move on to bigger and better once he hit campus. Plus he did could do without being taunted for it by potential love interests. That night, Brendan and his sentimental entourage of post-collegiate hopeless romantics took to one of Colford Universities popular off-campus dive bars: Chet's. What started out as a series of walks 3 nights a week amid-st tethered finances and the occasionally overdue midterm take home exam, became a car ride into town, feeling like the had taken the wrong turn at the crossroads of their newly-designated roles in society: Rookie real worlders.





Ellie Bowden felt a sense of loss when she had trouble finding a full-time job after graduating with a degree in finance. She was very involved on campus and was a tri-star athlete who excelled in the class, and definitely knew how to have a good time in between and around her endeavors. At times overly conscientious of her looks, Ellie would tussle her strand of tawny-brown locks and bat her green eyes, along with soft lips and a diamond necklace she wore in tribute to her grandmother. Ellie was a family person at heart. Although she felt she may have done some things at college she may not have done after finishing school, nor necessarily felt proud of Ellie sported lots of energy and personality aside from her good looks. She was also not one to take lightly in terns of pulling the wool over her eyes. Months after finishing school, Ellie took notice of how infrequent she would see her friends from high school, let alone some of her suite mates she had been tight with since her sophomore year.





Ellie had her "return nights" at Colford but it was not the same. New faces, new crowd, new drama. Same old routine. Brendan felt similar at his guys night out at Chet's, sitting at the bar watching ESPN parallel to older townsfolk who sported Keno tickets and cigars. His and Shawn and their friends of their old roommates sat awkwardly ajar a storm of spilt drinks and camera flashes. That night, Ellie babysat for her neighbors, but instead of chatting up with some of her old teammates plastered on her cell phone directory, she brought over a scrap book and glossed over it since one of the pages had a congratulations card that said "Here's Looking at you Kid", and had a baby emblazoned on the front. Ellie wanted children of her own somebody, but finding Mr. Right was not something she took lightly, especially when many of the men who had flirted up a storm toward her at Chet's two nights a week back in her final semester were old enough to be her uncle...literally. She was still her mother's princess, her 'Ellie-fish in a pond.' And it really annoyed her with a passion. Though she loved her mother, she wasn't quite ready to take on a role as a 12-year old girl trapped in a young woman's body. Bickering ensued and Ellie's trip to Key West on Spring Break was now rivaled by bickering over keeping her room picked up.





Six months after the homestretch of senior year winded down, talk show reruns and Gelato proved stale to Ellie--a determined post-collegiate, who had sent out hundreds of resumes but ended up getting called off of most jobs she went for. Temping and waitressing to support herself, aside from the clothes store she clamored at since high school, Ellie got the occasional pep talk of others who hated their jobs and ask that someone with as much potential as her break out of her rut and exit their self-proclaimed retail hell. Then she remembered that her time would come in spite of the prominent mentality that who you are replicates what you make of it. Brendan contributed to several on-line magazines to pad his amateur resume, but nothing that paid off his student loans. Characteristically, those that are fortunate---and there are usually a lot of people, who receive their degrees and get into their fields, were on the opposite of Brendan who had since come to feel that he did not know what the hell he wanted to do with his life. Even though he had not needed much of his parents help when he lived on campus, he commonly never turned it down when offered. Truth be told, both of Colford's fresh new representatives in finding themselves after dusk has overcast their dawn of post-adolescence-- alongside the always prominent 'we're not kids anymore, now what?!' mentality were pawns of the separation anxiety that thrusted what was set to be the crossroads of their journey into their mid-twenties. Both were hard workers, but each had their own parental sparring and runaround responses from job recruiters that they were not quite preparing to see, but were not immune to. The determination and long term goals of each had long since been compromised and their morales were declining.





Brendan stayed around town and frequented the basement aside from his parent's garage. He had grown to adjust to the independence he had long hoped for, but never expected--particularly in the fashion in which it was first introduced months prior. At a New Year's Eve party took out to the patio at Dennis's apartment, an epiphany struck Brendan Rainer, two years removed from his five-year plight of early class, 3am pizza deliveries and the occasional practical joke by his hallway mates. He had come to realize that would likely never happen again, though he could still sing a mean Tom Petty song using a beer bottle as a microphone when playing guitar that night.





Looking back at that time of a college grad's life where the fun and glory of finding yourself on your own, 8 months at a time proved to be overly gratuitous and sentimental. Things would not be the same for either but then there were the inevitabilities of getting older that was also on deck in their own ambiguous agendas.





Then again, there is always grad school.

Can anyone give me an honest opinion of my short story?
As I started to read it, I had a hard time dodging the massive chunks or big words. they're piled all over the place. Spread them out a little thinner, like warm butter on bread. let your words flow freely and less complicated. Write a little more like you talk. I love it when ppl do that. You have a good story going, but I got lost a bit too. Explain the atmosphere a little more, so your reader can feel more at home and follow effortlessly. You've really put alot of work into this, and I congratulate you. Keep it up and don't quit!:)

Can anyone give me an assessment of my short story?

Is it interesting and is it going anywhere?





May could not have come fast enough for the budding group of departing seniors from Colford University. On an evening where the euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads stood still in a blend of blue and tangerine, the day was about to retire into the evening twilight. For the numerous students who packed commuter vans and walked in groups averaging 3-5, their nights were just beginning.





Most were ready to let their hair down after a tumultuous month of papers, exams, and research studies. Among the gallery of white baseball caps, oversized cups and domesticated cackling, stood well known attendees at an off-campus mixer. Ellie Bowden and her group of girlfriends comprised that list. Ellie and her girls were checking out the scenery, as they had so succinctly put into their efforts of meeting men of legitimate dating material.





Across the way, Brendan Rainer had his sights set on the 5’7 tawny-haired bombshell her mother affectionately refers to as 'A little Ellie-fish, about to enter the big pond of life'.


Wearing a striped, button-down shirt, draped onto dreary denim jeans, and parted black hair and sideburns Brenden has had his ups-and-downs with the girl department. To his chagrin, although he valued and respected women, it has most often proved to be his Achilles heel as far as his love life was concerned. He was usually the best friend and he had long since tired of that image. Him and his buddies were also on hand kicking back in the corner and conversing. Was Ellie Bowden out of his league? Maybe. But then again, he had his gameface on. Nothing was going to stand in his way, except for two Capri-sporting, sandal-wearing, necklaced girls who got his attention first.





In the traditional sense, Brendan and Ellie came from opposite sides of the tracks. In lieu of their social standing, neither lacked drive. Besides, they were graduating college next week, so things should even out smoothly.





Early afternoon, Brendan woke up from a semi-drunken stupor to the hammering of the door from his father Don. Right off the bat the everso blunt, yet overprotective old man of the Rainers look his son square in the eye with a sentiment of Son, we need to talk.’ For Brendan this was all too routine. Had it been a cd that lain next to his hundreds of music tapes, a more fitting title of his father's speech would be The Best of Mr. Rainer’s Bullshit Lectures: Volume 1, available in both Stressful and Unnecessary.. Brendan cared much for his parents although he sought to find his own identity in his 4 years of Colford. His mother Beverly was the first to hug the first of the clan to have done anything productive past high school. She and her husband were high school sweethearts who married into their early 20s and raised Brendan when they were relatively anew to their own existence. Over the years, they had gone out of their way to bond with their kid over a variety of topics, ranging from learning to balance his own check book to sex. Brendan beyond hoped it would not be one of those talks.. Admittedly enough his estrangement from his parents at a young age was not something that would deter his parents from doing their part in raising his son with some semblance of integrity and standard. That did not always stay in tact once Brendan started his freshman year, but then again so didn't his laundry habits.





How you been, dad?,” Brendan asked with heavy eyes and semi-combed hair carrying a heaping helping of a month's worth of wardrobe.





Just bring in the rest of your bags---you know your mom and I really missed you.”





He put on weight, Don,” Beverly chimed.





“I doubt that, honey.”





It's been a while since you been at school, and.we're going to have to ask that you switch to living in the basement or possibly moving out,” his father relayed passively.





What the hell?,” Brendan stood dumbfounded. He looked to his mother with a glance in his eye seeking approval if she would be too put off that he curse up a storm. It would not be the first time.





what about MY room, ma ?”





“Look son, we know this has been a hard pill to swallow but things haven’t been on the up and up at work,” his father retorted. “And ever since we came here her and I have had a hard enough time getting aid to put your brother and sister through school. That’s what it is, Brendan. I’m sorry.”





The middle child of the family was feeling like the forgotten one as he buried his head in his hands with an animated grunt and galloped upstairs before getting the attention of his mother. “Bren, we did keep your stuff downstairs,” his mother proclaimed to her defeated son, in a tone resembling a game show announcer letting a contestant know they had still won the complimentary parting prize.








"What the hell is that about, man?," was the initial reaction from his buddy Dennis. "I dunno, they're being weird. But maybe it's for the better," Brendan nonchalantly quipped as he drew devil horns around stick figures emulating his folks.Brendan was a drawer who also liked to write. Since artists who occasionally penned was not a solid major, Brendan took side jobs and apprentice work shops after school to hone his passion for drawing. He used to just stick to comic book superheroes until he figured he move on to bigger and better once he hit campus. Plus he did could do without being taunted for it by potential love interests. That night, Brendan and his sentimental entourage of post-collegiate hopeless romantics took to one of Colford Universities popular off-campus dive bars: Chet's. What started out as a series of walks 3 nights a week amid-st tethered finances and the occasionally overdue midterm take home exam, became a car ride into town, feeling like the had taken the wrong turn at the crossroads of their newly-designated roles in society: Rookie real worlders.





Ellie Bowden felt a sense of loss when she had trouble finding a full-time job after graduating with a degree in finance. She was very involved on campus and was a tri-star athlete who excelled in the class, and definitely knew how to have a good time in between and around her endeavors. At times overly conscientious of her looks, Ellie would tussle her strand of tawny-brown locks and bat her green eyes, along with soft lips and a diamond necklace she wore in tribute to her grandmother. Ellie was a family person at heart. Although she felt she may have done some things at college she may not have done after finishing school, nor necessarily felt proud of Ellie sported lots of energy and personality aside from her good looks. She was also not one to take lightly in terns of pulling the wool over her eyes. Months after finishing school, Ellie took notice of how infrequent she would see her friends from high school, let alone some of her suite mates she had been tight with since her sophomore year.





Ellie had her "return nights" at Colford but it was not the same. New faces, new crowd, new drama. Same old routine. Brendan felt similar at his guys night out at Chet's, sitting at the bar watching ESPN parallel to older townsfolk who sported Keno tickets and cigars. His and Shawn and their friends of their old roommates sat awkwardly ajar a storm of spilt drinks and camera flashes. That night, Ellie babysat for her neighbors, but instead of chatting up with some of her old teammates plastered on her cell phone directory, she brought over a scrap book and glossed over it since one of the pages had a congratulations card that said "Here's Looking at you Kid", and had a baby emblazoned on the front. Ellie wanted children of her own somebody, but finding Mr. Right was not something she took lightly, especially when many of the men who had flirted up a storm toward her at Chet's two nights a week back in her final semester were old enough to be her uncle...literally. She was still her mother's princess, her 'Ellie-fish in a pond.' And it really annoyed her with a passion. Though she loved her mother, she wasn't quite ready to take on a role as a 12-year old girl trapped in a young woman's body. Bickering ensued and Ellie's trip to Key West on Spring Break was now rivaled by bickering over keeping her room picked up.





Six months after the homestretch of senior year winded down, talk show reruns and Gelato proved stale to Ellie--a determined post-collegiate, who had sent out hundreds of resumes but ended up getting called off of most jobs she went for. Temping and waitressing to support herself, aside from the clothes store she clamored at since high school, Ellie got the occasional pep talk of others who hated their jobs and ask that someone with as much potential as her break out of her rut and exit their self-proclaimed retail hell. Then she remembered that her time would come in spite of the prominent mentality that who you are replicates what you make of it. Brendan contributed to several on-line magazines to pad his amateur resume, but nothing that paid off his student loans. Characteristically, those that are fortunate---and there are usually a lot of people, who receive their degrees and get into their fields, were on the opposite of Brendan who had since come to feel that he did not know what the hell he wanted to do with his life. Even though he had not needed much of his parents help when he lived on campus, he commonly never turned it down when offered. Truth be told, both of Colford's fresh new representatives in finding themselves after dusk has overcast their dawn of post-adolescence-- alongside the always prominent 'we're not kids anymore, now what?!' mentality were pawns of the separation anxiety that thrusted what was set to be the crossroads of their journey into their mid-twenties. Both were hard workers, but each had their own parental sparring and runaround responses from job recruiters that they were not quite preparing to see, but were not immune to. The determination and long term goals of each had long since been compromised and their morales were declining.





Brendan stayed around town and frequented the basement aside from his parent's garage. He had grown to adjust to the independence he had long hoped for, but never expected--particularly in the fashion in which it was first introduced months prior. At a New Year's Eve party took out to the patio at Dennis's apartment, an epiphany struck Brendan Rainer, two years removed from his five-year plight of early class, 3am pizza deliveries and the occasional practical joke by his hallway mates. He had come to realize that would likely never happen again, though he could still sing a mean Tom Petty song using a beer bottle as a microphone when playing guitar that night.





Looking back at that time of a college grad's life where the fun and glory of finding yourself on your own, 8 months at a time proved to be overly gratuitous and sentimental. Things would not be the same for either but then there were the inevitabilities of getting older that was also on deck in their own ambiguous agendas.





Then again, there is always grad school.

Can anyone give me an assessment of my short story?
I read up to the "complimentary parting prize" comment and I have to say it's pretty good but here are a few things I thought were off about the story. first, the evening sky shouldn't be described as tangerine....it sounds like it's raining fruit. I know you mean it's a beautiful evening but try something like shades of copper and violet or something more resembling orange.


The comment about "Ellie-fish" is a bit of an awkward moment. It has nothing to do with these girls going into the social club. Maybe if she were sitting at the bar reflecting on her mother's advice or something you can bring up the mother's comment of "Ellie-fish out in the big pond" but it comes out as being appropos of nothing where you have it now.


I like the story, I'd read more.


Now, when you were describing Brendan before we meet his parents, I thought you said he was the first born son. then you say he's the middle child when his parents tell him get out. I thought the way you described where he was sleeping was a bit awkward. it seemed like he was living at home then he shows up at the front door with laundry? this passage"{semi-combed hair carrying a heaping helping of a month's worth of wardrobe"} sounds sort of like the hair is carrying his laundry. That's impossible, yes, but it is a bit awkward in the phrasing.
Reply:Interesting situation and dilemma.


OK, a perfect setting for and existential crisis at the end of one period in a young life and the beginning of the next period, but what, what did it ad up to really? We were all going, somewhere, but where, like what and why? Is there a way to tie this experience up and in a way that pointed us to the next phase?


Each of the individuals in the story is going through the same sense of being lost, of losing their way, or losing sight of the path or goal. What was the path? Where are you, and where are you going?


So the names are different, but the experience is the same, an overpowering sense of change and being compelled to move on to the next phase without any inner sense of what the next step could or should be.


Without a strong purpose or goal, the next step seems to be going on to grad school. Maybe the grad school is the time when you find your bearings and decide who and what you are and were you are going.


Instead of allowing the parents, school, the counselors or the way of life answer these question, make it a goal for it yourself to figure out how to form a goal and ascertain a desired destination direction. Maybe something like this is the answer to your stories dilemmas.


It is important that not only the story teller, but all the people in the story are struggling with the same sense of confusion or need to know where they are and what they are doing and why.


Good story!
Reply:i didn't read every word but i actually thought it was good. i didn't understand some of the long words as I'm not that smart, but from my point of view i would say " wow that's well good!"


well done...

dental clinic

Can someone please give me an honest assessment on my short story?

Here's a piece of it.





Is it interesting and is it going anywhere?





May could not have come fast enough for the budding group of departing seniors from Colford University. On an evening where the euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads stood still in a blend of blue and tangerine, the day was about to retire into the evening twilight. For the numerous students who packed commuter vans and walked in groups averaging 3-5, their nights were just beginning.





Most were ready to let their hair down after a tumultuous month of papers, exams, and research studies. Among the gallery of white baseball caps, oversized cups and domesticated cackling, stood well known attendees at an off-campus mixer. Ellie Bowden and her group of girlfriends comprised that list. Ellie and her girls were checking out the scenery, as they had so succinctly put into their efforts of meeting men of legitimate dating material.





Across the way, Brendan Rainer had his sights set on the 5’7 tawny-haired bombshell her mother affectionately refers to as 'A little Ellie-fish, about to enter the big pond of life'.


Wearing a striped, button-down shirt, draped onto dreary denim jeans, and parted black hair and sideburns Brenden has had his ups-and-downs with the girl department. To his chagrin, although he valued and respected women, it has most often proved to be his Achilles heel as far as his love life was concerned. He was usually the best friend and he had long since tired of that image. Him and his buddies were also on hand kicking back in the corner and conversing. Was Ellie Bowden out of his league? Maybe. But then again, he had his gameface on. Nothing was going to stand in his way, except for two Capri-sporting, sandal-wearing, necklaced girls who got his attention first.





In the traditional sense, Brendan and Ellie came from opposite sides of the tracks. In lieu of their social standing, neither lacked drive. Besides, they were graduating college next week, so things should even out smoothly.





Early afternoon, Brendan woke up from a semi-drunken stupor to the hammering of the door from his father Don. Right off the bat the everso blunt, yet overprotective old man of the Rainers look his son square in the eye with a sentiment of Son, we need to talk.’ For Brendan this was all too routine. Had it been a cd that lain next to his hundreds of music tapes, a more fitting title of his father's speech would be The Best of Mr. Rainer’s Bullshit Lectures: Volume 1, available in both Stressful and Unnecessary.. Brendan cared much for his parents although he sought to find his own identity in his 4 years of Colford. His mother Beverly was the first to hug the first of the clan to have done anything productive past high school. She and her husband were high school sweethearts who married into their early 20s and raised Brendan when they were relatively anew to their own existence. Over the years, they had gone out of their way to bond with their kid over a variety of topics, ranging from learning to balance his own check book to sex. Brendan beyond hoped it would not be one of those talks.. Admittedly enough his estrangement from his parents at a young age was not something that would deter his parents from doing their part in raising his son with some semblance of integrity and standard. That did not always stay in tact once Brendan started his freshman year, but then again so didn't his laundry habits.





How you been, dad?,” Brendan asked with heavy eyes and semi-combed hair carrying a heaping helping of a month's worth of wardrobe.





Just bring in the rest of your bags---you know your mom and I really missed you.”





He put on weight, Don,” Beverly chimed.





“I doubt that, honey.”





It's been a while since you been at school, and.we're going to have to ask that you switch to living in the basement or possibly moving out,” his father relayed passively.





What the hell?,” Brendan stood dumbfounded. He looked to his mother with a glance in his eye seeking approval if she would be too put off that he curse up a storm. It would not be the first time.





what about MY room, ma ?”





“Look son, we know this has been a hard pill to swallow but things haven’t been on the up and up at work,” his father retorted. “And ever since we came here her and I have had a hard enough time getting aid to put your brother and sister through school. That’s what it is, Brendan. I’m sorry.”





The middle child of the family was feeling like the forgotten one as he buried his head in his hands with an animated grunt and galloped upstairs before getting the attention of his mother. “Bren, we did keep your stuff downstairs,” his mother proclaimed to her defeated son, in a tone resembling a game show announcer letting a contestant know they had still won the complimentary parting prize.








"What the hell is that about, man?," was the initial reaction from his buddy Dennis. "I dunno, they're being weird. But maybe it's for the better," Brendan nonchalantly quipped as he drew devil horns around stick figures emulating his folks.Brendan was a drawer who also liked to write. Since artists who occasionally penned was not a solid major, Brendan took side jobs and apprentice work shops after school to hone his passion for drawing. He used to just stick to comic book superheroes until he figured he move on to bigger and better once he hit campus. Plus he did could do without being taunted for it by potential love interests. That night, Brendan and his sentimental entourage of post-collegiate hopeless romantics took to one of Colford Universities popular off-campus dive bars: Chet's. What started out as a series of walks 3 nights a week amid-st tethered finances and the occasionally overdue midterm take home exam, became a car ride into town, feeling like the had taken the wrong turn at the crossroads of their newly-designated roles in society: Rookie real worlders.





Ellie Bowden felt a sense of loss when she had trouble finding a full-time job after graduating with a degree in finance. She was very involved on campus and was a tri-star athlete who excelled in the class, and definitely knew how to have a good time in between and around her endeavors. At times overly conscientious of her looks, Ellie would tussle her strand of tawny-brown locks and bat her green eyes, along with soft lips and a diamond necklace she wore in tribute to her grandmother. Ellie was a family person at heart. Although she felt she may have done some things at college she may not have done after finishing school, nor necessarily felt proud of Ellie sported lots of energy and personality aside from her good looks. She was also not one to take lightly in terns of pulling the wool over her eyes. Months after finishing school, Ellie took notice of how infrequent she would see her friends from high school, let alone some of her suite mates she had been tight with since her sophomore year.





Ellie had her "return nights" at Colford but it was not the same. New faces, new crowd, new drama. Same old routine. Brendan felt similar at his guys night out at Chet's, sitting at the bar watching ESPN parallel to older townsfolk who sported Keno tickets and cigars. His and Shawn and their friends of their old roommates sat awkwardly ajar a storm of spilt drinks and camera flashes. That night, Ellie babysat for her neighbors, but instead of chatting up with some of her old teammates plastered on her cell phone directory, she brought over a scrap book and glossed over it since one of the pages had a congratulations card that said "Here's Looking at you Kid", and had a baby emblazoned on the front. Ellie wanted children of her own somebody, but finding Mr. Right was not something she took lightly, especially when many of the men who had flirted up a storm toward her at Chet's two nights a week back in her final semester were old enough to be her uncle...literally. She was still her mother's princess, her 'Ellie-fish in a pond.' And it really annoyed her with a passion. Though she loved her mother, she wasn't quite ready to take on a role as a 12-year old girl trapped in a young woman's body. Bickering ensued and Ellie's trip to Key West on Spring Break was now rivaled by bickering over keeping her room picked up.





Six months after the homestretch of senior year winded down, talk show reruns and Gelato proved stale to Ellie--a determined post-collegiate, who had sent out hundreds of resumes but ended up getting called off of most jobs she went for. Temping and waitressing to support herself, aside from the clothes store she clamored at since high school, Ellie got the occasional pep talk of others who hated their jobs and ask that someone with as much potential as her break out of her rut and exit their self-proclaimed retail hell. Then she remembered that her time would come in spite of the prominent mentality that who you are replicates what you make of it. Brendan contributed to several on-line magazines to pad his amateur resume, but nothing that paid off his student loans. Characteristically, those that are fortunate---and there are usually a lot of people, who receive their degrees and get into their fields, were on the opposite of Brendan who had since come to feel that he did not know what the hell he wanted to do with his life. Even though he had not needed much of his parents help when he lived on campus, he commonly never turned it down when offered. Truth be told, both of Colford's fresh new representatives in finding themselves after dusk has overcast their dawn of post-adolescence-- alongside the always prominent 'we're not kids anymore, now what?!' mentality were pawns of the separation anxiety that thrusted what was set to be the crossroads of their journey into their mid-twenties. Both were hard workers, but each had their own parental sparring and runaround responses from job recruiters that they were not quite preparing to see, but were not immune to. The determination and long term goals of each had long since been compromised and their morales were declining.





Brendan stayed around town and frequented the basement aside from his parent's garage. He had grown to adjust to the independence he had long hoped for, but never expected--particularly in the fashion in which it was first introduced months prior. At a New Year's Eve party took out to the patio at Dennis's apartment, an epiphany struck Brendan Rainer, two years removed from his five-year plight of early class, 3am pizza deliveries and the occasional practical joke by his hallway mates. He had come to realize that would likely never happen again, though he could still sing a mean Tom Petty song using a beer bottle as a microphone when playing guitar that night.





Looking back at that time of a college grad's life where the fun and glory of finding yourself on your own, 8 months at a time proved to be overly gratuitous and sentimental. Things would not be the same for either but then there were the inevitabilities of getting older that was also on deck in their own ambiguous agendas.





Then again, there is always grad school.

Can someone please give me an honest assessment on my short story?
i like it


great characters


i am in grade 12 and am dreading growing up, i like the cynical view, it is refreshing


if i had to find something i didn't like much it would be sometimes the language sounds like the author is trying to put in deep adjectives for the sake of it, i am not sure if they are necessary


"euphoric skyline that draped over the jubilant grads"


it sounds good but i would personally use more simple language


if i made a magazine, i would put this in it


and if the story was in a magazine, i would buy it
Reply:I gave up after the third paragraph. Your over-use of fancy adjectives and other "fine writing" is typical of many new authors, and can be cured. But it puts most readers right OFF! Report It

Reply:There is potential here. If you are truly passionate about writing, willing to be rejected many times before being accepted, and have perseverance then study writing and work on your story. Best Wishes! Report It

Reply:Before you write story, be guided from :Author Assist.com; also Writer's Digest, Timothy Hallinan com. Know about plot, setting, 3 structure of a story to make it easy. by just looking your masterpiece, you have almost same length of paragraph that even essay needs pattern. good luck.
Reply:You must have pleasure in expressing your short-living incidents which will be a permanent source of happyness and enjoyment..go on writing - preserve the memento of your personal pleasure .
Reply:ya next time u want someone to answer something don't do this it is not worth it.
Reply:first of all it a long story and it has no meaning go back and try again and this time make it short.

Zionists Seek to Silence Critics of US Policy Toward Israel, what do you think?

As far as the Zionist establishment is concerned, the main enemy is not anti-Semitism, but anti-Zionism.














Prominent Zionist groups and individuals in the US are conducting a campaign of intimidation against liberal and left-wing critics of the Israeli regime and Washington’s policy toward Israel.





Tony Judt, a noted historian and the director of New York University’s Remarque Institute, was to have spoken in New York earlier this month at a meeting called by a nonprofit organization that had rented space from the Polish Consulate. After telephone calls from the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and the American Jewish Committee, his lecture on “The Israel Lobby and US Foreign Policy” was cancelled barely an hour before it was scheduled to begin.





Judt, a liberal academic who writes frequently for the New York Review of Books, was born and raised in Britain. He lost many members of his own family in the Holocaust, but has aroused the ire of the Zionist public relations machine because of his sharp criticisms of Israeli policies and his charge that the Israel lobby has stifled debate on the Middle East in the US.





The modus operandi of Zionist organizations such as the ADL and the American Jewish Committee is by now a familiar one. “Inquiries” are made by one or another of these groups. The message is clear.





As the Polish Consul General said in connection with the contacts made in regard to Judt’s scheduled appearance, “The phone calls were very elegant but may be interpreted as exercising a delicate pressure. That’s obvious—we are adults and our IQs are high enough to understand that.”





Abraham Foxman of the ADL cynically insisted that he hadn’t requested that the event be shut down, but added, “I think they made the right decision.” He then spelled out the brazenly anti-democratic and thuggish attitude of himself and his organization toward anyone who criticizes Israel’s policies and Washington’s support for those policies. “He’s taken the position that Israel shouldn’t exist,” Foxman said of Judt. “That puts him on our radar.”





To clarify his position toward Israel, Judt remarked, “The only thing I have ever said is that Israel as it is currently constituted, as a Jewish state with different rights for different groups, is an anachronism in the modern age of democracies.”





The cancellation of Judt’s lecture is only one in a series of similar incidents. Judt was also forced to cancel another speech, at Manhattan College in the Bronx, on the topic “War and Genocide in European Memory Today,” after he was asked by the event’s sponsors to censor himself by avoiding direct references to Israel.





Less than a week after the episode at the Polish Consulate, an almost identical incident took place, this time at the French Embassy. British-based author Carmen Callil had been scheduled to attend a reception on October 10 in honor of her forthcoming book, Bad Faith, an account of the Vichy official who arranged the deportation of thousands of French Jews to their deaths in the Holocaust.





This event was also canceled at the last moment, apparently because of complaints over a sentence written by the author in the postscript to the book. She wrote of becoming anxious, while researching the “helpless terror of the Jews of France,” to see “what the Jews of Israel were passing on to the Palestinian people.” She continued, “Like the rest of humanity, the Jews of Israel ‘forget’ the Palestinians. Everyone forgets.”





Zionist attempts at censorship have a long and distasteful history, especially in New York City. They are not always successful, but not for lack of trying.





Just a few months ago the New York Theatre Workshop cancelled its production of My Name is Rachel Corrie, the play about the American student killed by an Israeli military bulldozer in 2001 as she attempted to stop the destruction of the home of a Palestinian family. The production was halted after similar “inquiries” from Zionist circles. My Name is Rachel Corrie finally opened in Manhattan this month and was met with warm responses from critics and the public.





The ADL, the American Jewish Committee and other Zionist organizations disingenuously claim they are not part of a “lobby.” That is supposedly limited to the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, the organization whose specific aim is to influence the US government on behalf of Israel. In reality, all of these organizations devote themselves to the defense of Israel and its diplomatic and political interests. They are free to do so, but their attempts to silence their critics and smear their opponents as anti-Semites demonstrate their reactionary character.





The censorship attempts have extended onto university campuses. Campus Watch, a right-wing web site established by Daniel Pipes several years ago, has drawn up a blacklist that targets professors of Middle Eastern studies for alleged “bias” because they have dared to criticize Israel and defend the Palestinians. Supporters of Campus Watch have encouraged the sending of hate mail and threats to these professors, along with calls for their removal from their academic positions.





The Anti-Defamation League, founded in 1913 to fight against anti-Semitism, has long since betrayed any commitment to civil liberties and academic freedom when it comes to critics—including Jewish critics—of the policies and foreign policy interests of the state of Israel.





Even limited opinion polling reveals the growing opposition among American Jews to the decades-long Israeli occupation of Palestinian land, but this doesn’t stop the ADL and similar groups from speaking in the name of all Jews. The power of these unelected spokesmen is magnified many times by their wealthy sponsors and their long-established ties to dominant sections of the corporate, financial and political establishment in New York and Washington. They have succeeded over many years in propagating the myth that Judaism and Zionism are identical, and that anti-Zionism is therefore anti-Semitism.





It should be noted that the kind of criticism that Foxman of the ADL says cannot be voiced in New York City is frequently expressed within Israel itself. Israeli newspaper columnists, writers, academics and others spoke out during the recent Israeli aggression in Lebanon. Are they also to be branded anti-Semites and silenced?





As Judt himself declared, “This is serious and frightening, and only in America—not in Israel—is this a problem. These are Jewish organizations that believe they should keep people who disagree with them on the Middle East away from anyone else who might listen.”





The Zionist organizations involved in such witch-hunting and censorship utilize the issue of anti-Semitism as a red herring. They are really concerned with the foreign policy interests of the Israeli government, and specifically the maintenance of the longstanding alliance between Israel and Washington.





The alliance between American imperialism and Zionism was fully cemented some 40 years ago, in the wake of the Six Day War of 1967. Over the past several decades American defenders of the Israeli state have secured the ironclad support of both major capitalist parties, from the most liberal Democrats to the neo-conservatives in the Republican Party and the Bush Administration.





Big business politicians have vied to demonstrate their loyalty to Israeli policies, and the occasional maverick who deviates from pro-Zionist orthodoxy, like Republican Congressman Paul Findley some years ago, is usually purged at the next election with the help of millions of dollars in campaign funds from the Zionist lobby.





In the recent period, however, public criticism of the existing US policy toward Israel has begun to emerge within American foreign policy and academic circles. To some extent, the feverish campaign to silence all critics of Israel is an expression of the nervousness within American Zionist circles over this emerging policy debate.





While the US-Israel alliance has never been closer than during the administration of George W. Bush, there are signs of a possible shift. The disaster facing the US ruling elite in Iraq, along with the deepening external and internal crisis facing Israel, exemplified by its recent debacle in Lebanon, is emboldening those within the American foreign policy establishment who argue that US policy is tied too closely to that of Israel.





American Zionist organizations are acutely sensitive to these tremors, hence their attacks on John Mearsheimer of the University of Chicago and Stephen Walt of Harvard University. Mearsheimer and Walt authored a paper earlier this year which charged that the Israel lobby had distorted US foreign policy and sought to intimidate its critics.





An article by Mearsheimer and Walt in the London Review of Books was entitled, “The Israel Lobby: Does it Have too Much Influence on US Foreign Policy?” The lobby was defined as “the loose coalition of individuals and organizations who actively work to steer US foreign policy in a pro-Israel direction.”





Mearsheimer and Walt articulate the views of a section of the American ruling elite which has concluded that Washington’s virtually uncritical support for Israeli foreign policy has produced a diplomatic and political disaster for US interests in the Middle East and elsewhere in the world.





The publication of these views was followed by hysterical charges of anti-Semitism against the authors, who were accused of stoking up anti-Semitic notions of an international Jewish conspiracy.





Socialist opponents of Zionism and imperialism do not take sides politically between Mearsheimer and Walt and their Zionist critics. The policy shift they propose, while it enrages the Zionists, has nothing to do with the interests of the international working class or the democratic rights of the Palestinians, and they are opposed to a struggle against both the Israeli and Arab bourgeois elites to unite Jewish and Arab workers on the basis of a democratic and socialist program.





We have no hesitation, however, in denouncing the crude charges of anti-Semitism leveled against Mearsheimer, Walt, Judt and similar critics of Israel.





There are, of course, anti-Semites among the opponents of the Israeli state, and they repeat the old anti-Semitic slanders. There are also a large number of anti-Semites among Israel’s supporters. Richard Nixon, whose virulent anti-Semitism was exposed on White House tapes in the wake of the Watergate scandal, had no difficulty aligning himself with Israel. Today the Zionists welcome the support of Christian fundamentalists who would like nothing more than the establishment of a right-wing theocracy in the US.





As far as the Zionist establishment is concerned, the main enemy is not anti-Semitism, but anti-Zionism. When it suits its purposes, it is perfectly prepared to recognize this vital distinction and “overlook” the anti-Semitism among its own supporters. Hence the warm accolades from the Israel lobby to such figures as Silvio Berlusconi, the former Italian prime minister, who received an award from the Anti-Defamation League in 2003 just days after expressing nostalgic sympathy for the fascist dictator Benito Mussolini.





To the extent that anti-Semitism has gained a new lease on life in the Middle East and elsewhere, this is largely the responsibility of Zionism itself. The anti-Semitic pronouncements of such figures as Iranian President Ahmadinejad are essentially the mirror image of Zionist propaganda, accepting the claim of the Israeli state to speak for all Jews and the interests of the Jewish people.





In fact, for the first half-century of its existence, Zionism was a distinct minority opinion within world Jewry. Its main opposition historically came from the left—from the socialist and internationalist opponents of all forms of nationalism and chauvinism. The attempt to smear left-wing critics as anti-Semites is one of the most despicable techniques of the Zionist propaganda machine.





The current attacks on even relatively mild critics of Israel are a sign of weakness. Longstanding Zionist myths are being increasingly exposed to the light of day. The fraudulent charge of anti-Semitism is beginning to backfire against those who level it.





The flagrant character of the Zionist intimidation campaign is such that even some committed Zionists have been forced to question it. The current issue of the New York Review of Books contains a letter entitled, “The Case of Tony Judt: An Open Letter to the ADL.”





The letter, signed by more than 100 writers, journalists and academics, criticizes the ADL’s actions in connection with the planned meeting at the Polish Consulate, declaring that “we are united in believing that a climate of intimidation is inconsistent with fundamental principles of debate in a democracy . . . the rules of the game in America oblige citizens to encourage rather than stifle public debate. We who have signed this letter are dismayed that the ADL did not choose to play a more constructive role in promoting liberty.”





Among the signers are Peter Beinart, Franklin Foer and Leon Wieseltier, all of the New Republic, one of the most vociferous defenders of the Zionist state.

Zionists Seek to Silence Critics of US Policy Toward Israel, what do you think?
You're right about what I read (It was long) - The ADL and other Zionist front groups have 2 missions. The first is to slander anyone who disagrees with the Evil State by saying they are anti-semites. The second is to be so annoying anti-semitism actually increases and Jews will be motivated to leave their happy homes, go to the Devil State and be forced to be soldiers.





"It is a great commandment from G-d to proclaim in every place, in every language, and at all times that Zionism and Judaism are opposites." - Grand Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Satmar
Reply:This is really silly some of the biggest critics of Israel are in fact Israeli how many people would dare to be critical of Bashar Assad in Syria Report It

Reply:Thank you, zanzi_uk, for at least exposing some people to the truth!


It is terrifying to look at people's answers on here regarding Palestine and those occupying it, clearly the American media does control their minds.


http://video.google.com/google... Report It

Reply:For fairness and balance, how do you excuse Palestinians for demanding the right of return for refugees into Israel, (foreign countries, descendants, their own fault), rejecting a partition in '49, terrorism and the election of Hamass? Sorry, not the Democrats, are they? Report It

Reply:Thanks for the information. I am beginning to think critics of Israel and USA's foreign policies in the Middle East are blacklisted. And we preach "freedom"? Balony! Report It

Reply:you've been brainwashed and religion is fiction, by the way.
Reply:No religion should EVER be allowed to have their own state, let alone nuclear weapons. This applies to ALL religions.
Reply:We have promient Islamic groups invading the U.S. also, perhaps we should also get rid of them.
Reply:I think the Muslims are out to kill anyone who disagrees with their "religion". I hope Israel gets the Muslims first. Then free people can ride a bus, train or go somewhere without a Muslim blowing them up.





Not all Muslims are terrorist, but all terrorist are Muslims.
Reply:Too long! Too much cutting and pasting! Who wants to read all that!! Further, this isn't a religion question, it's a political one. From what I can see, this is merely propaganda against those, meaning Conservatives, who defend Israel's right to exist. You're trying to convince those who are on the fence, that Israel is "evil" and shouldn't exist. Intelligent people will see through this.
Reply:Watch out Dude Mossads on to you!!!
Reply:Umm, I see that you have cut and pasted from http://www.radicalleft.net/blog/_archive... . It does you no credit.





In any event Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. addressed your question. He stated:





". . . You declare, my friend, that you do not hate the Jews, you are merely 'anti-Zionist.' And I say, let the truth ring forth from the high mountain tops, let it echo through the valleys of God's green earth: When people criticize Zionism, they mean Jews--this is God's own truth.





"Antisemitism, the hatred of the Jewish people, has been and remains a blot on the soul of mankind. In this we are in full agreement. So know also this: anti-Zionist is inherently anti-Semitism, and ever will be so.





"Why is this? You know that Zionism is nothing less than the dream and ideal of the Jewish people returning to live in their own land. The Jewish people, the Scriptures tell us, once enjoyed a flourishing Commonwealth in the Holy Land. From this they were expelled by the Roman tyrant, the same Romans who cruelly murdered Our Lord. Driven from their homeland, their nation in ashes, forced to wander the globe, the Jewish people time and again suffered the lash of whichever tyrant happened to rule over them.





"The ***** people, my friend, know what it is to suffer the torment of tyranny under rulers not of our choosing. Our brothers in Africa have begged, pleaded, requested--DEMANDED the recognition and realization of our inborn right to live in peace under our own sovereignty in our own country.





"How easy it should be, for anyone who holds dear this inalienable right of all mankind, to understand and support the right of the Jewish People to live in their ancient Land of Israel. All men of good will exult in the fulfillment of God's promise, that his People should return in joy to rebuild their plundered land.





"This is Zionism, nothing more, nothing less.





"And what is anti-Zionist? It is the denial to the Jewish people of a fundamental right that we justly claim for the people of Africa and freely accord all other nations of the Globe. It is discrimination against Jews, my friend, because they are Jews. In short, it is antisemitism."





Just one more thing. An answer here referred to a place called Palestine. The only place in today's world called Palestine is in the American state of Texas.
Reply:All right, fine. I am pro-Israel, but I do believe what you're saying about this. I do believe that Zionists sometimes use anti-Semitism to shut up their critics.