People are giving Miss Teen South Carolina a lot of grief, but to be honest, I think it takes a lot of skill to be that... unintelligible.
Actually, I think she was channeling Charles Bukowski. I mean, if you break it down to a poem... it's actually kind of beautiful. It's about helping other people and building our future... Who's going to argue with that??
An ode to maps
By Lauren Caitlin Upton
I personally believe
that U.S. Americans
are unable to do so because
some people out there
in our nation
don't have maps
and I believe that education
like such as
in South Africa
and the Iraq
everywhere
like such as
and I believe
that they should
our education over here
in the U.S.
should help the U.S.
or should help South Africa
and should help the Iraq
and the Asian countries
so we will
be able to build up our future
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Taking the Plunge
With all the bad news coming out of Asian, European and American stock markets these days, I'm very glad that I have put my money somewhere safe. I found an investment that guarantees returns those big guys could only dream about!
It all started when I received a very polite and intriguing email message (written in all caps) from a Dr. Clement Okon, who said he was the bearer of some $21 million dollars that he was willing to share with me if I could only help him move said funds from Nigeria. For a minimal investment of only thousands, I would reap millions in return!
All right.. All right.. you got me! Of course I didn't send this guy any money. I know lots of people HAVE been fooled by these scams, and I feel for them, but it's hard to believe anyone would think money could come that easily.
Our toe-dip into the investment pool has proven to be disastrous - mutual funds that are worth half now of what we bought them for five years ago... It's like gambling, something else we're not comfortable with. My money is happily invested in a studio apartment on 1st avenue.
Although, I hear this week's Lotto jackpot is $148.... Hey, you never know!
It all started when I received a very polite and intriguing email message (written in all caps) from a Dr. Clement Okon, who said he was the bearer of some $21 million dollars that he was willing to share with me if I could only help him move said funds from Nigeria. For a minimal investment of only thousands, I would reap millions in return!
All right.. All right.. you got me! Of course I didn't send this guy any money. I know lots of people HAVE been fooled by these scams, and I feel for them, but it's hard to believe anyone would think money could come that easily.
Our toe-dip into the investment pool has proven to be disastrous - mutual funds that are worth half now of what we bought them for five years ago... It's like gambling, something else we're not comfortable with. My money is happily invested in a studio apartment on 1st avenue.
Although, I hear this week's Lotto jackpot is $148.... Hey, you never know!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
Blood, gore and a tiny little fairy
When I was small, losing my baby teeth was a traumatic experience -- for everyone in my family. I hated the feeling of the loose tooth in my mouth, hated the blood, hated everyone telling me it was no big deal.
The one silver lining was the tooth fairy. I believed in her very much, especially because she managed to find me no matter where in the world we lived, even the cul-de-sac in suburban Rome where we were at the time.
Except one time she didn't come.
I woke up the morning after another harrowing and messy loss and checked for her present under my pillow. The going rate for a tooth back then was 25 cents, but it wasn't there. I looked inside my pillowcase, behind the mattress, under the bed... nothing. I accused my brothers of playing a trick on me.
My parents explained that sometimes these things happen, that there had been an earthquake in Sicily and that other children needed more help than I did. I tried to be selfless and somehow, somebody managed to console me. We got through the day, but my faith was badly shaken. How could she have forgotten? I mean, there were all those tears and all that blood, how could she not remember that?
The next morning I woke up and took a peek under my pillow in the off-chance that I had missed something. There it was! My shiny quarter! But there was something else too. Underneath the coin was a small piece of folded paper. It was a note of apology from my friend the tooth fairy. The note was written in block letters that only vaguely disguised my father's own handwriting. It was signed "Love, T.F." -- short for tooth fairy. Years later I would receive others notes from my father -- these would be signed "Love, D." -- short for Dad.
The one silver lining was the tooth fairy. I believed in her very much, especially because she managed to find me no matter where in the world we lived, even the cul-de-sac in suburban Rome where we were at the time.
Except one time she didn't come.
I woke up the morning after another harrowing and messy loss and checked for her present under my pillow. The going rate for a tooth back then was 25 cents, but it wasn't there. I looked inside my pillowcase, behind the mattress, under the bed... nothing. I accused my brothers of playing a trick on me.
My parents explained that sometimes these things happen, that there had been an earthquake in Sicily and that other children needed more help than I did. I tried to be selfless and somehow, somebody managed to console me. We got through the day, but my faith was badly shaken. How could she have forgotten? I mean, there were all those tears and all that blood, how could she not remember that?
The next morning I woke up and took a peek under my pillow in the off-chance that I had missed something. There it was! My shiny quarter! But there was something else too. Underneath the coin was a small piece of folded paper. It was a note of apology from my friend the tooth fairy. The note was written in block letters that only vaguely disguised my father's own handwriting. It was signed "Love, T.F." -- short for tooth fairy. Years later I would receive others notes from my father -- these would be signed "Love, D." -- short for Dad.
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