The redneck in my blood loves trucks

The whole time I was growing up, there was one thing that I constantly wanted and still want to this day. I have always wanted a truck. When I was younger, my dad had a tan Ford Ranger. That Ranger was to be my truck when I turned 16 and was old enough to drive. I had made plans to paint it a pink camo pattern so I always would know that the truck was mine. How often do you see a pink camo Ford Ranger driving down the street? I think never!

Well when I woke up one morning and the truck was no longer parked in the drive way. I was devastated to hear that my truck that I wanted, was no longer mine and was probably half way to Mexico by the time I had found out about the theft. Now I don't want you to think I am stereotyping here, the truck was actually found in Mexico about two weeks later. My hopes were all in that truck. I really wanted to drive a truck of my own for my first car.No I did get to drive a car when I turned 16, but it was not a truck however. It was a small, white car. I fell in love with that vehicle and was over the whole truck thing.

Well, when I went to go see my father for the first time, my biological one, I fell in love with trucks again. My father had a bad ass lifted Dodge diesel truck. Don't ask me the type of Dodge because I have no clue but it was still cool. When I drove it, I was addicted. It was like a drug flowing through my veins. You are feet above all others and feel like you can see everything. You feel like people wont screw with you or cut you off in a truck like that. I felt the power surging through my veins.

When I came back home and drove around in my little Ford Escort, I realized that I am not a car person. I am a truck girl at heart and when I can afford one, that will be my first new vehicle of choice.

Faith

**I do not like the typical memoir format. I do not enjoy reading the comic style of writing or even the graphic novel style. Therefore, I will write, not draw my piece.**



Usually when a person says they lost faith, they mean in their religion or in a person. Well in my situation, I have lost faith in myself.

When I first showed up at my freshman orientation at ASU, they told us "Plan for a different career choice, you will most likely not get into the nursing program." Well being 17 years old, you just brush that off and have an "I can do it attitude" about anything. I started out my freshman year with making the Dean's List the first semester but that high note shortly ended due to some personal issues I was having. That spring I failed my first class and got the worst GPA I have ever received.

That following fall I recovered bring my GPA up quite a bit. It was however not the boost that I was looking for. When I most recently met with an advisor, she flat out told me "Well, you are not going to get into the ASU nursing program, but keep applying anyways." Way to make people feel good about themselves ASU. Way to go.

In that moment I knew my one semester of screw up, messed up my whole plan I had laid out for myself. That moment, I lost faith in myself. I lost faith that I could graduate from nursing school. I questioned why I even bothered and why I was wasting my money. It took me a solid week before I recovered and realized that to be a nurse, you had to have a calling for it. Florence Nightingale once said that nursing isn't a job, it is a calling. Even at my lowest I have ever been in my education, that quote helped me know that although ASU may have not been my chosen path, nursing was.

Graphic Novels Vs Comics

When I hear the word graphic novel I think of the movie Watchman. Before that movie came out I had no idea what a graphic novel was or where the heck to find one. I thought that maybe it had something to do with Japanese animation but then I learned that had a particular class all to itself. Comics, however, I knew all about. Not the comic books, those I have never picked up in my life, but comic strips; man I sure did love those guys. I used to get up and read the "funnies" after I snatched it from the Sunday paper. Sure there were comics in the other papers too but the Sunday ones were the best; they were in color.

Now I know that comic strips and comic books are not necessarily the same thing. They do however have their similarities. The strip has its whole build up, plot, and climax all in approximately six panels where as a comic book is page after page of fantastic art work. The Sunday funnies are usually written by someone who works just with the paper, instead of the comic book where the writer's livelihood depends on their ability to write a book that sells.

I particularly enjoy the writing style of graphic novels as opposed to the comic style of writing. I feel that comics have writing all over the page  and I never know where to look next. With the graphic novel that was in our textbook, "Pyongyang", I was able to follow it easily. That may be because I am such a bookworm that anything else to me is just weird. I love to be able to picture the scene in my head having my own variations than say the person next to me reading it. With both the graphic novels and the comics, I feel that they bring variety to the wonderful world of literature. Even though I personally am not a fan, to each person their own. To me, If I had to choose one, I would pick graphic novel.

Sparky has taken over my wardrobe

I have been working at my job for almost two years now and man it has felt like a lot longer. Everyday I get up in the morning, throw on a pair of jeans and an ASU t-shirt. I dig in my dresser to find a pair of socks that will get the job done and then throw on a pair of sneakers. I wear the same thing everyday. I wear ASU clothing more than I wear normal clothes. Sparky has taken over my wardrobe. On my days off, I feel so lost. I have no idea what looks good to wear and what doesn't so I just end up wearing ASU clothes once again.

I go to work and do the same thing and work with the same people, again and again. Day after day, week after week, month after month. I show up. Clock in. I flip on the store lights in the proper way and then walk to the doors to let Casper and his friendly ghost friends in because now-a-days that's all the business we get. Occasionally, we get the corporal customers coming in but its usually those who decide to wait until the last month of the semester to get their book, but by that point we don't have it anymore and then I am the one dealing with their bitching.

I work my butt off day in and day out while many of my co-workers stand in the back room with the manager doing nothing for hours on end. I answer phones, I answer customer questions, I ring customers up and I go and help them find their books all the while two or three of them are sitting in the back doing nothing. Nothing ever changes, and nothing ever will even with the countless times I have come to the point of yelling in frustration.

The times I am helping just Casper, I am forced to stand there and just let my thoughts run through my head. All the reasons why I cannot stand that place as well as how boring it is to be the only one actually doing the job I was hired to do. I guess that is life, and it will never change.

April is Autism Awarness Month

I remember in high school we had a few people that were slower than others in my graduating class. I don't remember what specifically they were diagnosed with, but it was something that made sitting in a normal class and learning at the same rate as others extremely difficult. The students, however, tried their hardest to do their best in school. They worked with what they were given.

I remember being in school and seeing normal students taking advantage of the mentally challenged kids. They would copy their work or just flat out be mean to them. I watched them, just thinking to myself "How can kids be so mean?" Normal kids would taunt the others, calling them names. It was just horrible.

One day, I finally took a stand for those who couldn't understand they were being taken advantage of or made fun of. I remember getting so angry at the bullies I could barely formulate my thoughts into words. I was, from that day forward the one who without hesitation, stood up for those who couldn't or wouldn't for themselves.

I just recently found out that my younger brother (on my dad's side) is Autistic. When I first met him, my first thought was that he was such a wonderful boy. I couldn't help but think to myself, what if people picked on him? Was there anyone, like me, there to stand up for him? I am glad I stood up for those kids back in high school. I think that if I didn't stand up for them, someone may have not stood up for my brother Chester.

Hurt is at its worst just when it happens, but as time goes on the pain slowly dies away

I got an extension on this prompt, so its technically not considered late. It would mean a lot if you guys could peer edit this for me as this is fresh in my mind. Thanks. 

When a person dies, their whole family is affected. From the immediate family and as far away as long lost cousins all will flock into town just to pay their respects for the deceased. The center of the dreadful chaos is not only the deceased persons home but the funeral home where their body is kept. You see the immediate family huddled together in a corner trying to sooth themselves and the cousins, uncles and grandparents of the loved one lost on the other side of the room making small talk in the awkward situation.  For some, this is the first time they have met each other, and for others, they have lived just up the street from each other their whole lives.

When the time comes to view the body of the dead, the funeral director says a few words to the crowd. "Be careful if you touch him. He is not in his casket but only on a table and if you put too much pressure on the table it will fall and along with the table so will the body."

The immediate family is already fighting back tears at this point and is trying their best to hold it together. The distant relatives fall in line one by one filing into the room to pay their respects to the loved one lost, may it be their cousin, grandson, or nephew while the ones so near and dear to them stay back with the fear of seeing someone so precious to them in such a way. Cousins, grandparents and aunts and uncles come out of the room one by one then those closest to him make their way into the room.

You can hear the cries all the way in the all. The family out there waiting just doesn't know what to do or say as the immediate family files out one by one. Hugs are all that they can offer.

Hurt is at its worst just when it happens, but as time goes on the pain slowly dies away; but it will never be gone. It will always be a slow dull ache inside the chest of those who cared.

The President of the United States

The President of the United States of America.

To the world, the President of the United States of America is a strong leader. The President is a head of a strong country that is feared by its enemies. Those who challenge the country and its leader know that they will be met with a fierce and swift rebuttal

To Americans, we look to this figure in times of crisis when we need condolences. We look to the President for solutions to our problems when the job losses are at the highest it has been in years. Americans look to the President when there is questions to be answered.

I think that we take for granted how lucky we are as Americans. Yes each President has had his problems and issues to deal with. In recent years, Bill Clinton "did not have sexual relations with that woman" he also "did not inhale". George W. Bush had the tragedy of the Terrorist Attacks of September 11, 2011 and Hurricane Katrina. Current President Barack Obama has had the tragedy of the New Zealand earthquake and the Japan earthquakes as well as its tsunami. Many are unsatisfied with how he has handled his time in office so far, but I ask this question: could you do a better job?

Its not just dinner parties, fancy vacations and the limos. They are pretty much responsible for the well being of our country.

I guess to every American, the view on the person in office will be different. I, myself, do have my political views and depending on the specific person I may or may not like them. I will always, however, respect the person who chooses to take on the responsibility of The President of the United States.

I am a hard core Wrapper. You know, like gifts, not like Snoop.

Note: I know we were supposed to "interview" someone who is an expert at something, but at the moment the only expert I can think of is me.

Growing up my dad has always been the one who has sewn the buttons on button-less shirts, changed the oil on all the cars and wrapped all the presents.

Present wrapping fascinated me. I used to just sit and watch my dad measure the right amount of paper for the size of box the present was in. He used to put tape in all the right places so that you would never be able to see it unless your nose was pressed against the package.

When I started working at a Hallmark store, I was so excited. I got to work in a store where they gift wrap things all the time!

Throughout my first Christmas season, I perfected my skills. I took a note from my dad's "book" and learned how to hide the tape. I measured the paper to the right size to fit the box and I creased the corners of the paper.

So far I have been working at hallmark for almost three years and have mastered my wrapping skills. i am at the point where I have learned tricks to make my wrapping more elegant. I pull tight on the paper giving the present a cleaner look. I learned the best place to put a bow to accent certain papers or box sizes. I am now the "go to girl" at work and within my family when it comes to wrapping.

The half full cup (Read this one second)

You can see the anxiety on her face. She is dressed in comfortable clothes looking like she has done this before. She checks herself in, gets her wrist band and has a seat in the small waiting room. The nurse opens the door and calls, "Chelsee?" and waits until Chelsee gets up and slowly walks across the room. The nurse brings Chelsee into a small side room and takes her vitals and asks a bunch of medical history questions; "Do you have kidney problems?" "No" "Do you have a history of heart conditions?" "No" etc. The nurse then produces a cup and Chelsee gets an expression on her face of just pure humor. Chelsee takes the cup and disappears into the bathroom and reappears a few minutes later and passes the now half full cup off to the nurse.
She sat herself down into a chair and just observed. All the coordinated madness captivated as well as mesmerized her. A different bubbly nurse walked up to her with all the necessary supplies to start an IV on Chelsee. She turned slightly pale at the sight of the supplies. "Um,  I think I should tell you that I have a severe anxiety of needles. They really freak me out.""Oh don't worry, I do these all the time!"
All you can hear is the smacking of a glove against skin as the nurse searches for a good vein on her to start an IV. A single tear rolls down her faces as the nurse inserts the needle into her hand. That's all that escaped her eyes. She sat there quietly and looked like she was doing fantastic. The time came around for her to walk into the procedure room. Chelsee slowly walks from the chair into the room where all the tears just explode from her face. She breaks down into hysterics and the only way she was calmed down was when the anesthesiologist pumped anesthesia into her IV. Calmness followed.

She hands me a cup. That means only one thing; I have to pee in it. (Read this one first)

(First person story)
Needles freak me out. I have four tattoos and two piercings besides my ears, but those kinds of needles because they don't look like what the really are. Medical needles are what freak me out and set me into anxiety mode.I recently had to get a series of epidural back injections to cure a herniated disk and a pinched nerve. I knew what was going to happen; a long needle was going to be shoved into the epidural space of my lumbar spine and a steroid would be injection. The doctors office gave me two options for the procedure: sedation or no sedation. Which did I choose? Hands down, I picked the sedation.
I walked into the surgery center dressed in my favorite pair of black yoga pants and my Zac Brown Band concert tee shirt. I was fine just waiting to be checked in. I got my wrist bands and sat down in the waiting room, where my foot began to tap up and down. The nurse opens the door, "Chelsee?". She stands there and waits as I make the slow walk to the door. The nurse brings me into this small room where she takes my vital signs and asks me a bunch of questions about my medical history. "Do you have kidney problems?" "No" "Do you have a history of heart conditions?" "No" "Do you bla bla bla bla" for a good 20 minutes.
When the questioning ended, she handed me a cup. That means only one thing; I have to pee in it. Fantastic.
By this time my hear is already pounding so hard I can feel it hitting the back of my sternum. I do what needs to be done with the cup and pass it off to the nurse. I begin another round of the waiting game; or so I thought.
A fun "motherly" looking nurse walks up to me with a saline bag, an alcohol swab and an IV starter kit. Oh boy! As she puts the rubber thing around my arm to limit circulation, I decided it might be the time to tell her about my anxiety.
"Oh don't worry about a thing! I do these all the time!" she tells me as she is smacking my arm feeling for my veins. My IV got started along with my tears, but I sucked them up. It wasn't until I had to getup and walk myself into the procedure room that I became hysterical. I cried so hard that I had difficulty breathing. At that point they didn't know what else to do but pump me full of drugs that knocked me out. I cant remember anything until I was home. All I know is that some cran-rasberry juice mixed with a little bit of apple was sounding really good and I made sure to tell my dad over and over again that he needed to go get some.

What is love?

Love. A feeling that is probably the most sought out emotion there is. It used to mean that when you love someone you are completely devoted to them. You will be there for them through thick and thin. You will call them just to hear there voice because you miss them so much. You are willing to make that commitment of marriage to them because you are so in love with them you can't imagine your life without them.

It seems these days that society has blown the word love out of proportion. I constantly hear people use the phrase "luv ya" to random strangers or people who they would not say they were in love with. I once was at one of my jobs and one of my coworkers was listening to music when she blurts out, "OMG I love this song!" Really? You would marry that song? You could start a family with that song?

 Many times you here people using the word to woo another as a way to get a physical relationship out of someone. I personally have been victim of someone saying, "Chelsee, I am in love with you," just to get in my pants. You see celebrities having hour long weddings and getting married dozens of times. This fake love is always in view, always there.

Merriam-Webster defines love as a strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties. So where did we as a society go wrong? Yes true love comes along, and when I find my true love I am sure that it will be the best feeling ever, but why did I have to deal with the false love? Who was it that said, "Hey, watch this. I am going to tell them I love you and watch what happens." Who gave the young society the idea that love is not such a strong emotion that should be taken seriously? I am sure I could rant about this topic for hours and throughout many pages, but to save you the trouble of your eyes falling out, I won't. I will say though that love is something that should have true, genuine meaning to a person. With that true emotion, should come the benefits of falling in love.

"Hey father, I can always give him the check, I am sure he would enjoy getting it from me anyways"--Me **Scowl**--Father

When I was in Kansas visiting my father for the first time, there was an incident where I was hit on by my father's best friend's son. When I proceeded to tell my father about the incident, he was not happy. I witnessed from afar the anger that a father could have about his daughter being hit on.

It was on one of my last nights in town. I was sitting in my father's garage eating homemade fajitas made from a cow that was freshly slaughtered the day before. Now before you get all grossed out, it was the best piece of meat I have ever eaten. My father's friend, Juan, had picked out the best cut just for me, his best friend's daughter. Just as I was taking my first bite into the delicious, juicy, goodness, Juan's son pulled up in his white Dodge truck.

My father proceeded to stalk over to the boy and began having a few short words with him. As my father placed his hand on the back of Juan's son's neck, he asked, "So I hear you were hitting on my daughter. That does not sit well with me. You see, your dad is like my brother, which makes you like a nephew to me, meaning she would be your cousin. We are in Kansas, not Alabama, that shit isn't cool. I don't want to hear about you hitting on her again. You will treat her with respect while she is here. Do you understand me?"

With every sentence my father completed, his grip on the back of the boy's neck got tighter and tighter. At the end of the speech, all the boy could do was nod in compliance. He never spoke a word to me for the rest of my first trip there. From then on it was always a running joke between my family that anytime my father had to interact with him, I would be more than happy to step in for my father. That I was sure the boy would gladly talk to me than my father. That joke was always met with a scowl. Whatever, I thought it was funny.

My father, Me and my Grandpa (on my father's side)

My Gramps Is My Rock

My gramps is my rock. He always has been and probably will be until the good Lord calls him home. My grandpa used to watch me when I was a baby all the way up until I was going to kindergarten. I don't mean all the time everyday watching me, but when my parents would be at work, they would bring me to my grandpa's house. When I just want to relax even at the age of 19, I still go over his house and just get away from it all.

Of all the years I have known my grandpa, I always find out more and more "fun-facts" about him every time we talk. One day we were discussing a topic I cannot quite remember, and his time in the army came up. I found out that my grandfather used to shoot down enemy planes in the Korean or Vietnam War. I can't remember which war it was and I am sure I could ask again but I don't want him to feel like I wasn't listening. In later conversations I found out that my grandfather was a volunteer fireman who fought wildfires in northern Arizona. I have always known he was a Police Officer for the city we lived in but I never knew what exactly he did throughout his younger years. My grandpa is not old compared to many people's grandparents so that is why every time I hear him talk about his many adventures, I am in shock he fit all of it in into his short amount of years he has been alive.

Here you go, here is another $600 you can have ASU.

I have been at my job for almost two years; in July it will be my two year mark. I get great benefits right now working there at the bookstore. I get my textbooks for free on a loan, I get 10% off everyday and even 20% on Fridays. My work schedule works around my school schedule, which is one of the reasons I wanted to work for the school. Well just recently I found out my whole working environment is about to change.

Arizona State University sold their bookstore to an outside company for many reasons that I am too low on the pay scale to know. All I know is that there are many changes that are being put into affect.

My day was going as usual; open at work, go to class for a few hours and then head back to work to close up for the day. That's when my co-worker dropped the proverbial "bomb" on me.

"Hey Chelsee, did you know that the bookstore got bought out? Yeah I don't know all the details but I know that ASU no longer owns their store."

Wow. After that one sentence I found out so much. My benefit of getting my books on loan at no charge, is now out the window. The discount will be different for me and so many other things that will personally affect me at work everyday. My one big reason for working there is now gone. The one reason so many students want to and enjoy working at the bookstore is gone. No more free books. Great. Now I will join the mass of other students who will hunt for the best price on books on places such as Chegg.com and Amazon.com. I am not looking forward to this.

That is as far as it goes for me being personally affected, but I have witnessed many things changing and many people who are not happy with those said changes. I have heard and seen people dropping numerous f-bombs and walking around the store not giving a hoot who hears or sees them. People have been restructured in the company to ensure that they have their job for at least a year but many are not happy of their position in the restructuring.

Everyday I learn more and more about what the future holds for us student workers as well as the full time employees. I can tell you that there are many people not happy about the whole thing, and quite a few who got a wonderful promotion in the restructuring and are thrilled. Where do I stand? Personally, I don't give a hoot what happens as long as I get a great benefit to replace the one about my books.

There is no better perfume than the sent of freshly popped popcorn--Me

I was fifteen when I got my first job. My mother made sure to tell me that if I wanted anything, material or in life in general, I needed to earn it. I had to work hard to show that I deserved everything I had. So I went out and job hunted. Many would disregard me because of how young I was, which by the way is age discrimination, but finally I found a place that would hire me even though I was so young.

I started my first day at a chain movie theater close to the end of my sophomore year in high school. I was so excited to have my first real job that wasn't babysitting. I remember being trained in the proper way to clean a movie theater and the correct way to sell people their popcorn. I loved it! I worked my butt off for six months showing my superiors that I am a hard worker and that I can handle responsibility and the increased level of stress that most people my age couldn't handle.

After those six short months my manager and my assistant manager decided that I was responsible enough to handle the promotion I had been working my butt off for. This meant starting work at 8 am on some weekend days as well as many nights leaving the theater well after midnight. I had to manage my co-workers and decide when their breaks would be as well as run a whole concession stand by myself during a huge summer blockbuster events. Meanwhile I had started school again, so I had to learn to manage working nights and weekends with my school and homework.

Here it is three, almost four years later and I still look back on that job and realize that it started to teach me how to balance work and school. It laid the foundation to later help me work two jobs and go to college full time, where the only time I had at home was the time I was alseep. I had to learn to balance college level classes as well as work. If I did bad in those classes, it could put my future career path in jeopardy. I know that working hard like this and showing an effort will help put me one step above the rest later on in life. All of my future success due to my hard work and dedication is all thanks to my mom who persuaded me to go out and look for a job when others still sat at home and did nothing all day.

“Anger is only a natural reaction; one of the mind’s ways of reacting to things that it perceives to be wrong. While anger can sometimes lead people to do shocking things, it can also be an instinct to show people that something isn’t right.” –Anonymous

In my previous writings I have mentioned that I have only just recently met my biological father and his whole side of the family. Well, during winter break of 2010, I decided that I would spend my first Christmas with my biological father's side of the family. I got my flight booked and I had my trip planned for a three week stay. Don't get me wrong, I loved it there; it was a wonderful trip but I almost killed my little brother.

My brother Weylin is a wonderful young man, he really is. Lately though he has just lost the motivation to do well in school and has been giving a lot of attitude to people. Well our dad decided that he deserved to have his privileges taken away, such as his car and cell phone usage. He did, however, still make my brother go to work doing his janitorial duties working for our grandfather. Usually my step-mom drove him up every Wednesday to pick up trash and to empty the trashes outside a strip mall complex but this particular Wednesday she had something else to do. I don't exactly remember what it was, all I know is that she asked me if I would mind driving him up there. I had no problem with it; it gave me something to do.

So we made the drive about a mile to a mile and a half up to the strip mall where my brother was to work and I had to pull around back to allow him to grab trash bags and other necessary supplies. I pulled up into a parking space and put the car in park. My brother says to me, "What are you doing? Pull up to the door." I asked him, "Why?" What was his response? "So I don't have to walk in the cold."

Yeah I was a bit pissed off with that one. I put the car in reverse and pulled about ten feet from the supply closet door so he didn't "have to walk in the cold". He gets in the car and directs me to drive to the front of the complex where he is to pick up trash. At this point I am irritated with the whole scene in the back so I took the ten minutes to try and cool off. He gets back into the car and has me drive in front of the store where he empties trash. When he gets out he says to me, "Drive around back and wait for me by the dumpster. I don't want to have to put the trash in my car." Fine. No big deal.

I pull around to the side of the strip mall by this point having gone three-quarters away around the building. I pulled in the parking spot about fifty feet away from the dumpster still to were I could see it in my rear view mirror. I watch my youngest brother drag a few garbage bags full of trash to the dumpster and hoist them in. Then proceed to point to me, stamp his foot and give me the "come here" finger wave. OH HELL NO. I turned around in my seat and gave him the death glare and pointed at him to come to the car. Who was he to have me wait on him hand and foot? Not the Queen of England I could tell you that much. He just stood there; not moving an inch. I then threw the car into reverse, slamming my foot on the gas and pulled the car up to "his royal highness" so he could get in. We then had to finish the circle going back to the supply closet where I parked in a parking space and told him, "This is where I am stopping. You can walk your ass to the door." That did not sit well with him. He got out, kicked the door closed with his steel toe boot, which I am sure dented it but what do I care? It was his car anyways.

On the way home there was silence that filled the car. He tried to tell me how to get back to the house but I was so pissed off at him I told him to shut up and let me do the driving. Well since I live in Arizona, and it was only my first week and a half in Kansas, I got a bit lost on the back roads and I decided to do a large rather reckless U-turn in a huge parking lot. I was pissed off, give me a break on that one. He uttered a few short words that sent me over the top: "I'm going to die in this car today."

One way to piss me off is to be a passenger seat driver, which he had already done the whole first week and a half I had been there. Those eight words were the icing on the cake for that day. We pulled back in front of the house where he proceeded to go inside. I was so pissed that I sat outside cleaning out his car filled with soda and energy drink cans that kept "pinging" due to the constant temperature change in the car. I was driving it so I wanted a clean car. While cleaning, I called our brother Michael Jr. who was at his wonderful girlfriend's house at the moment, to (pardon my language) bitch about our brother. He calmly said to me, "Just tell Dad when he gets home. He will handle it."

I hung up the phone with Michael and had by this point lined up all the cans on top of Weylin's car. When he saw the fact I pulled out an gigantic Monster energy drink can he came out from the house, walked over to the car, and grabbed the one can of approximately ten to fifteen and threw it away. This, to most people, would raise a question of why just that one can? Well in that house, energy drinks are not allowed. He left me to struggle with the rest of his mess. Oh I was pissed.

That's when the angry Chelsee came out. Once I threw the garbage out into the trash, I let that boy have it. I told him that I was not his personal slave and that next time he needed a ride anywhere, he could walk his ass in the ten degree weather. I couldn't care less. I yelled at the kid for about five minutes until he stormed off kicked over the trash can and went inside. I have never yelled at anyone like that in my life. Just as my brother stormed inside, my dad was pulling up in his big Dodge diesel truck. Oh, I made sure to express my "frustrations" with him about my brother. Lets just say that after that conversation he had with my brother, I was never treated like a personal slave by my brother again.

I really do love my brother. But at that moment, I was really going to beat the crap out of him. None the less, things with him have progressed seemingly for the better from that moment on. I can't wait to see what he chooses to do with his life. Who knows, you might see the next video game designed by him.

"Oh! The places you'll go" --Dr. Seuss

Six feet wide from door to door. Beige cloth interior that feels somewhat similar to velvet. I am sitting there surrounded by two pillows, two blankets, and a giant purse filled with many activities to do. On the opposite side sits my brother with pretty much the same things as me, just instead of a purse filled with things, its a backpack. Between us is a small cooler filled with drinks and a few munchies to chow down on along the way. In the front passenger seat sits my mother, lost in her own world of tabloid magazines and a good Daniel Steel book. My dad sits in the driver's seat, always. Its his spot. He is the navigator, always guiding us to a new adventure.
I sat many hours in the same seat, right behind the passenger seat in the back of that vehicle. I enjoyed many car rides and many fun family get-aways. The landscapes that the car has allowed me to see have been magnificent. From the dunes of Arizona to the beautiful speckled beaches of Coronado Island, California, that car has brought me many wonderful pictures. Pictures, however, cannot compare to the wonderful times playing "Mad Libs" with my little brother.
I know that when I grow older and start a family of my own, I want to go on family vacations just like the ones I had when I was growing up. I hope to start a tradition in my own family that my mother and father did with me and my brother. I want my children to remember the car rides and family adventures that they go on with me and the rest of their family. The family car was a spectacular place of my childhood and I'm sure will be in my adulthood too.

I was always blessed when I was a little girl. I was fortunate enough to take trips that I have wanted to take. Since I am still young in the eyes of many, I now realize that I have many trips ahead of me still left to take. I have always wanted to go to Ireland, even though it isn't something that I have passionately wanted to do. It was just a small yearning to see all the wonderful green grass.

I yearn to see the beautiful hills of green grass. I picture myself lying in the grass underneath the shade of a weeping willow tree reading a wonderful book. I see myself standing on a cliff that drops off into an ocean. Going there and exploring the wonderful foods from a different part of the world. Meat, potatoes, and beer will be my diet for the extent of my stay there in Ireland.

I plan to visit all the beautiful castles on the great hillsides. I will lie on my back and reach out over a tall drop off of the Blarney Castle and pucker my lips. I will kiss the Blarney Stone and be gifted with eloquence and persuasiveness. I will go and have a wonderful golf experience on the many of the luscious green courses. While there I will go for the very rare achieved whole in one.

I hope that one day within the next ten years I will be in Ireland fulfilling all my outlandish wishes.

"I am...the spitting image of my father and when the day is done my Momma’s still my biggest fan"--Jessica Andrews

I have grown up living with my mom and my dad here in the great state of Arizona. I was born and raised here and will probably live here for many years to come. I feel that a dad is someone who raises you, someone who goes to all your dance concerts and listens to you when you have an interesting story at school. A dad is someone who is there for you no matter what; someone who will be the one to walk you down the isle on your wedding day and shake the man's hand when he gives you away. So for me, my dad is the man in my house who has been here and raised me since I was six months old. The first time I met the man who helped create me  was a surreal experience for me. In this blog we will the one who lives in Kansas my father, and my dad in here in Arizona my dad.

I always knew I never really looked like any one in my family so the first time I met my father's side of the family, it was an amazing feeling to actually see people that looked like me. My father has a twin sister who, in my opinion, I think will be me in 40 years. The first time I met her I think I just sat there and stared. I tried not to be rude but I think I might have come off that way. She had the same nose as me, the same smile, the same goofy laugh as me and so much more! I thought, "Man, if this is just my aunt, I wonder what it will be like when I meet my father??".  For those who don't have long lost family members that you have never met before, be thankful, because I compare getting to know them its like dating without all the romance and gross stuff.


I started talking to my father in June of 2010 for the first time out of my then 18 years of existence. At first, I was quite angry; I wanted answers. After two months of talking to him and my three brothers in Kansas, it was decided that in October of 2010 I would fly halfway across the country to meet my father; the man who helped put me on this planet. I sat in terminal four at Sky Harbor Airport at gate twenty-something at seven in the morning. I had arrived about two hours early to the airport deathly afraid that security would be super slow and I wouldn't make my flight on time. The two hours I sat there and waited were the longest two hours of my life. I sat there thinking to myself, "What if he doesn't like me? What if things go horribly wrong on the way there and the plane has to land in some BFE town and I am going to miss my opportunity to meet him?". I am lucky in the sense that my aunt, the one who I look so much like, has such wonderful kids that went to Kansas with me the first time and that helped me calm my nerves.


During my whole flight, I didn't want to get up because I just wanted to get there. I didn't want to use the plane toilets because I figured before I actually saw my family I would be able to stop in the bathrooms and freshen up after the three hour flight. Yeah, no. That didn't happen. I walked off the plane at Kansas City International Airport and after walking about 20 yards, there they were. My father, younger brother Michael and my wonderful cousin Mackenzie with her son Luke were waiting for me. What were my first words to them "Ummm...Can you guys watch my stuff? I really have to pee".


I couldn't believe what I had seen. I saw my father for the first time. A man who I had only had seen two pictures of in my whole life and now I was actually in his presence. At first it was quite awkward, I didn't know how to act and I didn't know what to say. I spent two full days with my family out in Kansas plus my two days that I flew in and out of Kansas. On my last night there, we sat down and took family photos, the first one that I had ever been in with them. It was a hard good-bye but I knew I would be back.


It wasn't until an assignment I had for a class in the fall of 2010 that I really realized that "I'm a spitting image of my father".

Me and my (Kansas) father at a bowling alley

I have had a wonderful blessed life within these 8 months getting to know my other half of my family and I couldn't have gone through as much emotional stress as I did with out my mom being "my biggest fan" and the love and support of my dad. I am so grateful that my whole family has accepted me in with open arms as if I have always been there these past 19 years.

Me and my Daddy on Super Bowl Sunday of 2010

New York Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg recently did an undercover study on the state of Arizona's gun laws. Some feel that Arizona's interpretation on the Second Amendment is somewhat of a lax view. Some government officials believe that, in light of recent events such as the Tucson shooting, that a more strict way of going about gun selling should be put into place.

In Mayor Bloomberg's undercover investigation, he sent a person undercover to one of the many gun shows that occur in the valley with a hidden camera. In that investigation he had his people try and purchase guns. During their transaction he made sure that the people told them "Oh no background check? That's OK I probably would pass one anyways" and the sellers still knowingly sold the buyer the gun. Many wonder why with all the violence going on in Arizona and at the border, Arizona would allow such things to happen. In the video there were numerous sellers who knowingly sold the buyer the weapons with no regards to others safety.

While the Mayor of New York was doing his investigation, the Arizona congress is pushing for a new law to be passed where it is legal to carry a gun into federal buildings as well as colleges. This comes with Arizona's recent law that allows people to carry a concealed weapon without having a permit. This opens up new doors for criminals to carry weapons without people knowing. This is a big argument for people such as Mayor Bloomberg who feel that its laws such as these that caused the shootings such as the most recent Tucson shootings and border killings. Who knows? Maybe it will take more people to die before things change, for stricter laws to be put in place.

“There is no part of my life, upon which I can look back without pain” --Florence Nightingale

I was attributed with being the founder of modern nursing. I was born in Florence, Italy, in  May of 1820 to wealthy English parents while they were on honeymoon. I am the younger of my parents two children with my older sibling being my sister Parthenope. My mother always wanted me to follow in her footsteps and follow the social "norms" as in be a socially respectable woman. I was supposed to go to all the parties and marry young just like my mother and sister; I however didn't find that future too appealing.

While growing up I studied under my father, a respectable Cambridge scholar, as well as many of my nannies. I learned seven languages in my youth and wrote an autobiography by the age of ten. During my time, nursing was looked at as a non-respectable profession. Prostitutes, women who were drunk in public and homeless women were the "nurses" of my time. I wanted a change. I felt that people's lives were worth more than just an afterthought for the laywomen of the time. So, against my mother's wishes, I began to study nursing, going as far as Germany to do so. When I returned home from Germany, I was put in charge of the Institute for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen on Harley Street in London until the Crimean war began.

The Crimean War was fought in Turkey with the Russians in the year 1853. There was a horrid war hospital in Turkey that a few other nurses and myself went to assist in saving the lives of thousands of patients. There was over two times the amount of patients in that hospital than was the said capacity. When I arrived there was a fatality rate of over 60%. My fellow nurses and I brought that down to 1%.

I believe that because I wrote my book "Notes on Nursing" it is going to help change the face of nursing for the future. I hope that one day people will think of nursing as more of a "calling" than a "job".

--Florence Nightingale

"In the childhood memories of every good cook, there's a large kitchen, a warm stove, a simmering pot and mom" --Barbara Costikyan

My mom and I are going to make cookies today. Its something that we love to do. We have to make cookies for Santa every year. He will get hungry going from my house to the next with out having a cold glass of milk and some of my mom's homemade frosted sugar cookies. Even if Santa has been on a diet, he has never turned down my mom's cookies.

Yesterday, we prepared the dough to get it ready for today! My mom and I gathered up all the ingredients and followed the recipe exactly as it said and I have been waiting in anticipation since yesterday to bake them today! See, in order to make the dough cut into the cool shapes, we had to put it in the refrigerator over night to cool it way down.

My first helper job is to get the flour and spread it all on the counter to make sure the dough doesn't stick to it. If I didn't put the flour down, it would stick to the counter so bad we would have to use a giant spatula to scrape it off. If we tried too hard to get the dough off the counter it might fly up and hit the ceiling and then we would need a ladder to get it down! So that's why my mom says we use flour. We have to put some on the rolling pin to so that way we can roll the dough even to make perfect cookies for Santa! My mom does most of the rolling though, I'm not very good at that part. The part I am good at though is picking out all the cookie shapes that I just know Santa will love this year! I am in charge of cutting them out of the dough sheet and placing them onto the cookie tray.

After my mom and I made as many cookies as we could out of the dough, we place the cookie trays into the oven at 400 degrees. I'm not allowed to do that though because my mom said I can burn myself and I don't want to have to go to the hospital. As I sit outside the oven watching them rise, I can smell the warm, sweet goodness coming from inside the oven. Just as the cookies start to turn a golden brown, the kitchen timer goes off telling my mom its time for Santa's cookies to be ready for cooling then frosting.

I just know that the Santa will love the color frosting I picked out for him. He might love them so much, he might ask for them again next year!

Santa's yummy cookies!!

Frosted and ready to eat!!!

"A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are" --Anonomys

My best friend, Ariana, is the most insanely wonderful person on the planet.

I met her my freshman year in high school in our freshman physical education class. Although I knew her name my freshman year, it wasn't until a year later in our ceramic class that I began to grow close to her. Throughout a class where you had such creative freedom, we realized that we had a lot of things in common as well as many differences that made being friends exciting.

Typically she has short, bright blond hair, but recently she likes to switch it up on me and do some dark colors. She always has the best make-up on and it always looks like a professional applied it. Ariana is always well dressed, because a girlie-girl like her has to be. Well, with the exception of those early morning classes where us college students choose to sleep in that extra hour or so and go to class in our pj's. She is about 5'4" 5'5" but her short height is no match for her big personality. My best friend is straight out of New York, which makes me love her even more. I always knew she had the accent of a New Yorker but I never really quite understood how "New York" she was until my first time eating over at her house on "Macaroni night" or spaghetti as most of us West Coast people call it. If you go there and call it spaghetti, you are wrong. No negotiating that one. It is not "spaghetti" it is "macaroni". Anyway back to the first dinner with the family. I remember sitting there at the table with Ariana, her sister, her sister's boyfriend, their mother, father, grandmother and aunt. Let me tell you, if there ever was a time where I was ever hit with culture shock, that would be the time. I remember sitting there eating my "macaroni" and all of a sudden the whole family gets into an argument about grocery shopping. I don't remember who brought the topic up or why, but it was the most entertaining nights of my life. The epic battle was over should you write the prices of your groceries next to them on the list so that way you can tally the total cost up on paper, or should you just do it in your head. I don't mean argument in the sense of scowls and stern tones of voice. I mean F-bombs every other word, dropping of forks onto the plate and just all out anger. I am sure my eyes were popping out of my head in shock. After the argument was over (I don't remember the outcome of it), the family went back to normal like it never went down. That's when I knew, she would be my best friend for the rest of my life.

Ariana is like my "sister from another mister". In high school I would always go to her house every night or right after we got out of class. We used to go on "epic adventures" to the best food places in Arizona at least five times a week. She is so amazing, she even got me my job at Hallmark. She and I are so close that we could go weeks with out talking, and then out of the blue just call and nothing is ever out of place. She cares out people who respect and care about her. If, however, you are one of the unlucky ones to cross her, watch out. She is the friend I turn to when I have had a bad day, or when a crazy ex of mine calls me up at two in the morning causing me to go into a panic. She is the one to be my rock when a break up ends badly. She is the only one of my friends who is allowed to just waltz right into my mother's house unannounced because she is so trustworthy and wonderful.

Now that we are growing up and in college now, almost 6 years from the first time I met her, I still can say every time we get together we still have as much fun as ever. I may not see her as much as I used to or as much as I would like to, but that doesn't make her any less of a best friend or any less of a sister to me.

Ariana, I thank you for being there for me through thick and thin and I hope you know I am always there for you whenever you need me. Love you!

"Live is a handful of short stories, pretending to be a novel" --Anonymous

Hello!! Hmmm...where to start? Well why not with the simple stuff first. My name is Chelsee and right now I am currently a nursing major at the Downtown campus. I work for ASU at their Downtown Bookstore and have been there for almost two years. In addition to my bookstore job, I have been working at a Hallmark store for almost three years. Hallmark is the job where I get to have my fun. I get to have Christmas for six months out of the year! Who wouldn't love that? I am a fun person who is passionate about life. I always try to smile at least once a day. On that same note, I don't put up with stupidity. I stand firm in what I believe in and I stand up for what I feel is right.

I have a LARGE family and I love them all. I am the only girl out of six children between both my parents. My family is spread out between three states and sometimes it gets frustrating. My father lives in Kansas with my stepmother and three of my younger brothers. My brother closest in age to me, Michael, just left for basic training for the United States Air Force. Words cannot express how proud I am of him. My brother Chester, 17, has Autism but that is not what defines him. He is a mellow boy with a wonderful heart and every time you look at him he makes you smile. My youngest brother in Kansas, Weylin who is 16, is developing into a wonderful young man.

From left to right: Weylin, Me, Michael and Chester

I have an older brother named Brett who is living in Tucson. He is a fun person to just sit and spend time with. I may not talk to him everyday, but he is still my big brother and I will always be there for him. Four of my cousins live in Tucson named Josh, Mackenzie and her son Luke, Sydney and Mason along with my Uncle Teo. My Aunt Michelle is an officer in the Army and is stationed in the great state of Texas.

I live in Glendale with my mom, dad and brother. My brother's name is Hayden and he is 11. What can I say about him? He is a little brother, so yes he gets on my nerves, a lot, but I love him dearly. I can't wait to see what he chooses to do with his life.

My mother is a big part of my life. She doesn't know just how much I appreciate her or how much I take inspiration from her.

I love Elephants. I love everything about them. They are beautiful, majestic creatures that have big floppy ears. They are big, grey and wrinkly but yet beautiful.