Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Literary Conflict Study: #The Struggle Instagram Activity
Talk about high interest, student engagement, and alternate assessments! All I had to say was, "Instagram", and my students were hooked. The activity required each student to create a visual representation illustrating one of the many conflicts within the novel Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. They had to add hashtags describing the key ideas, characters, and types of literary conflicts expressed in their images. I printed and copied the template and made the digital copy available online for those students who wanted the color version of the file (they were responsible for printing that out on their own). They were allowed to either hand-draw their image or create a collage of digital images, and I received many of both types. I was easily able to assess their understanding of conflict, and it gave my brain and eyes a rest from grading multiple choice and constructed response tests.
I set up the display above on an empty part of my classroom wall. I laminated card stock then punched out the letters and pound sign/hashtag using the letter press we have at our district's media center. I printed the Instagram logo onto card stock and laminated that as well. I used twine tied to clothespins to create my hanging lines, and I hot glued it all to the cinderblock wall near the door. My students (yes, my high school students) were so excited to see their work displayed in the classroom! They so badly wanted to write tally-mark "likes" on their favorites, but I insisted they not block traffic into the room and promised that they'd be able to do that at a later time. They are requesting to do another one following the completion of our current novel study, and I'll probably oblige.
Get my Instagram Template here.
Monday, August 10, 2015
My Crafty Classroom Drawer Files
Now that I have finally settled in at a school from which I plan to retire, I have taken the time and exerted the energy required to turn my classroom into my home away from home. I probably spend more time in my classroom than I do in my own home, so the effort has definitely paid off. I love my classroom!
I am not the craftiest person out there, but I do love Pinterest projects as much as the next person. I even try some of the things I see pinned on the site. This is one of the projects I've seen posted by someone else that I figured I'd try. I've had these plain plastic file drawers in the garage for a couple of years, taking up space and collecting dust, so I decided to repurpose them into an organization area behind my desk in my classroom.
Here's how I did it:
Materials:
1. old (or new) plastic drawer set(s) with clear drawer fronts
2. scrapbook paper or any other kind of decorative or colorful paper you have lying around
3. printed scroll frame labels (see explanation below)
4. transparent tape
5. scrap or white paper to make a template
How It's Done:
1. Clean the drawers. Since my sets were covered in cobwebs, I used some disinfecting wipes to scrub them and prepare them for the tape.
2. Make your template. I used some white copy paper to measure, draw, and cut a template just the right size needed to cover the inside face of the clear drawers.
3. Trace and cut your drawer face backs from the decorative paper. Because I had nine drawers to cover, I picked three different patterns that matched the decor of my classroom (all three pages came from the same scrapbooking set I bought at Hobby Lobby), and I traced the template and cut three drawer backs from each patterned paper.
4. Make your labels. I did a Google search for "black scroll frames clip art" and picked one I liked. I then copied it multiple times into a Word document. I made nine copies of the image because I had nine drawers to label. Then I used text boxes to to layer the font on top of the image.
5. Glue your labels to the drawer backs. To make sure my labels were centered and in the right spot, I "eyed" the placement on one drawer before permanently gluing them down. Once I had one label glued, I simply lined up all of the other drawer backers beneath that one and lined up the labels on top of them, being careful to keep them in line with the centered sample I put together first. 6. Tape your labelled decorative drawer backing papers to the drawers. Using transparent tape, I positioned the papers inside the drawers and taped them down on all four sides.
Voila! You now have cute crafty classroom drawers!
If you choose to try this out for yourself, I'd love to see your take on the project! Please post a picture of your creation in a comment.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Dear RAW, Where Have You Been All My Life?
Several years ago I spent some serious money on a Canon T2i. It was a purchase that has paid off many times over. I took pictures of my own kids plus the other kids in the family. I've taken family portraits for my relatives, and I've even done some senior portraits for students who couldn't really afford to pay real photographers for sittings and prints. Because of my busy schedule, I never spent too much time experimenting beyond the automatic settings. However, I've recently been taking advice from friends and watching and reading tutorials on the Internet. I stepped out of my comfort zone, set the camera to RAW instead of JPEG, and I sure am happy that I did. I knew a few tricks in Photoshop: image and hue adjustments, stamping corrections, cropping, and resizing. I wish I'd have tried photographing in RAW before today. Editing would've been a lot easier. This is my first try at it, and I'm already impressed with the results--faster and simpler edits with an impressive, professional-looking image in the end. This image above is of my two-year-old, Abigail. My older daughter, Breelyn, and I threw a dress on her, made her walk around the backyard, and snapped a few pictures so that I could do some trial runs. I LOVE THEM! I'll be studying more about RAW so that I can get more photos like this one!
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The Roadkill Metaphor
(My First MySpace Blog, 11/11/05)
If you have not experienced one yet, let me assure you that you will eventually in your lifetime come across moments that I refer to as roadkill incidents. While driving in Southern Louisiana, it is not unusual to spot a mangled mass lying bloody near the edge of a roadway--dogs, cats, skunks, opossums, and armadillos whose lives were cut short by passing traffic. From one hundred feet away, the carcass can be seen (and sometimes smelled) coming up in the distance. Of course different people have different reactions to situations like this. Some drivers keep their eyes glued to the wretched heap, hoping for the fleeting glimpse of mutilated innards and maggots, even going as far as to point out to their passengers that death is approaching, and they should check it out. I, on the other hand, am not into self-inflicted torture. I won't even flinch if my daughter is in the car with me, never mentioning it to her in an attempt to shield her, hoping that she won't notice the remains of the poor animal we are soon to pass. Instead of glaring at the blood, I face forward, concentrating on the road ahead of me and pretend that there's nothing there.
There are moments in life that are very similar to this situation: seeing an ex-lover with his or her arm around another more attractive than you are; sitting in a church watching your high school sweetheart marry your best friend; the only single friend you have left saying that he or she has finally fallen in love and has decided to marry while you're still struggling to meet someone half-way decent; your divorced parent snuggling with a stranger on the couch while you all watch a movie together. These are all roadkill incidents. You may not experience something exactly like these, but you will, I promise, experience something similar at least once in your lifetime. You see the mangled mess coming from a hundred feet away, and you have one of two choices to make: point and stare, waiting for the blood and guts or face forward, never flinching, and concentrate on the road ahead. My advice to you when the choice is laid in your lap: look away, man, look away. It's a lot less painful.
If you have not experienced one yet, let me assure you that you will eventually in your lifetime come across moments that I refer to as roadkill incidents. While driving in Southern Louisiana, it is not unusual to spot a mangled mass lying bloody near the edge of a roadway--dogs, cats, skunks, opossums, and armadillos whose lives were cut short by passing traffic. From one hundred feet away, the carcass can be seen (and sometimes smelled) coming up in the distance. Of course different people have different reactions to situations like this. Some drivers keep their eyes glued to the wretched heap, hoping for the fleeting glimpse of mutilated innards and maggots, even going as far as to point out to their passengers that death is approaching, and they should check it out. I, on the other hand, am not into self-inflicted torture. I won't even flinch if my daughter is in the car with me, never mentioning it to her in an attempt to shield her, hoping that she won't notice the remains of the poor animal we are soon to pass. Instead of glaring at the blood, I face forward, concentrating on the road ahead of me and pretend that there's nothing there.
There are moments in life that are very similar to this situation: seeing an ex-lover with his or her arm around another more attractive than you are; sitting in a church watching your high school sweetheart marry your best friend; the only single friend you have left saying that he or she has finally fallen in love and has decided to marry while you're still struggling to meet someone half-way decent; your divorced parent snuggling with a stranger on the couch while you all watch a movie together. These are all roadkill incidents. You may not experience something exactly like these, but you will, I promise, experience something similar at least once in your lifetime. You see the mangled mess coming from a hundred feet away, and you have one of two choices to make: point and stare, waiting for the blood and guts or face forward, never flinching, and concentrate on the road ahead. My advice to you when the choice is laid in your lap: look away, man, look away. It's a lot less painful.
The Last Kiss
(Originally posted to MySpace 09/05/07)
"Stop talking about love. Every asshole in the world says he loves somebody. It means nothing... what you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love--that's what matters. It's the only thing that counts." (from The Last Kiss)
I'm no film critic, but I do know what plots interest me, with which characters I can identify, and which stories touch me on a very human level. The Last Kiss, starring Zach Braff, is the most recent addition to my list of all-time favorites. It's not a favorite because of funny lines or happy endings. I fell in love with it because of how truthful its portrayal is of love and commitment. Braff plays a thirty-year-old seemingly-happy man in a relationship with the perfect woman. When she announces her pregnancy, he suddenly panics, fearing the finality of his life with no future surprises. With a desire for something new fueling his panic, he cheats with a younger college girl. The movie deals with his struggle to realize that what he really wanted all along was the woman he'd been committed to and his determination to win back her love and trust after her discovery of his bad deed.
Tony Goldwyn, the director, said, "Our greatest aspiration for The Last Kiss was that it be emotionally honest [about] the themes of the film:
*The romantic ideal we set for ourselves in love.
*The reality we discover at having made a long-term commitment.
*The inexorable pull of our fantasies, of paths not chosen.
*The disorientation of having the foundation pulled out from under us when we least expect it.
*And the growth and renewal that are possible when we finally get honest with the people we love."
These are very real issues that people deal with everyday. When someone decides to make a commitment, all of the missed possibilities come flying out of the woodwork. Choices abound, but making the wrong choice can lead to terrible consequences, hurting the one person for whom the misdirection was never intended. All of the soul-searching and apologies in the world cannot always mend what was so carelessly and selfishly broken. The writers for this film Americanized the last scene by having her open the door, allowing him back in; but in the original, Italian version (probably the more realistic of the two), he's left sitting out in the rain, and the door is left closed in end.
Being that it's now after 3 A.M., and I'm still unable to fall asleep, I think I'll slide it into the DVD player and watch it again.
"You know, life is pretty much in the grays for the most part. If you insist always on black and white, you are gonna be very unhappy." (from The Last Kiss)
"Stop talking about love. Every asshole in the world says he loves somebody. It means nothing... what you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love--that's what matters. It's the only thing that counts." (from The Last Kiss)
I'm no film critic, but I do know what plots interest me, with which characters I can identify, and which stories touch me on a very human level. The Last Kiss, starring Zach Braff, is the most recent addition to my list of all-time favorites. It's not a favorite because of funny lines or happy endings. I fell in love with it because of how truthful its portrayal is of love and commitment. Braff plays a thirty-year-old seemingly-happy man in a relationship with the perfect woman. When she announces her pregnancy, he suddenly panics, fearing the finality of his life with no future surprises. With a desire for something new fueling his panic, he cheats with a younger college girl. The movie deals with his struggle to realize that what he really wanted all along was the woman he'd been committed to and his determination to win back her love and trust after her discovery of his bad deed.
Tony Goldwyn, the director, said, "Our greatest aspiration for The Last Kiss was that it be emotionally honest [about] the themes of the film:
*The romantic ideal we set for ourselves in love.
*The reality we discover at having made a long-term commitment.
*The inexorable pull of our fantasies, of paths not chosen.
*The disorientation of having the foundation pulled out from under us when we least expect it.
*And the growth and renewal that are possible when we finally get honest with the people we love."
These are very real issues that people deal with everyday. When someone decides to make a commitment, all of the missed possibilities come flying out of the woodwork. Choices abound, but making the wrong choice can lead to terrible consequences, hurting the one person for whom the misdirection was never intended. All of the soul-searching and apologies in the world cannot always mend what was so carelessly and selfishly broken. The writers for this film Americanized the last scene by having her open the door, allowing him back in; but in the original, Italian version (probably the more realistic of the two), he's left sitting out in the rain, and the door is left closed in end.
Being that it's now after 3 A.M., and I'm still unable to fall asleep, I think I'll slide it into the DVD player and watch it again.
"You know, life is pretty much in the grays for the most part. If you insist always on black and white, you are gonna be very unhappy." (from The Last Kiss)
A Letter to My Teen Leadership Class
May 30, 2010
Prepping for my job interview tomorrow at a local high school had me digging through old documents from MCHS that have been stored on my ancient jump drive. Among all the quizzes, tests, and worksheets I created and saved back in those days, I ran across this letter I wrote to my Teen Leadership students for my end-of-the-year address, and I wanted to share it...
January 10, 2005
Dear Teen Leadership Family,
Now that our semester together has come to an end, I have a few personal hopes to share with you…
First, I hope you learned something about becoming a leader. The course was designed to do just that. Remember to have an “I can” attitude, maintain your W.I.T. way of thinking, and always make a good first impression (if you’ve forgotten how, review your eight cues).
Second, I hope being together has helped you learn more about other people. Before this class, you may not have associated with many different groups at school. I’ve heard you all say that you’ve come to accept and even appreciate the differences between each of you—differences help to make this world a very interesting place. Please remember to have tolerance for people who are not like you—being open-minded and accepting shows a strength that not everyone achieves.
Third, I hope you learned a lot about yourself. Self-awareness is a rare gift. Many people go through their lives not truly aware of themselves, their gifts, their emotions, and the effect they have on others around them. Know yourself. You are a very special person, and being able to recognize your talents and share them with the world will make you happy and help to satisfy your feeling of self-worth. Be yourself, and then be the best self you can be.
Finally, I hope you have developed relationships in this class that will last forever. I will always remember the wonderful things we’ve all shared, and I will always hold each of you very close to my heart. Each person in this class has touched me in a very special way, and I hope that I have had some influence on you, too.
Teaching this class has taught me many things. I’ve realized that first impressions are not always accurate. Not only have I been proven wrong about the impression my first experience with Teen Leadership left on me, but I have also realized that, despite the first impression each of you portray, you are all very kind, caring, young adults who have a lot to offer to the world. Please do your best to make this world better—you were put here for a reason… find that reason out and make it happen. That would make my years of teaching worth it, knowing that the nineteen students I taught during the fall semester of 2004 sought and reached the potential I knew they all had. I love all of you very much. I hope you remember me because I will always remember you.
Love,
Miss Brigola
My Teen Leadership Class, 2004
Prepping for my job interview tomorrow at a local high school had me digging through old documents from MCHS that have been stored on my ancient jump drive. Among all the quizzes, tests, and worksheets I created and saved back in those days, I ran across this letter I wrote to my Teen Leadership students for my end-of-the-year address, and I wanted to share it...
January 10, 2005
Dear Teen Leadership Family,
Now that our semester together has come to an end, I have a few personal hopes to share with you…
First, I hope you learned something about becoming a leader. The course was designed to do just that. Remember to have an “I can” attitude, maintain your W.I.T. way of thinking, and always make a good first impression (if you’ve forgotten how, review your eight cues).
Second, I hope being together has helped you learn more about other people. Before this class, you may not have associated with many different groups at school. I’ve heard you all say that you’ve come to accept and even appreciate the differences between each of you—differences help to make this world a very interesting place. Please remember to have tolerance for people who are not like you—being open-minded and accepting shows a strength that not everyone achieves.
Third, I hope you learned a lot about yourself. Self-awareness is a rare gift. Many people go through their lives not truly aware of themselves, their gifts, their emotions, and the effect they have on others around them. Know yourself. You are a very special person, and being able to recognize your talents and share them with the world will make you happy and help to satisfy your feeling of self-worth. Be yourself, and then be the best self you can be.
Finally, I hope you have developed relationships in this class that will last forever. I will always remember the wonderful things we’ve all shared, and I will always hold each of you very close to my heart. Each person in this class has touched me in a very special way, and I hope that I have had some influence on you, too.
Teaching this class has taught me many things. I’ve realized that first impressions are not always accurate. Not only have I been proven wrong about the impression my first experience with Teen Leadership left on me, but I have also realized that, despite the first impression each of you portray, you are all very kind, caring, young adults who have a lot to offer to the world. Please do your best to make this world better—you were put here for a reason… find that reason out and make it happen. That would make my years of teaching worth it, knowing that the nineteen students I taught during the fall semester of 2004 sought and reached the potential I knew they all had. I love all of you very much. I hope you remember me because I will always remember you.
Love,
Miss Brigola
My Teen Leadership Class, 2004
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Breaking Fate: A Personal Essay
I am aware that I am not, by far, the first to express my opinion on the fairness of life. I have never written a classic tragedy, nor have I stirred souls with a sermon, professing the calamities suffered everyday by millions. I am no genius. I am not telepathic. I possess no qualities that rank me above the common man. I am just myself, a single person without extraordinary power. I must, however, due to circumstances beyond my physical control, tempt Fate to lay her worst before me if she chooses. If, by my words, I offend her, then let her will be done. I have already suffered enough, by my standards, to be an expert on her ways. So let it be said by me—and I accept full responsibility for my words—that Fate is a sullen and fickle woman. She plays cruel games with human emotions simply for her entertainment, then throws her head back and laughs at the aftermath.
Before continuing, I must put to rest a couple of misconceptions. First, Fate is not God. God is kind and merciful. God is understanding and forgiving. He has created a celestial resting place for human souls following the torture they must endure by the hand of that bewitching temptress. God has created us, we are His children, and like all well-meaning fathers, He watches over us and protects us. But, in order for children to become productive and independent, parents must allow them to exercise their free will. It is during this transition and growth that Fate creeps in and weaves her wicked spell. We humans, of course, are weak and easily fall prey to her vices. It is God who breathes life into us, it is by free will that we exercise our feelings and emotions, yet it is Fate that creates the circumstances in which we fall.
A second misconception is that Fate and Luck are one in the same. I have often heard people wrongly proclaim the greatness of Fate following an illuminating experience. One would gladly “kiss the hand of Fate” after scratching a lottery ticket or greedily raking in the winnings from a hand of poker. It is at times like these, though, that a person should be bowing down in thanks to Luck. Giving misdirected credit will not keep circumstances flowing in one’s favor. The next time someone finds a fifty dollar bill laying ownerless on the floor at the grocery store, he should pick it up, smile, and send praises to his lucky stars. It was not Fate’s hand afoot in this matter; he just happened to fall, for the moment, into Luck’s good graces.
Fate is not God, nor is she Luck. She is the venomous snake that wraps herself around the human heart and squeezes, forcing swells of tissue to stretch between her scaly rings, finally bursting into a torrent. She turns what was once innocent and trusting into a scornful and bitter heap. She turns indecision into regret, admiration into jealousy, and intimacy into a passionless craving for lust. She is the hand that dangles your dreams before you then wrenches them away after allowing you to come within reach. She is the voice that whispers softly behind you, never quite letting you fully understand her words. She is the oasis in the distance that, upon your arrival, turns out to have been merely a mirage. She is determined to fool us all. She promises to make us stronger, and never to destroy us. Her word "never", however, is in itself a promise, and my heart can no longer afford her lies.
Too many times I have entrusted my future and well being to Fate, and too many times I have been cast off as the martyr. I have been deceived and misguided, tricked and played for the fool. I have been handed cupfuls of joy only to have them clumsily turned over and spilled to the floor. Through the deepest recesses of my soul I have held tight to great expectations only to have them result in magnanimous failures. Fate has confused me. She has broken my confidence into prickling splinters of frailty and weakness. Her guiding hand has led me down paths of loneliness, paths of heartache and despair.
Fate has often cut me, deeply wounding me. She has left me contemplating the better of life or death. She has abandoned me many times in the deep pit of hell, leaving me gasping and out of breath from tearing away at the hole that trapped me. Fate often forced me to question God’s reasoning and ask why He would allow me to suffer. Why? What sins had I committed that were so disdainful that He would condone such punishment?
There were often times when I felt that there was no escape from this black serpent. So many times I have turned my back on her only to discover her dark shadow, once again, looming and hovering above me. Many nights I have lain sleepless, contemplating the evidence of Fate, and many nights I have been jolted out of nightmares with vivid recollections of her manipulations. I could not run or fly from her. I could not scream or cry the fear away. I had depended on and expected so much from her before that it was more than difficult to extract her from my life.
It was one morning, though, that I decided to take control of myself and my life. I did not run or hide. I did not fight or battle the evil of her. I simply chose, consciously, to be cavalier towards her. I ignored her offers. I pretended not to see the promises she laid at my feet. I no longer let her know of my desires—I kept them as sweet secrets for myself. This task was not easy. As I said before, Fate is truly a most mischievous and tempting wench. She will bait you and use all of her ploys to capture you. She craves your attention and pleads that you entertain her whims. Do not be fooled. Fate plays no favorites. She will look you straight in the eye and not think twice about breaking you, like she attempted to do to me.
I, however, was stronger than she. My dealings with Fate have lifted me to greater heights. I am now above the clamor, the ruckus, and can see things in a different light. I am now, after my flaying, capable of judging for myself, forming my own beliefs, and creating circumstances by my own intentions. Fate no longer plays a part in the day-to-day rituals of my existence. Things happen to me because I allow them. Things do not happen because I avoid them. I left Fate behind me, crawling around somewhere in that confusion that was once my life. From this moment on, the choices are my own, the results—good or bad—are my own, and that is the way it’s supposed to be.
(1999)
Before continuing, I must put to rest a couple of misconceptions. First, Fate is not God. God is kind and merciful. God is understanding and forgiving. He has created a celestial resting place for human souls following the torture they must endure by the hand of that bewitching temptress. God has created us, we are His children, and like all well-meaning fathers, He watches over us and protects us. But, in order for children to become productive and independent, parents must allow them to exercise their free will. It is during this transition and growth that Fate creeps in and weaves her wicked spell. We humans, of course, are weak and easily fall prey to her vices. It is God who breathes life into us, it is by free will that we exercise our feelings and emotions, yet it is Fate that creates the circumstances in which we fall.
A second misconception is that Fate and Luck are one in the same. I have often heard people wrongly proclaim the greatness of Fate following an illuminating experience. One would gladly “kiss the hand of Fate” after scratching a lottery ticket or greedily raking in the winnings from a hand of poker. It is at times like these, though, that a person should be bowing down in thanks to Luck. Giving misdirected credit will not keep circumstances flowing in one’s favor. The next time someone finds a fifty dollar bill laying ownerless on the floor at the grocery store, he should pick it up, smile, and send praises to his lucky stars. It was not Fate’s hand afoot in this matter; he just happened to fall, for the moment, into Luck’s good graces.
Fate is not God, nor is she Luck. She is the venomous snake that wraps herself around the human heart and squeezes, forcing swells of tissue to stretch between her scaly rings, finally bursting into a torrent. She turns what was once innocent and trusting into a scornful and bitter heap. She turns indecision into regret, admiration into jealousy, and intimacy into a passionless craving for lust. She is the hand that dangles your dreams before you then wrenches them away after allowing you to come within reach. She is the voice that whispers softly behind you, never quite letting you fully understand her words. She is the oasis in the distance that, upon your arrival, turns out to have been merely a mirage. She is determined to fool us all. She promises to make us stronger, and never to destroy us. Her word "never", however, is in itself a promise, and my heart can no longer afford her lies.
Too many times I have entrusted my future and well being to Fate, and too many times I have been cast off as the martyr. I have been deceived and misguided, tricked and played for the fool. I have been handed cupfuls of joy only to have them clumsily turned over and spilled to the floor. Through the deepest recesses of my soul I have held tight to great expectations only to have them result in magnanimous failures. Fate has confused me. She has broken my confidence into prickling splinters of frailty and weakness. Her guiding hand has led me down paths of loneliness, paths of heartache and despair.
Fate has often cut me, deeply wounding me. She has left me contemplating the better of life or death. She has abandoned me many times in the deep pit of hell, leaving me gasping and out of breath from tearing away at the hole that trapped me. Fate often forced me to question God’s reasoning and ask why He would allow me to suffer. Why? What sins had I committed that were so disdainful that He would condone such punishment?
There were often times when I felt that there was no escape from this black serpent. So many times I have turned my back on her only to discover her dark shadow, once again, looming and hovering above me. Many nights I have lain sleepless, contemplating the evidence of Fate, and many nights I have been jolted out of nightmares with vivid recollections of her manipulations. I could not run or fly from her. I could not scream or cry the fear away. I had depended on and expected so much from her before that it was more than difficult to extract her from my life.
It was one morning, though, that I decided to take control of myself and my life. I did not run or hide. I did not fight or battle the evil of her. I simply chose, consciously, to be cavalier towards her. I ignored her offers. I pretended not to see the promises she laid at my feet. I no longer let her know of my desires—I kept them as sweet secrets for myself. This task was not easy. As I said before, Fate is truly a most mischievous and tempting wench. She will bait you and use all of her ploys to capture you. She craves your attention and pleads that you entertain her whims. Do not be fooled. Fate plays no favorites. She will look you straight in the eye and not think twice about breaking you, like she attempted to do to me.
I, however, was stronger than she. My dealings with Fate have lifted me to greater heights. I am now above the clamor, the ruckus, and can see things in a different light. I am now, after my flaying, capable of judging for myself, forming my own beliefs, and creating circumstances by my own intentions. Fate no longer plays a part in the day-to-day rituals of my existence. Things happen to me because I allow them. Things do not happen because I avoid them. I left Fate behind me, crawling around somewhere in that confusion that was once my life. From this moment on, the choices are my own, the results—good or bad—are my own, and that is the way it’s supposed to be.
(1999)
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