The Weekly Kit: Cutter Kit

This one's kinda dark, guys... Also, I don't know what a cutter kit is, only that the Hedgehog saw a note about it at work a couple weeks ago.

The Girl-Fiend

So I called my dad to talk to him and instead got the Girl-Fiend… She was nice, polite, sweet… That’s when I remembered that she’s not all bad all the time, she’s only unbearable half the time. You know, when she’s not purposely trying to get under your skin by doing things like… making two boxes of pizza rolls and forcing them on you and your friends, and then later claiming that you ate both of them without her permission and refused to share…

The Review

So Cathrin decided to enter a contest at a place called Author Stand; well, since it was free, I downloaded her short story and read it… It… it had potential, so I left a review. A few days later on her blog, Cathrin mentions the review I left and talks about how I hate her and go out of my way to try to hurt her; she also mentions out fight in February and talks about how I spread lies and when she told the “truth” about me I got mad. Okay, for one: I stopped when she finally told me to. And for two: her “truth” was that I was insane and my dad kicked me out.

Me? Insane? Ms. Spirit-Babies, you set the bar far too high for me to ever cross it. As for my dad kicking me out, I left because his Girl-Fiend clawed up the entire left side of my face in a fight.

Review Frustration

To be honest, frustration is an understatement. Yesterday, well this morning really, I got an e-mail sayging (saying) that my story on authorstand got a review. Naturally(,) I looked thinking it was one of you who had left the comment.(;) I was wrong. I had a very nasty comment, which I wouldn't have minded to(too) much if I didn't know who had left it. You see(,) the girl who left the comment used to be my friend, and the comment she left made me feel like she was attacking me personally(,) rather then(than) the actual story. She has had an issue with me for a while. I had never done anything to her(;) she started spreading lies about me, and when asked I said the truth about her and (no and, just comma) she got even more angry. I don't know what I did to start it(,) but now I feel like it's gone to far.

You can follow this link and scroll down the(to) the review section to see the review. You can see it with out(without) being a member(;) you only need to be a member to read, rate, and review it.

Thanks for listening
~Cathrin

 And just so you don't have to go looking for it, here's my "nasty" comment; oh, by the way, the mods of authorstand have to approve your review before it goes up. Know what that means? They wouldn't post it up if they didn't think it was a good review.

Obviously Written By A Twelve Year Old (... What? I had no other way to explain that the style was simplistic...)

 

     

This was... terrible, to be honest. It showed some potential, perhaps, if it had been written by another author. I mean, a kingdom where only women are allowed to rule and the people are apparently telepathic and can, form (from... What? I can edit myself...) what I inferred from something read, teleport anywhere in the world? Yet none of that is explored at all. In all five pages the only thing that happens is that a twelve year old boy worries he might not be able to be king. That's it. Nothing else. There are run on sentences, awkward grammar, and a complete lack of plot... If it wasn't free I'd say it's not worth it all.

Also, I'm completely confused as to what time period this takes place in. There's still a monarchy with absolute power reigning, but there's talk about American presidents?

There was a lot of hidden potential in this story, it just... it needs to have a better writer to bring it out.

Chapter One: Positive (Part 2 of 2)

And now for the exciting conclusion of chapter one of Cathrin Kushman's "novel" In The Presence of Hope!

This is part of a "Learn By Fail" series I'll be doing once a week in which I attempt to edit and fact check her book in an effort to teach others how to write, it's also because... well, because she's insane and frustrating and I need this!

Dougal nudged me slightly and I realized that I had fallen asleep. (Nice way to timeskip... No, it's not, it just gets rid of time that could've been used on character development.) “Your mother is here”, he said to me, quietly helping me get up (Speaking to you is being quiet?) and carrying my things for me. (;) He truly was an amazing man. I looked at the car that had just pulled up, my mother jumped out as soon as she had the car in park and came over to us. (She's sure in a rush, the next scene just confirms this.)

“Rissa,” (How do you get Rissa out of the word Anarsa? I could understand Anna, or even Narsy, but Rissa?) she said and wrapped me in her arms, “how are you feeling? Better? Worse?” (Okay, just because some authors don't think you should capatilize the he or she after quotations doesn't mean you do the same thing in quotations when continuing the quote...) she asked me as she took my things from Dougal. “Thank you Doug,” she said using her personal nickname for him that both of us hated. (Both of us, who? Her and her mom? Her and Dougal? Also, with a name like Dougal I'm sure the mom isn't the only one who's ever used it. A personal nickname is something only that person calls you, like when Lulu calls me "Kitness". I sometimes joke and say "I'm the Kitness", but no one else does.) “You are such a good guy, I’m glad she’s dating you and not some jerky jock.” Well at least she was trying to give him a complement, (No comma needed.) and trying to show that it made her happy that he was looking after me. (New paragraph!) Trying was the keyword. My mother was still getting used to me being heterosexual, (Okay, if I didn't know her mom was lesbian in this story, this would confuse me. It still doesn't make sense: heterosexuality is the society norm, and just because you're raised with two homosexual or heterosexual parents doesn't mean you turn out the same way. Her mom should've been expecting it; sure her daughter would understand better than most that you don't choose love, but still...) and her discomfort around men always showed around Dougal, and any other boy I had dated. (... Her mom should've been expecting it, apparently she's been dating boys for awhile.) “Your mom is worried about you, she’s home to stay for the day(.) I’ve got to go back to work, I would stay home with you(,) but I have a horrible deadline tonight that I’m not ready for,(;) but mom will take good care of you as always.” (Okay, two uses of the word mom from the mom talking... I understand she has two moms... but this is something that needs to be fixed. Wouldn't they be confused? Why isn't one "mom" and the other "momma"? Can someone help me out here?) She said and gave me another hug and ushered me to the car. “Bye Dougal,” She said to him as she got into the car and I waved at him as my mother drove me home. (Way to rush through sentences without fleshing them out...)

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” my (... Should I go through and mark that all of these need to be capitalized?) mother asked after I was tucked under blankets in the living room on the couch, fretting over me,(;) I assumed this was normal as I was her only child. (Another lovely time skip!)

“She is fine, Joy, (; or .) I won’t let anything happen to her and I’ll be right here with her.” My mom said to her, well my other mother (Told you it was confusing.), (; or .) Joy was my biological mother, my other mother is Cassy. The two of them are the only parents that I had ever known, (; or .) I had not realized that people did not have two moms(,) that they had one mom and one dad(,) until I started kindergarten. I was not Cassy’s only child(;), she had a son from before she met my mom, a long while before. When Cassy was sixteen she had been raped and had gotten pregnant(Okay, this makes me wince... it also makes me wonder how well this fact is known in the family. You don't just go around telling your children that you were raped and you never wanted them.), she had given birth to a son who was named Michael. Michael is my only sibling(,) but with him being sixteen years older (Wait... Hold on, math time... If Cassy was sixteen years old when she got pregnant, then sixteen years later they had a kid who is nearly sixteen years old now... Also, notice the repeating number, then Cassy is forty-eight now!) than me(,) I only ever saw him and his boyfriend (Oh, no wonder her one mom was worried she wasn't homosexual as well; she seemed to think it really does run in the family... Thank you for making it harder for the homosexuals to fit into society with your misinformation!) on the holidays, (; or .) well he would come to help me with makeup for homecoming and such (That made me flinch... Seriously, gay men have other talents and not all of them are awesome at make up, or, and a , here) but other than that I never saw him, James, or their three adoptive children. (It's okay when your brother adopts, but not you?)

( When I first read this I screamed "fact check" to myself, as a result, I have two little rants that need to go here... She named her character Anarsa, after a Hindu pastry, but she has her two moms with normal names, and her older brother with a normal name. It would make sense if she had this name because she's part Indian, but she is clearly a white girl... Why the strange name? Honestly: do not make your character have a funny name just so they're a special little snowflake. If they have an odd name, address it, because I guarantee someone made fun of them growing up and it's a sensitive issue.

And while we're on the subject of sensitive issues...: Adoption societies are strict, very very strict, about who they let adopt from them.You have to have a stable household, a steady income, be healthy, mentally and physically, and a lot of states don't let gay people adopt, and even if they do a lot of people are unreasonably biased towards them. I know it's not fair, but it's true. Not to mention it's apparently a known fact that Micheal was the child of a rape, he would've grown up knowing this, he probably would've acted out, needed counseling to get past it... The adoption society would have seen this on record and held it against him; also, they rarely adopt to single parents.)

My mothers looked at each other, having one of their silent conversation moments that they often had. Then my mom leaned down, kissed my forehead, and headed to the door(,) reminding me of all the times she had done that when I was a kid. (So she stares at your other mom, kisses you, and leaves, and says nothing? She does this often enough you remember your mom just kissing your forehead and leaving you without a "good-bye" or "I love you?" Also, you should say which mom... and why use their names? Seriously, pick: mom, momma, or real names.) Cassy sat on the couch where there was space for her(,) smiled at me(,) and brushed my hair out of my face. “Is there anything you want me to get you? A soda to calm your stomach?” she asked quietly. (In my family, Coke was remedy to stomach ailments.)

“Saltines(,)” I said quietly in response “and maybe some of the orange carrot juice (Thank you for letting me know what color carrot juice is; no, seriously, thank you. I would've been wondering if it had been made of yellow or purple carrots. Also, saying "the orange carrot juice" implies she really did want it instead of, perhaps, "the white carrot juice".),(;) I think that will make me feel better.” I rolled over as Cassy stood up and kissed my forehead(,) then headed into the kitchen. (Wait... she rolled over as she was standing and kissing your forehead at the same time...? Were you avoiding the kiss for some reason?) I closed my eyes and began to think again. Seeing Cassy made me wonder how she had done it, how had she decided to not only continue the pregnancy but to actually keep the baby. I could never keep the baby I conceived through rape. I was not (... Conjunctions are your best friend, use them.) even sure I was going to keep the baby that I conceived through love. (You conceived it through love, but abortion is your option ahead of adoption? Abortion is a tough issue, and I understand both sides of the argument, but still...) So how did she do it? (She's a stronger woman than you? You said she was sixteen, right? Apparently she did well enough to raise her son on her own so he grew up to be successful enough that even though he's unmarried he could convince and adoption agency to give him not just one but three kids.) I opened my eyes with a start as Cassy placed her hand on my shoulder (This is how you fall asleep thinking.) . I looked up at her, her brown eyes looking concerned, my drink and saltines in her hand. “Thanks mom,” I said sitting up and taking the stuff (Such a descriptive word...) from her.

“You’re welcome sweetie.” She said with a smile.

“Hey mom?” I said(,) and she tilted her head to the side(,) which was her way of saying ‘yes?’ (Like a puppy? Most people go "hmm?" when they do that.) “How come you didn’t get an abortion when you were pregnant with Michael,(?) I was thinking about it and I was just wondering how you not only didn’t get an abortion but didn’t give him up for adoption either; I don’t think I could have done either.” (Wait, she just said she couldn't have either not gotten an abortion or not adopted... Also, I told you it was common knowledge in this household that Cassy had been raped. Micheal grew up and was raised with the knowledge that his father had forced himself on his mother.)

Cassy looked at me for another few moments(,) then sat down on the couch with me again(,) brushing her very short brown hair behind her ear.(See, this is how you describe people: little bits and pieces at a time, unless they make a dramatic entrance and the character is shocked by their looks.) “What brought this up?” she asked, “It never seemed to interest you before now.” (Of course it didn't; what fourteen year old wants to know something like this?)

“In class we were talking about abortion(,) and I remembered that you got pregnant with Michael because of rape. (Rape makes you think abortion? Well, considering that's a common pro for abortions, I understand, but still... It just reminds me about this one story Cathrin wrote where our Mythology teacher, her English teacher the year before, raped her... It was all made up of course, just a way to get a different conflict in, but still...)” I said quickly(,) beginning to wish I had not started this conversation. (I wish you hadn't either, I feel squicky now. This is a sensitive subject and should only be brought up when the person who was raped wants to talk about it...)

“Well, after it first happened I was very ashamed and would not tell anyone. My parents would have never accepted that their little girl could have been raped,(;) that only happened to other girls who were asking for it, wearing slutty clothes. (This whole part right here makes me very sad... and wish for pauses in descriptive breaks. You know: she said as she frowned, eyes dazed and unfocused as she thought back on what had happened.) And (Get rid of the and.) I knew that they would disown me because no little girl of theirs was going to be a slut. (Are they really that bad? They would disown her over rape?) So for fear of being out on the streets I didn’t say a word, (get rid of the comma) to anyone, not even my girlfriend at the time. My parents also didn’t know that I was gay,(;) they(,) being the (remove this the) upstanding members of (the) community(, also, they are The Upstanding Members of Community!) would not allow me to be gay, (;)they would have sent me somewhere that would have gotten the ‘gay’ out of me. (Personally, I'm just sad places like those exist...) So obviously, I was not very close to my parents. (Obviously.) Anyway, when about two months after I was raped I realized that I had not gotten my period yet. (... It took her two months to notice? I'd be like "eh, it's late" after two weeks, then worried after a month "do I need to see a doctor, am I sick?" then suspicious after a month and a half. She says it like one day she woke up, went to the bathroom, saw the box of tampons and went "Huh, haven't used those in a while...") This was just another thing that would kill my relationship with my parents (You mean it was still alive after having to hide your sexuality from them and having them think rape victims were sluts?) ,(;) teen pregnancy was a very horrible thing to them, (:) any sex before marriage was horrible,(; or .) so naturally I would be disowned if they found out so I went to the nearest abortion clinic and talked to one of the councilors (I think she means counselor, these words sound the same but are very different.) there, (.) it was the first time I had told anyone about the rape, and I told her that if I were to keep the baby that I was sure I was pregnant with(,) then I would have no home and no way to take care of the baby (it could've worked... you never want to overuse adjectives or nouns, imagine if every he and she were the person's name.) . I had always been taught that abortion was wrong, that it was murder(,) but here I was sixteen and pregnant,(;) and what was I going to do? Raise the baby on the street?

“After talking for a while(,) she told me to keep thinking about what I wanted to do. She knew I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get the abortion. (;) I wasn’t sure about it because I knew that I would probably never get pregnant again,(.) I had already known that I was gay(, also... it always seems odd to use gay for lesbians...) and had dated several girls at my school(,) and I knew that one day I would want to be a mother(;) and (but would work instead) I didn’t see a way to do that. Obviously Adoption was not (hadn't would work instead, and sound better) occurring (occured, this happened in the past) to me in any way, shape, or form,(; or .) I wasn’t thinking (I want to replace this with considering) that later in life I could adopt(,) or that maybe I could give the baby up. But again most of all of(pick one, most of or all of) this runs (comes would work better) back to how I had been raised.

“So for several days I sat at home thinking about what I wanted, (;)did I want to throw away my only chance at having a baby?(get rid of the ? put a comma, and keep on trucking.) Or was I willing to find a way to be a mother to my child? In the end I decided to keep the baby,(; or .) I knew that my parents would kick me out(, also, they are the worst parents in the world.) so I just left one night and left them a note. I found a church and they got me in a home (I flinched, I know I did. I lived in one of these homes, there's basically only one in the area where Cathrin lives, and it's the same one I lived at. They're an orphanage which also helps teen moms and homeless teenagers; they are also zealously religious and I got in severe trouble just for hugging a friend of mine. A girl there wound up pregnant... you don't want to know how they treated her.) with people who helped me though my pregnancy and helped me stay in school after high school. If it wasn’t for them I would never have met you’re (your, otherwise this is: I would never have met you are mother) mother, (and) I never would have gone to college.” She smiled at me. “Abortion is a very controversial thing(,) Rissa, but when it comes down to it, it is that person’s decision.” She kissed my four head. (You wrote forehead twice and slip up now? Also, are both of these moms interchangeable? They seem to have the same habits and "personal nicknames".)

“Thanks mom,” I said to her(.) and (get rid of the and, I) watched her walk over to her laptop(,) which was sitting on the loveseat on the other side of the room. (I want more of this sentence. Is she surfing? Working?) Cassy was always a little bit more down to earth then my (other) mother (, Joy,) was, (;) a little less worrying (worried. Keep tense in mind.) about things then(than. Really, don't mix these two. Than is the difference between things, then is describing time.) mom. “Mom,” I said suddenly thinking about something. (Is this "I said, suddenly thinking about something" or "I said suddenly, thinking about something"? There is a difference.) “Couldn’t you have just done, (No comma) artificial insemination like mom (Hey mom, why aren't you like mom?) did with me? Or Invetro?” I had been convinced through artificial insemination, my moms had read through many different profiles of the ‘great’ attributes of the men (,) and decided on a sperm donor,(; or .) I had never really thought about it other then (than) when people asked me how I existed when I only had mom and my mom had never been with a man before. I knew I got my green eyes from my father and not my mother, (Actually they could have come from grandparents or a combination of genes reacting... You know what, I'm not even going to go into genetics...) my mother had blue eyes and almost platinum blond hair(,) so my hair must have came from my father too. (But your hair is blonde and blonde shades vary even in genetics... Wait, I said I'm not going into genetics... Just... No.)

Cassy looked back over at me as she opened her laptop again to begin working on her column again. (Again.) “When I was pregnant with Michael they didn’t exist, and maybe if they did I didn’t know about them.” (It's math and fact check time! First, the fact check: invetro became sensationalized in the news across the entire globe around 1978-1980 when the first couple was impregnated this way and later when the first official clinic opened, let's see... It's 2011 now, so I'll assume that's when this story takes place, minus sixteen years for Anarsa's age, and sixteen years more for Micheal's age... That is 1979, when it was in the news and everyone everywhere was talking about it. Also, most religious families, like the kind who think being gay is a sin, considered it be a crime against God; basically, it would probably be the most talked about thing in her household. Also, in the 70's the sperm bank industry and artificial insemination was commercialized, so there was no avoiding these two things. I think that about sums it up.) She answered(,) her fingers beginning to type away at her column. “Anything else Riss?”

“No(,) I think I’ve got it all covered now.” I said and (Start a new sentence here and get rid of the and.) munched on my saltines and juice. (;) I really did love this juice(,) it was one of my favorite things in the world, and so far the baby didn’t seem to mind that I was drinking it(,) which was good. (The baby shouldn't be protesting much of anything at this stage, there should be little to no nausea at all, let alone so bad that the only thing you can eat are crackers and carrot juice.) I looked down at my stomach as I munched. What am I going to do about you? (I flinched... This reminds me way too much of the pro-choice post going around from the point of view of the baby: "I love you mommy, you're so warm and happy. You talk to me. I'm sad, mommy, today daddy hit you, and you won't talk to me anymore. What's going on, mommy? I hurt, why is the doctor hurting me?" Oh gods I just made myself feel squicky...)I know Dougal would want you, he’s just that kind of guy. Am I the type of woman who would abort you? It’s not that I don’t want you, I do, it’s just that now is such a bad time,(;) I can’t support you, (get rid of comma, and) I can’t be a good mother to you, not now. I just want you to have everything and I can’t give you anything (And adoption is your second choice after abortion...?). (New paragraph!) I sighed as I finished eating my saltines and curled back up under the blankets(,) closing me(my. Are we Irish, now? Because I'm insulted if we are.) eyes. Pros of abortion: No one would ever need to know, (Oooh, I'll play this game too! Um, let's see: the child won't have to grow up in the system and be passed around from place to place feeling unwanted and unloved and end up as a broken shell of a human being. See, I can play this game, too.) Cons of abortion: guilt, possible self hatred, Dougal hating me. (Fact: most women who get an abortion say they would never do it again.) Pros of adoption: I wouldn’t be killing the baby, the baby would have good parents, I could have an open adoption. (You could see the baby again, if it was adopted by people you knew you could be part of their lives), Cons of adoption: Missing the baby, every one (everyone) would have to know, my grades would probably go down while pregnant (The baby could spend its entire life in the system and end up in an orphanage like the one I was at, also... if you're that concerned with missing the baby and the baby being happy, why even consider an abortion?). Pros of keeping the baby: Dougal wouldn’t hate me, and um Cons of keeping the baby: bad grades, having to get a job, every one (everyone) would have to know about the baby. There has got to be more then (than) those reasons for keeping the baby(,) right? If there wasn’t then there would not be so many teenage girls keeping their babies(,) would there? (Three words for you: Sixteen And Pregnant.)

That is the end of this chapter, this is no more of this chapter. What saddens me is that towards the end of the first half of this chapter it felt like she might be getting the hang of writing; I've read the other two chapters that are up, from this point on she just gave up.

Grammar lessons to remember:

Whenever you're not sure how something sounds, read it aloud to yourself; if something sounds stiff or just not right, fix it.

Conjunctions are your friend, if you wouldn't talk that way out loud, then don't write that way.

You're and your are different words, you're is you are. Say it out loud if you're not sure.

Then and than, there is a difference, mainly the difference between one meaning "and then this happened" and the other being the difference between two things, such as "I would rather eat chocolate than go to the dentist."

Also, everyone and every one is different. Everyone refers to all of a group of people, every one is saying all of one.

And as always, remember punctuation and spell check, and that only proper nouns are capitalized. See you next week for another lesson!

FUDGE! I Thought You Sounded Familiar

So when I got home from lunch it was to find Hunny’s mom had sent me a message saying my dad had gone over to her house and had left his phone number… Considering I hadn’t talked to my dad since before I moved here in May, only a few days after his birthday, I was shocked. I mean, things have been difficult with my dad since I stopped living at home, and that was more than a year before I had moved in with the Hedgehog anyway. We're talking back before I still lived with the Home. In fact, at one point, I had told him that, unless he came to look for me, he might as well not even consider himself a father anymore because he certainly wasn’t acting like one.

Trust me, it was a hard thing to say, but it needed to be said. It was hard to get out, too, because my dad has these huge brown puppy eyes that just stare right into the soul, and it breaks my heart when he looks at me like that; almost every time he gives me that look it’s accompanied with the phrase, “You know I love you, right?”

Only the thing is… I don’t. Ever since the Girl-Fiend came along my dad hasn’t been himself… Sure he was the dad who let me go play in the street and run the neighborhood at the age of four, but he was also the same dad who promised me after mom died that, “I may whore around a little, but I’ll never marry another woman.”

Yeah right, dad. There’s something called common law marriage. You two have been together six years now. It’s official, you’re married to her.

Anyway, now he’s the dad who chooses his girlfriend over his daughter and who also does things like... gives away his daughter's dog without telling her; so of course I was surprised when suddenly he wanted to talk to me after seven months of silence. We talked for a little bit and he gave me my grandparents phone number so I could talk to them, but considering I know they hate me I don’t expect a call back on that message I left them. Mostly he just said he was thinking about me and missing me, and I told him about the blog and how that was the best way to check up on my nowadays…

The sad thing is, I think it was more guilt than love that inspired him to look for me; and you know what? Guilt is almost as good as love, so I’ll take it.

The funny part of this post, however, stems from the part where I went to call my grandparents and accidentally called him back…

Me: Hello?
Dad: Hi.
Me: It’s me, Kit.
Dad: I know.
Me: Dad told me to call.
Dad: I am dad.
Kit. FUDGE! I thought you sounded familiar!

Cathrin the Profile

 The following is the actual profile for her blogs, unchanged and unadulterated... except for the easily noticed red text where I interfere to explain things. Things spelled wrong are bolded with the proper spelling next to them, grammar and capitalization problems are underlined... I don't know how to point out her super short sentences or her run ons...

I am currently eighteen years old. When I was thirteen I started dating my Husband Chris. ( Honey, dating is putting it mildly: it was an internet relationship and you had no internet, you stalked him obsessively from school and made me make you an email account on my phone so you could talk to him.) When I was 15 I got pregnant with our fist child, however I had a miscarriage and even though we did not know the sex of our child we named her Feodora. (I met you when you were 15... I think you told us you'd had a couple miscarriages before... Also, nice going not telling them it was only a couple of weeks!) A little over a year later(,) when I was sixteen(,) I got pregnant with our second Child,(; or .) at thirty weeks and four days I went in to early labor(, or ; or .) Serenity was stillborn. (It's hard to get pregnant when you've never had sex with a man and the supposed husband lives several states away...) The doctors said that her heart could not take the contractions, and that she was gone by the time I arrived. (Looks like someone learned to lie better and finally started claiming to have gone to the doctor. Considering I know for a fact her parents didn't know, it's pretty hard for a sixteen year old to go to the doctor with a miscarriage without the family finding out, not to mention she claimed to hide her baby bump by belting it down and pushing it in...) Our most recent loss was Sterling Snow 1/6/11,(. or ;) Sterling was lost to early miscarriage,(;) I was three weeks and five days. (This is the only possible pregnancy she could have had considering she had actually met Chris by this point, except considering she was only two weeks late and then claimed miscarriage...? Pretty sure she was just a little late. After all, in invetrofertilzation they inject a woman with several embryos, and the ones that don't stick aren't considered miscarriages.) Now (that) I have healed some form(from) my losses I am working on focousing(focusing) on (Pick one, working on your writing or focusing on your writing.) my writing and becomming(becoming) an author as (,) after all, that is what I enjoy doing. (Aw, see, now I feel bad... I happen to enjoy writing and want to be a writer...)

 Grammar rules to learn:

When connecting several ideas that are similar but don't share a similar thought, you don't use a comma; you can either end the sentence or use a semicolon.

Spell Check: it is your best friend.

Capitalization is only for proper nouns, children and husbands aren't one of them.

She Makes It Too Easy...

In the midst of editing her work, I saw she had posted something up, and in the first paragraph there was just so much to work with... It... I just... I can't help myself, okay? I'm a sick person! Honestly, though, I'm doing this to teach you how to write... and to vent my spleen over her lies. From now on, after the next post, I'm all business... Business and sarcasm.

A Little About Me

I figured that if you guys are going to be following me on here you might as well know me a little bit. I am going to focus this mostly on what has to do with my writing and some of the things that influence it; if you want to know more then just ask me, I'd be glad to answer.

In elementary school I was not very good at English, (You still aren't!) I was horrible in fact,(. or ;) I hated reading and I hated writing. Now obviously I have come a long way from (since would work better) then(,) but English was never my best subject all the way through school, (. or ;) math and science were always my best subjects. In fourth grade I actually had an F in English in (on) my final report card, but I had gotten something from that (those?) grades (grade? in) English, (:) a new found liking for writing. (There's something not right about the phrase "new found liking for writing"...) So in fourth grade I learned that I could actually like writing, and in fifth grade I learned that I could like reading also. (You read it all here, she didn't like reading but tried to write first.) In sixth grade I actually started to read books and write stories. (Someone famous once said: a reader does not make a writer.) I started writing so that I wouldn't forget what was going through my head (, and) that formed many hours of fun games, (;) and because of this the Immortal series was created.

When I was in seventh grade I spent most of my time in classes reading or writing, (. or;) I (would) read through my math class while getting A's on the test(should be plural, also ,) and I would try to read through science but my teacher would yell at me for it. Ironically (This isn't ironic, it's sad; oh, and ,) the only class that I didn't read or write in that year was English,(. or;) well that's not entirely true, (;) we did do this one thing where we wrote stories and then had them bound and looking all nice. The name of that "book" (Even she admits it's not a book.) was Immortal (... My Immortal...? Are you Tara Gilisbie?!), and I would love to one day go back and turn it into a real novel and put it where it belongs in the Immortal series. The Immortal series is what made me fall in love with writing(.) and (Get rid of the and, and start a sentence!) I do have some "novels" (Your Twilight fanfiction doesn't count.) finished(,) but I honestly have to go back and rewrite them as I totally over road (overrode) my characters as I wrote them and they really bear no resemblance to what really happened. (What really happened? In the story? In your life? Are your stories real accounts from alternate dimensions? Considering all of your characters are you, overriding them is the least of your worries.)

In seventh grade, (no comma needed) we also had a writing test, just like we did in fourth grade, both of which I ended up failing(;) but honestly(;  or :) how do you write an essay on what character from a book you would want in a mural? (Easily. Pick a character from a book you like, now write about why it would be awesome to see them painted on the side of a building. Then again, I guess we all can't get fours on all of our writing tests, E.O.G.'s, and E.O.C.'s... Hey, if she can brag, so can I!) I did end up passing the on (one) in tenth grade, and honestly when I look back at my writing from seventh to tenth grade it's unrecognizable. (Hilariously, she has improved greatly.) Though people in class with me in seventh grade were astonished that I had failed the writing test as(,) after all, I did do nothing but write all day long. (Just because you write doesn't mean you have a grasp on the English language.) I assume it made them feel better about themselves. (I'm sure finally seeing that someone who never pays attention and writes nonsense did make them feel better about themselves: they understand English and you don't. I know you make me feel better about myself. I thought I was a horrible adult until I saw this...)

In ninth grade I was in honors English, though I didn't stick with honors English’s (English, honey.), not because I didn't want to be in honors(,) but because I was a very lazy person. I still am as a matter of fact, and I just didn't feel like doing the extra work, (;) so I decided that I would just keep doing my honors sciences (Science) instead of both. My senior year of high school I took AP biology (College Level) (. or ;) I loved it (,) but I was too lazy to get a (an) A (. or ;) though I could have if I had done the homework.

Here is where it’s a little bit less about my writing and a little bit more about my life. (That last paragraph was nothing about your writing...  You were just trying to brag about how smart you are. Don't worry though, I did a little too... Oh! Wait, here's more: I got an award for highest math average in a school year despite math being my worst subject!) In case you have not read the little about me over there on the right, (Don't worry, that is literally the next post...)I am eighteen years old, a wife, and a mother. (You have to have kids to be a mother.) This means that my senior year ended six months ago in June (Being married designates where you end school?), the last day of school was the day before my second daughter turned one (... I hate to sound cruel, but even if you really had miscarried: she wouldn't have turned one, it would be the one year anniversary of the day she died. If she'd been born at all, it wouldn't have been that day.), and the day after was the graduation. Oh, did I forget to mention that I got pregnant three times while I was in high school? (Yes, you totally did!) Sorry about that. (No you're not.) Anyway, I have four children (No you don't.) , three biological and one who was from one on (of) my husband’s previous relationships. Devon James Kushman is my stepson, (When you marry someone, the miscarried children of their previous relationships don't become your children.) Feodora Laurent Kushman is my eldest daughter, Serenity Grace Kushman is my second daughter, and Sterling  Snow Kushman is my only biological son, but he is defiantly no more important to me then Devon (There is so much wrongness going on up there that I don't know where to begin...). Here is another thing that I haven’t mentioned here yet, but it is in the thing on the right. Every one of my children is in heaven, even my stepson Devon. Devon was lost to miscarriage October 27th 2004, Feodora was lost to miscarriage October 31st 2008, Serenity was stillborn (born dead) on June 10th 2010, and Sterling was lost to miscarriage January 6th 2011. 

(None of this is true, except maybe about Devon... You will see why in the next post, but let me explain. Feodora, if she existed, would've barely been a few weeks along, close enough she would've thought she had a late period. Considering she never had sex because her now husband was several states away and she claimed spirit pregnancy, it was simply impossible. The same goes for Serenity, she was never pregnant. There was a girl at school who was six months along, so she claimed she was too to get attention, she also said she wore a belt to push the baby in so there would be no bump. She never went to the doctor, in fact, this February when I tried to shatter her delusion I pointed out that that far along it would have been a stillborn with a body and would've needed a doctor. Nice to see she listens to me, though I'm sad to see it's only to reinforce her own delusions. Lastly, Sterling: she was barely three weeks pregnant, and considering it takes a week for implantation, it was probably a late period she blew out of proportion.)

Serenity is what inspired the Hope series, and the Hope series will be the first thing I try to get out there. Well(,) maybe I’ll try to get a short story out there before hand (beforehand, also: ,) but you understand what I’m saying.

Thanks for listening to me talk! Feel free to ask questions!

~Cathrin

Grammar rules to follow: make sure the word you're using is the word you want to use and that you also use proper punctuation.

Internet rules to follow: never lie on the internet where people who know the truth can find you.

An Anger Too Great for Words...

... If you've read the last couple of blog posts, you might wonder exactly why it is I haven't mentioned anything really about Google canceling my ads and taking away the near $200 I was going to get paid that me and the Hedgehog needed for survival this week since his money is going to the new LoZ game...

... This is because I am possessed by an anger too great for words...

You see, in order to activate an adsense account with Google, you go through a lot. First they have to approve your blog, then confirm your e-mail address, then confirm your phone number by calling it, then you have to give them your ssn, then they send you a pin in the mail to confirm your real address which you input into their site... It's a long process.

I had just received my pin and was getting online to confirm it so I could have them send me my check when I discovered that Google had disabled my account due to "invalid clicks". Just so we're clear: do not click my ads because you love me, I am in no way encouraging you to do it. I knew immediately who it was... I shall call him... the Alien.

You see, the Alien is a well-meaning but strange fellow, and he thought he could help me get money by spamming my blog and ads, clicking all of them rapidly as often as possible... For Google this is an extremely strict no-no. They don't care who does it, they don't care that some companies pay people to click on their ads all day, all they care is that it happened on my blog... and they took all my money and gave it to the companies, the same companies who sometimes cheat the system by spamming ads...
(... Heh... shoutout...)

CLICK ALL THE ADS!?

 But for me, it was the Alien. He spammed my blog with clicks, Google saw this and took back the money he made me, and I told him to stop and thought it was the end of it... but it wasn't for Google, oh no... I was a threat to them, so they shut me down.

And when I see the Alien, he's dead... he owes me $200...

... Won't even see it coming...

The Halloween Cat

I love Halloween, but I doubt that I'll ever be able to spend another one without remembering what happened. In my mind, I'll forever remember Halloween as the anniversary of "the Cat Incident".

It was about this time last year that I was living in an orphanage, obviously I would've been over the age of 18, but a year before just before I moved in they'd started a new program where they "trained" you to be an adult between the ages of 18 and 21 if you had no where else to go. Well, being homeless and basically an orphan anyway, this sounded pretty good to me.

Now, it was a Christian orphanage, a Pentecostal one to be exact, and as such we weren't allowed to do anything for Halloween. It was "evil", so instead we were supposed to celebrate the harvest festival... which is funny in a sarcastic and hypocritical way, because that's exactly what most of the pagans were celebrating before their festival became Halloween... Basically, we weren't allowed to go to haunted houses or watch scary movies... they should've thought that one through better, because they put us nearly grown girls in a house all to ourselves with no adult supervision, you know... other than breathing down our necks every single day and using it for free labor, but I digress... We were alone at night, and that is when this incident happened.

Nikki and Nicole, respectively.

Well, I lived with two other girls that Halloween, Nikki and Nicole, and since we got a $5 a month allowance (which wasn't even an allowance, it was donated by a very nice lady) Nicole and I decided we would walk up the road to where there was a Halloween haunted trail.

Normally, this is what I look like when scary things happen.

Though terrified of the unknown, I laugh at monsters.  Who knew?

So we waited til after midnight and we bundled up nice and warm and Nicole and I left the Home and started walking out along the road. We laughed and talked, because at the time we were pretty good friends, though when I was kicked out earlier this year she started treating me like a pariah. Well, on the way over a bridge while we were laughing, there was a sudden sound. A sudden, unmistakable, sound, coming from the edge of the woods across the road on the other side of the bridge where there was a small dirt half circle that cars used to turn around.

It was the sound of a kitten crying out for help.

I didn't think, didn't look for cars coming (fortunately there were none), I just took off running towards the sound. It could've been anything, halfway over I even toyed with the idea it was a rapist trying to lure us over there, or it was those people we'd heard about on the news recently, the ones who'd leave car-seats with baby dolls in them on the side of the road and kill and car jack the people who stopped. I didn't stop, though, and I wasn't the only one: Nicole was right there beside me.

I got there first though, and bent down, making soothing noises and reaching into the bushes, praying silently that the cat would understand I was there to help. I felt something warm and furry bump my hand, so I reached down to where I felt the neck was, grasped the ruff of fur on the nape, and pulled the kitten out.

I was surprised to find that, while still a kitten, the cat was older than expected.

Nicole and I cooed over the kitty and held and petted it, wrapped up tightly in our jackets to stay warm, though we both knew the Home had a strict no pets policy. It was okay, though, because we were going to find this kitten some help.

Well, we were right there at the Haunted Trail, so we walked up there and talked to the people to see if they could hold onto the kitten for us, explaining we had just found it abandoned and crying. They agreed and even docked the price of admission for us, and we went on the trail... and ran for our lives because of chainsaw killers on the loose.

I "died" so many times.

When we got back it was to discover that the nice people had found out something awful about the kitten: both of her back legs were broken. Heartbroken we held the kitten and cuddled and petted her, swearing to call every vet in North Carolina when we got back to the Home. The nice people who ran the Haunted Trail even offered us a ride back up there, even though it was less than a mile. Well, it was cold out and we didn't want cars to scare the kitty, so we took them up on the offer.

After reaching the home, knowing no one "in charge" was awake, we decided to ask one the house parents if it would be okay to hold  on to  the kitty for just one night, because, after all, we would definitely find the kitty somewhere to go in the morning. One of the nicest house mothers in the place was where we went on Nicole's prompting, waking her up and showing her the cat, explaining what had happened. We could tell she was heartbroken, too. She also knew it was strictly against the rules, but she cracked and gave in and said that surely for just a night it would be okay.

So we crossed the driveway and went into our house and put the kitten on the floor and gave her some tuna and some water, and petted and loved on her, while I tried to find a vet that took emergency calls in the middle of the night. Obviously there were none, so frustrated we decided to go to bed...

That's when we discovered another heartbreaking thing: the kitten refused to stay still and sleep where we left her, she wanted to follow us, and she tried the best she could, hobbling after, mewling pathetically, dragging her legs.It hurt so much to lock her in the bathroom that night, but we figured it was the only way to get her to not hurt herself anymore.

The next morning I sat down with the phone book and the kitten and tried calling vets offices again, but no one would take her. I tried the Animal Shelter, and found out from them, blatantly stated, that "When we pick up cats we put them down right away." So I hung up on them and turned to Nicole. What would we do? Well, she suggested seeing if someone in the office could clear the cat staying on campus with the other mouser we had out by the barn. That is when all hell broke loose.  

(Pictures omitted because they're too damn sad.)

All night long we'd met nothing but nice, kind, people, and for doing such, the world was going to show us it's other side: using everything short of curse words, the lady in charge of our Independent Living program yelled and screamed us, even when we tried to explain. Using her infamous "no excuses" line, she told us we had to get rid of that cat right then and there, and she told us specifically to call the Animal Shelter.

I wasn't doing it, oh hell no. I knew what would happen to that kitten, so I tried calling places that took in abandoned cats... and that's when I got told something so heartbreaking and horrible I can still remember it. "There are a million abandoned cats in North Carolina and no one who wants them. We routinely have to put down healthy kittens because we don't have room. We can't take in a sick cat, we need that money to take care of the ones we have. Just think of it this way: if you hadn't found the cat she would've starved to death on the side of the road. At least now it will be quick and painless."

We were running out of time, we'd only been given an hour to get rid of the cat, and I'd just heard something so terrible and heartbreaking that I couldn't handle it anymore. So, crying and sobbing, I called the Animal Shelter back and told them our address, and I sat there, crying, holding the cat, until they came.

When I opened the door, it's like she knew what was happening. The man held out a cage for me to put her into,  and she clung to me with her claws, fur puffed up, looking panicked and struggling to escape, and I lowered her into it. I was sobbing, horribly, and one of the house parents, my old house parent, was standing on the porch with the man, staring.

I went back inside, closed the door, and tried not to feel so awful about myself.

Yes, our door was eggplant color, and no, I still felt horrible.

And I wish that's where this story ended, but it isn't. Because the lady in charge of our program showed up later to yell and scream at all three of us, even though Nikki tried to explain she'd been in bed asleep and hadn't known until she'd come into the kitchen that morning. The woman demanded to know, "Are you so stupid you don't know what goes on in your own home?!"

Nikki has the world's best poker face.

I held my tongue and cried, but that still wasn't the end of it. The next morning one of the men in charge of the whole orphanage came by to yell at us, and he said some things I just couldn't ignore. While he was demanding to know if we understood what we did was wrong, I couldn't hold my anger in any longer.

"It was against the rules, but we did the right thing." Was what I told him, and for the trouble of speaking up he yelled at me and demanded to know if I was looking to get kicked out. The Home routinely kicked us out if we didn't hold up their rules and regulations, even if they knew we had no where to go, and I had less places to go than most... but I couldn't help my anger, and my mouth moved on it's own when he kept yelling at us about how wrong we were. "I thought this was a Christian facility."

I thought he was going to explode when I said that. He certainly looked that way. He yelled louder and even told me I should've left the cat on the side of the road to die, and then threatened to kick me out once more if I didn't watch my mouth.

"And if you see me on the side of the road with a sign that says 'Hungry, please help', will you just keep on driving?"

It took them a few more months to find enough reasons, but when they finally kicked me out, they brought incident back up as a reason why I didn't follow the rules and had to be kicked out. I looked up, through my tears at loosing the only place I had to live, and said exactly how I felt, "I wasn't wrong. It may have been against the rules, but I wasn't wrong. I'd do it again. No one should be heartless enough to say they could've left that cat to die."