Flower is Blooming

Escondido Burns Again....why are we living here?

http://www.nctimes.com/youtube_70c016ca-0e58-11e0-91ba-001cc4c002e0.html

Comic: brain-dead

This conversation actually happened.

Nathaniel's Comic!! 2!!

He was very particular about how it should be. Everything is done just as he wanted it. No, I don't understand it either.

Christianity works better

This is an interesting video in it's own right, but I would like to point out that the Christian European countries have done much much better than Muslim countries that are still stuck way way back there.

That is all.

Nathaniel's Comic!!

Nathaniel and I made a comic!
He drew the borders and directed the story (to the tiniest detail) and I drew it!

Our city gets into the news for all the wrong reasons...

http://liveshots.blogs.foxnews.com/2010/12/09/let-it-burn-ca-bomb-house-being-destroyed/?test=latestnews

30 day challenge

So a while ago I was going to try this "30 day drawing challenge" that's been going around all over the internet, only I would make a small comic for each challenge.
So I got to three and then promptly forgot about it.



Day 1, yourself:



Day 2, favorite animal:

I like how I get more and more stylized.


Day 3, favorite food:



And for some stupid reason I decided to draw myself with bunny ears throughout.
Maybe I should continue the "challenge"??

My Cousin's Son In the News for All the Wrong Reasons

http://www.cbs6albany.com/articles/police-1280135-domestic-guilderland.html

We will have to pray for him.

Old Catalina Island Transport Flier

Look, you can get a two way seaplane flight to Catalina island for only $8.00! (In 1930)

100th Post

Here marks the 100th post since we started our blog 13 months ago.

Art is

Tim's post about game design and subsequent comments got me thinking about art. So I thought I'd post some of my musings about art and what I think art is.

Art is a very controversial thing. Ask 10 people what art is, you get 10 different totally conflicting answers. Religion, politics, and art: controversial, but oooh so fun.

Most art, good or bad, is an attempt to communicate an emotion. Paintings, music, fiction, movies, poetry, games, everything I could think of falls into this category. Expression in an artistic form is a desperate attempt to communicate to other humans the deep and real feelings that are inside ourselves. Even music without words is deeply emotional and trying very hard to communicate something. Even if you’re just creating art for the beauty of the thing, you’re trying to communicate an aspect of it that stirs something inside you.

And entertainment seems to be experiencing emotions through others’ artwork. When you’re channel flipping, aren’t you looking for something that excites you or moves you? Even if it just interests you a little bit, it’s from some emotional connection. The best movies make us laugh, or cry. Some people like to feel the emotion of fear, and that entertains them. The best books are the ones we have the deepest emotional connection with. You remember that painting because of how it made you feel.

Although I enjoy sitting back and being entertained sometimes, I have too much to say to simply be content with that. The desire to express and create is far too strong. The urge to communicate something has always driven me to create artwork.

Art is only beautiful in the extent that it reflects reality. It is not beautiful in and of itself, it is only beautiful when it reflects something of goodness, truth, or true beauty.

Art is a mirror. It reflects the world as seen through the eyes of the artist. It is a glimpse inside the way the artists views the world, and therefore it is making a truth claim about the real world. You see a beautiful portrait or a landscape and you say “Look! There is something of beauty in the world!” or sadness, or love, or hope, or confusion. This is why some modern art disturbs me deeply, they are saying, “Look, the world is chaos. The world is meaningless.”

Art is a powerful thing. You can say with art “Look, there is God in the world.”

Equestrian Foundation: Fall festival

Game Design Lesson: Perspectives

To understand this essay you need to have a foundation to start with. Game design is the process of constructing experiences through an interactive medium, such as a computer or other platform (electronic or otherwise). A medium by definition is something intermediate in nature or degree. Used in this context, a medium is the "middle ground" between the player and the experience (such as a computer). By having this medium interactive, the player has a higher degree of influence over their experience, or at least the illusion of so.

What I'm going to talk about today is perspective. This lies in the context of the medium and experience. The two perspectives in games are the first and third person perspectives. In literature, a statement such as I move, I run, or I hide is in first person perspective, while statements such as she moves, she runs, or she hides is referring to third person. When we use the term in the context of games, we refer to the placement of the players vision. See below:

view is from behind the character

view is from the characters eyes

Now we move to personification. The main reason people use the first person perspective is because they try to enhance the experience by placing the player in the main characters shoes as much as possible. I believe instead that the third person perspective is even better yet as a tool of personification. In the first person setting, the player at first feels deep in the game world because of their vision, but soon more questions come into their mind, such as: "What am I?", "Who am I?", and "What do I look like?". These are a few of the question that riddle the mind of players in the first person perspective. The first person perspective does immerse the player in the game at the beginning, but chokes the introspection that the player so desires, as a tree growing in a metal box. As a game designer, it's a well know rule of thumb to give the player what they want, or hide it so that they don't know they want it. I believe the first person perspective can indeed be something of beauty, but may need some well thought-out craftsmanship to do so.

Now for the third person perspective. At first it seems as though there is an obvious separation between the player (one entity) and the game character (a completely different entity). This is true, in the beginning, but just as when you watch a good movie, or read a good book, this gap between the two entities becomes increasingly shallow. The person reading should associate with the character being presented in the story. After unification is complete, there is room for the player to answer question about themselves, just as a tree growing in an open field. This perspective is, in a way, completely opposite of the previously one. The first person perspective fosters immersion in the beginning, but become awkward over time. While the third person perceptive doesn't immediately set the player in place, it does over time grow the player to be one with the game character.

Now lets look at the technical dark side of both perspectives. The third person perspective is notorious with having terrible camera views. Because of the cameras distance from the play, this can cause many technical problems in closed areas, such as a room, cave, or other limited spaces. The first person perspective also has many flaws of its own. Because of the physical limitation of computer and television screens, the player of first person games have very limited peripheral vision. This mixed with the fact that most first person games feature action or horror, the player usually tend to never feel safe. This is actually a significant disadvantage to the perspective. I personally try to build games around the contrast of anxiety and safety. Without safety, the players eventually become numb to anxiety. Game designers strive to have a game filled with experiences. To numb the player to a sense, in anyway, is severely hindering the medium's potential.

That last problem with the first person perspective is motion sickness. It's a phenomenon where people become temporarily disoriented and/or nauseous. This is because in real life people can move their heads with complete control, and if you take the time to notice, your eyes dart around from object to object. People almost never slowly turn their eyes to something. This is probably why cinematography used the concept of scenes. It just seems natural to see the scene suddenly change without any movement what so ever. It is how our eyes work. Because of the way people interact with a game, (computer mouse, joy stick, etc.), it is extremely hard to imitate this in a game.

With all this said, I hope you have a fresh understanding of the deep logic that goes on behind a game. I feel that the best experience might lie somewhere in between these two perspectives. Maybe the game should start in first person only to switch to third person after the player has outgrown their "box". I may try experimenting with this. I deeply thank you for you time.

Nathaniel's Birthday

Desk

In contrast with This picture I took five months ago, here is what my desk looks like.

Harvest Festival

Today, Mommy, Allison, Timmy, and I went to help out at the Harvest Festival at our church. Mommy passed out the tract bags she had made. Allison, Timmy, and I helped out by manning some of the booths. At Allison's booth, kids would fish for ducks swimming (or, rather, floating upside down) in a kiddie pool full of water. Timmy worked beside the shooting range (why they had one at a Harvest festival for five-year-olds alludes me) with hoops and targets. And I did the penny toss, where kids would try to land a penny on a circle target. They would usually miss, unless of course they were really aiming for my shoes, or the lawn behind my booth, or the pavement, or under the chair. If that was the case, everyone had excellent aim, for half the time the pennies landed off the board, and the other half missed the circles.

The festival itself amazed me. Considering the size of Woodland Park Bible Church (super small), I was surprised at the size of the production. There were over a dozen booths, freshly baked cookies and hot dogs, a cake walk (instead of walking on cakes, as it sounds like a "cake walk" is, kids would play musical chairs to win a giant cake), a hay ride, and a costume contest. To put this on, almost the entire church participated by running booths, cooking the food, and making the announcements. Unfortunately, all their efforts were nearly in vain. Instead of the hundred we had supposed, perhaps only twenty to thirty children showed up. Mommy was only able to pass away a small fraction of the tract bags, leaving nearly one hundred unused. There were more booth-workers than people playing at the booths.

You would think that, because so few people came, manning a booth must have been an easy task. Think again. I had much more business than would be expected. Most of the kids returned to my booth three, four, or even five times. And, when I wasn't dealing with the little kids, some bigger "kids" in search of free candy (the teenagers and adults from church) came over for a turn. (Just in case you wondered, the adults didn't have any better aim than the three-year-olds.)

Even more stressful than the work itself were the teenagers who kept bothering me (whether intentionally or not). One of them, named Alfonzo, was especially irritating. For some unknown and bizarre reason, he decided to take it upon himself to make sure everyone visited my booth. And he did so with an unwarranted amount of energy and enthusiasm. He would drag people over, grab a penny from me, hold it up so everyone could see, and loudly announce, "Look! Look! Everyone look! This is a penny! A penny! You eat it! Actually, you throw it here, and get it on a circle. The smaller the circle you hit, the bigger the prize! You aim, and you throw, like this!" He aims, and misses. "Actually, like this!" Again, a miss. He then grabs a handful and throws them down. Pennies scatter everywhere. "Hah! I win a lot of candy! Now you do it!"

At one point, Alfonzo realized that his tactics weren't working and people still weren't flooding to my booth (perhaps because there wasn't that many people to begin with). He then "hired" two girls in pixie outfits to advertise my booth for me. Whatever their purpose was, they didn't do it. Instead of advertising, they seemed to want only to talk about their cellphones and complain about being cold. Really loudly. If anything, they served to drive kids away, not draw them towards me. When the costume contest started, they finally left me in peace and never returned.

Of course, no matter how stressful my job was, it really seemed that I had the easiest time there. Timmy, who was doing the hoop game, was showered by hoops by some people who seemed to think him a better target than the intended ones. To my left, another girl, named Stephanie, ran the milk bottle pyramid game. Perhaps it should have been renamed the "knock-over-Stephanie-and-make-her-suffer" game, or at least, that's how she saw it. After being pelleted by metal bottles and a football, Stephanie had to set the bottles up again quickly for the next player. After being there only half-an-hour, she had already had enough. "I can't do this anymore," she moaned. By the end of the evening, she was totally exhausted.

Despite these rather unpleasant experiences, there were several fun things that happened. I was able to wear a cute cat costume. Seeing all the people from church in funny costumes was really an experience. It was fun seeing people be so delighted whenever they won some candy (even if I fudged the rules a little and gave them a candy "just for trying"). Best of all, I loved meeting so many cute little kids dressed in the most adorable outfits.

It didn't seem too bad at first...

...but it sure felt like this after two hours (so crazy and confusing).

A look behind the booths (the girl in the tie-dye shirt is Stephanie).

The two "pixies" that annoyed—er, advertised for my booth (or really just blabbed on about cellphones and panda bears and Elmo's World).

Nathaniel's Castle

Nathaniel's Dance.

Harvest

Harvest from the garden.

Vaquero Days

50 years of cultural decline as seen in cartoons

I had recently watched a clip from a brand new popular kid's show and I was offended by it's stupidity and vulgarity. Last night I saw a clip of a cartoon from the 50's. The differences are striking. So, for your interest I give you 50 years of cultural decline.

Cartoon from 1959.
WARNING: Educational and you will be SMARTER for watching!!



Cartoon from 2010.
WARNING: Offensive and you will be MADE STUPIDER for watching!!



Now, I'm sure that there were plenty of trash shows and cartoons in the 50's. But my point is that you would NEVER see the clip from the 50's made for kids today, and you would also NEVER see anything as vulgar as the clip from today's cartoon played in the 50's.

The True Worth of the SAT

I was standing in line for what seemed hours, and yet I dreaded my turn. I was about to take my second SAT test. Around me, other students, subject to the same fate as I, nervously shifted from one foot to the other, looking anywhere but up ahead, relishing their last precious moments before the test. Everyone was perfectly miserable—everyone, that is, except the guy directly in front of me.

“You know, I'm not nervous about this test at all,” he boasted, grinning foolishly. “When I took the ACT, I was in the...” he pauses for effect, “...55th percentile.” He then flashed some dorky moves to finish off his speech. Behind him, I smirked bemusedly. He was bragging about being in the 55th percentile, as if it were something to boast about; and yet, just behind him stood someone, me, who had scored in the 95th percentile on the SAT. I gloated in my supposed superiority.

In reality, being in the 55th percentile isn't bad. In fact, it's pretty good. He was of average or even above-average intelligence, so he faced no disadvantages when trying to apply for college. Unlike many people, he was well rounded, being equally good at both math and English. My mother, for example, was in the 93rd percentile in English but was in the lower third in math. My father was just as uneven the other way. The 55th percentile is excellent; however, the 95th percentile is a lot better, a whole lot better.

And yet, what was I doing, thinking this about him? I laughed at him for boasting about his scores when I had scored much higher than he. But by laughing at him, I was doing the very thing I had mocked him for. What if there were someone standing there who was in the 96th percentile, or the 97th, or the 99th? Would they not think I was as foolish as I thought he was? Am I not, in my pride, committing the very sin I mocked the guy in front of me for?

When I was thinking about these things, I obviously placed great worth on the SAT; I judged someone I had never met based solely on his SAT score. Since that time, however, I have drastically changed my opinion. Up to that day, I had expended all my energy in studying for the test. I reviewed online hints and suggestions. I read and re-read the College Board's official SAT study guide. I lived and breathed SAT questions (ok, I actually didn't do that much). And yet, what is the return for my efforts? A 2180 SAT score, obviously. But what have I gained in the long term?

The SAT is practically worthless; the entire purpose of taking the test (at least, from my perspective) is to give students a chance to enter college. However, getting a super-high score didn't open any doors for me. Even though I am in the highest financial-aid brackets at most colleges—some paying $14,000 or more—the original tuition price is so high that the scholarships don't even come close to lowering it enough. When you have to pay $160,000, what difference does a $10,000 discount make? The SAT didn't even give me high priority at the community and state colleges I applied at—at one I was placed at the lowest priority and unable to take the classes I needed, and at the other I could not even enroll because they placed high priority on other students. To compound the irony, I am planning on transferring to Thomas Edison State College, which doesn't even require its students to take the SAT!

Not only did the SAT not help me enter college, but after college, the SAT will have no value whatsoever. The SAT is useless when applying for a job. Companies don't care if their employees did well on the SAT. Potential employers don't examine applicants' SAT scores. Employees aren't given instant raises or important management positions for their scholastic aptitude. Employers only care about their employees' ability to perform their jobs, not how well they can do at college. The SAT has virtually no worth outside the college scene.

Worthless at getting in colleges, worthless at getting classes, worthless at getting a job—the SAT was the greatest waste of time and anxiety I have ever done. What folly, what stupidity, what absurdity! That I had never bothered take the test! I may have scored higher than the guy standing in front of me that day, but in reality, we were both in the same position. We both had the same advantages in the workplace; neither of us really had an edge over the other. We both faced a similar problem of funding our college educations. In a sense, there is no real difference between scoring in the 95th percentile and scoring 40 percentages lower. Both scores are completely meaningless.

Comic: sprinklers

click for full size

Darn sprinklers. I was soaked and muddy before I could get out of there.

Writing assignment- Describing a Childhood Treasure

When I was born 15 years ago my mother and father gifted me with a present for my lifetime, a small blue bible. I kept this bible in my dresser ever since.

The bible rests in a cardboard case. A drawing of a woman clinging to her newborn baby is also inside the case alongside the bible.

I consider this bible a treasure to me because it remind me of how much love my mother has showed me since my birth and how much she cares about my salvation at such a young age. She named me Timothy because it means "One who honors God" and gifted me this bible to remind me of my true goal on this earth.

This bible means a lot to me ever since I knew of it's significance, but it has no worth beyond a beacon of remembrance. "For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it"- 1 Timothy 6:7. I memorized this verse because of its significance to my life.

This is the most valuable item I have. Though it is significant, may I not cling to the material bible I can hold in my hands, but may I cling to the world of God which is inside it's fragile pages.


~ timothy age 15

Rotoscoping

Rotoscoping is a technique used by animators to improve the realism of their animation by tracing film footage by hand. The means by which the animators would achieve this was by a rotoscope, a device which projects live-action film footage onto a glass panel to be redrawn by the artist. Although computers have taken the role of aiding the animators in modern times, this technique is still referred to as rotoscoping.

I decided to do a test for myself using two cameras playing simultaneously from different angles. One camera from the front, and one to the side.I was originally planning on recording myself doing some menial task such as walking or stretching. I decided to ask Nathaniel (age 6) if he wanted to help. He agreed to, so I turned on both cameras and recorded his "dance". Enjoy!

Ray Comfort in another great video

Solar Oven

Solar Ovens

Today was a hot California day. The temperature outdoors reached over 102 degrees Fahrenheit. I have been waiting for some time to build a solar oven instead of using our microwave. Today seemed like a blessed day to do so.

The design is simple-- I placed a smaller box into a slightly larger one. I then placed small pieces of paper into the space in between the two boxes to have an insulation effect. Afterwards I wrapped tinfoil all around the inside of the box and on the flaps as well. The oven is now ready for use.

Outside I placed the oven in the middle of our patio and put a thermometer inside the oven


When the oven has been in the light for about 45 minutes, the thermometer read 170 degrees as shown in the picture above. We decided to cook sliced apples as our first solar cooked dish.

The apples ended up coming out fine, though it could have been cooked a little longer. Overall the oven worked perfectly. I'm not sure why more people don't use solar ovens instead of their microwaves.

~ timothy 14
~ Nathaniel 6

A Day at History Class

I arrive at Palomar—ten minutes after my class started. I yank open the door and race down the hallway, narrowly avoiding hitting a rather amused man. Although I have gone to class three times already, my sense of direction has never been very keen, and I'm lost for several minutes. Finally I manege to reach the right room, number 105. (But then again, the building is very small; I was bound to hit it sometime.) I slowly, guiltily, approach the door. Do I dare enter? What if my teacher hates me? Cautiously peeking around the corner before entering, I see that my teacher hasn't even come yet. With assurance that I won't be caught this time, I walk to my desk.

My desk is rather standard, must like those from movies and books. However, to a homeschool student like me who has never sat behind one before, any desk is a curiosity. In the front is a tray-like piece of wood connected to the chair by a armrest on the right side. I have supposed this armrest is for resting one's arm while taking notes, although this function is lost on me, a left-hander. Below my chair is a strange metal cage, presumably for putting books, but which looks more like a prison cell than anything. Unlike in some movies, I don't have any place for storing my pencils and what-not. I'm not sure I would really want to anyway; I don't really trust any of the people who attend Palomar.

I pull out my textbook and notebook from my backpack and then take out a mechanical pencil. No, this one is out of lead. I try another. This one will do. I then open my textbook and read a few paragraphs. It's too noisy in the room for studying so I shove my textbook back into my backpack. Around me the other students are getting impatient; some are even planning on leaving before the teacher comes in. “Ya know, if a teacher doesn't come after fifteen minutes,” Joe, who was sitting one seat behind me, said hopefully, “it's a decided-on rule that class is dismissed.”

“Yeah, well, I once had a teacher who did that, and we all left, and so he marked us all absent.” Lauren, sitting directly behind me, loudly informed Joe.

“Ooh, harsh!” Joe replied sympathetically.

In front of me sits the friend trio: Jodi, Hannah (not me), and Karen. Jodi, who is directly in front of me, has long, flowing black hair, clear skin, a sweet voice, and a nasty lagging cough. She is truly the image of beauty; that is, until she coughs in her gurgling way. Contrasting with Jodi is Hannah, with knotty blond hair, a face full of freckles, and a constant pout from her many woes. “My roommate's cat is such a—I just want to kill it! She goes and scratches and scratches at the carpet, and I say, “No!” but she doesn't listen. And whenever I open the fridge—boom! She's there! I shove her ugly head out, but she keeps coming back. I just hate cats. I inherited it from my mother, her hatred of cats, you know.” Throughout this dialogue Jodi encouragingly “oohs” and “aahs” and at the right moments. Occasionally Karen will enter the conversation to say something loudly like, “Oh, I KNOW!” or “That happens to me ALL the time!”

Directly to my right sits A.J., a very muscular man of about twenty. I admit that I never sit still. Whether at home or in public, at peace or deeply disturbed, I always fidget and wiggle my legs. However, A.J. takes this to a new level. He doesn't just wiggle his legs; he jumps them up and down like he was having epileptic seizures. Also, he spends nearly the entire class period with his head down and his hands hiding his face. This behavior confused me at first. I soon learned why he did this, however. During class he texts on his phone, sometimes breaking into spontaneous giggles (yes, it was funny seeing him giggle), other times raptly absorbed in his little device. Today A.J. came in after me, and as he walked by I noticed that he smelled of cigarette smoke. It was not really so much to bother me, but I was surprised that someone could have such a strong smell on them.

After nearly ten minutes, my teacher bubbles in, completely oblivious to the grumbling, and begins happily informing the class of the exciting deal she had just gotten on some textbooks (a very teacher-like thing to get excited about). She then starts right in with the lesson. “Alright, today we are going to talk about life in the Spanish colonies.” I jot down, “Spanish colonies.”

She continued.“Now, the Spanish colonists were basically only men. And you know when guys are all alone... So they needed wives. But Spanish women didn't want to come. So then what? They went for the native women of course! Hey, it's the only game around! They would prefer Spanish women, but you know... So there were lots and lots of mixed marriages going on. And it was good for the native women as well. You see, the native American women had a custom of marrying members of conquering tribes, so it was only natural for them to go along with it. What else could they do, you know? And now countries like Brazil where the Spanish used to colonize have so many different types of races. We only have four: white, black, yellow, and—what was that last one?—oh, red! But they have so many, like burnt yellow, and coffee with milk, and pale with pink edges. They just have so many different kinds! It's ridiculous!” I wrote down, “interracial problems.”

“And now, the most important thing to remember is—” “—and you know my husband, he's always just, “Blah, blah, blah!” And I'm like, “Dude, what the heck?” And he's all like...” Lauren practically yells to Joe, making it impossible for me to hear what the teacher is saying.

“OK, let's take our break now. If anyone came in late and didn't get on the attendance list, come see me.” My teacher says, sitting down at her desk. Half the class and I start coming to the front.

“Huh, all of you?” My teacher asks, confusion all over her face.

“You didn't take role call today, remember!” Lauren loudly reminds her.

“Oh yeah, that's right. I came in late. Alright, I'll do it after the break!” My teacher bubblingly informs us before walking out of the classroom. We follow. The friend trio head for the restroom while Lauren and Joe walk out the door together, to get lunch I assume. A.J. stays where he is, absorbed in his conversation. I leave, happy to get away from the tobacco smell, and wander out the door and down to the front desk. I look at the brochures. There are some openings in the ESL class. I don't think I need that. There will be a blood drive at Palomar next month. I'll have to remember to avoid that. Uninterested, I start walking back. Only, as I have said, my sense of direction has never been very keen, and I end up wandering around in circles. I find the library that will be opening up. I can just barely see the empty bookcases through the small, taped-up window. I walk on. Up ahead is the admissions building. I was wondering where they kept that. And now here's the library again. It's still not open yet. And so I go on like this for the entire break until I finally stumble on number 105, my classroom. At the door the friend trio stands around. Hannah (still not me) angrily pounds on her cellphone, nearly breaking it in half, and grumbles to the other two, “ARG! I can't stand it! This stupid thing, it keeps getting jammed. It just won't open!”

“It's awful, isn't it? Mine does that too sometimes,” Jodi soothingly says. “Let me try.” She then works at it, twisting and fiddling with the rebellious phone. I would like to stay and see if Jodi is successful, but I feel I should be heading in. A.J. is still texting, oblivious to his surroundings. After I have sat down, Lauren and Joe come back. As Joe walks past me to get to his desk, I am overwhelmed with tobacco smell. I'm not sure who smelled more like tobacco: Joe or A.J.

Pretty soon (for her) my teacher comes back and starts the role call. Now, to be perfectly honest, I didn't know that college teachers did role call. I know they did with elementary-school students, but I always thought attendance wasn't required at a college lecture. But oh well. “Jennifer?”

“Here,” was the reply.

“Jodi?”

Without speaking Jodi raised her hand. That seemed acceptable enough and my teacher went on.

Now, to be perfectly honest, every time my teacher does role call I'm scared I won't realize I've been called or I won't say “here” loud enough and she'll pass over me. Things like this have happened before, and I want to make sure I get a good grade in my class. So I listen to each name very intently, ready to raise my hand at any moment.

“Hannah—”

“Here!” I say at my loudest (really not that loud) while raising my hand.

“—Baker?” My teacher finishes, looking up. The real Hannah in question (not me) raises her hand. I shamefully slump in my chair. Finally role call is over, and my teacher begins the lesson again.

“Alright, now let's talk about the early English colonists. When I ask students what the first colony in Virginia was, they usually answer, 'Jamestown.' Well, they're wrong. It's actually Roanoke. Now, do any of you know about Roanoke?”

“Oh yeah, that's where John Smith—no, that's where the Pilgrims came, and they had thanksgiving, right?” Lauren loudly blurts out.

“Well actually...” My teacher begins.

“No, no, that's where there was no one. Like they all died! Yeah, they were all dead!” Lauren tries to correct herself.

“Yes, Roanoke is the first colony in Virginia. At first it seemed to do well. However, Raleigh, their leader, went back to England for supplies but was delayed for ten years by war. And when he came back, everyone was gone without a trace. Creepy. There were no signs of struggle, only the word, 'Cherokee,' written on a tree. So what do you think supply ships thought when they came there and everyone was gone? Indian raids of course! They were scared of Indian attacks! So when they made Jamestown, they chose a place in the middle of a swamp to keep out Indians. That's the only reason they chose such an awful place to put a city. Jamestown is the first successful English settlement, but they had a whole lot of trouble. First there was the...”

While my teacher is talking, I try to take notes on all she is saying. However, while I'm doing this, Jodi leans back, and her hair falls on my desk. I move my notebook back a little to avoid accidentally pulling her hair. She leans back farther. I pull my notebook towards me. She leans back farther. My notebook is practically on my lap. She leans back farther. I am forced to move my notebook on the armrest to escape the invading hair. She finally sits up straight again. I have my desk to myself again.

My teacher usually talks slow and enhances her speech with interesting stories and the like. However, near the end we were running out of time and she still had a lot to cover. “TheEnglishdon'twantanythingtodowiththeIndiansbuttheFrenchandtheDutchweredifferenttheyintermarriedandtradedandtookontheirwaysanddidtheirpeacesmokingthingstheywereallhappytheIndianslikedtheFrenchandtheDutchtheyhadgoodsettlementseveryonewashappytheend.”

I couldn't keep up. I wrote, “The English Indian French Dutch happiness.”

“Alright, class is over. See you on Thursday!” Even before she had finished talking, everyone had packed up their books and headed out the door. It is the end of another day of class—with many more to follow. I pack up too and walk to the front door to wait for Mommy to pick me up.

New Desk Setup

Today we decided to change around our computors. It started yesterday when mommy's computer broke down because of a virus attack. After cleaning out the computer and updating the software, I managed to successfully install a operating system called Ubuntu. Ubuntu is a free alternative to the windows operating system. I'm now typing from the fixed computer. Everything's working fine and I hope to update the software later tonight.

Timothy 14

Harmony Grove Fire

A fire started by a metal weed eater consumed a total of 3 acres near our home. At about 2:30 PM we began to smell smoke in the air. We rushed outside to see the hill adjacent to ours engulfed in smoke. I took the first picture ( see first photo ) before we decided to evacuate. We drove all the way up to the side of a mountain. We watched in amazement as the firemen put out the last flames. I took out the binoculars and faced my camera lens through them to get a in-depth look at the charred area ( see second photo ). I also noticed that a large flock of birds were flying near us, so I decided to take a picture of them ( see third photo ). After we realized the fire was out and we were safe from harm and smoke we returned home.

I began to think it's just a matter of time until another fire threatens our house. There is not much we can do to prevent a fire from starting, but there is a lot we can do to weaken it's effects.

First, clear away as much brush in your yard as possible. I know this many be a great ordeal for some homes, especially ours, but anything counts.

Second, always be prepared to evacuate. You never know when something much happen. The best way to be safe is to be prepared.

Third, own smoke masks. The greatest killer in a fire situation is the smoke it produces. Normal dust masks do help, but they don't prevent most of the toxic gasses produced in a fire. Also they are likely to become over loaded by the smoke particles in the air. A way to prevent smoke inhalation is to wet a towel and wrap it around your face. This can be troublesome because you have to keep holding it. The best solution is a professional smoke mask. These masks can be expensive, but it's a worth while investment.

Read more about the fire here!
http://www.nctimes.com/news/local/escondido/article_754dab2e-80a2-11df-adb5-001cc4c03286.html

-Timothy 14

Oceanside Field Trip

We drove to the town of Oceanside as a field trip. Oceanside is a relatively small beach town about sixty miles southeast of Las Angeles.

Our first stop was the California Surf Museum. The museum exhibit was about women surfers. At the beginning of the museum they had a swimsuit on display from the early nineteen hundreds, if I remember right. The early swimsuits were much more modest than the modern swim clothing. As we made our way through the museum we came across the real surf board of Bethany Hamilton. She was a woman who lost her arm in a shark attack off the coast of Hawaii in October 2003. She survived the attack and went back to surfing in only three weeks. The board obviously has a large portion of it bitten out. After we were done looking we went back to the car.

The next museum we went to is the Oceanside Museum of Art. The theme of this museum was World War II art. The paintings were very interesting. They were beautiful, but the paintings were of tanks and anti-aircraft weapons. Still, the paintings were nicely balanced. After we were done we decided to go into the next room of the museum. The entire other room was filled with abstract paintings from only one artist, opposed to the other room with very detailed and meaningful paintings my many different artists. I actually didn't like the paintings in there very much. When we were done downstairs we began to explore the upstairs. Upstairs there were much fewer painting. My favorite paintings on the upstairs were ones of Oceanside itself. There were paintings of areas we drove past earlier on our trip. When we were all done we went back down stairs and back to the car.

I noticed the culture of Oceanside is very different from the rest of society, especially speaking of the dress code. Women can walk down the main streets only wearing a swimsuit which would be very socially unacceptable or even against the law in other towns. The city is built around the "Surf culture".

Overall the field trip was a great learning experience. We learned a lot about the community which we couldn't have done without actually being there.

-Timothy 14

Nathaniel Joke Time

Question: What two months are married?

Answer: May and June! (May has Mother's Day and June has Father's Day.)

Comic: Timothy the gardener

We have our own gardening bullfrog to grow food for us! He's got tomatoes and basil so far. :D

monster drawing

Nathaniel tried drawing me as a monster and himself as a nice person, but at the last minute I changed the names around.

Nathaniel says "I hate timmy!"