Women. They make up over half of the world. They birth our children. So why are women so under appreciated? A better question is, why don't women appreciate themselves? Why don't we appreciate our bodies? Our minds? Before others can appreciate us, we must learn to appreciate ourselves. Women are beautiful, and every female should know this.
When flipping through the pages of People or Vogue magazine, a women sees what the media wants her to believe is the ideal woman. A celebrity, 5'7", 120 lbs, long shiny hair and flawless skin and makeup. The ideas these magazines put in women’s heads makes it very hard for them to have high self esteem, because in all honesty, most women do not look like Catharine Zeta-Jones. What kind of message is this kind of media giving women today? Media may have the right to freedom of the press, but women also have the freedom to fight back in their own way, therefore, I believe we have the power to change this. We are strong, and we are beautiful. If you believe no one can tell you otherwise, you will be much happier.
Who makes women feel worthless besides ourselves? Who makes women feel like they aren't good enough? Men. Sorry boys, it’s the truth. What woman hasn't been degraded by a member of the opposite sex? Men don't understand the complexities of women, put more importantly, they don't understand women's potential. Women have been considered to be "under" men practically since the beginning of time. It's time to change this, ladies. We are strong, and we are not worthless. If you have a boyfriend, tell him he must to respect you, and appreciate you.
Being the smart, college educated women that we are, I believe we have the power to change other women’s views about themselves. Think about how a simple compliment makes you feel. What if everyone woman got a compliment every day? In my opinion, women’s self esteem would sky rocket if everyone got a compliment every day. Just a simple “your hair looks great” or “that skirt is really flattering on you” could make a huge difference in the lives women in the world. What else can we do to make other women feel appreciated? What can we do to help other women love themselves? Why not a magazine with pictures of real women. How about asking celebrities if they would become involved with some kind of ‘real beauty’ project? We are women, and we are strong, so why not spread this strength around the globe?
I know I don’t have to convince anyone that women have made enormous accomplishments since the beginning of our existence. Its obvious that without wives and mothers in the world, the world would not exist at all. We, as educed women know that statistics: we make up over half of the world. So what’s not to celebrate? We are strong. We are proud. We are women.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Appreciating Yourselves
Women. They make up over half of the world. They birth our children. So why are women so under appreciated? But a better question is, why don't women appreciate themselves? Why don't we appreciate our bodies? Women are beautiful, and every women deserves to know this.
Who makes women feel worthless? Who makes women feel like they arn't good enough? Men. What woman hasn't been degraded by someone of the opposite sex? Men don't understand the complexities of women, and the also don't understand women's potential. Women have been "under" men, practically since the beginning of time. It's time to change this, ladies. We are strong, and we are not worthless. If you have a boyfriend, tell him he must to respect you, and appreciate you.
But before others much respect you and appreciate you, you must learn to apprecaite yourself. When flipping through the pages of People or Vogue magazine, a women sees what the media wants her to believe is the ideal woman. A celebrity, 5'7", 120 lbs, long shiny hair and flawless makeup. This kind of body image makes it very hard for women to have high self esteem, because in all honesty, most women do not look like Cathrine Zeta-Jones. What kind of message is this kind of media giving women today? I believe this should change. Media may have the right to freedom of the press, but women also have the freedom to fight back in their own way. We are strong, and we are beautiful. If you believe no one can tell you otherwise, you will be much happier.
Who makes women feel worthless? Who makes women feel like they arn't good enough? Men. What woman hasn't been degraded by someone of the opposite sex? Men don't understand the complexities of women, and the also don't understand women's potential. Women have been "under" men, practically since the beginning of time. It's time to change this, ladies. We are strong, and we are not worthless. If you have a boyfriend, tell him he must to respect you, and appreciate you.
But before others much respect you and appreciate you, you must learn to apprecaite yourself. When flipping through the pages of People or Vogue magazine, a women sees what the media wants her to believe is the ideal woman. A celebrity, 5'7", 120 lbs, long shiny hair and flawless makeup. This kind of body image makes it very hard for women to have high self esteem, because in all honesty, most women do not look like Cathrine Zeta-Jones. What kind of message is this kind of media giving women today? I believe this should change. Media may have the right to freedom of the press, but women also have the freedom to fight back in their own way. We are strong, and we are beautiful. If you believe no one can tell you otherwise, you will be much happier.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Writing Assignment 6, Draft 2 (Final)
Hello, my name is Mitchell Samson. I grew up in an up-scale neighborhood with my two parents and a sister named Georgia. During my childhood, I was spoiled. Spoiled rotten. Father is a lawyer, and Mother is a doctor, so they had quite of bit of money to spend on me. Georgia and I were always straight A students in high school, and now at university. I am currently enrolled at Yale University, and my sister at Harvard University. You could say we are the perfect family. You're right. Looking in from the outside inside out, we are indeed the perfect family. But when one reaches perfection, what do you strive to achieve from that point forward? Well, that's what led me here. To Brooklyn, New York. I decided I need to take a trip. A trip, in the name of imperfection.
Although my parents are wealthy, they don't just hand everything to me. I earned my way into a great university, and they expect me to earn my own money as well. Because my wallet is a little dry during the school year, I opted to take the bus instead of a plane. I sat down, and was there only a few minutes before what looked like a homeless women sat down beside me. She has several large bags with her and her clothes were dirty and worn. As she sat down, her eyes glazed over me like I was a hot honey bun. Women have never really be interested in me. And frankly, I wasn't interested in them, I've always been focused on my studies. But when she looked at me that way, I wondered why? Why would she choose me to sit next to? As she locked her eyes on mine, I couldn't help but attempt to stare into her soul. Although her hair was thin and looked as if it had not been washed in months, and her face looked tired and dirty, I saw before me the most beautiful women my twenty one year old eyes had ever seen. I welcomed her with an awkward smile, not really knowing what else to do. She smiled back, and my stomach felt as if it had small mammals crawling around inside of it.
I was too shy to say anything, and I believe she sensed my inexeperience. She introduced herself, her name: Rachel. I told her mine. My intentions for my trip to New York were not exactly clear, but when I heard her voice, they immediatly become crystal. As we started conversation, I tried to plan a way to go with her to wherever she was going, because I really had no idea which direction I would travel after stepping off the bus. When she spoke, my heart skipped beats. Was I having a heart attack? I've heard people speak of this phenomenon before when talking about being in love. Was I in love? Was this love at first sight?
I made the bold move of asking her where she lived. She told me she lived on Forty-fourth Street. Forty-fourth Street was now my destination. We continued talking until our eyes awkwardly met again. Her deep brown eyes were trying to tell me something. But what? They never teach you the language of love in high school or college. I ask her what she plans to do when she gets off the bus. To my surprise, she tells me just what the animals in my stomach want to hear. "Well I was hoping you'd follow me back to where I'm headed." I was ecstatic! Rachel was the first women to ever ask me back to her place! I don't recall most of the rest of the conversation until we got off the bus, but I do remember the sensation that shocked my entire body when, as we were stepping off the bus, Rachel gently took my head, and started leading me to Forty-fourth Street.
It was a long walk to where she lived. She held hands the whole way, and that was fine by me. When she stopped walking, I took in the scene around me. Graffiti. EVERWHERE. This, was truly imperfection. Rachel noticed my grapefruit sized eyes and smiled. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," she said. That's right! My camera! I take it out of my fanny pack, hearing a giggle behind me. I snap a picture of the graffiti that says "fatty" on it. As I turn around, I see Rachel unrolling a sleeping bag next to some trash cans. I almost forgot she was homeless. She invites me to sit next to her. My instinct tells me to put my arm around her, so I do. I feel like I've known her my whole life. As I look around at the other homeless people across the street, at the cars driving past, at the amazing women beside me, I start to realize. I realize that what seems like imperfection is really the only thing I ever needed.
Although my parents are wealthy, they don't just hand everything to me. I earned my way into a great university, and they expect me to earn my own money as well. Because my wallet is a little dry during the school year, I opted to take the bus instead of a plane. I sat down, and was there only a few minutes before what looked like a homeless women sat down beside me. She has several large bags with her and her clothes were dirty and worn. As she sat down, her eyes glazed over me like I was a hot honey bun. Women have never really be interested in me. And frankly, I wasn't interested in them, I've always been focused on my studies. But when she looked at me that way, I wondered why? Why would she choose me to sit next to? As she locked her eyes on mine, I couldn't help but attempt to stare into her soul. Although her hair was thin and looked as if it had not been washed in months, and her face looked tired and dirty, I saw before me the most beautiful women my twenty one year old eyes had ever seen. I welcomed her with an awkward smile, not really knowing what else to do. She smiled back, and my stomach felt as if it had small mammals crawling around inside of it.
I was too shy to say anything, and I believe she sensed my inexeperience. She introduced herself, her name: Rachel. I told her mine. My intentions for my trip to New York were not exactly clear, but when I heard her voice, they immediatly become crystal. As we started conversation, I tried to plan a way to go with her to wherever she was going, because I really had no idea which direction I would travel after stepping off the bus. When she spoke, my heart skipped beats. Was I having a heart attack? I've heard people speak of this phenomenon before when talking about being in love. Was I in love? Was this love at first sight?
I made the bold move of asking her where she lived. She told me she lived on Forty-fourth Street. Forty-fourth Street was now my destination. We continued talking until our eyes awkwardly met again. Her deep brown eyes were trying to tell me something. But what? They never teach you the language of love in high school or college. I ask her what she plans to do when she gets off the bus. To my surprise, she tells me just what the animals in my stomach want to hear. "Well I was hoping you'd follow me back to where I'm headed." I was ecstatic! Rachel was the first women to ever ask me back to her place! I don't recall most of the rest of the conversation until we got off the bus, but I do remember the sensation that shocked my entire body when, as we were stepping off the bus, Rachel gently took my head, and started leading me to Forty-fourth Street.
It was a long walk to where she lived. She held hands the whole way, and that was fine by me. When she stopped walking, I took in the scene around me. Graffiti. EVERWHERE. This, was truly imperfection. Rachel noticed my grapefruit sized eyes and smiled. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," she said. That's right! My camera! I take it out of my fanny pack, hearing a giggle behind me. I snap a picture of the graffiti that says "fatty" on it. As I turn around, I see Rachel unrolling a sleeping bag next to some trash cans. I almost forgot she was homeless. She invites me to sit next to her. My instinct tells me to put my arm around her, so I do. I feel like I've known her my whole life. As I look around at the other homeless people across the street, at the cars driving past, at the amazing women beside me, I start to realize. I realize that what seems like imperfection is really the only thing I ever needed.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Writing Assignment 6, Draft 1
Hello, my name is Mitchell Samson. I grew up in an up-scale neighborhood with my two parents and a sister named Georgia. During my childhood, I was spoiled. Spoiled rotten. My father is a lawyer, and my mother is a doctor, so they had quite of bit of money to spend on me. My sister and I were always straight A students in high school, and now at university. I am currently enrolled at Yale University, and my sister at Harvard University. You could say we are the perfect family. Your right. Looking in from the outside inside out, we are indeed the perfect family. But when one reaches perfection, what do you strive to achieve from that point forward? Well, that's what led me here. To Brooklyn, New York. I decided I need to take a trip. A trip to imperfection.
Although my parents are wealthy, they don't not hand everything to me. I earned my way into a great university, and they expect me to earn my own money as well. Because my wallet is a little dry during the school year, I opted to take the bus instead of a plane. I sat down, and was there only a few minutes before what looked like a homeless women sat down beside me. She has several large bags with her and her clothes were dirty and worn. As she sat down, her eyes glazed over me like I was a hot honey bun. Women have never really be interested in me. And frankly, I wasn't interested in them, I've always been focused on my studies. But when she looked at me that way, I wondered why? Why would she choose me to sit next to? As she locked her eyes on mine, I couldn't help but attempt to stare into her soul. Although her hair was thin and looked as if it had not been washed in months, and her face looked tired and dirty, I saw before me the most beautiful women my twenty one year old eyes had ever seen. I welcomed her with an awkward smile, not really knowing what else to do. She smiled back, and my stomach felt as if it had small mammals crawling around inside of it.
I was too shy to say anything, and I believe she sensed my inexeperience. She introduced herself, her name: Rachel. I told her mine. My intentions for my trip to New York were not exactly clear, but when I heard her voice, they immediatly become crystal. As we started conversation, I tried to plan a way to go with her to wherever she was going, because I really had no idea which direction I would travel after stepping off the bus. When she spoke, my heart skipped beats. Was I having a heart attack? I've heard people speak of this phenomenon before when talking about being in love. Was I in love? Was this love at first sight?
I made the bold move of asking her where she lived. She told me she lived on 44th street. 44th street was now my destination. We continued talking until our eyes awkwardly met again. Her deep brown eyes were trying to tell me something. But what? They never teach you the language of love in high school or college. I ask her what she plans to do when she gets off the bus. To my surprise, she tells me just what the animals in my stomach want to hear. "Well I was hoping you'd follow me back to where I'm headed." I was ecstatic! Rachel was the first women to ever ask me back to her place! I don't recall most of the rest of the conversation until we got off the bus, but I do remember the sensation that shocked my entire body when, as we were stepping off the bus, Rachel gently took my head, and started leading me to 44th street.
It was a long walk to where she lived. She held hands the whole way, and that was fine by me. When she stopped walking, I took in the scene around me. Graffiti. EVERWHERE. This, was truly imperfection. Rachel noticed my grapefruit sized eyes and smiled. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," she said. That's right! My camera! I take it out of my fanny pack, hearing a giggle behind me. I snap a picture of the graffiti that says "fatty" on it. As I turn around, I see Rachel unrolling a sleeping bag next to some trash cans. I almost forgot she was homeless. She invites me to sit next to her. My instinct tells me to put my arm around her, so I do. I feel like I've known her my whole life. As I look around at the other homeless people across the street, at the cars driving past, at the amazing women beside me, I start to realize. I realize that what seems like imperfection is really the only thing I ever needed.
Although my parents are wealthy, they don't not hand everything to me. I earned my way into a great university, and they expect me to earn my own money as well. Because my wallet is a little dry during the school year, I opted to take the bus instead of a plane. I sat down, and was there only a few minutes before what looked like a homeless women sat down beside me. She has several large bags with her and her clothes were dirty and worn. As she sat down, her eyes glazed over me like I was a hot honey bun. Women have never really be interested in me. And frankly, I wasn't interested in them, I've always been focused on my studies. But when she looked at me that way, I wondered why? Why would she choose me to sit next to? As she locked her eyes on mine, I couldn't help but attempt to stare into her soul. Although her hair was thin and looked as if it had not been washed in months, and her face looked tired and dirty, I saw before me the most beautiful women my twenty one year old eyes had ever seen. I welcomed her with an awkward smile, not really knowing what else to do. She smiled back, and my stomach felt as if it had small mammals crawling around inside of it.
I was too shy to say anything, and I believe she sensed my inexeperience. She introduced herself, her name: Rachel. I told her mine. My intentions for my trip to New York were not exactly clear, but when I heard her voice, they immediatly become crystal. As we started conversation, I tried to plan a way to go with her to wherever she was going, because I really had no idea which direction I would travel after stepping off the bus. When she spoke, my heart skipped beats. Was I having a heart attack? I've heard people speak of this phenomenon before when talking about being in love. Was I in love? Was this love at first sight?
I made the bold move of asking her where she lived. She told me she lived on 44th street. 44th street was now my destination. We continued talking until our eyes awkwardly met again. Her deep brown eyes were trying to tell me something. But what? They never teach you the language of love in high school or college. I ask her what she plans to do when she gets off the bus. To my surprise, she tells me just what the animals in my stomach want to hear. "Well I was hoping you'd follow me back to where I'm headed." I was ecstatic! Rachel was the first women to ever ask me back to her place! I don't recall most of the rest of the conversation until we got off the bus, but I do remember the sensation that shocked my entire body when, as we were stepping off the bus, Rachel gently took my head, and started leading me to 44th street.
It was a long walk to where she lived. She held hands the whole way, and that was fine by me. When she stopped walking, I took in the scene around me. Graffiti. EVERWHERE. This, was truly imperfection. Rachel noticed my grapefruit sized eyes and smiled. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," she said. That's right! My camera! I take it out of my fanny pack, hearing a giggle behind me. I snap a picture of the graffiti that says "fatty" on it. As I turn around, I see Rachel unrolling a sleeping bag next to some trash cans. I almost forgot she was homeless. She invites me to sit next to her. My instinct tells me to put my arm around her, so I do. I feel like I've known her my whole life. As I look around at the other homeless people across the street, at the cars driving past, at the amazing women beside me, I start to realize. I realize that what seems like imperfection is really the only thing I ever needed.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Writing Assignment 5, Final Draft
My special day is finally here! Everything looks beautiful, just like I pictured it.
Earlier this morning, large white posts with platforms connecting them were placed near my home. I woke up to the sunlight being blocked by what looks like a large white clothe.
100 white chairs are set up under a white tent.
There are colorful flowers everywhere, but not they're not growing out of the ground.
Hundreds of flowers have been arranged.
A gathering of some sort seems to be starting. I have seen these giants walking around before, but never this many at a time. Suddenly, all the giants, except for a few standing in front of these rows posts with platforms, stood in front of a platform.
Here we go. Time for me to take the first steps of the rest of my life. Everyone stands up, they turn around and look at me. I smile and walk slowly to the rhythm of Pachelbel's Canon in D because played by the string quartet.
This was so odd, I, being the curious lady bug that I am, needed a closer look. I decided to fly up and take a peak at this gathering, and landed on the shoulder of the giant walking towards the other giants that were standing. I believe it was a female. Her skin was covered by white clothe; she must have done business with my friend the silk worm.
When I'm about half way down the isle, a lady bug lands on me. Oh no. Please! This can't be happening! I have hated lady bugs ever since one peed on my hand in second grade right in front of Jimmy Peterson.
As she walked, I spotted a water droplet dripping for her eye, that had lots of colored dirt around it!
I didn’t even noticed myself crying, I hope it doesn’t smear my makeup. Just...try to stay calm. I look at Sam, he looks so classy.
She had long, yellowish hay sprouting out of her hair, that was fashioned into spirals that I decided to crawl onto.
Oh my God, it's crawling into my hair! I look at my maid of honor, Julie. She smiles. Finally, I'm at the alter.
When she stopped, she was standing in front of what I thought was a man, wearing black clothe, and another man, who was facing the rest of the giants. They all bent their knees and placed their behinds on the platforms. The man facing out began to speak. I crawled down to the woman's hand, and I saw another hand reach for it.
The ceremony started, and all I could was the lady bug crawling up my arm. Sam puts the ring on my finger, noticing the lady bug. He knows what happened in second grade, so he whispers "It's ok," with a smile.
I retreated back up her arm, as the man placed a shiny ring on one of her fingers.
We say our vows and are pronounced man and wife. We run through the isle (partly out of excitement, mostly to get the lady bug off me) and towards the limo.
A few minutes later, the man and women, who seemed to be mates, walked back the way the woman had come, while the other giants took their behinds off the platforms and put their hands together to make slapping sounds. The mates began to run, making my ride a little bumpy! They headed toward a long, black box, which was sitting on two with large circles.
Sam opens the limo door and I slip in, as he follows close behind.
As the man opened the side of the box, the women entered it, and the man followed and closed the box. I felt myself moving, and decided I need to get out of this moving box. I crawled up onto the woman's nose.
As the limo starts driving, the lady bug crawls onto my nose. I let out a scream.
She squeaked.
I open the window. The lady bug flies out of the window.
She opened a portal to the outside and I made my escape!
Now....now I can focus on the rest of the evening with my husband.
The other giants were still clapping.
Earlier this morning, large white posts with platforms connecting them were placed near my home. I woke up to the sunlight being blocked by what looks like a large white clothe.
100 white chairs are set up under a white tent.
There are colorful flowers everywhere, but not they're not growing out of the ground.
Hundreds of flowers have been arranged.
A gathering of some sort seems to be starting. I have seen these giants walking around before, but never this many at a time. Suddenly, all the giants, except for a few standing in front of these rows posts with platforms, stood in front of a platform.
Here we go. Time for me to take the first steps of the rest of my life. Everyone stands up, they turn around and look at me. I smile and walk slowly to the rhythm of Pachelbel's Canon in D because played by the string quartet.
This was so odd, I, being the curious lady bug that I am, needed a closer look. I decided to fly up and take a peak at this gathering, and landed on the shoulder of the giant walking towards the other giants that were standing. I believe it was a female. Her skin was covered by white clothe; she must have done business with my friend the silk worm.
When I'm about half way down the isle, a lady bug lands on me. Oh no. Please! This can't be happening! I have hated lady bugs ever since one peed on my hand in second grade right in front of Jimmy Peterson.
As she walked, I spotted a water droplet dripping for her eye, that had lots of colored dirt around it!
I didn’t even noticed myself crying, I hope it doesn’t smear my makeup. Just...try to stay calm. I look at Sam, he looks so classy.
She had long, yellowish hay sprouting out of her hair, that was fashioned into spirals that I decided to crawl onto.
Oh my God, it's crawling into my hair! I look at my maid of honor, Julie. She smiles. Finally, I'm at the alter.
When she stopped, she was standing in front of what I thought was a man, wearing black clothe, and another man, who was facing the rest of the giants. They all bent their knees and placed their behinds on the platforms. The man facing out began to speak. I crawled down to the woman's hand, and I saw another hand reach for it.
The ceremony started, and all I could was the lady bug crawling up my arm. Sam puts the ring on my finger, noticing the lady bug. He knows what happened in second grade, so he whispers "It's ok," with a smile.
I retreated back up her arm, as the man placed a shiny ring on one of her fingers.
We say our vows and are pronounced man and wife. We run through the isle (partly out of excitement, mostly to get the lady bug off me) and towards the limo.
A few minutes later, the man and women, who seemed to be mates, walked back the way the woman had come, while the other giants took their behinds off the platforms and put their hands together to make slapping sounds. The mates began to run, making my ride a little bumpy! They headed toward a long, black box, which was sitting on two with large circles.
Sam opens the limo door and I slip in, as he follows close behind.
As the man opened the side of the box, the women entered it, and the man followed and closed the box. I felt myself moving, and decided I need to get out of this moving box. I crawled up onto the woman's nose.
As the limo starts driving, the lady bug crawls onto my nose. I let out a scream.
She squeaked.
I open the window. The lady bug flies out of the window.
She opened a portal to the outside and I made my escape!
Now....now I can focus on the rest of the evening with my husband.
The other giants were still clapping.
Writing Assignment 5, Bride's View
My special day is finally here! Everything looks beautiful, just like I pictured it. 100 white chairs are set up under a white tent. Hundreds of flowers have been arrangedHere we go. Time for me to take the first steps of the rest of my life. Everyone stands up, they turn around and look at me. I smile and walk slowly to the rythm of Pachelbel's Canon in D because played by the string quartet.
When I'm about half way down the isle, a lady bug lands on me. Oh no. Please! This can't be happening! I have hated lady bugs ever since one peed on my hand in second grade right in front of Jimmy Peterson. Just...try to stay calm. I look at Sam, he looks so classy. Oh my God, it's crawling into my hair! I look at my maid of honor, Julie. She smiles. Finally, I'm at the alter. The ceremony started, and all I could was the lady bug crawling up my arm. Sam puts the ring on my finger, noticing the lady bug. He knows what happened in second grade, so he whispers "It's ok," with a smile.
We say our vows and are pronounced man and wife. We run through the isle (partly out of excitement, mostly to get the lady bug off me) and towards the limo. Sam opens the limo door and I slip in, as he follows close behind. As the limo starts driving, the lady bug crawls onto my nose. I let out a scream and open the window. The lady bug flies out of the window and now....now I can focus on the rest of the evening with my husband.
When I'm about half way down the isle, a lady bug lands on me. Oh no. Please! This can't be happening! I have hated lady bugs ever since one peed on my hand in second grade right in front of Jimmy Peterson. Just...try to stay calm. I look at Sam, he looks so classy. Oh my God, it's crawling into my hair! I look at my maid of honor, Julie. She smiles. Finally, I'm at the alter. The ceremony started, and all I could was the lady bug crawling up my arm. Sam puts the ring on my finger, noticing the lady bug. He knows what happened in second grade, so he whispers "It's ok," with a smile.
We say our vows and are pronounced man and wife. We run through the isle (partly out of excitement, mostly to get the lady bug off me) and towards the limo. Sam opens the limo door and I slip in, as he follows close behind. As the limo starts driving, the lady bug crawls onto my nose. I let out a scream and open the window. The lady bug flies out of the window and now....now I can focus on the rest of the evening with my husband.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Wedding, Draft 1
Earlier this morning, large white posts with platforms connecting them were placed near my home. I woke up to the sunlight being blocked by what looks like a large white clothe. There are colorful flowers everywhere, but not they're not growing out of the ground. A gathering of some sort seems to be starting. I have seen these giants walking around before, but never this many at a time. Suddenly, all the giants, except for a few standing in front of these rows posts with platforms, stood in front of a platform. This was so odd, I, being the curious lady bug that I am, needed a closer look. I decided to fly up and take a peak at this gathering, and landed on the shoulder of the giant walking towards the other giants that were standing. I believe it was a female, she had long, yellowish hay sprouting out of her hair, that was fashioned into spirals that I decided to crawl onto. Her skin was covered by white clothe; she must have done business with my friend the silk worm. As she walked, I spotted a water droplet dripping for her eye, that had lots of colored dirt around it! When she stopped, she was standing in front of what I thought was a man, wearing black clothe, and another man, who was facing the rest of the giants. They all bent their knees and placed their behinds on the platforms. The man facing out began to speak. I crawled down to the woman's hand, and I saw another hand reach for it. I retreated back up her arm, as the man placed a shiny ring on one of her fingers. A few minutes later, the man and women, who seemed to be mates, walked back the way the woman had come, while the other giants took their behinds off the platforms and put their hands together to make slapping sounds. The mates began to run, making my ride a little bumpy! They headed toward a long, black box, which was sitting on two with large circles. As the man opened the side of the box, the women entered it, and the man followed and closed the box. I felt myself moving, and decided I need to get out of this moving box. I crawled up onto the woman's nose, and as she squeaked, she opened a portal to the outside and I made my escape! The other giants were still clapping.
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