So….I’ve been very very very very very terrible with keeping this blog active.  I have failed you all.  2016 was a crazy year and so far is 2017.  I’m going through a lot: There was my 17th birthday.  Trying to keep some relationships with certain friends alive and going on well.  There are those new friendships/relationships I am striving for.  Trying to come out of my shell.  Trying to get back on course with God’s plan for my life.  Trying to figure out who I really am.  Trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life after I finish high school this coming month.  I’m preparing for Fuge Camp in North Carolina.  I am continuing on some new stories/books.  I am focusing my writing life towards my essays and a short autobiography.  I am dealing with chores that I am trying to be the best at, being there for my family and trying to get along with them even when I don’t think it’s fair with the situation my parents put me in.  I am trying to live like a person who loves others no matter what even if they have done something to me that seems like I can never forget.  There is a lot more going for me that is a little more personal.  This all is personal, but there’s more stuff that I have to go into detail for you to understand.

There is a lot more going for me that is a little more personal.  This all is personal, but there’s more stuff that I have to go into detail for you to understand.

But with all of this seemingly coming to a close this Easter week.  I am hoping to get the hang of what life is currently throwing at me and get back to writing more for you all.  That is, if there are people that are still here and that check this blog, hoping for a great story (I hope that’s how you all see it xDDD) to read.  So let me know if there’s anything I can do for you all.  What story do you want me to continue my work on the most?  I’ll continue writing the story with the most votes.  Does that sound good?

Here are the current stories I am writing on here:

In A Dream

My Insider

The End

 

There some I am writing but not quite sure to share them yet.  They are in the process of plottation(?).  XD I’m plotting them is what I am saying xD

Here are the titles:

Stuck in a Dream

Flumping

The Memories of Eristen Potel

Let me know if I should make posts on what these books will be about. 😀  Thanks!!!  Have a good week!  And know He has risen!!!

And to give you all a little something here is a sneak peek of Chapter 2: Childhood Memories of my autobiography!! 😀  Feel free to comment a childhood memory of yours!!! 😀  Thanks!

   Growing up, we all have those moments where we are told something that we did when we were younger.  This was so exception for me.  Then, there were those memories I can remember.  And with those, I never want to forget them.

   “Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” ~Dr. Suess.

What I Am Told

   As we all grow up, we come to those times where our parents and possibly older siblings tell us what we did as little kids.  These stories just so happened when we were really young when we could not remember.  Convenient?  In some cases, yes.

   I was told and still am that I bit my mother.  I was a biter as a baby and a toddler.  So much so that I had all of my toys and belonging taken away by my dad.  I slightly remember this.  I remember my Ariel bubble toy being taken away.  Fortunately, I do not remember the biting episodes, but still feel guilty sometimes.

   Being seventeen and not kissed in that special way you watch your parents kiss, I am the one who complains about it, yet am pretty proud of it at the same time.  Also, yet, I am waiting for that special someone.  I just complain because it is taking forever for him to find me.  On the other hand, more like on my parents’ hands, I am told every time I mention being a late teen and still not kissed, it is a lie.  My parents say that when I was two to three years old, I kissed several young boys.  I even apparently tried to kiss my dad.  Eww.  And my brother, Pearce, claims that in a baby picture of his, I was kissing him.  Double ew.  (I was two, Pearce!  And our lips are not touching in the picture!!) Those do not count.  If those kisses could not be etched into my memory, it means they were not real or good enough kisses.  Sorry boys.

   There were those home movies my Grandpa nicknamed Papa, and Dad would make.  To this day I still watch them, saying I remember that.  However, there are those scenes where I wish I could remember by memory.  And then there are those which are just truly embarrassing.

   One of my favorite embarrassing clips of the home movies has to do with my Mom’s dad, Papa the moviemaker.  One Christmas when I was a one year old, Papa dressed up as Santa Claus.  He came into the house and was ringing a bell and yelling, “Ho, ho, ho!” through the halls and rooms.  I cried and screamed.  Mom and Dad kept trying to calm me down.  Papa tried his best to make it funny and not so scary, but I kept crying only stopping a few times to open the gifts he gave me.  Eventually, I kept crying too much and very loudly that Santa left.  I was fine after that.

   Some of these I wish I remembered.  I probably would if it was not for the stair incident.  Again on a home video, I was with my dad and he was testing out his video camera by plugging it into the TV and filming.  I was a few months old and just starting to walk.  

   Apparently, I thought it was about time I conquered the stairs because I walked right up to them and started slowly crawling my way up after a few “c’mon”s and “Perrrrrrisssa”s.  With Dad sometimes in front and right behind me with the camera in his hand, he filmed me making it past a couple of staircases onto a small landing.  I was about one-eighth of the way done by then.  For a minute I became preoccupied with some wrapping paper, but after some more encouragement, I continued.

   With the five-sixths left, I was pretty happy with myself.  Slowly with a few breaks, I made it up about four sixths of the way.  Feeling victorious I stood up on a step only to fall down with my Dad laughing.  After the crying episode that followed, I started at the bottom once more.  Eventually and finally, I made it to the top.
   These videos and stories that I watch and am told about, I wish I remembered a lot of them by memory.  I blame my Dad.  Maybe if he had caught me on my way down the stairs I would have a better memory of those.  Maybe.

~Perrissa

P.S.  I’m thinking about maybe doing a daily vlog??  What are your thoughts?