Hello Everyone(:

"I Have a Dream"

I've decided that I'm going to travel the world, and make it better one baby step at a time. My most powerful weapons will be words and wisdom.
Martin Luther King Junior, a man with a heart as big as his name, and a talent as big as racism, changed America. He wrote a speech and delivered it to America, in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C. Some of the people of America saw their brothers differently, others were outraged. On August 28, 1963 he spoke with his heart; he gave black Americans a new hope, and white Americans a new point of view. He died 5 years after this notorious speech, he was assassinated at The Lorraine Motel on the second balcony. This year, he would have been 82.

Martin Luther King Junior was a very brave man, with a very big dream.
This is his speech, "I Have a Dream":

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

I Know a Girl

I know a girl. She rises in the morning, filled with new hope and a beautiful vision.  She walks down stairs and faces her mom with a smile. Her mother tears the smile into pieces and shatters her heart with destructive words and a voice, raised so high it pierced into the heavens.  Cowering, she gets ready for school; she gets ready to leave this place to her friends, to protect her.

I know a girl. She walks to school all alone early in the morning, ready to face the day, forgetting everything else. She likes walking by herself. At school her friends greet her with delighted faces, her friends like her.  She joins her friends in their groups and they walk inside. Two girls, with frightening faces approach them.  Hateful words spill out of their mouths, striking the girl in the heart. Her friends are afraid to do anything. She looks down; already she wants the day to end.

I know a girl. She walks home thinking, her head down, her hope shattered. Hesitatingly walking through the door, a frown already upon her face, she is greeted by her father. It is not a friendly greet, he begins to yell and tell her what a terrible daughter she is, how he never wanted her, how she was a joke, a lie, a mistake. He physically hits her.

I know a girl. She’s in her room crying, looking at the window to the stars. This girl is kind; she is caring and sweet, no matter what life throws at her she raises again with hope. But the things that go on in her life break that hope down.  Her story is different than what other people make it. She feels like no one really understands, because no one really knows what she goes through all the time. 

(So, this is my little bit of writing for my group's Marketing Maycomb assignment, Zach made a really cool presentation/movie thing and Savannah made a poster and Rylie did some fantastic art! So we did pretty good, I'm hoping.)

~BrandyBug Nikkie Kinsman

Untold

Sometimes I wonder
Why we were created
What purpose we hold
In a blue and green world
Why sentences belong
Stories are told
Words are found
Courage is bold
Opinions detonate
Bombs over seas
How a man comes to be
Head high over thee
What is accomplished with war
The title of "better"
To settle the score
Hundreds and thousands are dead
Maybe more
The blood that is spewed
For the pot of God's stew
The men who hanged
Cut the throats
Stopped air
For those who sacrifice
Unaware
The fear of the dark
Nothing to compare
What's actually
In your closet
What's wandering there

For many can wonder
Some don't care
And only a few can dream

When you first arrive to middle school you spend 10 minutes trying to find your locker and 30 minutes trying to get it open. Then you spend the rest of the school day trying to get to class, without being trampled on, and get to know your lovely teachers. If you think they suck then you're screwed because you have to spend the rest of the year with them. Enjoy.

As as seventh grader you will be put into cliques by your personality, first impression, and however people judge you over the next few weeks. The only people that will label you will be your 7th grade peers, 8th and 9th graders don't really care about you.

Make sure you KNOW your classes because not all kids that look like they know what they're doing actually know what they're doing. And not all kids that are older actually care about helping sevies.

An easy way to get to class in one piece is stay toward the wall on your right side and don't stop to talk to people. Don't push through either, people don't like that and it doesn't end up so well.

If you've made it to lunch, try not to sit on the floor, it just makes people feel bigger than you so they think it's OK to push you around.

If you stand up for a friend, do it with pride, not just to be a hero because you're not going to get attention for it for too long. And don't brag, it's annoying. If you do end up defending a friend 9 out of 10 times the person who you're up against will not hit you. Though if you do get a blow landed to your face, you can be proud of your efforts and make sure you know it will be passed around the school like the plague.

Don't act cool and don't act funny because you'll look stupid to other people besides your friends. Just be who you are.

Let me introduce you to a term called Drama. It happens all over middle school. Get used to it. Drama is stupid people saying, doing, and complaining about stupid things to stupid people and it gets passed around everywhere. Also, there is no such thing as secrets. If you tell someone something you might as well tell the whole school. Save yourself some time.

(Just a little thing I wrote because I was bored, it's about being a 7th grader. I might update it in the future so give feedback and thanks for reading!)

~BrandyBug Nikkie Kinsman

10 Commandments of Chutzpah

Another list of funny life rules on my grandmother's refrigerator:

1. If life passes you by, obviously you've stepped aside.
2. Leap before you look.
3. It's important to do what you feel, but more important to feel what you do.
4. Practice makes better. This life is just for practice. In the next one, you'll do everything perfectly.
5. You can't change your mind until your mind changes you.
6. Diminish fear, and desire will appear.
7. Be a professional exciter.
8. If it doesn't help you, it hurts you.
9. Don't reach beyond what you are but what you are and beyond.
10. You make life happen by making you happen.

- Richard Wexler, Wexler Power Systems, NY writing in Bottom Line Personal newsletter.


(According to Wikipedia, Chutzpah is the quality of audacity, for good or for bad, but it is generally used positively. Anyway, just thought I would share some of these but I don't exactly agree with 4, however, practice does help a lot of things but for my beliefs, the next life will have just as many mistakes. There's no such thing as perfect.) 


~BrandyBug Nikkie Kinsman

Dear Ben,

I can't help but vehemently love you. It's been too long since you were in my arms. I'm a taciturn girl without you here to talk to me. How is life?

Ben, I know we are both contentious people. Though my predilection of living is being with you. Somethings I said you took umbrage to. Will you forgive me?

I wish for you to enjoy some auspicious scuppernongs with me. Will you come? Please answer with acquiescence, I really miss you.

This is how I feel; my soul is like torn habiliments, my heart is like a ramshackled building. I have an asinine brain and I perpetrated it's murder. My voice is obstreperous and I'm too sad to talk because you're not here.

Things aren't the same without you.

Love,
Mary


(This is the late vocabulary test and I'm not quite sure if I used the words right but enjoy and please give feedback! Thanks for reading.)

~BrandyBug Nikkie Kinsman