The Result of an Exhausted Mind...

... I feel as if the begining of this blog, could only start with a simple... Several other openers could result in my mind elapsing, to much thought attempting to escape. I shouldn't allow this to happen for several reasons, I would much prefer for my mind not to try and escape, a safe and sound mind is the kind to have right? Maybe, I'm putting to much thought into all this. The brain aches, it cringes, almost crying for a smart thought or emotion to reguralrly be expressed, instead all that's released is a simple... Rest would probably be an exhausted minds best friend at a time like this :)

Once children are grown, their parents are no longer responsible for them.

Once children are grown, their parents are no longer responsible for them.

This picture taken from bing.com, represents the statement by showing a parent and a child. By holding hands we can imagine several scenerios, the parent could be helping the child cross the road. If we imagine this we know, the parent is taking care of the child. Who says a parents job is over after the child is grown? They must always be there to help their child "cross the road". A parents love will always be a represatation of their natural need to help their child no matter what age.

In A Raisin in the Sun, you have the character mamma who is constantly helping her two children, who are both grown. You have Walter, who probably requires his mothers help more than any other character. The picture represents Mamma helping Beneatha, and Walter, to "cross the street". In later years, young Travis will require help through adulthood, from Ruth his mother, and from his father Walter.

* Snow *

SNOW... Just the thought of snow sends a slight sliver of emotion down my spine. The cold, the pure white, the blanketed sorrow that bures down upon the earth... What else can cancel school with a mere inch? It's like a mutuated spawn of rain, and cold, chilled air. Picture this, it's a snow day, outside sits a fresh blanket of snow, children are running, sledding. Hot chocolate is brewing on the stove. Inside the air is warm, fresh, fierce, also inside sits me, angered, hate raging and pulsing through my veins, black eyeliner is running down my eyes, I'm crying, beating my fist against the ground in hate. This is my feelings towards the evil, that only the devil himself could have sent. SNOW...