Carrie Underwood.fm

Latest Blog Entries

• Choices

  12/30/09 0 Comments

  Today some touching and heartbreaking thoughts flew through my selfish head. Depressing thoughts swirled in my mind, making their way to my central nerves. Images of deprived, poignant children played in it like a never-ending slideshow, piercing my heart with every click of the imaginative button. Why were they there? Living on the streets? Why was I so privileged to have a family and these kids not? Why were they having to sell their bodies; whereas, i only had to fill out an application? What was the point of buying another mattress for my temper-pedic bed, when there are hundreds of thousands of kids laying on sidewalks and in dumpsters in an abandoned parking lot in town? Why can't I see that are people with ten times worse problems in their appalling lives? If for once, I could take my eyes off myself and look at the those tattered charactes on that road that I drive on everyday. The ones with their hands outstretched and their hearts ready to be taken into someone's hand and kindled, shielded from all the corrupt life forms and evil in the world. What about that girl? The one whose legs are open to anyone? Whose world was destroyed at the age of seven when her father took hold of her against her will? Why wasn't anyone there to help her? To catch her tears and tell her it was going to be okay? What about her brother? The one who was beaten by that deranged man? Why can't we see him? There in the corner in the closet? Listening and waiting till he knows it safe to come out again. What about that reject at the table across from you at lunch? You point, laugh, and crack jokes about his appearance, and then find out your brother is treated the same way. How does it feel now? To know that the only place he finds peace and tranquility is by himself with a knife at his wrist? Why was it so hard to leave that guy alone? What did he do to you? Your brother's blood stains the floor and your heart as you see him end his life. A reject? I think not. Just an average boy with a few differences from the rest of the world. Choices. It's what we all have. We could stop and give that hungry man the present of a lifetime. A hug, a donation. We could for once cradle that wounded child in our arms and tell her it's okay, We could reach out and turn that door knob and raise that boy to a new beginning. We could give that average kid with a few differences a pat on the back or a high five to know that there are people who think he's good for something. Choices. Put yourselves in their spot. You never know, you may be entertaining angels.

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• Pit of Evil

  12/30/09 0 Comments

  The world is a pit of evil. Its mouth sucks you in and poisons your mind. Crime and voilence walk the streets of this voluminous world lurking in corners waiting to grab hold of their next victim, YOU. You walk down that road alone fearing something or someone is going to jump out and hurt you. Your confidence is gone and you refuse to look left or right, but to look at the cold, hard earth. The same earth that those murderers walk, those thieves steal from, and those rapists live. The same earth that for once you wish you weren't a part of. Materialistic things hang in the windows as you pass from the safety of the sidewalk towards the dark, spacious shadows of that alley before you reach your house. You hurry along as you approach that poor, famished woman with her kids next to the garbage dump scavenging for left-over particles of bread. She reaches her hand out for money, but you hurry along and refuse to look at her. Your eyes meet a man's at the corner of the alley and quickly turn. You see the gun. You see the anger. The look in his eyes is unbearable and you start to run. He reaches out and grabs your collar and flings against the wall. The cold, stone wall. The same wall whose warmth, comforting inside you wish you could be in. You look up and give up all hope of surviving. "I'm sorry." You say as he beats you and starts to raise the gun. Sorry for ignoring that broken family in the alley. Sorry for not taking the time to look up and at something worth looking at. "The world is a pit of evil." He says and pulls the trigger. Why did it have to be this way? You lying on the ground encircled by hard, irregular rocks. Your sweat-stained hair, falling across your brow. Somewhere out there you hear a voice. A calm, soothing voice calling your name and then it dies. You see a shadow and suddenly its over. Your eyes shut. Your exhausted and slowly drift away. Never to return to that life again. The world is a pit of evil.

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• Second Chance

  12/30/09 0 Comments

  Tears stain the side of your dark face, spiraling down onto your chin. You open your eyes and realize where you are. A dark cell surrounds you; its cold, moldy walls seem to narrow in and you begin to lose oxygen. You hear a cry. A soft, sweet, innocent cry. It sounds like the same cry you heard next to you when your mother was being hit by that evil man who called himself "father". The face of a young boy flashed in your mind, his face too was streaked with tears. Why was he crying? Where was he? What was happening? The only thing you could think about was the crying beyond your cell. Somewhere out there was your brother. You remember the times you and he had played football in the yard, before you ran away. You remember the days you sat under the trees telling stories of the past. You remember the times he fell asleep on your lap when watching a movie. His small head warm against your lap. Why did you have to steal that man's belongings? He was a kind and considerate man who had done nothing to you. Your smile could charm anyone, but you let it be to your advantage. You had lured him in to be your friend. You had backstabbed him and spiritually murdered him. You still had his blood on your hands. As you stepped back into reality, you begin to realize what was happening. A court date? Two years? The words rang in your ear and your heart started pounding. By that time you would probably transform into an erratic man, unrecognizable by the outside world. A man whose only recognition is from drug dealers and thieves. You social life is over. No friends. No family who is willing to stand by you. You hear the sound again. A soft whimper is coming from somewhere in the pit of darkness. A scream drowns it out as guards rush to the cell beside you. You see the face. A once small, innocent face. It becomes more visible as a shaft of light illuminates it. Your brother's face. Blood runs out of an open cut in the back of his head and his eyes turn towards you as he looks at this world one last time. His youthful, hurt eyes meet yours and then turn into a stare. A look you will never forget. He had always wanted to be like you. Dress like you. Talk like you. He even ran away like you. Unfortunately, he never returned. You stand there, stunned. What had just happened? It was your fault. If for once, you could have resisted the temptations of stealing. If for once, you could have apologized to your parents. If for once, you could have stood by your brother. Now, it was too late. Your brother's killer had been shot also. The guards had no choice. You look again. Blood trails the floor as it drips from where your brother is. Never. Never again would he see this world. Never would he have a second chance. It was time. The door opened, you walked out. You were free. Free to think about life and make your own decisions. You were alone and that's how it would be. Every time you think about stealing or running away, your minds reels back to those hideous and upsetting times in the past. A cell. A boy. Your brother. This is your second chance.

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• The Last Drink

  12/30/09 0 Comments

  Imagine. Imagine driving in your car, and your trip’s time is extended because of a massive accident off the interstate. The accident looks like it has occurred within the last 30 minutes. As your car rolls past the mass of destruction you see something. A boy. Two ladies. As you look more closely, your eyes come in contact with something unidentifiable because of the people in front of it. As you pass, you see that they are crying. The boy bends down and the mother does the same in a consecutive manner. No one sees it but you. Your heart races and then drops. The body. The face. The body of a young toddler becomes visible as the people move. Her limp body just lies there as the paramedics come with the body bag. Her blond hair barely seems to move as they lift the stretcher that her body is on. The hefty, dark bag closes over her precious body and then it is done. Years of life thrown away. Nothing to look forward to in the future. A family torn apart by death. As traffic speeds up, past the horrible situation, a truck that has obviously lost control and gone off the road comes into sight. The hood is smashed and the vehicle is upside down. No life forms are visible. Just to think, who was in there? Another child? A loved one? The toddler was enough. There was something still haunting about it though, digging into my mind like a tick on an animal’s skin. The feelings were too great. Drinking had probably caused the accident. Can’t people see that it’s dangerous? What if that child would have been the one to come up with a cure for cancer? How would they feel? To know that the only person who could cure an incurable disease was dead. What if that was your child? Crumbled up and distorted on the side of the road. The years that you had spent making sure that your child was raised properly and nurtured enough and get the call. A lifeless form on the side of the road. What if it was someone else’s child, only child. The only child a mother was able to have. How hard would it have been to leave that drink in your fridge and save it for when you’re alone and are planning to stay in the privacy of your house? How hard is it to contribute to saving a life, their life? A girl’s life. Your daughter or son’s life? Put down that alcohol and live your life. Help fight the fight against drinking and driving. Save a life today and live till tomorrow.

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