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I was raised in Arkansas. I raised dogs as I was being raised. I am raising a child now. My parents did a good job raising me and my brother. I would love to get a raise! Raise is a very important word.
By kjohnson0620 on 10.18.2012
The Amish raised the barn last week. That’s right – just upped and created a barn with their bare hands and a little help from their friends. I’ve always wondered why “raised” and “razed” sound the same but mean the opposite.
By Ariel Moore on 10.18.2012
Raised from the debts of hell we came
To enter a life more wonderful than our current one
By Kidd12 on 10.18.2012
I imagine the way my mother raised me–strength with steel. There are parts of it I regret. There are parts of it I don’t.
Why? Why did she stand there while father watched me dig a needle out of cow dung with both hands?
I’ll never know. I’ll never ask her. I’m never going back to the farm again. Ever.
By Brill URL on 10.18.2012
I was raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba parents who loved me and in a house that they still own. I have found memories of my time there. I still go home to visit and miss the place terribly.
By Denise on 10.18.2012
She wrapped the doilies around her feet as she sat on the floor. Then she lay down with her feet raised in the air. “You are Sabrina,” she said to her right foot. “And YOU are Bettina!” ” She said to her left foot.
By ariel4thou on 10.18.2012
“What is the big deal with the Olympics?” Bryan emerges from his room to microwave Trader Joe burritos and leans over the packed sofa to query faces focused on skaters dancing on ice. He turns his eyes back to the microwave LED digits. “You know no one’s like ‘I want to be an Olympic athlete.’ Their parents sign them up with professional trainers when they’re age 2. They focus on athletics to the exclusion of other life. When they’re eighteen, they find they have no useful skill other than pole vaulting. Never mind them smiling on cereal boxes, there’s nothing else they can do with their life other than Olympics.”
Faces turn several degrees at his tirade, faces show signs of dedicating 10% CPU to Bryan. The microwave beeps, the warm smell of beans waft out. The ads come on, tension loosens, faces turned to facebooked laptops.
“Now to be fair, Bryan…” Like a Kindergarten teacher, Krystal has a tendency to diffuse hostility in the air. She is sitting on a sofa arm, looks like a slender chipmunk edged out on a precarious branch. She’s too polite to take a better seat, even though as their Graduate Resident Tutor she organized the study break. “Feel free to grab food,” she said, “We have plenty. I got apples and kiwis.” Krystal has a holographic model of every student in her head. She knows Bryan disdains snacks for fruits.
“No thanks,” Bryan says. He heads towards the hallway.
“Hope your code works out.” Krystal’s more psychic than a group of moms with thought transmitters. She can tell his various shades of grumpiness. She is the only one turned to him, it’s like they’re having a private conversation. His other dormmates pay as much attention to Bryan as he pays to them.
“Thanks,” Bryan says. He slips back into his room. Later on, he will come out again after the lounge has emptied, and reclaim leftover fruit.
By Holden URL on 10.18.2012
He was raised up to be an honest, forthcoming citizen of the world. Circumstances on the other hand created in him a hero! Destined to save humanity..
By Deborah on 10.18.2012
Detective Lumley’s lack of results had raised questions at the Office of Public Prosecutions. Pressure from the Premier to collect on illegally obtained funds had intensified; the papers were calling for scalps and his re-election depended on coughing up some serious cash. Helen had promised them a big fish on a silver platter almost seven years ago and yet every single meeting she tiptoed in without a penny of the forty million dollars Matthew Eager had stolen.
The cost of the investigation had spiralled out of control. Her pushing and pulling, digging and poking had so far cost the office over half a million dollars and now, sick to the stomach, she wondered if her big fish was innocent as claimed. She had used every trick in the book and embellished every tiny detail of her investigation in an attempt to retain funding, extrapolating a string of every day business transactions into an elaborate criminal plot. As the barrage of abuse rained down on her she finally realised that she had been taken for a fool.
By sharon london on 10.18.2012
As soon as I raised my hand, the teacher looked at me before smiling large and ignoring me absolutely. I was pretty sure by then he really hated me. Not really sure why, I stood up and left.
By pocket on 10.18.2012
The goblet, held as Simba with two hands pointing towards the gods was raised in utter anguish as the creatures below thirsted for her blood. Obligingly, those hands tipped her contents into the river flowing freely below the catacombs.
By dertoetenprinzessen URL on 10.18.2012
i don’t know what it means, I don’t like the sound. Sounds cold. Something done, already done. too late to do something else.
By andrea on 10.18.2012
brought up by parents or carers, sometimes people don’t get along with their parents and are brought up in care. there is also the way in which bread is raised by cooking in an oven =)
By gump on 10.18.2012
i have been raised as a girl who is passionate, creative, independent. kids have to be raised well. it all depends on the parents and the family.
By val on 10.18.2012
Raisd like a child,
fed like a man.
thr world spins
we’ve all gone mad.
By all4imagination URL on 10.18.2012
I was raised in a cave. Filled with twelve wolves, those wolves were my family. They cared for me like I was their own. I believe I would be a different person if I hadnt been brought up that way.
By danielleyymarie URL on 10.18.2012
Her voice cracked and she tucked her hands into her pockets, trying to pull back against the brick wall of the school. Samantha smiled and hid too, but they couldn’t help being shy – it’s the way they were raised.
By dooliandrake URL on 10.18.2012
raised by good people
raised with good morals
brought down by imperfections and evil
raise above the bad
By pinkydiink URL on 10.18.2012
I was raised on the premise that not all things are perfect. And that, in itself, makes everything beautiful.
My mama didn’t raise me wrong- she taught me what was right and what was wrong, and I knew the difference since I was a child.
I was raised well.
By kayla on 10.18.2012
I was raised with an improper coping mechanism. One that taught me to destroy and come at war with myself, rather than expressing myself. And that’s why I’m ready to die about now.
By laughalot on 10.18.2012
“I was raised to be proper, I guess,” he said.
“But it’s so stifling, that idea. ‘Proper.'” She slid her hand up his thigh.
By rkelly on 10.18.2012
If anybody cared about the poor girl during the beginning of her life, maybe she wouldn’t have turned out so screwed up. Maybe her mind wouldn’t be filled with voices she’s terrified to hear. Maybe her eyes wouldn’t be streaked with red everyday when she sleeps.
By Brie on 10.18.2012
I feel raised on my bed of embers, continuously burned by the world. It burns my shoulders when I feel happy, and my legs when I feel sad. Together they read: for the requiem of music.
By leah URL on 10.18.2012
I lifted my hands up reaching for you but I fell back down from heaven. I wish I could raise above my enemies and temptation but i cant. I’m just not strong enough or am I? What am I suppose to do? I want to be loved more than anything, but I don’t know what love feels like or how to love. I claim to not go looking for love and that love is for the weak, but is that really the case or am i just scared?
By LisaDarling URL on 10.18.2012
She raised up her hands and I don’t even know praised the lord or something or maybe she raised her hands to her face in frustration because her braised pork got a bit burnt and it was for a big important dinner party and she was upset
By flavia on 10.18.2012
Just above, there’s a twinkling light. It’s inhuman, awful that it’s so beautiful. The flag of a new era; raised just after the fall.
By savannah on 10.18.2012
I was raised in a small town where everyone knew everyone. It was safe place for children. It seems so boring at times, but looking back I now realize that it’s a very special place and I wouldn’t change anything about my hometown.
By wgirl URL on 10.18.2012
I was raised in a small town in Michigan. With a loving Mom and Dad, the latter I lost 4 years ago November 1st. While other people are so excited for fall and Halloween, this is my reality check every football season. I miss him, it’s hard without him,. It was hard with him
By lexiscotty URL on 10.18.2012
raised is an interesting word ins’t it? Who raised you? Your parents is the logical answer or at least it’s supposed to be, but is it? In this world we are raised by all type of people good and bad. Sisters, brothers an grandparents and some less fortunate raise themselves. Have you ever thanked the person that raised you?
By Isabel Pinaud on 10.18.2012
by loving but conforming parents…is that me or my children?? A higher consciousness is raised by questioning how we are raised by whom and why they did what they did and why continue to do what WE do??
By Joan on 10.18.2012
I was raised on a farm in Montana. It was freezing, and animals hated me. I’ll never forget the first time i was bitten by the cat, that little bastard. He was a black cat I called Thomas.
By brit on 10.18.2012
I was raised in a southern town right if the coast of Galveston where i learned about love, life, and happiness. I never knew I would be so distraught when I found out my mother had cancer. she wasn’t so involved in my life and I really hated for being so absent. but the news killed me.
By Nikki on 10.18.2012
I was raised as a girl in the deep South. I was raised on manners and fried chicken. I was raised on biscuits and religion. I’m proud of my heritage. I’ll let my twang shine. It tells you I was raised with sense.
By Megan URL on 10.18.2012
I was higher than an airplane. You raised me so high. Clouds at my feet. Atmosphere thin. Your love thinned as well. The fall. So fast. It hurt my heart, hurt my head. Crashed. Burned. Just. Like. That.
By Paige Noel URL on 10.18.2012
I HAVE NEVER ENJOYED BEING AT THE SAME LEVEL AS PEOPLE. SITTING ON THE FLOOR OR PERCHING ON A BENCH OR OTHER HIGH-RISE SURFACE IS MY PREFERENCE. I AM NOT SURE WHY AS I DO NOT BELIEVE MYSELF TO BE SUPERIOR TO ANYONE…IT IS JUST MORE FUN, MORE ME!
I WAS RAISED AS A FREE SPIRIT…I GUESS SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE.
By Stephanie Forster on 10.18.2012
He raised his arms above his head in hopes of reaching her, she was stuck in the tree and he felt hopeless trying to get her down. As he lifted his arms the rain stopped and the sun came back out and suddenly she floated down like an angel.
By Kieya on 10.18.2012
I was raised in a household of scientists. I grew up discussing the finer parts of molecules at the dinner table, not barney. I grew up attending conferences where I sat in the corner or in a big college kid seat
By Emily on 10.18.2012
I was raised to respect my elders, to love, to think of others instead of just myself. I see many people that don’t do these things and it makes me sad. We should take care of each other.
By Matty URL on 10.18.2012
She was raised still beautiful and perfect in every way. The formaldehyde smell was the only giveaway, but she covered it up with perfume and fresh flowers and didn’t spend too much time in the sun. Every month she went back to the morgue and made them inject her again because she would begin to rot. That was the problem with being dead, you couldn’t reverse it to make yourself more alive.
By Mairead URL on 10.18.2012
I was raised to be a someone
to fill the daddy-shaped hole in my mama’s heart
She drew constellations on my papa’s face and
when he died his freckles shone bright in the sky and
Mama told me to trap a little starlight in my milk bottle
“Keep it for a cloudy night.”
I was raised to be a somebody, an
anybody so long as I fit the daddy-shaped hole
in my mama’s heart.
“Collect my heartbeats,” she said, her bosom on my ear.
Keep them in your mind.
To this day I hear, in mollusks and seashells
that plodding rainboot-thump of my mama’s heart.
I was raised and I was cultivated and Mama kept me well-manicured, she did
her very best.
But I am not the stars on my papa’s face and I am not my mama’s heartbeat.
I am not a somebody or an anybody.
My face flickers under the streetlights
Under the moth-infested lamplights my face melts
Melts into a puddle of sewer water, trickles along the gutter
rivers and rivers of me, the nobody me, flow through Portland
and into the nosebleeds of the Tualitin and
eventually into the Pacific where I
Roar, roar in the tune of myself
My song shakes the earth
And my mama she listens and hears me in the rush of the faucet
She drops her toothbrush.
By Neelvar on 10.18.2012
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.