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Jukebox_Hero44
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Name: Kyle
Birthday: 3/29/1990
Gender: Male
Interests: Target Shooting, reading, politics, art, coffee *lol* computers, working at subway, cars, paintball, history, law, symbology *religious and varioius others*, Cryptology, various sciences...mostly physics, my guitar, music, writing novels....uhh much more...don't feel like writing lol!
Expertise: -Law
-WWII
-Paintball
-Firearms
-world religion
-politics
Occupation: Student
Industry: Legal
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  fasted78
AIM:  frigginkyle
Member Since:
2/23/2006
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| I forgot I had this. haha....
I don't like math. Pre calc isn't bad, but not fun.
I can't wait till college, I can totally take slacker math classes, but bulk up on some insanely high english, philosophy, history, and foreign languages classes (well, in addition to required Law program studies).
I got a ticket. And that's bad.
I got an Xbox 360 for Christmas, and that's good. (!)
I have an Idea for a new story and that's good.
I have no school on monday, and that's good.
I bought a new guitar, and that's good.
I still don't have a job, and that's good.
Things with Liz are perfect, and that is AWSOME!
I gots'a go. Seeya!
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| Life is going awesomely right now. Although summmer school...yeah not so much. I do have more reading than you can shake a stick at in between reading AP stuff and stuff for church...but it'll be better for my mind and soul in the end. I also get to update my computer on Friday, and that is pretty amazing to me. I get excited about the geekiest stuff.
Personal life = wonderful right now. I wouldn't want it to change at all *unless of course things get better...and I really think that they will!  * Things are just running smoothly and everything is going swimmingly.
The only real complaint I have is that it's stupendously hot outside. Sweltering. That's never good for gym but...*pats stomach* I could use the exercise  .
Nothing else to report. Everything is just great!
Peace, love, prosper...just keep doin' your thing.
--Kyle
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| I really got to thinking tonight. I was on my way home from church with the radio off and my windows down just listening to the wind rushing into my car. I was thinking about what people are going to remember me for in life. I don't mean to be conceted or anything but seriously. What reason have I given for people to remember me? And I got to thinking about my calling. Law. Is this really what I am cut out for? Sure, I love research, I like to twist words, and I'm completely obsessed with moral value. But is this where I need to be? And about this time a hear a voice *not really just, figuratively speaking* in the back of my head. "Of course it's your calling..." By voice I suppose I mean my feelings for the field or something like that. I don't know if it was God putting that idea in my head or just me being tired and philisophic again. And then I remembered why I wanted to go into law in the first place....
It was about two years ago, and I wake up same old, same old. I go brush my teeth comb my hair do the whole thing y'know and I go in to scarf some breakfast. What's on the news? Death, destruction, rape, homocide, suicide, molestation, kidnapping, vandalism, war, famine, pestulance....pretty sure I rattled off the four horsemen there but anyway....I was pretty used to it all by now, which is sad to say, but we're living in America and the American media eats it all up. One case in particular struck me though....a woman and her eight year old daughter had been raped and killed in Lapel. I think my spoon must have dropped to the table. I thought "This guy has to hang." And to be honest I scared myself. I was having a completely new thought for a kid who wanted to be an engineer at the time. That weekend my uncle, who happens to be on the madison county sheriff's dpt., was talking to us about what had happened. He knew the detective on the scene. "Little girl was nearly decapitated," he said. My heart sank again. I started paying attention to the news even more, and every report on rape, molestation, child abuse, and homocide made me cringe. Things started to fall in place for me. I grew away from engineering. I started reading law books and Grisham instead of technical manuals and Clancy. I started writing stories instead of drafting and I found out I was so much better at it. I went into AP English and passed with A's. I abandoned shop class and drafting. I started watching History Channel and Law and Order instead of Discovery Channel and Tech TV. Pieces of my life started to present themselves. This year I started attending Edgewood Baptist Church and things have even sped up for me. As I told Liz, my life is starting to "click" now, gears are starting to turn and the machines of my brain have kicked online. I even told someone tonight in the parking lot "I don't want to leave this world and not have made a contribution. Yes, I am a christian and yes I do believe in Christ and that he died for us and I do my level best to praise his name every chanve I get. But I want to do something with that. I want to apply it to my life. I want to contribute." *now that is not word for word what I said, I added some of the thoughts that were passing through my head in that version* I got home and I told mom I said "Ma, I'm going to be a lawyer." Mom looked at me and said "Haven't we already established this?" and I said "yeah, but I'm actually going to BE one! My generation is going to be calling the shots in no time and I don't want my wife, my children, my friends, my family to be walking the streets with malicious people on the lose. I want to do something about it! I really feel like God is calling me in so many ways to protect innocent lives here and show people before it's too late the heinousness of their crimes!" Mom looked at me with the most pride I ever think I've seen...
Look, I don't know if you guys have picked this out but my point is a lot like what was discussed at church. About making each day count, about making what you do with your life worthwhile. I KNOW I'm going to be an attorney and I KNOW one of these days I'm going to be prosecutor, no matter how hard I have to work. Who knows? I've even considered being a judge way later on in life.
All I'm saying is, live your life, do what god calls you to do and work as hard as you possibly can for it. I know I will, and I know I won't regret it.
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| Mein Herz Brennt
The snow fell gently in the dark cemetery. Paul felt Karmie move closer to him and shiver as they sat against the cold marble mausoleum. She rested his head on his shoulder and Paul let his sink until it rested on the top of her head. He closed his eyes.
"So this is it then?" he heard Karmie say, "We're going to die in this cemetery."
It took Paul a few moments to comprehend. "Don't give up hope, love," he whispered, "never give up hope."
He heard Karmie start to weep a little and he kissed her gently on the top of her head and wrapped his free arm tightly around her. In his other arm he held the WASR-10 assault rifle and waited for the noise he and the resistance fighters had been waiting for all night.
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Across the cemetery, Paul's good friend Owen Lewis was pushing pews against the massive oak door of the chapel.
"More," he ordered his men. He slowly walked to the pulpit and surveyed the medium-sized sanctuary, paying close attention to the oak door. He looked off to his left and scanned the small crowd of young children, not to say that Owen wasn't but a child himself. For you see, that the remainder of the fighting force of the resistance was compiled of 14-18 year-olds. In the case of our friends Owen, Paul, and Karmie; they were 16. The adults that were left were sitting somewhere up north in the safety of the Purdue campus.
"Owen," said a small but confident voice from behind him. He turned to find Bethany Strauss, a girl of but 15 at the time, but who was trusted to tend to the children. "How is the preparation going?"
Owen attempted a smile, but kept his grim desposition that he had acquired during the previous year. "I'm doing what I can Beth, I gotta' use what we have, which isn't much. But I have to ask, do you honestly think that these oak doors and a few pews are going to hold back a professional army?" he asked.
"No," Bethany answered, "but I do think that the grace of God contained in this church can."
Owen couldn't help but smile, what seemed like the only smile he'd had in the last 12 months. He looked down at Bethany, who at the moment was looking over at the children and the other girls huddled with them. Beth looked up at him finally. "What?" she asked, with her hazel eyes glimmering in the dim candlelight.
"Nothing, nothing at all," Owen said and reverted back to looking important.
"Owen Lewis," Bethany started, "you do believe that god can protect us, don't you?"
Owen pivoted deliberately and swiftly toward her, to which Bethany (ever being strong of heart and determined) didn't so much at flinch at the sudden movement. "Bethany," Owen answered, "of course I believe it. What would lead you to think I didn't?"
Bethany shrugged. "Of all the tests I've heard of, this seemed the hardest, I just didn't want you losing heart," she said, once again scanning the children.
Owen smiled again. He looked down once more at this girl who, despite her stature, had never failed to intimidate him and overpower his own will. In a way, you could say that Owen had become a tad infatuated with her. Owen had been assigned to keep Bethany and her little band of children safe and sound, and often times, nearly lost his own life in the process. But he never once regretted any of the actions he took in defense of her or the children.
"Owen," she finally said, "I'm scared. Don't be fooled, I'm petrified. But I have to keep my composure, God needs me to watch these children."
"And God needs me to watch over you," said Owen instantly.
Bethany looked up at him again and gave him a knowing little grin.
"Captain!" came a shout from across the room, "captain Lewis we've put everything we have against that door. The rest is in the hands of the fighters outside and whatever we can do here."
Owen nodded. "It's time then," he said, and turned toward the ladder to the bell tower.
"Owen, you're not actually going up there, are you?" Bethany asked as she followed him to the base of the ladder.
"Yep," came the simple reply from the captain.
"Owen..." Beth started.
"Beth, I'm going up there; and you, nor any of the squad, nor any of the children, not even God himself could keep me down here. Now listen, I have this for a reason," and patted the scoped Schmidt-Reuben K31 strapped to his back. "I don't know if you've forgotten but I'm a marksman, Beth. And plus, they need a spotter out there."
"Owen," Beth started, "Stay down here just be safe, they have eyes out there."
Owen glared at her. "I'm going," he said in a stressed tone.
Bethany looked at the floor for a moment. She walked towards him and put her arms around him and squeezed tight. "Just remember what you mean to me, and be careful. I don't want something happening to you."
Owen nodded and Beth released him. He ascended the stairs and shut the trap door. He kicked off one of the winter panels off of the bell tower and took one look outside of the small room. He took the rifle off of his back and lied prone. He clicked on the radio handset on his shoulder. "Paul, you reading me?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Paul Stackhouse snapped out of a near-sleep state due to the familiar voice coming over the earpiece. Karmie Williams, who had decided to fight alongside her boyfriend in the snow in the cemetery was also stirred due to Paul's jerk out of sleep.
"I'm here, Owen," he said into the mic, "what do you need? You're where?" he asked and popped his head around the side of the mausoleum and freed his binoculars to gaze at the belltower of the distant chapel. "Yeah, yeah I see ya'. You got a visual on my position? Excellent. Any possible enemies? Movement on the northern fence?" he sprang to his feet and took the WASR-10 out of safety. "Roger. Taking action. Gimmie what support you can, Cap'n." He clicked off the radio.
"Karmie, baby," he said, "time to go."
Karmie stood up and readied the Hi-point .45 carbine. "I'm ready, Paul," she reported.
Paul looked at her. "Karmie, whatever happens, just know that I love you."
"I love you too," she said.
Paul nodded and shouted out, "Team! Northern fence line! Cover that gate! Let's move!" The other twenty teenagers that comprised his team sprang up like weeds from the surrounding graves and they ran off towards the northern gate. Shots rang out from the bell tower, the sharp, crackling report of the Swiss K31 echoing off the tombstones and mausoleums gave the night a surreal tone.
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In the chapel, Bethany, the squad, the children, and the other attendants of the children heard the report of the K31 over their heads. The squad readied their various weapons and took up various defensive positions around the chapel. Beth crouched next to a child that had started to cry and took her hand.
"Let's all say the Lord's prayer, everyone," she said; and began, "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." as another report came from the bell tower.
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| End of the Innocence by Don Henley
(inspiration for the story)
Remember when the days were long
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky
Didn’t have a care in the world
With mommy and daddy standing by
When happily ever after fails
And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers dwell on small details
Since daddy had to fly
But I know a place where we can go
That’s still untouched by man
We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
You can lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence
O’ beautiful, for spacious skies
But now those skies are threatening
They’re beating plowshares into swords
For this tired old man that we elected king
Armchair warriors often fail
And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers clean up all details
Since daddy had to lie
But I know a place where we can go
And was away this sin
We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair spill all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence
Who knows how long this will last
Now we’ve come so far, so fast
But, somewhere back there in the dust
That same small town in each of us
I need to remember this
So baby give me just one kiss
And let me take a long last look
Before we say good bye
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence
Jennifer sat on the couch in the plush upper-West-Side townhouse. The grandfather clock chimed nine times, and she knew that if Harold were home, she would surely be beaten for being up so late. Luckily for her, Harold was in LA for a business conference.
She touched the large welt under her eye, and examined it with a small mirror she kept hidden in the kitchen (she wasn't allowed to have mirrors or make-up by a house rule). The welt looked terrible. Her eye was badly bruised and blood even started to pour out in some spots. Jennifer quietly shut the mirror and began to weep.
The salty tears stung her wound, but the pain wasn't so bad. She had grown used to it over the years. God, what have I done to deserve this? She thought to herself. In her mind, as well as reality, she had done absolutely nothing wrong.
Jennifer and Harold were married 16 years ago in St. Patrick's Cathedral on the east side. The wedding was a grand and elaborate one, seeing as her father was a wealthy stock trader on Wall Street and Harold's father was CEO of a major company; Jackson Plastics. The two had met in college, Jennifer going for a masters in Music theory and Harold, of course, going for business. They, unfortunately, fell in love and Jennifer was blind to the hatred and rage that Harold possessed in his heart.
She had raised mostly on her own the two children that Harold had fathered. A 15 year-old boy, Charles; and a 13 year-old girl, Hallie. Jennifer knew that the two had also been abused by Harold, that much she knew. Charles would talk about Harold burning him with the ends of cigars and even once smashing a whisky bottle over his head. Hallie reported being molested by her father, and also beaten. Jennifer knew of all of these things and felt powerless, helpless, and guilty.
The abuse started in the first year it seemed. at first it was just slapping now and then, but as the years dragged on it got worse. Harold would punch her, kick her, burn her, pull her hair, slash her with knives, anything to put her in pain.
At this point, Jennifer was now bawling. Her face was soaked and red. Her wounds were burning even worse. Lord, please take me...please take me and my children away from here...or please send someone to help me. She thought.
The news that was on the TV changed to a report on one of the local trials.The appearance of the topic piqued Jennifer's interest.
"..the trial today of Hartstock vs. Rooks wrapped up in favor of the plaintiff Kelly Hartstock of Chelsea, who had filed charges against her ex-husband Damian Rooks, also of Chelsea, on the charges of domestic battery, child misconduct, and humiliation. Hartstock's lawyer, Jerry Thumes had this to say.." The camera shot cut to a handsome man with dark hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a very clear, kind, and intelligent voice.
"...my client was a woman, just like the other women of the city. Enjoys similar things: shopping, walking, reading, time spent in central park...she has children, and is a very intelligent person. She just, unfortunately met a creep. I honestly believe women deserve the same amount, if not way more, respect than men do. And y'know these cases with these ignorant men who beat their wife and children always get to me. I don't know how these men, who have everything want to throw it away like this. I'm 39 and I've never been married (he said with a laugh) I would be so lucky if I could find a woman half as respectable as some of my clients..."
Jennifer clicked off the TV. She turned and looked out the windows, and felt the light fall breeze come from Central Park. She shut her eyes and began thinking. Too long I've put up with this. She thought, Too long have I been treated like property. Too long have my kids been treated poorly. It isn't fair to them, poor babies, I have to do something.
Jennifer stood up and walked toward the small desk in the corner. She unrolled the top and opened the phone book that was stored inside. She flipped to the attorney section. Thumes. There she found, not a full page, color ad...but a small, humble plain box with his name and a small quote reading The respect you deserve for family law.
Jennifer picked up the phone and slowly dialed the number.
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