Tests Don’t Show What You Know!!

I am a firm believer that tests don’t show what you know. If you don’t agree with me, that’s completely fine. 🙂

I know of a lot of people -myself included- that have test anxiety. Those of us that have it know the feeling of sitting down for the test… and then having our minds go completely blank. And the ironic part is: we KNOW that we know the answers on the test.

Here are a few reasons why tests don’t show what you know -no matter what your teacher/instructor/professor might tell you:

1) You might have something else on your mind (it might be something more important to you, or just distracting). It could litterally be anything from being a death of a family member or friend, right down to “Johnny Smith” tapping his pen/pencil on the desk…

2) The majority of teachers that I have known, actually expect their students to memorize the work they do throughout the term and/or year. Then, they expect them to dump out all the information they have learned throughout the term and/or year in order to take the test… No book… no notes… nothing. Unless you have a photographic memory, to remember everything that you learned for the test seems daunting, and near to impossible.

The majority of people that I know of, attempt to memorize and dump out the information for the test. And then they realize… that they actually didn’t learn anything. The student might have gotten an “A” or a “B” on the test, but they still didn’t feel like they learned anything.

I have felt this way on more that one occasion.

3) A regular test is one thing, but once it’s called a “timed test”… no way!!! Not for me. I’d rather have the modified version of the test and I’ll take it in a separate, quiet, room where I can take my  time on the test, thanks!

There is nothing wrong with asking for help, or for asking if you can have your test modified, or even just asking to take it in a separate, quiet room away from distractions. If you are anything like me, seeing people getting up, turing in their tests, and then leaving the room, makes me even more anxious and nervous about the test.

During my experience from back in high school, and -more recently- college, I have learned a lot more from doing final projects rather than from taking a test at the end of each term and/or school year.

The fact it this: students are more engaged in the project that they’re putting together. They learn more, and they get the chance to put their own creative twist on the final project. The majority of the time, the student will look back on the final project and say to themselves, “I really learned a lot from this.” And the other great part about doing a final project is that it can be fun. 

…My personal opinion here… what is so fun about stressing over having to take a mind-numbing test, when you can do a final project instead?? You not only learn from your own final project, but you also learn from the other students’ final projects when they present theirs as well.

Those were my thoughts for the day! 🙂 I hope you enjoyed reading!

❤ Des ❤

Creepers: Lost Ring

By Paranormal standards:
Creepers are shapeless black masses –they can be big or small– that keep low to the ground while they move. Sometimes they move slowly, and sometimes they move quickly. As far as I know, it hasn’t been determined whether creepers are evil spirits or good spirits. However, I have come across people that have had encounters with creepers tell me that they don’t think they’re either good nor evil, but they can be mischievous, or leave a person with a malicious feeling.

I have not come across a creeper that has done harm, and neither has anyone else that I’ve talked to that have come in contact with a creeper. The majority of the time, creepers are seen out or the corner of the eye, and by the time you look in the direction where you saw it, it’s either already gone, or the tail end of it is already making its way out of sight.

There was one time in particular when I came across a creeper, and it was in my parents’ home at the time. It was an odd experience, though. I was looking for something that meant a lot to me; it was a ring that I thought I had lost. I knew that if it was lost, I would be even more upset than I already was in thinking that it was lost forever. The ring in question was a family heirloom; it had once belonged to my great grandmother. My grandmother –of whom is still alive– gave me the ring when I was a teen ager as a gift. For as long as I can remember, I felt a certain attachment to the ring. But at the same time, there was, “nothing special about the ring.” Though, I liked how it looked, and I wore it a lot.

While I was in my room I was trying to retrace my steps. I knew that I was wearing this ring throughout the week, but on this day in particular I hadn’t noticed that it was missing until mid-evening. It was a cold day, and I had been outside a few times around the house, and I knew that I didn’t lose it at school, because it was a snow day. Even then, I thought, ‘Great, if I lost it outside, it could be anywhere in the snow!’ This ring was silver with a turquoise stone, and a red coral stone. After I continued to think about it, I realized that I still had the ring when I came in from outside earlier that day. So, then, I got up, left my room, and went out to the front door where I had come in from outside. I remembered where I was and what I did after I came back inside, and so I retraced every step I took. But, at a certain point –once I had gotten into the hallway– I could not for the life of me remember what I had done from there. My mind was a complete blank. So, I looked around and then asked aloud, “Seriously, what happened to my ring? Where is it?”

Not half of a moment later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small, black, shadowy mass keeping close to the ground. I looked it its direction, and I saw it straight on… and it was headed to my bedroom. There was a part of me that was freaked out by seeing this small, black, shadowy mass… but at the same time, I didn’t feel like I was in any danger. It was just there, as if it was saying ‘follow me.’ So, reluctantly, I did. I followed it to my bedroom, and I remembered hesitating for a moment before I opened my bedroom door. These were the type of things that scared me as a child… mainly because at the time I didn’t know what they were and they creeped me out. I guess they live up to their name: Creepers.

Once I shoved the thought aside and reminded myself that my past –unintentional– encounters with these things never hurt me, I opened my door and walked into my room. Again, I saw the creeper straight on; it was at the foot of my bed between my dresser and my bed keeping close to the floor. Just then it quickly went under my bed. I paused for a moment in shock, but then I quickly got down on my hands and knees to look under the foot of my bed. At first I didn’t see anything, but then I shifted a few things around.

There it was. The ring that I had been looking for. I was stunned in utter amazement; I had no clue how it had gotten there. Sure, the ring could have fallen off at some point and then fallen under the foot of my bed with no problem… but that was the problem… in order for it to land where it did, it would have had to literally go through the long tote that I had under my bed at the foot of my bed. The thing that I found even more astonishing was that, right behind my tote that ran the width of my bed, was my jewelry box that my grandmother had also given me… and that, too, used to belong to my great grandmother; she used it every day as far as I was told. But, there sat my ring that I was looking for; it was sitting right in front of the jewelry box that was bumped up to the tote.

I sat there and stared for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened… and there was no logical explanation for it. I snapped out of it, grabbed up the ring, and the jewelry box and looked at the both of them for a moment before I reached the decision. I opened the jewelry box, and set the ring inside of it, promising not to wear the ring again until it got warmer outside, and the snow was completely melted. 🙂


I hope you enjoyed this post! 😀


~* ❤ Des ❤ *~

Good Days and Bad Days


I must admit, there have been days where I’ve felt like I was the bug hitting the windshield at an alarming rate… sometimes I’ve even smashed into it. There have been others, though, where I was the windshield, plowing through the obstacle that the Universe chose to toss at me. Or, in some cases, hurl at me with no hesitation what-so-ever.

I would be catching myself thinking to myself, “Nice job there, Universe, but you didn’t get me that time.”

Even though I’ve felt like the bug hitting the windshield in the past –after all was said and done– I still managed to look the Universe in the eyes and say, “Thanks for the fall! I went through crap, I felt like crap… and at a couple of points in my life, I felt like my life was crap… but here I am, ready to climb, and conquer.” Then I paused for a few moments and continued to say, “My life is not crap… it never was. There were some cards that I was dealt that were crap… but my life is not crap because of it. I think I handled those crappy cards pretty well. Sure –as a result– I’ve been through depression, I’ve been through anxiety (at the same time)… there’s also PTSD thrown in the mix, which of course I will be dealing, and coping, with for the rest of my life. So, Thanks for that.

“I have a good life, I have a great support system now, and nobody –not anything– can bring me down from that. I have healed from the pain that I’ve gone through, and I will continue to heal as I continue to live my life the way that I want to, the way that I need to… for me.

“Do I still have my bad days every once in a great while? Yes. Am I on medication for it? No… I’ve learned how to deal with it, and cope with it. Because of the cards that you have dealt me –the good and the bad– it helped shape me into who I am today. It also helped me figure out how to deal and cope with certain things. I figured out at a young age –probably without even realizing it– that writing is my niche… one of my coping mechanisms.

“I knew –after going through everything that I’ve gone through– that I wanted to help people. I wanted to help people in a different way… through my voice, and speaking about certain things. The only trouble was… crowds… and I felt like just speaking about certain topics wasn’t enough for me. I hope to help people through my writing.

“So, thank you, Universe, for dealing me all of the cards that you have dealt me… so far. I promise you –and myself– that I will not give up…”


I write because I love it… whenever I sit down and write, it feels… freeing. It’s not only my “escape,” but it also helps me deal and cope with things. I have found that, as I have continued to write over the years –no matter what kind of day I may be having– I continue to learn more about myself. Often times, I feel my characters and I need each other; they tell me things that I need to hear, and they need me to write their story. I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. I find it to be very self-therapeutic, and over half the time, I don’t even realize that there’s self-therapy going on while I write.

One of the many things that I’ve learned is: Do what you love to do… not because you feel like you have to, but because you truly enjoy it. ❤


~* ❤ Des ❤ *~

Long Time, No Post

Hello everyone! 

*Hears a slight echo*

I realize that I haven’t posted anything in quite some time. There’s a simple explanation for that. ☺

Yes, that’s right… I have been writing, but just not here (obviously ☺). I have, however, been writing in my book. I’ve been on quite the writing streak with it, and I really hope to get it finished soon so I can self-publish it.

I don’t want to post too much about the book, yet, until I get even closer to finishing it. I especially do not want to spoil anything. All I can say about it for now is that it’s geared toward fantasy/fiction. ☺

~* Des *~

College Life: No Sleep

I hope you enjoyed the minion pictures as much as I did. I decided to use them to kick-start this post. ☺

I know, this post is not about the paranormal; I like to switch things up a bit so it doesn’t seem like I only write about one kind of topic. I know that I am not the only one in college that feels this way, so I think a lot of people can relate to this.

Even though –for me– it’s the end of the semester, but was feeling like I didn’t have much of a life. There was a lot of studying that I had to do and I also go to work to help pay the bills. It really hurts that I wasn’t able to write more than I wanted to because of –mostly– school. Not only was I not able to find time to write on here, but I also wasn’t able to write in my book. That’s one of the toughest parts because it was constantly there just waiting to be finished. This might sound strange to say, but it’s like my characters were screaming at me to finished their first story. But there I was, constantly running on little-to-no sleep, staying up at all hours of the night, working on homework and studying hard.

When I did have the little time that I could find, I wrote my ideas down in note form so I wouldn’t forget it later. That way, when I had more time, I could go back to those notes and they would remind me to add those bits and pieces to the first story. It’s literally almost finished.

Now that this semester is officially over, I’m able to breathe again. I’m also able to write again, which is a really good thing for me. I was getting extremely irritated because I wasn’t able to write as much as I wanted to. Every time I would be in class, or when I would be working on homework –especially for the last couple of months– I would often find myself thinking, ‘Man, I would rather be writing right now.’

Since this is my last semester –and because I only have two classes– I’ll be able to get more sleep… and I’ll be able to write more. ☺


A Week of Chaos: Bring the Picture Back

This is one of my favorite experiences to tell whenever I get on the subject of the paranormal with friends, family members, or anyone else that doesn’t know what happened. It was an event that took place when I was in middle school. We had kept a picture of my great grandfather -the one that none of us had ever met, since he passed away when my dad was a teenager- above the living room window. One day my aunt wanted to borrow it so she could make copies of it; she didn’t have that particular picture of him. My dad -hesitantly- agreed to it and he gave her the picture to borrow. We were still living in the house that my grandfather had built at the time, and there had been some strange activities going on within the house.

After the picture left the house, it didn’t take long for things to escalate. There was one night when I had a friend stay over, and we woke up a few times in the middle of the night to my T.V. turning on and flipping through channels. The remote to the T.V. was on my dresser and out of our reach. So, there was no way that either of us had been laying on it, or accidentally bump it. Finally, I told it to stop because we needed to sleep. It then stopped right after I asked it to. Well, at least it stopped for that night. There were nights -and days- throughout the week when my T.V. would turn on and off by itself, and my light would turn on and off by itself; the same thing would happen throughout the rest of the house. My stereo would turn on and off by itself -and it would even flip through the three CDs I had in it looking for a song. Sometimes when it old find a song, it would turn the volume all the way up to max -during the night or day, it didn’t matter. The thing with the stereo, though, is that it only happened with my stereo. It didn’t happen with the stereo that we had in the living room, which was similar to mine -the only difference was that it held five CDs and mind only held three. Granted, these things would happen every so often before the picture was taken from the house, but during the week that it was gone, everything happened on a daily and nightly basis.

There would be times -more times than I could keep track of- when we would constantly be getting tapped on the shoulder. Since my mom and I had longer hair, pieces of our hair would get tugged at -not hard, nut just enough to get our attention. Like I said before, this kind of thing would happen every so often before the picture was taken out of the house, but during that week… it would happen on a daily and/or nightly basis.

There was another night that following Friday when we went out to eat for dinner. My mom and I were the last ones to leave the house and we turned off all the lights and T.V.s on our way out. Once ee got into the truck, and after we pulled out of the garage, we saw that every light was back on in the house. We saw through the front window that the living room T.V. was on as well. We all looked at each other and my dad was confused as he said, “I thought you turned everything off.” My mom and I looked at him -just as confused- and said, “We did.”

My mom and I then went back in the house and turned everything back off. On our way back out of the house, we asked him to keep the lights off… and he did. The lights were still off when we got back home.

When we got the picture back that Sunday afternoon, my dad immediately put the picture back in its respective place above the living room window. After he had done that, the activity in the house went back to normal -things still went on but not nearly as much as they did that week when the picture was taken out of the house.

Little Sarah

When I was in fourth grade, and as it was getting closer to summer, my best friend at the time, “Maria,” invited me over to stay the night. She told me to bring my swimming suit with me, and so I did; it was toward the end of May at the time, and it was supposed to be really warm out that weekend.

That day when I got there, Maria was ready to play outside in her swimming suit, and so I went into her room, changed, and went outside with her. Maria and I were jumping in and out of the sprinkler. She then stopped, and led me over to the side of the house where she kept her outside toys in a plastic bin. As she was opening the bin to get out a toy –it was a baby doll that closed its eyes when it was laid down on its back- she asked me, “Have I told you about my friend Sarah, yet?”

I shook my head ‘no,’ and then I asked, “It is your baby doll?” I thought that she was talking about the doll she had in her hand.

“No, Sarah is a person,” and Maria paused as she looked around. She then whispered, “For whatever reason, my mom and dad can’t see her. They keep telling me she’s not real, but I know she is!”

At that point, I thought she was going to tell me about an imaginary friend she’d made.

“Is Sarah here now?” I asked.

“Shh! No, but she’s on her way.” Maria answered. I asked Maria why we had to be quiet, and she replied with, “My mom and dad keep saying they’re ‘sick of hearing about Sarah,’ and that she ‘doesn’t exist.’” Maria then looked over by the shed, which was in the back yard on our side. “Sarah’s here,” she said, and she looked back at me, and then told me where she was. I looked over by the shed to see Sarah.

“I don’t see her. Where did she go?” I asked Maria.

“She went behind the shed; she’s shy.” Maria answered.

“Is she shy like me?” I asked Maria.

“I think she’s shyer than you were when I first met you.” Maria told me; the whole time we were whispering back and forth, trying not to be overheard by either of her parents from inside the house.

I slowly made my way around to the right side of the shed, making my way to the back. Once I started to turn the corner to the back of the shed, I saw the bottom part of a dress and a leg on the opposite side, and I heard running. I knew that it wasn’t Maria because she wasn’t in a dress.

“Wait!” I was trying not to yell and was trying to stay quiet as I ran back from the way I came. Maria had made her way to the shed, and she was standing a good distance from it. Maria wasn’t looking at me, or at the shed, but at a spot slightly to the left of the shed. I looked over to see what she was looking at. I saw a little girl standing there. She was a bit smaller than us, and she had to be at least a couple of years younger than us. The little girl was wearing a really pretty, white, floral dress that went just below her knees. She had long, light brown hair that was in a matching headband. Just as I took a gentle step forward and asked, “Are you Sarah?” the little girl vanished… she was just… gone. I looked over at Maria, and her eyes were wide open with shock.

I asked Maria what was wrong, and she replied with, “Nothing… you can see her, too?”

I told Maria, “Yes,” and then I described what the little girl was wearing and what she looked like. Maria looked relieved. She then pointed and looked at the shed door behind me.

“Des, look!” Maria whispered to me. I looked behind me, and there was a small wet handprint, and the word ‘yes,’ written in water on the shed door. Maria and I looked at each other and knelt down in front of the door. We put our hands beside the watery handprint. The handprint was too small to be either mine or Maria’s. The handwriting on the door also didn’t belong to either of us. Maria and I were the only ones outside; there was nobody else around since there were barely any other kids in her neighborhood.

Maria was extremely grateful that I was also able to see Sarah.

We went back over to the doll and saw one of its eyes blink… but it was sitting up and there was no wind. We couldn’t see Sarah right then, but something was telling the both of us that it was her. We asked if it was Sarah that made the doll’s eye wink, and it did it again, but it was the other eye that winked that time.

Sarah remained invisible to the both of us, but we played with the doll for a little bit longer until Sarah had left.

The next day, at one point Maria’s mom had to run to the store quick –which was right down the road. It was sometime mid-morning, and Maria had told me that it was Sarah’s birthday.

“I would want to make a birthday cake for her, but she told me she can’t eat anymore.” Maria had said as we made our way to the kitchen. She had gotten out a stool, and I asked her what she was doing. Maria had then told me that she was getting down the birthday candles. I was slightly confused as I asked her, “Why?”

Maria said, “I want to light a candle for her so she can make a wish and blow out the candle.”

I helped Maria light the birthday candle with a match –which we put in some water after the candle was lit. Maria let me hold the candle as we sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sarah.

When we were finished singing, I held out the candle at arm’s length and Maria and I told Sarah to make a wish to herself and blow out the candle.

Maria and I both felt that Sarah was there in the kitchen with us. We felt a comforting warmth surrounding us like a hug, and it was filled with complete happiness. Maria and I continued looking at the birthday candle. Then, the candle blew out. We heard someone (Sarah) blow out the candle, say, “thank you,” and giggle. Maria and I said, “You’re welcome,” then we felt Sarah leave. We put the candle in the water for a bit, and threw it away -along with the match.

That night, Maria and I had been woken up several times throughout the night by Sarah; all she wanted to do was play. One of Maria’s lights was battery operated, and Sarah decided it would be fun to make it turn on and off, while giggling in the process. There were other toys that Sarah would play with (battery operated or not), including a floral nightlight that sat on Maria’s dresser. When turned on, the nightlight had a setting where the top of it would either spin to make it look like the floral design was moving around the room, or not spin. Well, Sarah liked to make the flowers spin on the nightlight. Finally, Maria and I had to tell Sarah to stop because we had to go to bed and get some sleep so we wouldn’t get in trouble by Maria’s mom. Sarah stopped after we asked her to, and we were able to get some sleep.


Author’s Note:
I’m sorry for not posting anything in a while. I got busy with work and school (college).

I hope you enjoyed my post! 🙂