云上天堂

然后再具体的讲一讲我的所谓dallas之旅吧。。

27号出发，开了6个小时的车，下午4点的时候在一个叫什么什么的巨大市场会见了花花！！！然后经过我们双方家庭的协议，我和花花有4个小时的时间叙旧（自由活动），很显然，4个小时是绝对不够的！！所以我和花花又继续策划，那天晚上我就去了花花的家里住！！！真的感觉好舒服啊！！还有，不得不提，我美国妈妈那个贱人，她给花花的婆婆说，我们八点就要出发，然后如果我要去他们家住，他们就必须在8点前把我送会宾馆，结果花花的美国婆婆那天7点就起来了，8点把我送回宾馆后，我美国爸爸又说，不急，我们9点出发，结果拖到后面他们9点半多的样子才离开的宾馆！！！！！！！！（贱人！！！！其实我美国妈妈的目的就是，如果要让我和花花他们一起住，他们就要7点多就起床，太早了，说简单点，她就是不想让我去和花花一起住！！）

然后。那天我们就去光博物馆||||||||||去看埃及王的展览品|||||||||||||||||||||||||||晃荡了3个多小时，无聊透顶了真的是！！！！！！！！！然后下午我们又去看飞机展览|||||||第一张图就出自那个飞机展览|||||||

然后晚上我们去吃饭！！！！！！！！！那个薯条完全是巨大型的||||||||||||||||||||

第二天我们就去了一个叫six flags的主题公园！！！！！看见注释1 2了吗~~那两个巨型的过山车我们都分别玩了两次！！！！！！！！感觉和跳楼无差~~~还有很多刺激的游戏|||||||||||||||||||||||||其实还是挺好玩的。但是我们居然玩了整整一天。。我被累得……………………………………………………

好了好了。没什么想讲的了。最后秀一张照片~~

去德州Dallas城转了一圈。唯一的收获就是和花花见了一面！！！！！！！！！！害得我突然一下有了想回国的冲动！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！

花花那个购物狂！！才和她见面几个小时，就被她唆使买了好多东西||||||全部都是好女人的小衣服|||||||然后我们两个在那个市场里面逛了4个小时，一起大笑，吐槽，，一起说中文，吃披萨，喝味道不好的星巴克，一起做莫名其妙的事情，真的感觉好亲切！！！

后来那天晚上我去了她的家庭住，我发现她的接待家庭比我的好太多了|||||||||她的美国婆婆是个很慈祥的老人，会和花花勾肩搭背。我说：Vicky is a crazy girl。她就笑着回答我：I know，but we do love her~~就觉得，感觉真的不一样。我的家庭才见了花花短短几面，他们就觉得花花不好，就不喜欢她，其实我在中国也是花花那样的，是个很神经质的人，会动不动就发疯，不喜欢收拾房间，喜欢一个人呆在自己的空间里，但是在我的家庭面前我不敢表现出来，他们喜欢很温顺的女娃娃，要乖巧懂事，就像我现在表现的这样。

在这个家庭住了5个月了，感觉他们真的很陌生，完全没有亲切感，和花花聊天的时候我就说，我想回国了，花花说，嗯，但是我舍不得我婆婆。我就告诉她，我一点也不会舍不得我的家庭，再熬5个月我就可以离开了。呆在这里，完全就像呆在一个点都不温暖的房子里，住了很多陌生的人，还需要去迎合他们，还有5个月，真不知道我能不能熬得过去。

我在花花家住的那个晚上，那是个很小很小的房子，屋里很乱很脏很旧，但是感觉却很温暖，我们四个人一起挤在小沙发上看电影（我，花花，花花的美国婆婆和爷爷），屋里开着暖气，花花只穿了一件睡衣也会觉得很热，我就和花花一直在边上聊天，然后花花会和她的美国婆婆打打架，不知道是不是因为暖气的原因，那一刻我觉得心里特别温暖，在我的美国家庭里完全感受不到这样的温暖，我给花花说，我觉得这感觉很棒，像回家了一样~~

后来那天晚上我成功的失眠了，然后一发不可收拾的失眠一直到离开Dallas城。和花花短短的一次会面，突然一下就让我想回家了，我的美国爸爸一直对我说，你就好像我们家庭的一员一样，我每一次都笑着点头，可是却从来不觉得我是他们家庭的一员，5个月了，他们依然很陌生，花花说我的美国妈妈感觉很凶，的确。。我其实一点也不喜欢他们，但我还要每天对他们笑，生气了也不敢做出什么脸色，最近脾气一直不太好，我觉得的确是压力太大了~~但愿回国了，离开这个该死的美国家庭，一切能好起来吧~~！！（他们一直在说他们是个相亲相爱的家庭，我一直都不觉得！！！！！！！！！！！）

人和人之间，横着的，真的不是两颗心的距离，而是一堵墙，是一堵有意无意的，带刺的防墙。

我觉得，我还是应该挖个坑，把自己的心埋起来，这样……它才不会感到疼痛。。。

终于，是厌倦了想要去对别人好的那种心情，当回头来发现自己原来已经满身是伤的时候，才想到，我果然，是应该坠入地狱的呢。

在伸手不见五指的黑暗之中，不知道，会不会觉得孤独呢？？

曾经有个人问我，究竟是在哪里，谁，把你伤得如此透彻。

其实答案很简单，我一直都知道，那个人。

是我自己~

一只半完成品的猫猫~~~~~（基本上是完成了~~最后就差再加深颜色了~~）··

我想把它带回国！！！！！！！！~~但是它太大了！很容易弄坏~~~||||||||||而且我美术老师说要把它拿出去贴在展览柜里保存~想keep它！！！她不想还给我！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！不得行啊啊啊啊啊啊！！！！！！！！！

！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！

啊啊啊啊啊啊~~我的猫猫，我想把它带回国~~~~~TT口TT~~ 

然后是我的clay~~hohohohohoho~~~~~~~

样子丑了点。。。但是我还是很用心的~~

现在暂时还是未完成品||||||下个星期一就要上色了~~hohohoho

如果效果好的话到时候我再贴图上来吧~~效果不行那就算了~~= =|||||||

话说，这个东西是绝对带不走的了！！！！！！！！！！！！！TT口TT~~

再给张背面~~

不要问我那个球是什么||||||||||||

那个球可以吹哨|||||||||||等于乐器的作用|||||||我本来想做一个乌鸦的~~但是最后居然变成这样了||||||||||||||||||呃~~~

我好想把它们都带回国啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊啊……（怨念999999999999999…… = =|||||||||）

以上

                      Thank You, Ma'm
                           ——by Langston Hughes  
 
      
She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but hammer and nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. It was about eleven o’clock at night, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke with the single tug the boy gave it from behind. But the boy’s weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance so, intsead of taking off full blast as he had hoped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up. the large woman simply turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.

After that the woman said, “Pick up my pocketbook, boy, and give it here.” She still held him. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse. Then she said, “Now ain’t you ashamed of yourself?”

Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, “Yes’m.”

The woman said, “What did you want to do it for?”

The boy said, “I didn’t aim to.”

She said, “You a lie!”

By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to look, and some stood watching.

“If I turn you loose, will you run?” asked the woman.

“Yes’m,” said the boy.

“Then I won’t turn you loose,” said the woman. She did not release him.

“I’m very sorry, lady, I’m sorry,” whispered the boy.

“Um-hum! And your face is dirty. I got a great mind to wash your face for you. Ain’t you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?”

“No’m,” said the boy.

“Then it will get washed this evening,” said the large woman starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.

He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans.

The woman said, “You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?”

“No’m,” said the being dragged boy. “I just want you to turn me loose.”

“Was I bothering you when I turned that corner?” asked the woman.

“No’m.”

“But you put yourself in contact with me,” said the woman. “If you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another thought coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.”

Sweat popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half-nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room.

She said, “What is your name?”

“Roger,” answered the boy.

“Then, Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face,” said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose—at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink.

Let the water run until it gets warm,” she said. “Here’s a clean towel.”

“You gonna take me to jail?” asked the boy, bending over the sink.

“Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere,” said the woman. “Here I am trying to get home to cook me a bite to eat and you snatch my pocketbook! Maybe, you ain’t been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?”

“There’s nobody home at my house,” said the boy.

“Then we’ll eat,” said the woman, “I believe you’re hungry—or been hungry—to try to snatch my pockekbook.”

“I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes,” said the boy.

“Well, you didn’t have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes,” said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. “You could of asked me.”

“M’am?”

The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he had dried his face and not knowing what else to do dried it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. He could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run, run!

The woman was sitting on the day-bed. After a while she said, “I were young once and I wanted things I could not get.”

There was another long pause. The boy’s mouth opened. Then he frowned, but not knowing he frowned.

The woman said, “Um-hum! You thought I was going to say but, didn’t you? You thought I was going to say, but I didn’t snatch people’s pocketbooks. Well, I wasn’t going to say that.” Pause. Silence. “I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, son—neither tell God, if he didn’t already know. So you set down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair so you will look presentable.”

In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs. Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse which she left behind her on the day-bed. But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room where he thought she could easily see him out of the corner of her eye, if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.

“Do you need somebody to go to the store,” asked the boy, “maybe to get some milk or something?”

“Don’t believe I do,” said the woman, “unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned milk I got here.”

“That will be fine,” said the boy.

She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox, made the cocoa, and set the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she told him about her job in a hotel beauty-shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out, blondes, red-heads, and Spanish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent cake.

“Eat some more, son,” she said.

When they were finished eating she got up and said, “Now, here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook nor nobody else’s—because shoes come by devilish like that will burn your feet. I got to get my rest now. But I wish you would behave yourself, son, from here on in.”

She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it. “Good-night! Behave yourself, boy!” she said, looking out into the street.

The boy wanted to say something else other than “Thank you, m’am” to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but he couldn’t do so as he turned at the barren stoop and looked back at the large woman in the door. He barely managed to say “Thank you” before she shut the door. And he never saw her again.