karin knows best..listen here.

listen up errrone.

I had no idea what i was going to write about for my mimic historical narrative when the assignment was first handed out.

I thought, yeah i can be an angry person, like Mr. Edwards, but not to the point where i am condeming people to hell.

Then it hit me.  I am sicker than a dog, and i would almost rather be dead.  OH PERFECT.

the wonderful Ms. Mary Rowlandson.

Using Bronchitis as the "savages" i wrote myself a lovely little capture narrative.  Hahahaha. maybe ill post it on here. (In a smaller font):

A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Miss Karin Hansen



On the seventh of February in 2010 it was a cold, cold night. A bitter night that would make your toes shrivel beneath your feet, and excoriate the warmth from your body. There was a Wisconsin Men’s Hockey game taking place at Camp Randall Stadium. As I was watching the game, it did just that. It crept up my body and stabbed me. I begged it to stop, exclaiming, “Lord, what shall I do?” I started walking through a section full of Badger fans to reach the heated bathrooms, when the Michigan player scored. The one Michigan fan in the section stood up in excitement, and got torn to pieces. Then I took my friends by the hand and walked in the dreading freeze to the Nitty Gritty to safety. By the end of the night, Bronchitis was inescapable. I was taken alive that night, yet the Lord by his Almighty power preserved my sickness long enough to write this.


The First Remove


Now away I went from the Nitty Gritty with that barbarous virus, with my legs shivering with each breath of wind, and my lips trembling with each step I tread. About a mile later, I was at peace. I didn’t feel anything, not my nose, my ears, my legs, my lungs. I sat in bed that night, and I prayed that the Lord have mercy on me, that he would lay his healing hands upon me. During the night, it took my blanket, and all my covers along with it. It kissed my dry and cracked lips, and sucked the air from my fragile lungs. I woke up sharply to the sound of myself being suffocated. I was not about to be executed on a Sabbath day. I took a sip of water and drifted back into a light sleep. The next morning I woke up with the sniffles and a headache. It didn’t take me too long before I realized the savageness and brutishness of this barbarous enemy. It was the holy Sabbath day, and it strapped me into my bed and tortured me. While trying to rest my weary eyes, it would take my lungs and squeeze them as if they were balloons, and make my tired eyes run as if they were Niagara Falls. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and all I wanted to do was watch the Saints pummel the Colts. When it heard that I wanted to participate in the activities that the rest of my family were doing, Bronchitis hit me again. Bedridden it had me again; punching me, poking me, and taking away the one thing I longed for—sleep.


The Second Remove


But now, the next morning, I turned my back against the alarm clock and slept in until seven twenty in the morning, when in routine, I would have been an hour behind my schedule. Bronchitis dragged me out of my bed and wanted to test me by sending me to school. I had to articulate the morning announcements to the school, but it followed me to school. It is not my tongue that can express the sorrows and bitterness of my health that I had at this departure, but God was with me in a wonderful manner, helping me throughout the first five minutes of the school day. A Cappella Choir was my first class of the day. I sat in my seat, did morning stretches, and prepared my self for warm-ups, which meant singing. I opened my mouth wide to wake up my muscles of my mouth, and just as I was about to sing a beautiful note, Bronchitis took a dagger and cut open the bowels of my vocal chords and a squeak snapped out. As I traveled out the door on the way home, I fell over the top of my 2007 Chevy Colorado. I was in no mood to host Bronchitis in the front seat of my truck. With the strength that I had left, I carried my backpack in my arms till my strength failed, and I fell down with it. Oh, may I see the wonderful power of God, which my Spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction of Bronchitis. By His gracious spirit and holy might, I was able to see the light of Tuesday’s morning.


The Third Remove


As morning arose, I woke up feeling twice as ruined as I had the previous two days. The Nyquil bottle sitting next to me was empty, what was I to do? I went to take up my dead hope into my arms to carry it with me, but there was no use. It was gone, and that meant no more peaceful nights of sleep. I trudged my way out of the door and Bronchitis was there with me. My whole day of school, it sat right on my drained, tired face. As much as I tried to face school head on, my face was on the desk most of the day. It tore my focus away from me and cleaved at my eyeballs to force them shut. As I was trying to annotate writings and composing free response essays, I felt my body shutting down. I had the urge to run away from it; to get away from this virus. With Bronchitis latched on my back like a saddle, I drove home and slept the night worrying and waiting for this disaster, this catastrophe to rid itself of my body. “Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine health.”

hope you enjoyed it...because i sure didn't.

with peace and love (: