Briza Schuler's Webpage


Semester 1 Semester 2 Contact Me


"You've got what it takes, but it will take everything you've got." ~Anonymous




Hello my name is Briza and I would like to welcome you to my webpage! This is the main page navigating through it is pretty similar to navigating through any other webpages. There are links at the top of the page that show you some of my favorite and most used websites. Also at the top of the page there are links to Semester 1 and 2 of this school year, on those pages you can view how I have progressed through the year and some things that I have learned. You can contact me using the final link and let me know what you think of my website and any questions that you might have. The quote above discribes my present and the quote at the bottom of the page describes my future.





My life story. (A word of caution before reading this tale: it will deal with some mood dampening topics, so if you are in the mood to be happy I suggest that you try reading something else.) I was born a beautiful baby, a healthy weight, and dinner-plate eyes. I was also born into Hell. An abusive father dominated the first two years of my life, he hurt us, both physically and verbally. I could tell you any number of incidences, like the time he tried to run Mom, Alex and I down with a car, or of the time he beat my brother for changing the TV channel, but there are too many to recount on this page. My entire baby life I just screamed and screamed. My Mother finally got away when I was two. We went to a women's shelter, and after things calmed down: we found a new home. We lived in a duplex with some old family friends, and things were almost normal. We had six tinfoil barbs and what Mom called a bottom feeder. I went to daycare, and Alex to school. After school we played and finger-painted. Life was beautiful. I can remember these times vividly. Like the time I "finger-painted" the entire bathroom (more like body painted). Or the times that I would wake up at four in the morning and make coffee because I could (my eccentric Grandma had started me young and bottle fed me coffee, and I've loved it since). Or that time a ladder accidentally fell on me (I've always been 'cursed' as my friends call it). Eventually my Mom felt safe enough to let me go. I ended up going to my eccentric grandma and grandpa's house for a week, and the next week my brother would go. I loved it, I got to play with my little ponies and I remember them tucking me in and praying, and I remember play Spiderman and super girl with my cousin Austin. And too soon the week was over. The drive back from Montana was a long one, but with our camper and my uncle Robert driving behind us, it would be a fun one. Or at least that was the plan. We were driving along, sitting in the truck, the trailer hooked up to the back. Then the wind picked up, and Grandma and Papa started talking in a hushed tone about it. Then Grandma yelled, "Pull on the trailer breaks!" The brakes didn't work, and suddenly everything was happening fast. The wind was tipping over the camper, and the camper was taking the truck with it. Then grandma said her last words, "Hold on! We'e going to get in an accident." They both died instantly. After rolling over several times we finally stopped upside down. I was kind of in a daze and really calm, it was probably the gallons of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I just calmly unbuckled and started to crawl toward the shattered window, but suddenly my head was yanked backwards. I yanked again, I still couldn't move. My hair had been trapped underneath the truck. And beneath the layers and layers of adrenaline I was starting to panic. Before much longer though, my uncle came to my door. After realizing why I was stuck, my uncle grabbed my hair like he might put it into a ponytail, but instead of that: he yanked. I was free. I climbed out of the ditch with my cousin and uncle. After we were back on the road I looked at my hand because it felt wet. There was blood all over it. I had a cut on my left pointer finger by the cuticle, and suddenly I realized that it hurt. Now my cousin Austin was a different story, he was covered in blood from head to toe. A huge gash was cut into his head. And we just sat there in the silent chaos, the three of us just caught in a blur. A few (minutes, hours, days, seconds?) later a fire truck arrived. I --to this day-- don't know exactly what they were doing, but I realized that I had left my doll in the camper, and started walking to the camper so that I could retrieve it. Before I got far though I was pulled back, and told that I could not get the rainbow haired doll. The next thing I remember is the ambulance ride. They kept trying to get a gas mask on me, but I didn't want it, so I kept pulling it off of my face. They also kept trying to have me sit down, but I just wasn't having any of it, and eventually they gave up. I don't remember arriving at the hospital, I only remember what happened once we were there. They cut off my clothes and put electrodes on me, testing to see if I was bleeding internally. Luckily I wasn't, so they finally decided to stop bothering me. Then I heard a scream. Austin was in the bed next to me surrounded by doctors, I started pushing my way through them so that I could protect him from whatever was happening. But before I could get through I was pulled back by a nurse (I now realize that she was trying to distract me and not actually concerned with what I wanted) that offered me food, and again I resisted, but she told me of all of the delicious treats and I really couldn't resist (these delicious treats being the snacks of childhood: apple sauce and orange juice). So the nurse and I left, going to the fridge to retrieve them. When I was back and settled, the doctors were gone, and Austin was fine again. They had put staples in his head to take care of a massive gash. Soon after that an officer came. He asked me for details about the crash and I told him as well as my four-year-old phrasing would allow. After he was done talking to Austin, my uncle and I, he left. Soon thereafter the hospital gave my cousin and I teddy bears wearing shirts with the number one on them, I named mine 'Number One Bear' and still refer fondly to it as such to this day. Before long after that my Mom arrived. She had just lost both of her parents, and wasn't entirely sure of her daughter's condition. Thanks to God, I was entirely fine, not a single wound: save my finger. I again have a blank space in my memory after that, I don"t remember what kind of shape my mom was in when she arrived, or what she did, but I do know that we went as a hollow, mismatched, family back to a house (I don't know whose, it could have been my grandparents empty house, or one of my relatives, I don't remember now). What I do know is that she broke the news to me before my small mind could comprehend what it had meant. Uncle Robert didn't feel right telling me that my grandparents had died, so all I had known before this was that my grandparents were 'carried away', whatever that ment. My beautiful mother had to teach me about funerals and death. Another awful thing that had to happen was getting my hair cut to above my ears. The car had mangled my hair, leaving me with a bald spot on the right side and several mangled patches, my hair was a mess, and after having it cut off I decided that I would never get it cut again. Hence its current length. Now during this week that we stayed in the house, a week of planning, mourning, and shock, my cousin and I were viewed as miracles. I was marveled at by all of my relatives, some of them even wanting to touch me, unable to believe that I left such a horror so unscathed. This marveling and awe were not good for my state of mind. It came to the point that I was so mentally unsettled, I slept with my eyes open. My mother took me to the doctor, but the doctor simply told her that I just needed to get back into my schedule. And soon enough we did. When we got home, things were mostly back to normal, except that my mom would cry at church, and I was terrified of cars. Anything more than a walking pace would have me begging mom to drive slower. Another new thing was my mother's engagement, and this came with four new people: Scott and his three children, Jeff, Sarah, and Thomas. My parents got married on the 26th of November 2005, and moved in together on that very same date. It was a joyous occasion, filled with smiles and love. I caught the bouquet. Before the wedding my Mom bought me a book called "Flower Girl Butterflies" by Elizabeth Fitzgerald Howard, so that I wouldn't get butterflies. Mom had always bought books for hard times and new experiences. When my Mom and Brian got divorced she got my brother and I a book called "Dinosaurs Divorce" by Laurie Krasny Brown and Marc Brown. After the car accident my mom got me a book called "Tear Soup" by Chuck DeKlyen and Pat Schwiebert. She gave me my impressive love for books and a beautiful way to cope with life. For that I thank you mom. Not long after the marriage my mom announced that she was pregnant. For this situation I unsurprisingly also got a book: "Mommy Laid An Egg: Or, Where Do Babies Come From?" by Babette Cole. I soon started school and made some friends of my own. I won a coloring contest and got a piggybank and a golden dollar. One thing that I could not get over about kindergarten was that busses did not have seatbelts! I knew someone that had been in a bus accident and almost bled out! This did not, and still does not make sense to me. That being said, kindergarten was the most fun school year I've had. When school started Mom had not yet had Kate, but after bed rest for a few months, she looked ready to pop. One night I had woken up from a nightmare and was terrified, so I did what any six-year-old might do: I went to find my parents. When I got to their room no one was there. Now I really started panicking. It had taken all of my courage of step out of my room and tip-toe up to their room and now I couldn't find them! I went to the first of my siblings I could find: Melissa (more on random people living with us later). She had been lying on the couch, she told me that I shouldn't be afraid because she had heard them leave, but that did little to soothe my fragile nerves. While I was tiredly talking myself down from the fear the front door opened. In walked our family friend Shelly and her husband Dan. They cleared up the confusion and fear immediately. My mother had gone into labor and hurried away to the hospital with Scott. It was still dark out but the rest of my family woke up and eagerly rushed to the hospital. There were so many people crowded into the small waiting room, all of them anxiously waiting for the moment that they could meet my little sister Kate. Suddenly Scott burst into the room, and everyone bombarded him with questions, but he told them that Kate had not been born yet, that he was only there to retrieve me. My mom had wanted for me to see the birth, so Scott took me back to Mom's room. By the time we got back though, Kate was born. We missed it by a matter of seconds (and to be honest I am kind of glad). Kate was a beautiful and healthy baby. Now I know that my tale is not finished, and I shall try to finish it before the year is through, but I cannot make any promises. To write out my entire life story to this point would be write a book, and I am not sure that it is plausible if I am to do my school work as well. Just know that my life is insane, and some new sort of change happens every week, at an askance I will gladly tell anyone what it is. For example: this week we were informed that my baby brother may have brain cancer, and last week it was my uncle going to the hospital for the deadly pancreatitis, and so on. Thank you for listening to my mood dampening story.



"Let the beauty of what you love be what you do." ~Rumi



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