I am tracking down my keys, which, in the frenzy of making a bottle, changing a diaper, and de-snow suiting my son, I haphazardly discarded in, what at the time, may have seemed like a logical place.
Head up and walking with purpose, convinced himself that no one was following him.
Then his mind re-runs a scene from a sleepy 1970s cop show, the PI trailing the adulterer to get photographic evidence.
The hound dog kept his nose low to the ground as he ran through the forest, slipping over and under logs. I could hardly keep up with him. We were definitely on the cougar’s trail. I just wondered what would happen if it saw us before we saw it.
He’s tracking me. I don’t know how, but I know he is. I threw away my cell phone. I’ve turned off my tablet. I’ve ditched my car, and now I’m taking the bus. But I just know he’s watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I can feel them. I’m scared.
The chip was implanted in my mind the first time you spoke to me. I always thought you were very cute. But when we spoke to me, the very first time, I knew this was love.
What else could it have been?
When you left, my brain would often go back in time and track your memories down. Sounds and smells and silence would remind me of you.
Tracking parcels is such a good idea. I often need to do that. Tracking animals in the wild. However, car tracking whilst a great idea is rather expensive. Especially as I haven’t used it in over 12 years. Not that I would really want to of course!
I wanna say i love you and I wanna see you again I hope
God will make a way for us to see each other again.
I know that God won’t fail me. I will see you again i believe in
Jesus Name amen.
Princess
The few notes of the symphony played over and over. I was perplexed. Then realised the tracking arm was too light.
“Face it. We’re never going to find him!” John yelled at Sherlock, only to be ignored. Sherlock bent down to get a closer look at something in the dirt
Kira
tracking was one of the red indian’s strenght. He made use of this by selling his services to willing settlers who had lost their way.
malcolm
i’ve got
no time for this
tracking
let me be in
your bed
already.
Pema
he despised himself. hated himself and what not. he wondered if she’d ever come back in his arms again. just because of that one mistake she left him alone, taking her own route afar.
inspite of his many efforts to track her down, he failed to even catch a glimpse of her.
she’d gone, gone far away with the stars.
Ice
He tracked her often. Tracking her wasn’t hard either when she left a paper trail of cigarettes and bad decisions, her words leaving so many scars that both the people she loved and the people she hated looked like burn victims.
Aimais
She pressed her nose into the wet earth and inhaled deeply, pert ears twitching slightly atop her silken head. ‘The rain masks their scent,’ she began, the words whispering themselves in my mind. ‘But they went this way,’
“You’re sure?” I asked, my voice unnaturally loud in the forests’ naturally silent state. “If we waste time tracking them in the wrong direction-”
Valyria scoffed, the sound emerging from her pointed muzzle in the form of a short, scornful bark. “Trust me, my lady; they went this way,”
She tracked them as far as she could, until they were only a blur in the distance. They were gone, except for a tiny spot, moving farther and farther away every second. She would never know what would happen to them, and really, did she need to know? No, she did need to know. Basic human compassion, she guessed.
I have already written about tracking. You gave me the same word. How do I get a new word. I feel I am being tracked. Running on straight lines. Constrained. Get me more! I want more. I will not be watched . I will slink though the undergrowth and track you back. Track back, like a parcel on a lorry being delivered by the mighty Amazon.
Overwrought with apprehension, she looked up to see the ECG that was tracking her father’s heart activity. Her father, the man she had grown to love and hate over the years they had known each other. Her father, the man who had supported her dreams but also reprimanded her ceaselessly for her shortcomings.
Her father, the man who was so very sick, the man who was going to abandon her, just like her mother had a few years ago.
Enthralled, she gazed at the ECG monitor.
It was tracking her father’s heart activity. It was tracking when his life would end, it was tracking when her life would end.
We trudged through the snow, crunching underneath our boots. My forehead was sweating under my colorful beanie. I stopped for a moment and glanced around. All the frosted trees glittering with snowflakes. Carmen, our dog, was tracking the scent of a fugitive. I moved forward again not wanting to lose sight of Carmen.
I leaned my back against a tree to make sure they didn’t see me; I kept my distance. Although I could not see them up ahead of me, I knew they were there. I wondered so much what “they” were or even “who” they are. My eyes searched the ground to see where they’ve gone. I found nothing. Maybe a tree branch has broken or they left a fragment of clothing. I just needed something, anything, to tell me where they were headed. Then finally, I saw what I needed. North. I began to cautiously run full speed. I needed to catch them. I needed to know where they were going. Who they were. I heard a voice. I froze behind a bush but my eyes wondered. Squinting into the sunlight I could see a shadow. I crept closer making sure I stayed low. I suddenly realized they were right there. As if I were back to back with them. I could feel them. Could they possibly feel me as well? This overwhelming fright came over me, but somehow, I felt complete. As if my soul was filled with warmth. What is happening? Who did I find? I knew I had to let this fear drop and face them. Only a tree separates us, and as if they knew exactly what was going through my mind, we both came out from the tree. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. The only thing that could come from my mouth was “Oh my God.” The feeling that took over my body was so unexplainable that I knew I had to be dreaming. This person should not be in front of me. This person, whom I chased through the woods, whom I just needed to find. Goosebumps began to cascade down my body, from head to toe. I finally wrapped my head around my reality. This person, was who I needed to find all along. This person was the answer to all my questions. This person was who I have been searching for all my life. They are finally right there in front of me. I began to cry. There was no other feeling but love filling me with warmth. This person, was me.
the tracking on the tape was all fucked up. the black bar kept pulling to the top of the screen and stopping like it was tethered by some kind of chord. you could barely see was going on below, but i couldnt look away.
Anna knew her parents were watching her bank statement. It didn’t hinder her entirely, but there were a few things she wished they didn’t know. Like the amount of money spent on cardigans in the winter when they were on sale.
They are tracking me. They see and feel my emotions with their hidden device in my head. I can’t think straight with the way they manipulate me. It’s hard to feel with this weight upon my chest.
The tracking number on my arm stands out no matter how I try to hide it. It brands me, I am no longer a person, I am an item, a number.
Hannah
If you want to track someone physically – that’s an easy job, there are only so many places in the world to hide.
Dream-tracking was different. How could you find a mind that wandered? People entered and left the dreamworld via the soft waves of sleep, oblivious to the infinity around them.
I liked the sound of my footsteps. I didn’t feel like they were obnoxious, for once in my life. I didn’t feel like I was taking too short of steps, or over thinking myself and my surroundings. I was me, and I was finally fine with it.
Sissy Fibonasty
This is her requiem for me, the snow in my hair, lips red from being bitten to hard. There are footsteps in the snow. I tried to walk like a phantom, but something in my soul was heavy, weighting me down all the way to the soles of my winter boots. My pain is etched into the snow, in large footsteps that are bigger than my feet actually are. And yet, there they are, begging to be followed, pursued, tracked.
The snow left beautiful prints, wonderful prints. Who wouldn’t wish it were always snowy. It makes life so much easier… at least for me. Sure hunger comes more often and it is cold, but even blind I could find my quarry.
I looked at my phone, and realized that I could be caught simply by tracking my whereabouts. Quickly I threw it down on the pavement and stomped as hard as I could on it, and plucked the battery as well as the chip from the shattered mess and flung them into the Hudson river. I looked down on the ground again and sighed. I had to buy another phone.
I stalked the bear, sending it along the path to where Jake had his bow ready. I soon saw the twisted tree we’d agreed he would hide in, and sure enough, there he was, bowstring pulled back ready to get the entire village dinner, a cocky grin on his face.
lily
The tracking device was imbedded in every person at the time of their birth. It was used to make sure they did everything right. Pay your taxes. Do your chores. Get good grades. One wrong move, and… zap.
The dog did not think twice about where he was going – it did not occur to him that he might be lead into danger by the person he loved. It was never a point of tracking to the end – whether that was the end of a person, place or thing … it was only to arrive at the time and place where he would be adored by the very person that his world revolved around.
Janey
Tracking progress can be an exhausting task. Checking every little box off an endless list is frustrating when snails seem to move faster down the track than you move down the line of little ticky boxes. But when you end up at the end the reward is greater than any pain you’ll ever know.
Where could he have gone to? how could I have lost him? My damn little brother has run off once more, oh mother would be so angry! At least it gives me the chance to hone my tracking abilities. As if I need it anyway, I’m already top of my class.
Tracking
students hate it
teachers say they hate it
but do we really?
No, we don’t
Tracking is not like hunting
It is a tool
A way to help students find others
a way to see what is working
and what isn’t
a way to look closely
Tracking does not
have to be a curse
it shouldn’t be
it should be a tool.
I am tracking down my keys, which, in the frenzy of making a bottle, changing a diaper, and de-snow suiting my son, I haphazardly discarded in, what at the time, may have seemed like a logical place.
Head up and walking with purpose, convinced himself that no one was following him.
Then his mind re-runs a scene from a sleepy 1970s cop show, the PI trailing the adulterer to get photographic evidence.
The hound dog kept his nose low to the ground as he ran through the forest, slipping over and under logs. I could hardly keep up with him. We were definitely on the cougar’s trail. I just wondered what would happen if it saw us before we saw it.
He’s tracking me. I don’t know how, but I know he is. I threw away my cell phone. I’ve turned off my tablet. I’ve ditched my car, and now I’m taking the bus. But I just know he’s watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I can feel them. I’m scared.
The chip was implanted in my mind the first time you spoke to me. I always thought you were very cute. But when we spoke to me, the very first time, I knew this was love.
What else could it have been?
When you left, my brain would often go back in time and track your memories down. Sounds and smells and silence would remind me of you.
Tracking parcels is such a good idea. I often need to do that. Tracking animals in the wild. However, car tracking whilst a great idea is rather expensive. Especially as I haven’t used it in over 12 years. Not that I would really want to of course!
I wanna say i love you and I wanna see you again I hope
God will make a way for us to see each other again.
I know that God won’t fail me. I will see you again i believe in
Jesus Name amen.
The few notes of the symphony played over and over. I was perplexed. Then realised the tracking arm was too light.
“Face it. We’re never going to find him!” John yelled at Sherlock, only to be ignored. Sherlock bent down to get a closer look at something in the dirt
tracking was one of the red indian’s strenght. He made use of this by selling his services to willing settlers who had lost their way.
i’ve got
no time for this
tracking
let me be in
your bed
already.
he despised himself. hated himself and what not. he wondered if she’d ever come back in his arms again. just because of that one mistake she left him alone, taking her own route afar.
inspite of his many efforts to track her down, he failed to even catch a glimpse of her.
she’d gone, gone far away with the stars.
He tracked her often. Tracking her wasn’t hard either when she left a paper trail of cigarettes and bad decisions, her words leaving so many scars that both the people she loved and the people she hated looked like burn victims.
She pressed her nose into the wet earth and inhaled deeply, pert ears twitching slightly atop her silken head. ‘The rain masks their scent,’ she began, the words whispering themselves in my mind. ‘But they went this way,’
“You’re sure?” I asked, my voice unnaturally loud in the forests’ naturally silent state. “If we waste time tracking them in the wrong direction-”
Valyria scoffed, the sound emerging from her pointed muzzle in the form of a short, scornful bark. “Trust me, my lady; they went this way,”
She tracked them as far as she could, until they were only a blur in the distance. They were gone, except for a tiny spot, moving farther and farther away every second. She would never know what would happen to them, and really, did she need to know? No, she did need to know. Basic human compassion, she guessed.
I have already written about tracking. You gave me the same word. How do I get a new word. I feel I am being tracked. Running on straight lines. Constrained. Get me more! I want more. I will not be watched . I will slink though the undergrowth and track you back. Track back, like a parcel on a lorry being delivered by the mighty Amazon.
Overwrought with apprehension, she looked up to see the ECG that was tracking her father’s heart activity. Her father, the man she had grown to love and hate over the years they had known each other. Her father, the man who had supported her dreams but also reprimanded her ceaselessly for her shortcomings.
Her father, the man who was so very sick, the man who was going to abandon her, just like her mother had a few years ago.
Enthralled, she gazed at the ECG monitor.
It was tracking her father’s heart activity. It was tracking when his life would end, it was tracking when her life would end.
She was tracking him. Tracking his phone lines and his dry cleaning bills.
Bitter tears flowed through her whole body- it seemed.
She wanted him close to her, and she couldnt have him.
Oh how sad she was.
We trudged through the snow, crunching underneath our boots. My forehead was sweating under my colorful beanie. I stopped for a moment and glanced around. All the frosted trees glittering with snowflakes. Carmen, our dog, was tracking the scent of a fugitive. I moved forward again not wanting to lose sight of Carmen.
I leaned my back against a tree to make sure they didn’t see me; I kept my distance. Although I could not see them up ahead of me, I knew they were there. I wondered so much what “they” were or even “who” they are. My eyes searched the ground to see where they’ve gone. I found nothing. Maybe a tree branch has broken or they left a fragment of clothing. I just needed something, anything, to tell me where they were headed. Then finally, I saw what I needed. North. I began to cautiously run full speed. I needed to catch them. I needed to know where they were going. Who they were. I heard a voice. I froze behind a bush but my eyes wondered. Squinting into the sunlight I could see a shadow. I crept closer making sure I stayed low. I suddenly realized they were right there. As if I were back to back with them. I could feel them. Could they possibly feel me as well? This overwhelming fright came over me, but somehow, I felt complete. As if my soul was filled with warmth. What is happening? Who did I find? I knew I had to let this fear drop and face them. Only a tree separates us, and as if they knew exactly what was going through my mind, we both came out from the tree. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. The only thing that could come from my mouth was “Oh my God.” The feeling that took over my body was so unexplainable that I knew I had to be dreaming. This person should not be in front of me. This person, whom I chased through the woods, whom I just needed to find. Goosebumps began to cascade down my body, from head to toe. I finally wrapped my head around my reality. This person, was who I needed to find all along. This person was the answer to all my questions. This person was who I have been searching for all my life. They are finally right there in front of me. I began to cry. There was no other feeling but love filling me with warmth. This person, was me.
the tracking on the tape was all fucked up. the black bar kept pulling to the top of the screen and stopping like it was tethered by some kind of chord. you could barely see was going on below, but i couldnt look away.
Anna knew her parents were watching her bank statement. It didn’t hinder her entirely, but there were a few things she wished they didn’t know. Like the amount of money spent on cardigans in the winter when they were on sale.
They are tracking me. They see and feel my emotions with their hidden device in my head. I can’t think straight with the way they manipulate me. It’s hard to feel with this weight upon my chest.
i have been tracking my feelings
as one hunts an animal
They’re trackin our cells! Ditch ’em now!
The tracking number on my arm stands out no matter how I try to hide it. It brands me, I am no longer a person, I am an item, a number.
If you want to track someone physically – that’s an easy job, there are only so many places in the world to hide.
Dream-tracking was different. How could you find a mind that wandered? People entered and left the dreamworld via the soft waves of sleep, oblivious to the infinity around them.
Somehow, in this moment, the snow is a reminder of things base and vile. The cold always reminds us of so many things.
tracking the progress
looking back at how I’ve grown
since that first question.
I liked the sound of my footsteps. I didn’t feel like they were obnoxious, for once in my life. I didn’t feel like I was taking too short of steps, or over thinking myself and my surroundings. I was me, and I was finally fine with it.
This is her requiem for me, the snow in my hair, lips red from being bitten to hard. There are footsteps in the snow. I tried to walk like a phantom, but something in my soul was heavy, weighting me down all the way to the soles of my winter boots. My pain is etched into the snow, in large footsteps that are bigger than my feet actually are. And yet, there they are, begging to be followed, pursued, tracked.
The snow left beautiful prints, wonderful prints. Who wouldn’t wish it were always snowy. It makes life so much easier… at least for me. Sure hunger comes more often and it is cold, but even blind I could find my quarry.
I looked at my phone, and realized that I could be caught simply by tracking my whereabouts. Quickly I threw it down on the pavement and stomped as hard as I could on it, and plucked the battery as well as the chip from the shattered mess and flung them into the Hudson river. I looked down on the ground again and sighed. I had to buy another phone.
I stalked the bear, sending it along the path to where Jake had his bow ready. I soon saw the twisted tree we’d agreed he would hide in, and sure enough, there he was, bowstring pulled back ready to get the entire village dinner, a cocky grin on his face.
The tracking device was imbedded in every person at the time of their birth. It was used to make sure they did everything right. Pay your taxes. Do your chores. Get good grades. One wrong move, and… zap.
The dog did not think twice about where he was going – it did not occur to him that he might be lead into danger by the person he loved. It was never a point of tracking to the end – whether that was the end of a person, place or thing … it was only to arrive at the time and place where he would be adored by the very person that his world revolved around.
Tracking progress can be an exhausting task. Checking every little box off an endless list is frustrating when snails seem to move faster down the track than you move down the line of little ticky boxes. But when you end up at the end the reward is greater than any pain you’ll ever know.
Where could he have gone to? how could I have lost him? My damn little brother has run off once more, oh mother would be so angry! At least it gives me the chance to hone my tracking abilities. As if I need it anyway, I’m already top of my class.
Tracking your parcel is just like brushing your teeth. You know it’s arriving, but sometimes you miss a spot and end up with something torn.
Tracking
students hate it
teachers say they hate it
but do we really?
No, we don’t
Tracking is not like hunting
It is a tool
A way to help students find others
a way to see what is working
and what isn’t
a way to look closely
Tracking does not
have to be a curse
it shouldn’t be
it should be a tool.