Phoebe Prince had shown herself a talented writer and student when she lived in Ireland. Here is an extract from her blog written in October, 2009. It shows a sensitive young woman, in love with life and close to her family:

Where have today's values gone? Everyone is so preoccupied with their electronic gadgets to appreciate simple moments, like the first snowfall of winter, or hearing the words 'I love you' for the very first time.

We live in an impersonal electronic society, is that where our values have gone too? We no longer appreciate simple conversations now that we have Twitter and Facebook. Personally, I can't believe that reading an e-mail would have the same effect as speaking with someone face to face, making a moment.

I get into my pink fluffy onesie and my feet tingle as they rub off the soft cushioned fabric. I head downstairs into the kitchen. The walls are heather green with various paintings of vegetables. I live in an old country house with a barn door and all the furnishings to boot.

My father is sitting at the dining table reading a thriller-type novel as per usual, with a half glass full of white wine next to him. The fire is roaring and the smell of hydrangeas wafts through the air. I curl up on a chair adjacent from my father, making sure to be cosily tucked in near the fire.

He puts down his book and says, "Now what is on your mind tonight my dear?" From there on we start a heated debate about almost anything. Our conversations range from sex, drugs and rock and roll to matters of great importance, such as ancient religions, politics and criminal justice. No subject is off limits with me and my father.

I click in my glossy silver iPod into my speakers. I turn up the volume full blast, the walls vibrate from the sound of System of a Down screaming out "Chop Suey." I'm sitting in my room on my mattress (I broke my bed one evening whilst jumping on it). My walls are covered with doodles, posters, lyrics and memories. I have the lyrics to "I love college" by Asher Roth printed on my walls.

I start off by listening to some Arctic Monkeys - they always get me in a good mood. My mix soon turns into some darker music. My iPod reflects me inside throughout. It's my constant companion.

Soon my boyfriend rings me up, "Phoebe, c'mon man lets go for a spin, bring your iPod." I get into his Civic and he starts driving. The windows are down and the air is blowing through my hair. I plug my iPod in and the Alex Kidd starts pumping. Alex Kidd is by far my favorite DJ. The words "ecstasy" are throbbing in my ears. Leem starts speeding up we're going well over sixty miles an hour. We change the music to some Chemical Brothers and The Avalanches. He drops me outside the farm across the road from my house. I now put on "Sandiego Song" by the Coronas.

I value both my iPod and my nightly conversations with my daddy for both different yet similar reasons. My iPod is stimulating to my body as I can't help but move along to the beat, it is also the soundtrack of my life, I have a song for every moment and mood of my day. Without it I would be lost. Its also therapeutic for me I find it easy to relate to the lyrics in music and let them wash away any emotion I'm feeling. As for my nightly conversations with my daddy, I treasure them dearly, they stimulate my mind to no end. He has increased my knowledge of different dialects, cultures, religions and politics. I learn about the world around me even though I don't leave my kitchen table.

Both my iPod and my conversations with my daddy make me think, one with its thoughtful lyrics that I relate to helps me deal with my own personal problems. My nightly conversations make me think about other people and the world that I'm in. I become more emotionally and intellectually mature through both these activities. Although I still value such items that don't have such significant effects on me. Sometimes I love just walking around in my favorite heels and feeling like the most confident girl in the world, but mostly I just like sitting back and discussing politics with my dad.