It has begun.
The beginning of the last year of public school, where I don't have to pay thousands of dollars on tuition, books, and classes. Where my mom will feed me dinner, and I don't have to pay money to live in an apartment, and I don't have to make sure that we have toilet paper in the bathroom.
Yup. These are the days. And they won't last long.
:(
I'm scared. I am straight up scared out of my mind. I don't know what I"m going to do with my life, I don't know what college I'm going to go to, and I don't know what to major in and and and. There are just too many things for me to worry about, and I don't want to worry about them. And then I get worried because I don't want to worry about them, and I know that I have to worry because it's coming fast. Even though the school year started last month, it's coming insanely fast. Too fast. And then I get worried even more.
Okay, I'm freaking myself out talking about this.
On a brighter note, I'm reading Lord of the Rings. All 1500 pages of it. I'm watching the movies again, and I thought, "You know? I tried reading Lord of the Rings a while ago and failed miserably. I should try again. Because the end is good. I mean, Return of the King is my favorite movie, and I should really read it. Let's do this." So I am. I'm only 200 or so pages in, and I'm about to finish Book One of the Fellowship. I'm making slight progress, right? I'm at the part where Frodo is crossing the ford into Rivendell, and Strider and the Elf (can't remember his name. Starts with a G) are holding off the Ringwraiths. Ooh!
Oh yeah, and I'm also listening to Rohan's Theme while I'm typing this. I'm such a nut. I just love Lord of the Rings so much. So good.
I think this is enough. I don't really know what else to say, so I'll stop.
KAY BYE.
Sep 16, 2012
Aug 7, 2012
Crap
Okay, I know that I haven't updated at all for like, two months. That's because it's summer and I don't do anything during the summer, so I didn't post.
Simple as that.
I don't really want to go through anything that I've done, either. What with camp, floating down a river for six hours, and melting in front of the TV watching the Olympics, I've obviously been too busy to post.
Sorry.
But I am now! And that doesn't mean that it'll happen in the future! I hope it will, because it'll be my SENIOR YEAR A:SLDLKJFA so I want to document as much as possible. Like, I'll be carrying a camera around with me everywhere and take pictures, and I'll be actually writing in my journal (cause I don't do that like I should)
I hope this'll work out. I have a lot of "gung-ho" towards this, so I think it will.
So, all-in-all, this post was crap, and isn't worth anything.
I just typed up what went on in my head.
That says a lot.
So, I'll hopefully see you guys in the not-so-near future.
Have an awesome what's left of summer!
Simple as that.
I don't really want to go through anything that I've done, either. What with camp, floating down a river for six hours, and melting in front of the TV watching the Olympics, I've obviously been too busy to post.
Sorry.
But I am now! And that doesn't mean that it'll happen in the future! I hope it will, because it'll be my SENIOR YEAR A:SLDLKJFA so I want to document as much as possible. Like, I'll be carrying a camera around with me everywhere and take pictures, and I'll be actually writing in my journal (cause I don't do that like I should)
I hope this'll work out. I have a lot of "gung-ho" towards this, so I think it will.
So, all-in-all, this post was crap, and isn't worth anything.
I just typed up what went on in my head.
That says a lot.
So, I'll hopefully see you guys in the not-so-near future.
Have an awesome what's left of summer!
Jun 17, 2012
Fish
Happy Birthday, to me! Happy Birthday, to me! Happy Birthday, to meeee... Happy Birthday, to me!
Oh, and a Happy Father's Day to my daddio. You're the coolest cat around.
Yes, my birthday is on Father's Day this year. Yes, I love it.
Okay. I have a story for you.
So, I recently just got back from Youth Conference with people in my church. We went to Moab, Utah, and it was incredible. We went river rafting in the Colorado River the last day, and we were swimming and having splash wars and raft hopping for about seven hours. Was seriously in my top ten best days of my life ever.
My friend and I paddled down in a two-person inflatable kayak thing, and whenever we hit rapids, we burst in song to 'Just Around the River Bend' and paddled to the beat and bounced up and down.
I just felt like telling you that. This isn't the story. The story is when I got home from Youth Conference.
So. I came home from about a four hour drive back home and walked inside with my friend to find...a fish tank. Four goldfish were swimming around while my parents were sitting on the couch watching Harry Potter.
"A fish tank? What happened while I was gone?"
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: My dad has always said that we were never having pets. So coming home to a fish tank was...shocking.
My parents exchanged looks.
"Well..."
It goes like this. While I was gone, my city puts on this annual festival with carnival rides and food and a movie. My familia went to the festival and my little sister won a goldfish. My parents took it home and let it free in a vase so they could go buy a fishbowl. They didn't even buy the fishbowl before the fish went belly-up and was dead.
They buried it in the backyard by some roses because my other sister said that the Indians put dead fish by plants to make them healthy. So they figured to put the dead fish to use.
My little sister was slightly heart-broken about the whole fish-dying-thing, so my parents figured that they would buy a fish for each of us, as well as a tank.
Fast forward to this morning:
I woke up ecstatic that it was my birthday and hopped into my parents' room to wish my dad a happy father's day. When I went downstairs, I saw my mom sitting on a chair watching the fish tank.
"Uh, hi, Mom."
"Two of the fish are missing."
"I--what?"
I looked in the tank, and sure enough, all I saw was my fish and my little sisters fish swimming around. The other two were gone.
"Did they die and you just threw them away?"
"No. They were gone when I came downstairs."
"Maybe they pulled a 'Finding Nemo' and they're in the filter," I said.
Suddenly, my sister Emma came downstairs and skipped over to the fish tank and looked inside.
"Here it comes," I muttered.
"Where's my fish? Mom? Did it die?"
"Uh...we don't know."
My other sister, Laney, came down and looked inside.
"There's my fish!"
Emma gave her a dirty look.
"Go get your dad," my mom said.
Soon, my dad came downstairs and opened the fish tank and the filter.
"They're not in there."
We were thoroughly confused. The fish couldn't have just gotten up and walked away.
"Let me look more closely."
He pulled out the filter, and suddenly two fish fell out of the tube where the water gets sucked up in.
Except...
"Ew!" I gasped.
Emma's fish made it out...okay. It was slightly bent at the torso and it's eye was all mangled. Eric's, on the other hand, was literally squished up into a ball. It's tail was missing and it's body was rolled up. It flew out of the tube and bobbed to the surface, it's creepy fish face barely visible.
"Okay. Who's going to break the news to Eric?"
Fast forward to this afternoon:
After having another funeral for what used to be a fish, which was buried next to the other one, we found out that my dad set up the filter wrong, and that's how they were able to be sucked up. We fixed it and got ready for church.
When we got home from church, I went upstairs and changed.
Suddenly, I heard my mom groan.
"Oh, no...."
I popped my head over the stairs.
"Did another fish die?"
"Uh, yeah. Yours."
I ran downstairs and saw it. It's tail had somehow gotten stuck onto the filter, and was being sucked against it, clearly dead.
"Death-by-filter strikes again," I said.
"No, wait!" my mom said. "Maybe it's just waiting for us to get it out. Then it will be just fine like Emma's was."
"Mom, I'm sorry. He's gone," I said.
"But--"
"He's passed on, Mom."
"No, I'm sorry! And on your birthday!"
And now we've held another funeral. Three fish buried by roses. Two fish left. I can't help but think how long these will last, now.
But, maybe, someday, we'll see them all again.
Oh, and a Happy Father's Day to my daddio. You're the coolest cat around.
Yes, my birthday is on Father's Day this year. Yes, I love it.
Okay. I have a story for you.
So, I recently just got back from Youth Conference with people in my church. We went to Moab, Utah, and it was incredible. We went river rafting in the Colorado River the last day, and we were swimming and having splash wars and raft hopping for about seven hours. Was seriously in my top ten best days of my life ever.
My friend and I paddled down in a two-person inflatable kayak thing, and whenever we hit rapids, we burst in song to 'Just Around the River Bend' and paddled to the beat and bounced up and down.
I just felt like telling you that. This isn't the story. The story is when I got home from Youth Conference.
So. I came home from about a four hour drive back home and walked inside with my friend to find...a fish tank. Four goldfish were swimming around while my parents were sitting on the couch watching Harry Potter.
"A fish tank? What happened while I was gone?"
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: My dad has always said that we were never having pets. So coming home to a fish tank was...shocking.
My parents exchanged looks.
"Well..."
It goes like this. While I was gone, my city puts on this annual festival with carnival rides and food and a movie. My familia went to the festival and my little sister won a goldfish. My parents took it home and let it free in a vase so they could go buy a fishbowl. They didn't even buy the fishbowl before the fish went belly-up and was dead.
They buried it in the backyard by some roses because my other sister said that the Indians put dead fish by plants to make them healthy. So they figured to put the dead fish to use.
My little sister was slightly heart-broken about the whole fish-dying-thing, so my parents figured that they would buy a fish for each of us, as well as a tank.
Fast forward to this morning:
I woke up ecstatic that it was my birthday and hopped into my parents' room to wish my dad a happy father's day. When I went downstairs, I saw my mom sitting on a chair watching the fish tank.
"Uh, hi, Mom."
"Two of the fish are missing."
"I--what?"
I looked in the tank, and sure enough, all I saw was my fish and my little sisters fish swimming around. The other two were gone.
"Did they die and you just threw them away?"
"No. They were gone when I came downstairs."
"Maybe they pulled a 'Finding Nemo' and they're in the filter," I said.
Suddenly, my sister Emma came downstairs and skipped over to the fish tank and looked inside.
"Here it comes," I muttered.
"Where's my fish? Mom? Did it die?"
"Uh...we don't know."
My other sister, Laney, came down and looked inside.
"There's my fish!"
Emma gave her a dirty look.
"Go get your dad," my mom said.
Soon, my dad came downstairs and opened the fish tank and the filter.
"They're not in there."
We were thoroughly confused. The fish couldn't have just gotten up and walked away.
"Let me look more closely."
He pulled out the filter, and suddenly two fish fell out of the tube where the water gets sucked up in.
Except...
"Ew!" I gasped.
Emma's fish made it out...okay. It was slightly bent at the torso and it's eye was all mangled. Eric's, on the other hand, was literally squished up into a ball. It's tail was missing and it's body was rolled up. It flew out of the tube and bobbed to the surface, it's creepy fish face barely visible.
"Okay. Who's going to break the news to Eric?"
Fast forward to this afternoon:
After having another funeral for what used to be a fish, which was buried next to the other one, we found out that my dad set up the filter wrong, and that's how they were able to be sucked up. We fixed it and got ready for church.
When we got home from church, I went upstairs and changed.
Suddenly, I heard my mom groan.
"Oh, no...."
I popped my head over the stairs.
"Did another fish die?"
"Uh, yeah. Yours."
I ran downstairs and saw it. It's tail had somehow gotten stuck onto the filter, and was being sucked against it, clearly dead.
"Death-by-filter strikes again," I said.
"No, wait!" my mom said. "Maybe it's just waiting for us to get it out. Then it will be just fine like Emma's was."
"Mom, I'm sorry. He's gone," I said.
"But--"
"He's passed on, Mom."
"No, I'm sorry! And on your birthday!"
And now we've held another funeral. Three fish buried by roses. Two fish left. I can't help but think how long these will last, now.
But, maybe, someday, we'll see them all again.
Jun 7, 2012
May 27, 2012
Rings
It is official. I've finally fallen in love.
Who's the lucky (or not so lucky) guy, you might ask?
Samwise Gamgee. Or just Sam. You may know him as that.
This fella is the nicest, sweetest, kindest Hobbit to ever walk earth.
Er, Middle-earth.
So, finals were this week, and now school is over. Senior year, here I come. You ain't seen nothing yet. I was so mentally exhausted, and physically, too (three hour dance practices do that to you), that when I got home from my last day of school (and dance), I trudged upstairs, changed into sweats and locked myself in my parents room with all the lights off.
I then popped in Lord of the Rings in the DVD player. It was the extended version. I snuggled under the covers and watched the Fellowship of the Ring.
Now, even though I have been in the possession of all the extended versions of all the Lord of the Rings movies, I'd never actually, heh, seen...them..
BLASPHEMY! some of you may cry, shoving your pointed fingers into my face.
Yeah, well, I hadn't, and I felt like it was a good time to start. I'd seen bits and pieces of the movies when my brother was going through his LoTR binge, but I'd never stayed to watch the entire movies.
It was gooood...
I could not stop watching them. Once I was finished, I started the Two Towers and fell asleep on my parents bed. Yesterday, I finished the movie and watched all of the Return of the King.
I am in love. Not just with Sam, even though I am (he made me cry!), and maybe Pippin, too, I freaking love the series. I got up this morning and went straight to the family bookcase and pulled out the trilogy in book form. 1000 pages of Frodo Baggins and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli. GAH.
Once I finish that, I seriously can not wait until the Hobbit comes out in December. I. Can't. Wait.
Now, excuse me while I go watch all of the bonus features and drool over Sean Astin.
Who's the lucky (or not so lucky) guy, you might ask?
Samwise Gamgee. Or just Sam. You may know him as that.
This fella is the nicest, sweetest, kindest Hobbit to ever walk earth.
Er, Middle-earth.
So, finals were this week, and now school is over. Senior year, here I come. You ain't seen nothing yet. I was so mentally exhausted, and physically, too (three hour dance practices do that to you), that when I got home from my last day of school (and dance), I trudged upstairs, changed into sweats and locked myself in my parents room with all the lights off.
I then popped in Lord of the Rings in the DVD player. It was the extended version. I snuggled under the covers and watched the Fellowship of the Ring.
Now, even though I have been in the possession of all the extended versions of all the Lord of the Rings movies, I'd never actually, heh, seen...them..
BLASPHEMY! some of you may cry, shoving your pointed fingers into my face.
Yeah, well, I hadn't, and I felt like it was a good time to start. I'd seen bits and pieces of the movies when my brother was going through his LoTR binge, but I'd never stayed to watch the entire movies.
It was gooood...
I could not stop watching them. Once I was finished, I started the Two Towers and fell asleep on my parents bed. Yesterday, I finished the movie and watched all of the Return of the King.
I am in love. Not just with Sam, even though I am (he made me cry!), and maybe Pippin, too, I freaking love the series. I got up this morning and went straight to the family bookcase and pulled out the trilogy in book form. 1000 pages of Frodo Baggins and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli. GAH.
Once I finish that, I seriously can not wait until the Hobbit comes out in December. I. Can't. Wait.
Now, excuse me while I go watch all of the bonus features and drool over Sean Astin.
May 21, 2012
Cricket
So.
I have a story for you.
It's incredible how much your day can change based on one small, little thing. That inconvenient thing that you wouldn't give a second thought suddenly becomes convenient by one small action.
Now, I must say that I am a 'responsible' sleeper. I tend to go to bed at around 9:30 or 10:00 every night and wake up at 6:30 on weekdays, 8:00 on weekends. I keep it consistent, and when I don't get those certain hours of sleep, I don't necessarily function right.
I never go to bed in the wee hours of the morning. I get my homework done before bed and go to sleep at the normal time. I get eight hours of sleep and life is good.
Yay.
I am also a medium sleeper. Not light, not heavy, just in between. When I hear something normal (air conditioning, the wash, wind, rain, etc.) I can sleep. Huzzah for white noise! But, when something is...off, I'm awake almost instantly.
Unfortunately, my fate of sleep was in someone else's hands. Er...claws. And hands, I guess. That comes later.
I go to bed at the normal time after reading a book like I always do. Keeping it consistent. Tucking in, switching off my light-up bed (yes, I have a light-up bed) and making sure my door is open, I roll on my stomach and fall asleep.
Approximately 3:06 AM, I snap into reality.
Chirping. I hear...chirping. In my room. Coming from my closet. Which I left open. That is now chirping. Annoyingly loud.
First I thought I was dreaming. After blinking a couple times, realizing that I am, in fact, awake, I think I'm getting pranked. Someone put a little sound player in my closet and it was set to go off at this time.
Then I finally get it in my head that I am not getting pranked, and I am not dreaming.
A cricket. In my closet. Chirping. Loudly. At 3:06 AM.
A cricket.
A cricket.
A CRICKET!!
A CRICKET. IN MY CLOSET. CHIRPING. LOUDLY. AT 3:06 AM.
Forgive me for using this overly-used expression, but I mean it in a different way.
It was unreal.
Not unreal like, "Aw, man! That roller coaster was unreal!"
I mean unreal as in this should never happen to anyone. Ever.
Un. Real.
I angrily got out of bed, first smacking my closet door to get the stupid bug to shut up, and then stormed into my parents room.
"Dad...there's a cricket...in my room."
He stirred, and then sat up. "It's in your room now?!"
Apparently, this cricket started in my parents room, but then immigrated illegally into my room. Where it started chirping. Loudly. At 3:06 AM.
He got out of bed and went into my room. I followed him, hitting the lightswitch and flinging open my closet door. The chirping was coming loudly from inside.
We spent an hour--an hour--trying to find this cursed bug. My mom then came inside my room and pulled me aside while my dad was flinging the contents of my closet all around my room.
She looked at me worriedly.
"I've debating whether or not I should tell you, but I'm afraid if I don't, you'll cry."
Fear shot through me. "What...?"
She rocked back and forth on her heels. "Well...you made it into Chamber Choir.."
[for those of you who don't know, it's the elite senior choir at my school. really hard to get in.]
"Uh huh..."
"Well, some-of-the-chamber-kids-are-coming-by-to-kidnap-you-and-take-you-to-IHOP-for-breakfast-at-four-thirty-with-the-rest-of-the-choir," she said really fast.
"You--why are you telling me?"
"I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't get another who knows how long amount of sleep before they come by to get you. I didn't want you to get upset..."
She looked at me pleadingly, and then her face fell. "I shouldn't have told you."
I'll admit, I was pretty upset. I had seriously confided in one of my chamber friends who's in it this year that I've always wanted to have a surprise birthday party or to get kidnapped for breakfast about a week ago, and I just found out that it was going to happen to me today. And my mom ruined it for me.
And I love surprises.
But, I knew she had my best interests at heart.
"It's okay..." I mumbled.
"I'm sorry!" she said sadly, and then gave me a hug. "Sierra [girl in chamber] is going to kill me!"
"I'll just fake being surprised. Don't worry," I told her.
I turned and went back into my room.
We finally found the stupid bug in one of my dress sleeves. We took it downstairs into the garage and I had half-an-hour until they were going to come by and get me.
I stayed awake the whole time, just staring at my ceiling, waiting. I rolled over and feigned sleep when I heard a car door slam outside my house. About two minutes later, a flashlight was shined in my face and Sierra and two other girls were bouncing on my bed to wake me up.
And I pretended to be groggy and surprised.
I realized that they had to pick their way to my bed so they could wake me up, because of the destruction of my closet that we had made trying to find the stupid cricket.
"There was a cricket in my room," I said stupidly.
They laughed and passed it off for sleepiness, when I really was wide awake, and they took me out to their car where we went to IHOP.
I was exhausted. I had to go straight to school after that, and I've been awake for over 13 hours now.
I am going to wipe out the entire worlds population of crickets by the end of the day.
And that is the story of how a minuscule cricket ruined my day at 3 in the morning.
But I'm not bitter or anything.
I have a story for you.
It's incredible how much your day can change based on one small, little thing. That inconvenient thing that you wouldn't give a second thought suddenly becomes convenient by one small action.
Now, I must say that I am a 'responsible' sleeper. I tend to go to bed at around 9:30 or 10:00 every night and wake up at 6:30 on weekdays, 8:00 on weekends. I keep it consistent, and when I don't get those certain hours of sleep, I don't necessarily function right.
I never go to bed in the wee hours of the morning. I get my homework done before bed and go to sleep at the normal time. I get eight hours of sleep and life is good.
Yay.
I am also a medium sleeper. Not light, not heavy, just in between. When I hear something normal (air conditioning, the wash, wind, rain, etc.) I can sleep. Huzzah for white noise! But, when something is...off, I'm awake almost instantly.
Unfortunately, my fate of sleep was in someone else's hands. Er...claws. And hands, I guess. That comes later.
I go to bed at the normal time after reading a book like I always do. Keeping it consistent. Tucking in, switching off my light-up bed (yes, I have a light-up bed) and making sure my door is open, I roll on my stomach and fall asleep.
Approximately 3:06 AM, I snap into reality.
Chirping. I hear...chirping. In my room. Coming from my closet. Which I left open. That is now chirping. Annoyingly loud.
First I thought I was dreaming. After blinking a couple times, realizing that I am, in fact, awake, I think I'm getting pranked. Someone put a little sound player in my closet and it was set to go off at this time.
Then I finally get it in my head that I am not getting pranked, and I am not dreaming.
A cricket. In my closet. Chirping. Loudly. At 3:06 AM.
A cricket.
A cricket.
A CRICKET!!
A CRICKET. IN MY CLOSET. CHIRPING. LOUDLY. AT 3:06 AM.
Forgive me for using this overly-used expression, but I mean it in a different way.
It was unreal.
Not unreal like, "Aw, man! That roller coaster was unreal!"
I mean unreal as in this should never happen to anyone. Ever.
Un. Real.
I angrily got out of bed, first smacking my closet door to get the stupid bug to shut up, and then stormed into my parents room.
"Dad...there's a cricket...in my room."
He stirred, and then sat up. "It's in your room now?!"
Apparently, this cricket started in my parents room, but then immigrated illegally into my room. Where it started chirping. Loudly. At 3:06 AM.
He got out of bed and went into my room. I followed him, hitting the lightswitch and flinging open my closet door. The chirping was coming loudly from inside.
We spent an hour--an hour--trying to find this cursed bug. My mom then came inside my room and pulled me aside while my dad was flinging the contents of my closet all around my room.
She looked at me worriedly.
"I've debating whether or not I should tell you, but I'm afraid if I don't, you'll cry."
Fear shot through me. "What...?"
She rocked back and forth on her heels. "Well...you made it into Chamber Choir.."
[for those of you who don't know, it's the elite senior choir at my school. really hard to get in.]
"Uh huh..."
"Well, some-of-the-chamber-kids-are-coming-by-to-kidnap-you-and-take-you-to-IHOP-for-breakfast-at-four-thirty-with-the-rest-of-the-choir," she said really fast.
"You--why are you telling me?"
"I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't get another who knows how long amount of sleep before they come by to get you. I didn't want you to get upset..."
She looked at me pleadingly, and then her face fell. "I shouldn't have told you."
I'll admit, I was pretty upset. I had seriously confided in one of my chamber friends who's in it this year that I've always wanted to have a surprise birthday party or to get kidnapped for breakfast about a week ago, and I just found out that it was going to happen to me today. And my mom ruined it for me.
And I love surprises.
But, I knew she had my best interests at heart.
"It's okay..." I mumbled.
"I'm sorry!" she said sadly, and then gave me a hug. "Sierra [girl in chamber] is going to kill me!"
"I'll just fake being surprised. Don't worry," I told her.
I turned and went back into my room.
We finally found the stupid bug in one of my dress sleeves. We took it downstairs into the garage and I had half-an-hour until they were going to come by and get me.
I stayed awake the whole time, just staring at my ceiling, waiting. I rolled over and feigned sleep when I heard a car door slam outside my house. About two minutes later, a flashlight was shined in my face and Sierra and two other girls were bouncing on my bed to wake me up.
And I pretended to be groggy and surprised.
I realized that they had to pick their way to my bed so they could wake me up, because of the destruction of my closet that we had made trying to find the stupid cricket.
"There was a cricket in my room," I said stupidly.
They laughed and passed it off for sleepiness, when I really was wide awake, and they took me out to their car where we went to IHOP.
I was exhausted. I had to go straight to school after that, and I've been awake for over 13 hours now.
I am going to wipe out the entire worlds population of crickets by the end of the day.
And that is the story of how a minuscule cricket ruined my day at 3 in the morning.
But I'm not bitter or anything.
May 17, 2012
Irresponsible
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| Add caption |
I think so. I took it.
I don't know why I decided to put it on here. I'm in a weird mood right now.
I just had a three hour ballet class, and I am exhausted. Probably the reason for the weird mood. We've been working our dance performance and cleaning it up, and if I have to do one more sissone, I will..murder...gah.
[If you don't know what a sissone is, just look it up on Youtube]
I'm acting very irresponsible right now. I have a French final exam tomorrow, and I'm not studying. I'm typing this. I've listened to Violet Hill (Coldplay) about 34 times now. I can't stop listening.
I've gone through a can of Dr. Pepper today. It was delicious. It's my favorite soda, you know.
Question: Do any of you like boys that you can't "like"? Do you get what I mean? It's so annoying.
This guy enjoys playing girls. He's such a flirt, and he's really good at it. He came after me, and I guess we've lost the awkward phase of avoiding each other in the hallways after the whole 'thing'. We've become friendly again, and I still *kinda* like him.
Why?!
I also found out he lives very near my grandparents. Double the weird factor.
I swear I was not stalking him. My grandma just said that she's seen him around, and she was wondering if it was the same guy on Facebook blah blah blah.
We were NOT bf/gf. We were friendly on Choir Tour. This is the guy I was talking about. My CTR? Yep, he's the one.
Violet Hill just ended. I think I'll play it again.
May 15, 2012
Redone
Whoa! What's this?
That's right, my imaginary friends. A new layout for you to enjoy.
I don't know, I just felt like my blog had stayed the same for a really long time, and I needed a bit of change. And changed it has become.
[Side note: Those of you from FanFiction, welcome! I hope you decide to stay for a while. I mean, you don't have to, but it would be nice...heh]
Yay! I've also been able to fix my share buttons down on the below. So, share this blog with your friends on Facebook, Google+, or just the handy dandy email.
I think I've done pretty well updating this blog recently. Not leaving it untouched for six months to a year at a time. I've become more responsible. Yup.
Okay, I'm really sorry that I was totally begging you to share my blog with your friends. It really bothers me when people do that, and I've just sank down to their level. Gah, just shoot me now.
Maybe I should do a list. I know! A favorites list. I haven't done one of those in a while.
- Favorite color? Orange.
- Favorite candy? Snickers or Peanut M&Ms
- Favorite state? California
- Favorite song? Bloom--Paper Kites, Violet Hill--Coldplay
- Ice cream? Making my own at Coldstone
- Food? Steak and Mashed Potatoes w/ graaavvyyy
- Store? Old Navy
- Book? Get back to me on that one.
- Author? J.K. Rowling
Eh, I'm done.
OKAY BYE.
May 3, 2012
Post
You know, I seem to be coming to this blog blindly.
I'm sure that there are many of you out there who think and plan their posts meticulously, leaving no sentence or word forgotten. Making sure that everything is to the point, with the right amount of humor, seriousness, and poetic thought.
I read a lot of blogs that are like poetry.
Maybe you have a theme. Wednesday is a new recipe, while Friday is a new list of your favorite things to keep you thinking positively. Monday focuses on one thing that made you happy that day, because you hate Mondays.
I, on the other hand, come into this blog blindly.
Posting is random, my posts are random, and I don't have themes. I don't think about what I'm going to say. I just write down what comes to mind. There is no strict schedule that I follow. I don't post recipes on Wednesday, lists on Friday, and one thing that made me happy on Monday.
I just post.
When I go back on my posts, I think about what I said. It's mostly just random crap that I have to sort through, and even then, I don't even know what I was trying to say half the time. I just write. Write write write write write. My fingers move by themselves, and I go on the spur of the moment.
I don't know where I get my ideas.
My brain just throws out things to say and my fingers willingly type them on this random blog. My brain controls my fingers, and my heart controls my brain. And now the theme of passion and love has forced its way into this blog post. Great.
I...
I think I'm going to end this post now.
PS. That blog post was, I guess, slightly poetic. I promise I didn't plan every word meticulously, making sure I left no detail behind.
It just happened.
I'm sure that there are many of you out there who think and plan their posts meticulously, leaving no sentence or word forgotten. Making sure that everything is to the point, with the right amount of humor, seriousness, and poetic thought.
I read a lot of blogs that are like poetry.
Maybe you have a theme. Wednesday is a new recipe, while Friday is a new list of your favorite things to keep you thinking positively. Monday focuses on one thing that made you happy that day, because you hate Mondays.
I, on the other hand, come into this blog blindly.
Posting is random, my posts are random, and I don't have themes. I don't think about what I'm going to say. I just write down what comes to mind. There is no strict schedule that I follow. I don't post recipes on Wednesday, lists on Friday, and one thing that made me happy on Monday.
I just post.
When I go back on my posts, I think about what I said. It's mostly just random crap that I have to sort through, and even then, I don't even know what I was trying to say half the time. I just write. Write write write write write. My fingers move by themselves, and I go on the spur of the moment.
I don't know where I get my ideas.
My brain just throws out things to say and my fingers willingly type them on this random blog. My brain controls my fingers, and my heart controls my brain. And now the theme of passion and love has forced its way into this blog post. Great.
I...
I think I'm going to end this post now.
PS. That blog post was, I guess, slightly poetic. I promise I didn't plan every word meticulously, making sure I left no detail behind.
It just happened.
Apr 27, 2012
Tour
 |
| TOWER OF TERROR |
I think I could have gone insane on that bus *twitch*.
14 hours filled with 56 people jammed on a bus of screaming, giggling, and snoring people is not something I would ever like to repeat.
(There were about four buses? So roughly about 200 kids on choir tour.)
ESPECIALLY when they are shouting songs on the radio at the top of their lungs.
The air conditioning on the bus wasn't the best, so the nights were horribly hot and stuffy.
ESPECIALLY when the person you're sitting next to refuses to take off their sweatshirt and their massive quilt while you are in a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, causing their body heat to swirl around and stick to you like nobody's business. That gets really uncomfortable. But, I'm not saying I'm speaking from experience or anything. I could just be making this up.
It was incredible. I ran around with my friends in the Happiest Place on Earth, part of the Happiest Choir on Earth. (It says so on our t-shirts). Me, being originally from California, returning to my hometown was like a breath of fresh air. Seeing the palm trees, the tiled roofs of houses, and smelling the beach was like stepping into heaven.
I'd forgotten about how many palm trees there are in California. It was amazing. The landscape was familiar, the weather was familiar. Heck, even the freeways were familiar. Just seeing those small blue signs with CALL BOX on it in all caps and the small yellow phone attached to the pole was incredible. I never thought I would see one again.
The overcast days? I could worship them. The smell of salt in the air? Could live off of it. Hearing the waves on the beach and feeling the sand between my toes? Don't even get me started.
And then there was Disneyland. When I was little, my family had season passes for Disneyland. I would get checked out of school so my family could spend the day at Disneyland. Walking down those asphalt streets and seeing the small shops on Main Street, USA was...I don't even know how to describe it. Riding the rides, and visiting the small ice cream shops that I had gone to when I was a little kid. Amazing.
IT WAS ALL JUST AMAZING. AAAHHHH.
Also, another little quirk to choir tour is something known as CTRs. I'm not speaking of 'Choose the Right'. I'm talking about 'Choir Tour Romance'.
You see, when you are running around California for five days with boys (or girls--depending on what gender you are), emotions are running high. They are at their peak. There's no stopping them. Did I mention that there really isn't that much overbearing supervision on this trip? (that sounds really bad, but they just think we're semi-responsible enough to take care of ourselves)
Basically they are the greatest thing ever, and they hardly ever last. Just for five days. Woo. (if you're lucky)
I may or may not be speaking from experience. I could just be making this up.
To sum up choir tour in a nutshell, it was a jam-packed, thrill-riding, sun-soaking, love-finding, tiring, exhausting, inner-clock-whacking, fun, insane, incredible, nostalgic, reminiscent ball of fun.
Scratch that. I would definitely take that bus ride again.
Apr 17, 2012
Kidding
Okay, I gave up on the grammar thing. If you want to see some good (and hilarious) posts about grammar, just head on over to the Oatmeal, a wonderful website with original pictures!
(WARNING: People who go to the website put themselves at risk of swearing and profanity)
I hope all y'all had a great spring break. I did absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
I stayed at home, reread the Percy Jackson series (and the Lost Hero and Son of Neptune) in about two / three days, acted like a vegetable in front of the computer and television, and played Temple Run. A lot.
Ah...Temple Run.
Typical thoughts running through my head while playing the game:
Okay, run run run. Jump. Slide. Left left left. Ah! Right or left?! RIGHT. Oh, okay, phew. Hey, I wonder what time it is...AH! That was close. I almost got decapitated! I--wait, why is my phone jumpy? It won't register! The game is jumpy! I'm going to DIE...AH--dang, I fell.
...
AGAIN!
It hasn't become a full blown obsession yet, thank goodness. In my church class the other day, we had a Temple Run competition to see who could stay alive the longest. (I did not participate, however, because it hadn't come out for Android yet) One girl in my class lasted, I swear, for about ten minutes. My teacher instantly regretted setting up the competition.
Honestly, I'm not even that good. Haven't even cracked a million.
WHAT?! Lizzy, you failure! My high score is 136,574,924! Beat that!
Okay, dude. Let's get real. This guy is never going to leave the temple. Ever. It's an endless labyrinth of fire and gaps. And the guy never learns his lesson. He keeps taking the freaking idol! What an idiot...
What is it that makes this game so enticing? The thrill of adventure? The near death experiences? The 90 degree hairpin turns that keep you on the edge of your seat? A rerun of Indiana Jones? (minus that fact that Indiana here actually makes it out alive)
Thumb exercises?
I've noticed that I'm acting very hypocritical here. I talk about playing it a ton during Spring Break, and then several sentences down I'm complaining about how stupid it is.
I don't really have an explanation for it. All I know is that when I'm leaving for choir tour, my battery is going to be on the down low from the playing of the Temple Run.
Again, it's not an obsession. Yet.
(WARNING: People who go to the website put themselves at risk of swearing and profanity)
I hope all y'all had a great spring break. I did absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
I stayed at home, reread the Percy Jackson series (and the Lost Hero and Son of Neptune) in about two / three days, acted like a vegetable in front of the computer and television, and played Temple Run. A lot.
Ah...Temple Run.
Typical thoughts running through my head while playing the game:
Okay, run run run. Jump. Slide. Left left left. Ah! Right or left?! RIGHT. Oh, okay, phew. Hey, I wonder what time it is...AH! That was close. I almost got decapitated! I--wait, why is my phone jumpy? It won't register! The game is jumpy! I'm going to DIE...AH--dang, I fell.
...
AGAIN!
It hasn't become a full blown obsession yet, thank goodness. In my church class the other day, we had a Temple Run competition to see who could stay alive the longest. (I did not participate, however, because it hadn't come out for Android yet) One girl in my class lasted, I swear, for about ten minutes. My teacher instantly regretted setting up the competition.
Honestly, I'm not even that good. Haven't even cracked a million.
WHAT?! Lizzy, you failure! My high score is 136,574,924! Beat that!
Okay, dude. Let's get real. This guy is never going to leave the temple. Ever. It's an endless labyrinth of fire and gaps. And the guy never learns his lesson. He keeps taking the freaking idol! What an idiot...
What is it that makes this game so enticing? The thrill of adventure? The near death experiences? The 90 degree hairpin turns that keep you on the edge of your seat? A rerun of Indiana Jones? (minus that fact that Indiana here actually makes it out alive)
Thumb exercises?
I've noticed that I'm acting very hypocritical here. I talk about playing it a ton during Spring Break, and then several sentences down I'm complaining about how stupid it is.
I don't really have an explanation for it. All I know is that when I'm leaving for choir tour, my battery is going to be on the down low from the playing of the Temple Run.
Again, it's not an obsession. Yet.
Mar 21, 2012
Mainstream
Maybe I should put a sticky-note by my computer to remind me to post on this thing so then every time I get on the interwebs, it will be there for me to see and then I post unless I ignore it and then I would never get anything done.
Worst run on sentence ever.
Actually, I have seen worse...
You know, I am having problems with this whole 'mainstream' thing that's taken a hold of my system. I feel like I am stuck in the current of the "Valley-Girl" (I don't know if that completely suffices the subject I will be talking about), or, another way I like to put it, "Utah-Mominism" (see what I did there? Mom and Mormonism put together. Booyah)
What is this thing that you are talking about, Lizzy? you might ask. What on earth do you mean?
Well, allow me to answer, inquisitive imaginary reader.
Let's say you live in, hmm, I don't know, Happy Valley Utah, where all the moms dress like teenagers with cardigans and colored/patterned tights and adorned with big-jeweled necklaces and bracelets. (No offense to those of you whose moms are like this...) And, to add on to this scenario, the moms are into, you guessed it, photography.
(Yes, I did have a small-ish paragraph about that in my last post. Feel free to czech it out)
I'm not saying that photography is bad at all. I love photography--like every other female in this county--but I SWEAR I did not join it because every. other. female. did.
A;pdfiahenkqo34eyfaghadfkqw[2poguaf'sdofjasdgyi59gljas[dfihqep48!!!!!!!!!
I started WAY before I even lived in this Happy Valley. Meh.
Okay, stepping off of my photography soapbox now. Let's move on to something more irritating.
Boutiques. Those wretched things...
YOU CAN NOT DRIVE TWO BLOCKS DOWN THE ROAD WITHOUT SEEING A BOUTIQUE / ADVERTISEMENT FOR ONE.
If you have ever never seen a boutique after two blocks, I envy you. Tell me where this road is immediately.
Why is it that these ladies feel the urge to be completely the same? Always. They all like frilly vintage chic things. Many houses in my neighborhood are all decorated completely the same on the inside. They get all their decor from the same stores, I swear. Maybe Tai-Pan Trading or something. (My mom likes that store, but our house isn't that outlandish)
Okay, now I'm done with that little vent.
Tune in next time for a new vent by Lizzy: Grammar (focused mainly on when people get words mixed up i.e. your/you're, their/they're/there, angle/angel and stuff like that)
Worst run on sentence ever.
Actually, I have seen worse...
You know, I am having problems with this whole 'mainstream' thing that's taken a hold of my system. I feel like I am stuck in the current of the "Valley-Girl" (I don't know if that completely suffices the subject I will be talking about), or, another way I like to put it, "Utah-Mominism" (see what I did there? Mom and Mormonism put together. Booyah)
What is this thing that you are talking about, Lizzy? you might ask. What on earth do you mean?
Well, allow me to answer, inquisitive imaginary reader.
Let's say you live in, hmm, I don't know, Happy Valley Utah, where all the moms dress like teenagers with cardigans and colored/patterned tights and adorned with big-jeweled necklaces and bracelets. (No offense to those of you whose moms are like this...) And, to add on to this scenario, the moms are into, you guessed it, photography.
(Yes, I did have a small-ish paragraph about that in my last post. Feel free to czech it out)
I'm not saying that photography is bad at all. I love photography--like every other female in this county--but I SWEAR I did not join it because every. other. female. did.
A;pdfiahenkqo34eyfaghadfkqw[2poguaf'sdofjasdgyi59gljas[dfihqep48!!!!!!!!!
I started WAY before I even lived in this Happy Valley. Meh.
Okay, stepping off of my photography soapbox now. Let's move on to something more irritating.
Boutiques. Those wretched things...
YOU CAN NOT DRIVE TWO BLOCKS DOWN THE ROAD WITHOUT SEEING A BOUTIQUE / ADVERTISEMENT FOR ONE.
If you have ever never seen a boutique after two blocks, I envy you. Tell me where this road is immediately.
Why is it that these ladies feel the urge to be completely the same? Always. They all like frilly vintage chic things. Many houses in my neighborhood are all decorated completely the same on the inside. They get all their decor from the same stores, I swear. Maybe Tai-Pan Trading or something. (My mom likes that store, but our house isn't that outlandish)
Okay, now I'm done with that little vent.
Tune in next time for a new vent by Lizzy: Grammar (focused mainly on when people get words mixed up i.e. your/you're, their/they're/there, angle/angel and stuff like that)
Feb 9, 2012
Future
Hello all.
I just recently had my junior SEOPs with my counselor at school. And while my counselor was talking to me, I realized that I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with my life after I graduate high school. When she asked me what three colleges I would like to go to, I had no idea. I just blurted out the first colleges that popped in my head.
"Uh...UVU-Snow-Dixie."
My counselor nodded and typed them into her computer and my mom gave me a surprised look.
"I didn't know you wanted to go to Dixie..." she whispered.
"Ha! Yeah, I didn't either," I whispered back.
She asked me what my interests are. I sat there staring at my hands. What were my interests and what I would like to be when I grew up?
I've been doing soccer for five years. I thought about saying that, but quickly shot that down because I would never make a college team. I'm not on my schools team, let alone a club one. I'm just on a recreational team, and this is my last year I can play. *sad face* I honestly would love to be on a college team, but I'd never really taken soccer that seriously. One of my many regrets.
When I was little, my mom asked me if I ever wanted to play soccer on a team. I was about six or seven. I turned to her with a disgusted face and asked why I ever would want to do such a thing. I was more embarrassed because I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself on the field. If I had made the decision to play, I would be a lot farther ahead in my soccer career, I guess you could say.
I thought then about dance. I've started dance up again. Emphasis on the word again. When I was little, I danced in ballet and jazz for about three years. I quit. Of course I did.
Ugh, why did I quit?! I've regretted that decision every day I'm in dance every week now. My mom even told me I would. And, being the bratty little five year old I was, I ignored her.
I'm in dance at school now, and I'm also on a ballet team at my studio I dance at. I've started up dance again for about a year and a half now. And, to be honest, I'm not the best. Everyone else in my class can do their splits and they're all on pointe. And I'm not. If I hadn't quit ballet when I was little, I would be so much better! That thought is always in the back of my mind. I mean, I'm not bad, or I wouldn't be where I am now, but I could be so much further ahead.
Then I thought about photography. But, for some reason, I was hesitant to say it. It felt so mainstream to say it, actually. I felt like if I said it, I would sound ridiculously stereotypical. I would sound like the 98% of women who live in Utah County that have a photography business with a boutique on the side.
I will defiantly say that I did not join that 98% just because everyone else was doing it. I honestly had a passion for photography, even when I was little. I loved taking pictures. Before I bought my nice, expensive-ish, wonderful camera, I was just using my parents point-and-shoot camera [digital for you non-photography folks].
But, one thing that REALLY bothered me was this girl in my old neighborhood. She was also a photographer, and she was really good. I'm serious about this. She was awesome. But because of her, no one even knew that I liked and took some pretty good photos, too. I was constantly living in her shadow. It was awful. I did this photography book for a project, and when I was displaying it, people were surprised that I even took pictures at all. [This girl also did a photo book project. That pissed me off.] And they were surprised by how good they were. That sounded SO self-centered, but they seriously were. That just annoyed me.
Heh, sorry about that little tangent there.
To make a freaking long story short, I just told her put photography. I just hope I made the right decision.
There are so many opportunities for me out there. College, a job, marriage, a family even. And just knowing how near that is [although I can't compare this to seniors. Jeez, I feel bad for them right now] is so stressful.
Just got to grit my teeth and do it, right?
...
Right?
Oh please, what am I saying? We all know that I'll be living in my parents basement until I'm thirty.
Jan 2, 2012
Photography
Hey. Remember when I said I would link you to my photography website when I was finished? Yep, well, I finished!
You can find it here.
(This also means that my Red Balloon Photography site has been deleted. All of the pictures posted there are going to be on my other site. Yes, I deleted it already. Sorry.)
Dec 24, 2011
Christmas
Ah, Christmas...
A wonderful time of year. Filled with such joy and spirit and change of heart and attitude. [at least for a day]
Do you know what I find interesting? That whenever Christmas comes around, everyone tries to change. They decide to be nicer, friendlier, happier, but once Christmas is over, there is always that depressing feeling after a couple of days, and people lose the feeling to stay cheerful. They become annoyed and grouchy, and then when New Years comes around, they are like, "I want to act like its Christmas every day." and then it fades away into nothing in a few days.
Why do we do this? Why is it that on Christmas everyone acts so good and kind but when it leaves, everyone goes back to how they were before?
One of my favorite examples of Christmas cheer and 'good will toward men' was during World War I. I don't know if all of you have heard the story, or if some of you haven't, but one time on Christmas, while the German, French, and British were fighting against each other, the Germans created a Christmas truce. They held up makeshift banners and signs saying, "YOU NO FIGHT, WE NO FIGHT". German soldiers also put out miniature Christmas trees lit with candles. English and French responded with banners saying, "MERRY CHRISTMAS". They all got out of their trenches and exchanged gifts of tobacco, newspapers, chocolate cake, postcards, etc. Some people even had some soccer balls, and they started playing a game of soccer.
These soldiers were able to look past the feelings of war. They put aside their differences and stopped fighting, at least for a day. I'm sure that some of those soldiers became friends. They ignored the fact that the next day, they would have to resume killing each other. Can you imagine how painful that would be, making friends with your enemies, and having to kill them a day later?
I love the things that Christmas do to us. I love how everyone acts, how happy and joyful everyone is. It's so fun to see that I still have a little sister [maybe two. I don't know how other sister stands] that still strongly believes in Santa Claus. How happy she was when my mom was wrapping presents in the basement, and my dear sister thought that it was Santa and his elves doing it. She wanted to go in the basement so badly, but she knew she wasn't supposed too.
The only thing that I wish that everyone could do is act like Christmas is every day. Not necessarily giving wrapped presents every day [although that would be nice], but just having the attitude of Christmas.
Of course, we can't forget the true meaning of Christmas, as everyone calls it. We must remember what happened long ago. Whether you believe in this or not, I believe that Jesus came down and was born here on earth for us. I always try to keep that in mind whenever my family on Christmas morning are tearing [literally] through the presents.
Anyway, just to wrap things up, I hope you guys have a very merry Christmas!
As John Lennon says: "A very merry Christmas and a happy New Year/ Let's hope it's a good one without any fears."
Dec 8, 2011
Confusion
Okay, so all of the pictures on my blog are deciding to be temperamental. They won't load. I'll fix that soon. [maybe]
I've noticed that I come here to blog when I'm most bored or when I don't have anything to do, or I should be doing homework. I've also noticed that people have little 'quirks' on their blog.
- Heather adds little pictures to her posts via art tablet. Did you like how I linked her name? Yeah, that way you'll actually go to her blog and it'll be great because she's great.
- Taylor makes lists. Lots of them.
Bullets are great. The composition kind. Not the metal kind. And although that list isn't very great (it's jealous of Taylor's), it has two of my favorite bloggers on it. Because they post normally. It seems like on a schedule. Me, I just do it randomly. I really should change that [I say for the 2,375,105 time]
Maybe I should link this blog to Facebook. Show off my writing.
You know, there are a lot of things I wish I did on this blog [or real life]. Let's make another bulleted [spelling?] list, shall we?
- Post daily [or at least on a schedule]. That way it'll turn into a habit, and good habits are good. [Redundancy Dept of Redundancy]
- Post pictures that I take
- Take my camera with me everywhere. [I've been working on that one for a while]
- Draw more in my sketchbook
- Finish [or start] the books that are gathering digital dust on my computer
- Start vlogging? [looks like fun]
- Work on YouTube channel with Alison
- Get all of the songs that my friend [Alison] and I have written and recorded [yes, I record songs. They aren't all good. Low quality equipment, right here]
Well, that was a good list. Not as good as Taylor's, but pretty good.
For photography class, I have to create an online portfolio, so I will let you know as soon as that is up. I won't be doing it here on Blogger. Weebly is where it's at. It's better for photography portfolios. [My site is under construction, but I will have a link for you in a new post when it is completed. Yay, deadlines!]
I've been reading a book. It's good. I haven't finished, but I think it's good so far
[for those of you who are wondering, the book is called Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor]
I think that's enough for today. I honestly will try harder. I have been giving up, lately.
Here's a song for you.
Nov 21, 2011
Blegh
I have officially lived through 11/11/11 at 11:11. I just kinda forgot to post about it.
Let's pretend that it's that date and time right now.
YEAAAHHH! WOOO! WON'T HAPPEN FOR ANOTHER 100 YEARS! AND I WAS ALIVE FOR IT!!!
Well, that was fun. 1o days off isn't too bad, right?
Okay, I know I need to post. I've said it a million times and I'll probably say it a million more. I'm not making anymore promises because I'll probably break them for the umpteenth time. I think what needs to happen is that you cross your fingers and hope for the best.
I have English homework I need to do, but I don't feel like doing it. Blegh.
Let's pretend that it's that date and time right now.
YEAAAHHH! WOOO! WON'T HAPPEN FOR ANOTHER 100 YEARS! AND I WAS ALIVE FOR IT!!!
Well, that was fun. 1o days off isn't too bad, right?
Okay, I know I need to post. I've said it a million times and I'll probably say it a million more. I'm not making anymore promises because I'll probably break them for the umpteenth time. I think what needs to happen is that you cross your fingers and hope for the best.
I have English homework I need to do, but I don't feel like doing it. Blegh.
Oct 20, 2011
[Insert Title Here]
I'm not quite sure what to talk about, but I'm sure I'll come up with something.
I have a dear dear friend who has just had the privilege of living and wreaking havoc on this planet for 17 years.
You know, I've always wondered if, while we are in heaven, if we choose the amount of days we have to live. Is it just a random thing?
How many days do my parents have?
My siblings?
Myself?
One day I took a test to see how long I would live and how I died. I lived to be 72 years old and died by inhaling a tissue while sneezing. Well, if that happens, at least I have a good story to tell the people in the after-life.
I once heard a quote (and I am not going to say this correctly, just to warn you) "Everyone has a limited amount of words. When those words start to run out, we begin to die. Be sure to save good words for your last." or something like that. I actually liked that quote. It makes death a lighter subject.
Almost, though. Not quite.
This reminds me of an experience that I was slightly involved in. Not completely, though.
There was a girl who lived in my neighborhood who got leukemia. She was 12 years old. She died, and she even made the decision to. She was tired of taking treatment, and wanted it to be over. She didn't want to suffer anymore. She told her parents and planned her funeral with them. This girl had such strength and courage, and she was able to stare down death in the face. She was completely brave. She might have been scared about death, but she was brave. You can be brave and scared at the same time. When she was in her pre-mortal state or something, do you think that she knew that she would die at that age, and that she would make the decision as well? Did she choose her death?
I wonder what will happen to me?
This also slightly pertains to people with mental illnesses. Before they came to Earth, did they make the decision to be mentally retarded, or suffer from autism, etc.? Or were they chosen at random, and didn't have a say about it? Did they know at all what would soon happen to them?
These questions are opening up more questions, and my brain is beginning to hurt.
This also opens up to the fact of what might happen to us in the future? What will happen to me in the next five minutes? Hour? 12 hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Will I make it that long?
Fear of the unknown will get us nowhere. Looking back to the past won't move you forward, either.
"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That is why they call it present."
Yes, I did just quote Kung Fu Panda.
I have a dear dear friend who has just had the privilege of living and wreaking havoc on this planet for 17 years.
You know, I've always wondered if, while we are in heaven, if we choose the amount of days we have to live. Is it just a random thing?
How many days do my parents have?
My siblings?
Myself?
One day I took a test to see how long I would live and how I died. I lived to be 72 years old and died by inhaling a tissue while sneezing. Well, if that happens, at least I have a good story to tell the people in the after-life.
I once heard a quote (and I am not going to say this correctly, just to warn you) "Everyone has a limited amount of words. When those words start to run out, we begin to die. Be sure to save good words for your last." or something like that. I actually liked that quote. It makes death a lighter subject.
Almost, though. Not quite.
This reminds me of an experience that I was slightly involved in. Not completely, though.
There was a girl who lived in my neighborhood who got leukemia. She was 12 years old. She died, and she even made the decision to. She was tired of taking treatment, and wanted it to be over. She didn't want to suffer anymore. She told her parents and planned her funeral with them. This girl had such strength and courage, and she was able to stare down death in the face. She was completely brave. She might have been scared about death, but she was brave. You can be brave and scared at the same time. When she was in her pre-mortal state or something, do you think that she knew that she would die at that age, and that she would make the decision as well? Did she choose her death?
I wonder what will happen to me?
This also slightly pertains to people with mental illnesses. Before they came to Earth, did they make the decision to be mentally retarded, or suffer from autism, etc.? Or were they chosen at random, and didn't have a say about it? Did they know at all what would soon happen to them?
These questions are opening up more questions, and my brain is beginning to hurt.
This also opens up to the fact of what might happen to us in the future? What will happen to me in the next five minutes? Hour? 12 hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Will I make it that long?
Fear of the unknown will get us nowhere. Looking back to the past won't move you forward, either.
"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That is why they call it present."
Yes, I did just quote Kung Fu Panda.
Oct 16, 2011
Math
Mom: "Eric, I'm signing you up for the middle school advanced learning test. There's a Math test, English test, or a Science test. It goes from either 7:30 to 11:30, or 12:30 to 4:30."
Eric: "What?! The test lasts for three hours?!"
*awkward pause*
Mom: "Uhh..."
Me: "Well, at least we know you aren't taking the math test..."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I have an early morning choir practice at 6:00 am, Tuesday. Yay.
I just finished playing the Hobbit on the computer. It was fun.
I've decided I will now read the book because of the computer game.
I've noticed I should grow up and stop playing computer games.
I should really finish the 7 books I've started that are gathering virtual dust on my computer.
I love photography, but I dislike my teacher.
I like friendship bracelets, but wearing them bothers me.
I don't really know what I'm going to do with my future life.
I enjoy getting my picture taken.
I wish I never quit dance when I was seven.
I wish I decided to take soccer when my mom offered when I was eight.
I wish I could talk to the opposite species known as boys.
I watch Doctor Who sometimes, even though it scares me.
Eric: "What?! The test lasts for three hours?!"
*awkward pause*
Mom: "Uhh..."
Me: "Well, at least we know you aren't taking the math test..."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I have an early morning choir practice at 6:00 am, Tuesday. Yay.
I just finished playing the Hobbit on the computer. It was fun.
I've decided I will now read the book because of the computer game.
I've noticed I should grow up and stop playing computer games.
I should really finish the 7 books I've started that are gathering virtual dust on my computer.
I love photography, but I dislike my teacher.
I like friendship bracelets, but wearing them bothers me.
I don't really know what I'm going to do with my future life.
I enjoy getting my picture taken.
I wish I never quit dance when I was seven.
I wish I decided to take soccer when my mom offered when I was eight.
I wish I could talk to the opposite species known as boys.
I watch Doctor Who sometimes, even though it scares me.
I get scared easily.
I wish I knew myself better than I think I do.
I procrastinate. (take this blog for example)
I wish I could get things done. (driving)
I want to own a cat or dog when I grow up.
I still like myself even though I have a lot of wishes for myself.
I am known as the 'Grammar Police' among my friends
I write my books based on dreams I've had.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
School is going alright for me. I'm doing go--excuse me, well. Proper grammar, there. I don't really know where that list of things came from. I guess some of the other blogs I read are starting to rub off on me. I am in a weird mood today, and I really wish I could listen to my music. Alas, it is Sunday, and I really shouldn't. But I want to.
I really need to read Cry, the Beloved Country for English tomorrow, but I don't feel like it. But I should do it soon.
Really soon.
There are a lot of things I need to get done soon.
Really soon.
Sigh...
Boys stress me out. Especially a certain one I'm thinking of. I'm stressed out by him, if you couldn't tell.
Yes.
He likes me, I don't. (towards him).
He wants to ask me out on a date...and I don't want to.
Why must I be 16?!
Too much stress and opportunities. I can drive, but I don't have the ability or the privilege because I'm lazy.
I can date. But I'm afraid of it.
Sadie Hawkins freaks me out. I was pressured and pressured, so I resisted and resisted. Secretly, I didn't know anyone I could ask (and I didn't want to go in the first place) because I can't talk the the things we call boys. Well, the ones I want to talk to, anyways.
But I don't want to just be a picture in a yearbook. (Yes, I got that from the movie Lemonade Mouth from Disney Channel)
I want to be known, like my used-to-be best friend.
She's popular.
She can talk to the species we call boys.
She has multiple boys fawning over her.
She is girlfriend to the boy I liked in 9th grade.
I don't even think he really knew me. We just casually chatted.
Then she told him I liked him.
They're dating now.
I guess I'm over it, but it's still a sore spot when I think about her.
Not just about the boy, I mean.
We were close. I have pictures and videos to prove it.
Maybe she thought that I wasn't worth her time anymore.
She had too many friends.
I was pushed aside.
Shoved out and replaced by new ones.
I told her I was done.
She seemed okay with it.
Was I disposable?
I was depressed for days.
We never talk, except for the occasional awkward "Hi" in the hallways.
Awkward for me, anyways.
I don't even know if she cares.
I have new friends.
Maybe even better ones.
But I'm still sad.
I care.
I wish I knew myself better than I think I do.
I procrastinate. (take this blog for example)
I wish I could get things done. (driving)
I want to own a cat or dog when I grow up.
I still like myself even though I have a lot of wishes for myself.
I am known as the 'Grammar Police' among my friends
I write my books based on dreams I've had.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
School is going alright for me. I'm doing go--excuse me, well. Proper grammar, there. I don't really know where that list of things came from. I guess some of the other blogs I read are starting to rub off on me. I am in a weird mood today, and I really wish I could listen to my music. Alas, it is Sunday, and I really shouldn't. But I want to.
I really need to read Cry, the Beloved Country for English tomorrow, but I don't feel like it. But I should do it soon.
Really soon.
There are a lot of things I need to get done soon.
Really soon.
Sigh...
Boys stress me out. Especially a certain one I'm thinking of. I'm stressed out by him, if you couldn't tell.
Yes.
He likes me, I don't. (towards him).
He wants to ask me out on a date...and I don't want to.
Why must I be 16?!
Too much stress and opportunities. I can drive, but I don't have the ability or the privilege because I'm lazy.
I can date. But I'm afraid of it.
Sadie Hawkins freaks me out. I was pressured and pressured, so I resisted and resisted. Secretly, I didn't know anyone I could ask (and I didn't want to go in the first place) because I can't talk the the things we call boys. Well, the ones I want to talk to, anyways.
But I don't want to just be a picture in a yearbook. (Yes, I got that from the movie Lemonade Mouth from Disney Channel)
I want to be known, like my used-to-be best friend.
She's popular.
She can talk to the species we call boys.
She has multiple boys fawning over her.
She is girlfriend to the boy I liked in 9th grade.
I don't even think he really knew me. We just casually chatted.
Then she told him I liked him.
They're dating now.
I guess I'm over it, but it's still a sore spot when I think about her.
Not just about the boy, I mean.
We were close. I have pictures and videos to prove it.
Maybe she thought that I wasn't worth her time anymore.
She had too many friends.
I was pushed aside.
Shoved out and replaced by new ones.
I told her I was done.
She seemed okay with it.
Was I disposable?
I was depressed for days.
We never talk, except for the occasional awkward "Hi" in the hallways.
Awkward for me, anyways.
I don't even know if she cares.
I have new friends.
Maybe even better ones.
But I'm still sad.
I care.
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