Epiphanies -- They're weird.

     So I was in the bath about a week and a half ago-
     Oh. So you're one of those people...
     Those people?
     Yeah. Those people that sit in the tub and think instead of just taking a quick shower and getting on with their lives.
     Oh. Yeah. I'm those people.
     Anyway. I was in the bath about a week and a half ago, and I was just thinking about random things ( I don't even remember what) when all of a sudden, a thought just struck me - I cared.
     Huh? Alright, we're going to a little more back story for that to make any sense. Seriously.
     Alright, let me back up.
     So, if you know me at all, you'll know that I've had a lot of issues with my biological mother and that, over the past year and half or so, I've really been trying to get past all the abuse and resulting baggage I suffered at her hands. There's been several major stages through which I've gone on this journey; some of you have been here for the whole ride and know that it's been pretty crazy. For those of who haven't been here the whole time, I'll explain what those steps were, albeit in a much-abbreviated form.
     The first step started immediately after my dad finally filed for divorce. It was kind of a "realization" stage. It wasn't a "denial" stage that I think a lot of kids go through after a divorce; in fact, I think it was kind of the opposite. It was a stage where I just realized that the constant physical battle of life and death wasn't an issue anymore. I didn't have to turn every corner wandering if there was a fist on the other side of it. I could change the volume on the radio without being thrown against a wall. I could play a game in my living room without someone trying to smother me with a pillow.  I was physically safe. That wasn't a very traumatic transition, just a weird one. But it was definitely a very distinct phase I experienced. This probably lasted a couple of weeks - not very long.
     The next phase went on for a really long time. Like, almost a year. Here's the thing: I was mad. I was hurt and angry and raging and confused and I wanted to make someone pay, mostly Robyn. I wanted answers. And, more than all of that, I wanted an apology. I wanted someone to tell me that it was all their fault, that they made all of this happen, that they screwed up my life, and that they were oh, so sorry. Now, some part of me realized just how unrealistic this was, no matter how justified it might have been. So, after a while, I started trying to cover it up. I acted like I wasn't mad; I was over it. What's done is done, right? Just move on; you can't change the past. Eventually, I almost convinced myself that I was fine. But I wasn't. I was still just as angry and victimized as ever. I couldn't - or wouldn't -- forgive. And that kept me there, trapped. Until I could forgive, I could never move past anything.
     Finally, sometime this summer, something just sort of "clicked." I don't know exactly when or where or why, but at some point, all those things that everyone kept telling me about moving on and just living my life free of all of that pain and hate and grudge-holding. I'm not sure it was really a moment in time; I just realized one day that all that hard work from all of those people who wouldn't let go no matter how miserable helping me was had really paid off. I wasn't mad anymore. I forgave Robyn and my dad and all those other people who didn't see or didn't help. And I didn't need an apology to do it. I forgave them, regardless of whether they asked for it or wanted it. Their acceptance or rejection of my forgiveness was irrelevant; I was free.
     Then I reached what I genuinely thought was the last stage -- that of near apathy. Not a general, depressed apathy -- more like just no caring what happened to Robyn and not wanting a relationship with her. It wasn't that I wanted to avoid a relationship with her; I just didn't actively want one. To be completely honest, I don't there would have been anything wrong with staying here. Just happily not caring about that part of my past and moving on. This stage is what really allowed me to start focusing on myself and my problems. It's what allowed me to make all the progress that I've made with myself and all my baggage  This was a really pivotal stage. It lasted from this summer until just a week or two ago.
     I guess that brings us up the present. Laying in the bath that day, I wasn't even thinking about any of this. I wasn't thinking about anything important. But it just hit me: I cared. I cared about Robyn. Not in a familial way, or even as though she were a friend. In fact, I actually dislike her now. A lot. She's exactly the sort of person I most loath. I can't stand her. She's an angry, bitter, bigoted woman who prizes herself and her opinion above all else. She considers herself to be worth far more than anyone else. She thinks that the world owes her. She's a compulsive liar. She's dirty. She insults people constantly for no reason. She mooches off of everyone, even though she's usually the one with far more income and far less responsibility. She fits every criterion for people with whom I refuse to associate. Those aren't angry things I say to hurt someone; those are just the straight-up facts. But the thing is that, now, even though I recognize all those things, I actually care about her.
     I don't care about her enough to want to be around her very much. I don't want a relationship with her. I'm not even changing my plan to discontinue my "relationship" with her when I turn seventeen. But I do care about her. I care about her just like I care about anyone else. I don't have a close relationship with everyone else, and I don't really care to have a relationship with a lot of people. But I do care about them. I want them to be happy. I try to make interactions with them positive and constructive. And that's how I feel about Robyn now. It hasn't really changed any of my plans. It just shows me how very, very far I've come. And that's pretty cool, in my book.
     So epiphanies. They're weird.

♪♫Stop! Collaborate and Listen:

Ice is back with a brand new invention.♪♫
    
     Well, if you weren't already familiar with it, you've just been acquainted with my penchant for the cheesy and out-dated. This is your final warning: Turn back now.
     Hey guys! So, I'm back. Obviously. But before I can really start any "current" posts, I really need to bring you all up to date, at least a little bit. More will come on all of this later, but I figure I'll do a post over the quick overview.
     The first thing to know is that this blog is going to be a little different now. It's not going to be super themed or change a whole in overall style. I still like this style because it's informal and just a place for my thoughts to flow. But, if you've followed me for a while, you'll start to notice some differences this time around. The biggest and most important part of this difference will be the fact that I've moved past a lot of things in the past several months. Like, a lot.
     For one thing, I'm over the whole Robyn debacle. When I last posted, I was still working through a lot of issues concerning my biological mother, though I had mad a great deal of progress.  Now, I still have baggage, but I can honestly say that I have really, truly, completely, finally moved past any remaining angst or hurt that is in any way directed towards Robyn (more on this in a forthcoming post). Another is that I'm a lot more confident. Don't get me wrong; I still struggle with a lack of confidence and abundance of self-loathing. But it's a lot less now. And, more importantly, I've found some people that are really helping me through it, and I'm learning to cooperate. I don't quite get it yet, but I think I'm getting closer. 
     I guess that sort of brings me to my third point: I've found some really amazing people and things that are really pulling me out of my sixteen-year-funk.  
     What a minute! What about all those people you've talked about before? What are they, chopped liver?
     No, no, no, those people still mean just as much! And most of them are still really a part of this whole process. But I've found some more people too; people that are closer to my age, or just a bit different. Basically, I've found a couple groups of people that really let me be sooo much more "myself" than I ever really thought possible. One group is my Speech/Debate kids. Now, there's a huge rivalry between the two and blah blah blah, but I've never been cool enough to be down with rivalries like that, so I like people from both. Seriously, we have some pretty awesome people.
      The other group is my Sunday School class. They're not really "new" to my life; I mean, they were all around before, but somehow....I don't know. It's different now. I don't know if it's just one of those things that happen, or if it's really just me getting past things. I tend to think it's mostly that I'm really, finally getting over all of this. I'm still completely screwed up, but I'm a heck of a lot closer now. And I'm starting, slowly, to learn that there really are people that accept me. And that's the biggest thing for me -- I'm starting to understand that there are people out there who really do know me and who really aren't scared off by my baggage and damage and problems. I've always known that was true for other people because I've always been that person. But now I'm finally, finally, starting to really understand that that exists for me. Believe me, that's new. And it's pretty awesome.
     If you haven't already figured out, this blog, for the most part, is a pretty personal thing. I just ramble on here and then post it because I like to pretend people want to hear about all my triumphs and woes. It's not a deeply intellectual endeavor or meant to be terribly fascinating; it's just the life of a teenage girl who's been through a lot and has a lot of opinions. That's about it.
     Hey, before you leave, mind answering a question?
     Why, sure! Always! What might you be wondering?
     What's with the random green writing? It's like you're suddenly schizo or something.
     As a matter of fact, I am.
     No but seriously, I talk to myself in real life all the time, and this is just kind of the extension of that. When I get bored in a post or need to say something and can't think of a good way to transition, I just pretend that my imaginary readers actually care about what I'm saying and are commenting on it.
     So, if I haven't scared you away, that's what this blog is going to be like from now on -- a little older, a little wiser, a little brighter, but still just me, rambling on about what makes me tick.

Wow. Been a While.

So, a couple things have happened lately that reminded me that I used to have a sporadic blog and some recent developments of several sorts have made me realize that I actually have things to say.
     So I'm probably going to start doing this again. Because it's fun. But I'm not going to try to come up with something to blog if I really don't have anything, because I think that's why I got tired of it before :P
     So I'm back and I have things to say.

We Were One: A Sixteen Year Old's Look Back at 9/11

Hey, I've already posted a link to this, but it seems appropriate today, so here it is again.

      A six year old girl woke up one Tuesday morning in early fall. She stretched, blinked her eyes, and rolled out of bed.

      Co-op starts today!

      For weeks, she had been waiting for this day -- the day when she would meet new friends and sing in a real live choir and do all sorts of cool crafts and -- oh, who knew what else! She traipsed into her parents’ room in that groggy-yet-happy way that children that age do on the morning of some much-anticipated event.

      Turning into her parents’ room and peering around the bed, the tiny sprite stopped, bewildered and suddenly terrified; her mother sat cross-legged in the floor, the phone lying forgotten by her limp hand. Panicked thoughts shot through the girl’s young mind like bolts of lightning, hot and horrifying.

      Oh no! Who was it this time? Not Papa Carl!

      Mimi’s daughter had died only a week ago and while the girl hadn’t known her well enough to be very sad, finding her mother in the exact same state as that morning so fresh in her mind was terrifying.

      Wait. Why is the TV out?

      The TV was never out unless someone was sick or there was an election or --

      Then, in a moment, like an electric shock, it hit. It wasn’t Papa Carl or Grammy or Daddy. On the grainy television screen, between the intermittent lines of interference that the failing v-hold allowed through, an airplane flew straight into a skyscraper.

      That little girl was me. That airplane was American Airlines Flight 11. And that skyscraper was the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

      While most of you reading this probably recall exactly where you were on that particular Tuesday morning, most of my friends my age actually don’t recall much about it at all. I, however, have a particularly extensive long-term memory, and I remember the events of that fateful morning as though it were yesterday.

      In September of 2001, I was a young home schooled first grader living a moderately happy life. Until only a week ago, I had never known anyone who died. Even Kiera’s death (she was my mother’s much-younger stepsister who lived in Florida) was only vaguely sad, as I didn’t really know her very well and I was only six. The concept of death was so foreign to me; the only thing on my mind that morning was the prospect of meeting new friends that afternoon.

      Some people say that a six year old -- and a sheltered one at that -- couldn’t possibly understand the magnitude of such an occurrence. They’ll tell you that a child’s world is centered around his or her home life and that things outside of that tiny corner of the world are beyond their comprehensive grasp. Maybe that is true for most kids; I don’t know. But I know what I remember. I remember the moment that I saw that airplane crash into the North Tower. I remember the shock of the giant fireball that followed the collision and engulfed the tower. I remember that disbelief of seeing the second plane, United Airlines Flight 175, careen into the South Tower only minutes later. I remember the horror of watching South Tower disappear in a cloud of smoke and debris, almost as though the earth itself had opened her mouth and simply swallowed it. Soon, we heard of two more planes; one that crashed into a big government building called the Pentagon, and one that burned in a field in Pennsylvania. I remember the grief, the terror, the confusion, the denial, the humanity of the newscaster’s painful, deliberate enunciation: “We are under attack.”

      Over the following weeks, hours, days -- even months and years, people would try to explain what happened that morning, to rationalize it, to understand it -- to make it make sense. I would be told that mean men made it happen -- bad men who hated us because we weren’t something called “Muslims.” Some people said it was our fault, that we were taking away all their gas and soon there wouldn’t be any left, and that was why we had to wait in blocks-long lines at the gas station. Later, people started saying that American helped the bad men, placing bombs and starting fires. Still others began saying that the President himself had known all about it the whole time and had just let it happen. For every answered question, there were a hundred more waiting.

      For weeks after the attacks, people were scared. The things I wanted weren’t at the grocery store. We started bottling up water in empty milk jugs and letting them sit in the back room for days before we were allowed to drink it. My parent’s said that it might be poisoned. We kids weren’t allowed to go get the mail any more; my dad said it might have something called anthrax. It was a white powder that could kill you, he said. We couldn’t go to malls or to the movies or anywhere else with lots of people; those could be targets. Fear reigned supreme.

      I’m sixteen now and, looking back, the full picture of the attacks is clear. I know that nineteen members of al-Qaeda, a militant Sunni Islamic organization, hijacked four planes. I know that while three of those planes found their destination, the brave passengers of United Airlines Flight 93 retook control of the fated flight and crashed it into that field outside of Shanksville, PA. I know that the stock exchange closed down until September 17 and that the Dow Jones reopened with a record-shattering 684 point drop. I know that the attacks sent us careening into a full-blown war -- a war over which many would disagree and fight and be divided. I know all the facts and the numbers and the stories.

      But staring at that old television screen, I didn’t know any of those things. No one did. What I knew in that moment as a six year old little girl was just the same as what everyone else knew -- that countless innocent lives had just been senselessly ended in a brutal, vile act of unjustifiable hatred. Nothing else mattered; not the names of the hijackers, not the reasons, not the ramifications, not the dollars, not even the numbers. All of that would come later. For one short instant, before all the questions hit, we -- a six year old girl in Missouri, a cab driver in New York City, a middle-aged man reading a storybook with a class of second graders in Florida -- were all the same. In our pain, we were United.

      Unity: a sense that, despite our differences and disagreements, we are not alone; that, together, we can overcome anything. That’s what I wish had come of this tragedy. But it hasn’t. On a nearly monthly basis, there’s at least one story in the news about some dispute pertaining to Ground Zero or the surrounding area or policies. Now, I’m not naïve; I know the world in which we live. I know there will always be conflict. But the disputes over these issues go far beyond an acceptable level of disagreement and reach a point of pure hostility. I understand that this hostility stems from a place of fear and pain. But that does not justify our actions.

      As the tenth anniversary of that dreadful day approaches, I challenge all of us, myself included, to refrain from being embittered by these events. Sad, horrified, confused, even angry, yes -- but not bitter. Bitterness heals no wounds. Bitterness builds no bridges. So as we remember this dark day, let us remember, let us grieve, let us question; but let us honor the memory of those we mourn. Just as they died together, regardless of race, creed, orientation, or beliefs, let us remember together.

So I made a new iReport account on CNN....

I had one a while back, but it got lost somewhere in cyberspace?

Anyway, here's my first piece. It's really lame and cliche but there was a question on their interface about "Tell us your 9/11 story," so I was like, "eh, why not."
Anyway.
I just thought that I'd let you know.
Feedback, anyone?

*Insert Witty Title Here*

Whoaaaaa
Hey guys! It's been....like....forever.....
Well, a new school year has started and it looks like it's going to be a pretty awesome one. I got a lot of classes I wanted and I really like all of my teachers thus far. I have several classes with friends and I got lunches I wanted. So, that's pretty cool.
     I've also been feeling a lot better lately, both physically and mentally. There's a lot of people that have been asking me questions and needing my help and, in helping them, I've really reminded myself of a lot of things that I should try to remember more often. Hopefully, I'm able to help my friends as much as trying to help them has helped me :P
     I'm not gonna lie, I miss the seniors. A lot. Especially a few of them.
     Right now, I'm dogsitting for my aunts while their in St. Louis and they think I'm doing them a favor XP
     I really have been writing, but a lot of it is just random stuff and what isn't is related to a date/event/anniversary/etc. so they're not things that I can post quite yet? But I am still writing! Plus, when school is in session, I get more ideas on things to write because I do a lot more people watching. So, hopefully, I'll be posting some more soon.
     Also, I'd really love to hear what you all want to hear about! I love writing about current events, political/socio-economic/ethical/etc issues, so drop me a line and I'll try to come up with something :) Lately, I've been writing a good bit about 9/11...Not sure why? I've also been discussing a lot about homosexuality and/or the Jewish v. Christian ideologies, which I find quite fascinating....(in no small part because the friend with whom I am discussing it is a fantastic debater/writer/thinker).
     Anyway, that's what's been up with me :)

♪♫Life Starts Now...♪♫

     ♪♫You've done all the things that could kill you somehow
           And you're so far down.
           But you will survive it somehow
           Because life starts now.♪♫
     Wow, I really haven't been keeping up with this!  Sorry guys.  At first, I was just uninspired, then I was really busy, and then i just completely forgot about it until my cousin reminded me of  it a couple nights ago. 
     Anyway, there's really very little in the way of "events" going on with me.  However, I am making some changes, or at least attempting to do so.  I'll try to explain some of that here.  So, for what it's worth, here it is.
     It sucks being me.  It sucks waking up every morning and knowing that if I just slept the rest of the day, it wouldn't make any difference.  It sucks to not even bother getting dressed most days because I never go anywhere.  It sucks to get dressed and see that clothes that fit a few months ago are now far too tight.  It sucks to cake on layers of make-up to hide as much of myself as I possibly can.  It sucks to know exactly how I'm going to do my hair because I only feel safe in a ponytail.  It sucks to stay inside all day so people won't see me wandering aimlessly alone outside  It sucks to go to church or school or a party and stand alone in the corner because no one knows me.  It sucks to be terrified of even sitting at the same table or on the same couch as anyone else.  It sucks to sit on the sidelines during anything physical because I don't want to see anyone to see me gasping for air or missing a ball that came straight to me.  It sucks to never accomplish anything.  It sucks to be the shy one.  It sucks to pretend.  It sucks to suck.
     I've talked with a few people in my life that say they woke up one day and everything just "clicked."  I, as most people do, always took the position that most people will never have a single, universal moment of clarity.  I still believe that it's rare.  But last Thursday, that's what happened to me.  I literally just woke up and realized that I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I realized that as much as anyone else may or may not want to help me, I am the only one who can really change anything.  I realized that not knowing everything or having baggage is no excuse to roll over and play dead. I realized how much I wished I had taken control all those other times when I said I would. And I realized that if I didn't start now, then in a week or a month or a year, I'll be right back where I am, wishing I had.
     I've obviously known all these things for -- well, basically forever.  People have been telling me this for months.  But I never "got it" until now.
     But now I get it.  I can honestly say with a new and sincere clarity that I get it now. 
     So what does all of this mean? It means that I'm still afraid.  But now, my fears have changed.  Now, I'm more afraid of being alone than alienating someone.  I'm more afraid of being too quiet than of being too loud.  I'm more afraid of leaving the important things unsaid than of saying too much.  I'm more afraid of never trying than I am of failing. I'm more afraid of living a lie than of being rejected.  I'm more afraid of being hidden than of being ugly.  I'm more afraid of missing the fun than playing it safe.  I'm more afraid of never getting anywhere than of running too fast.  I'm more afraid of being unknown than of being a joke. And for possibly the first time in my life, I am more afraid of dying than I am of living.
     That's not to say I am now devoid of my common sense. Believe me, as much as all my "good sense" may truly need to diminish, I'll probably never quite get there. But the fun's in the journey, right?
     Don't be too quick to hail this as a marvelously positive thing.  In all likelihood, this will make me more difficult to deal with than ever. It will ensure that I overstep my bounds on occasion.  It means my shirt may be tight, my volume too high, or my nails too bright.  It means i will make mistakes, that I'll demand respect, and that I'll ask for help.  It means good times and bad, happy and sad.
         But this clarity and -- far more importantly -- this decision means healing.  It means freedom.  It means peace.  And I'm ready for that.

Awesomeness Pending

*hides from angry mob*

     YOU PROMISED US INTEL ON YOU MISSION TRIP!!

     I know; I'm sorry.....

     YOU PROMISED!!

      I know. And I still will. But I have other stuff on my mind at the moment, and I'll probably do some other posts before I actually post my mission trip stuff.

     Wow. Way to lie to us, man.

      It's my blog. I can do what I want. But I would like to know what you all want to hear.  So, give me some ideas! Specific ideas, ideas for features, whatever!

     Oh, well in that case, we wan--

     NOT YOU! The real readers!

     We're not real?

     No- Wait- That's not- GAHHH!

     *follows retreating mob of sobbing imaginary readers*

     

Is That - OMG IT IS! SHE'S BACK!

   *Emerges from the dark recesses of a remote cave near the top of Mt. Everest*
    I apologize for my prolonged absence. I have been extremely busy lately. Had VBS all week, now I'm doing the packing/shopping/planning for my missions trip to East - Yes, I said East - St. Louis. No, I'm not going to die. People have actually asked me such questions. Not Kidding. Oh Generation Y.....

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the mission trip.  Except for the no-internet-for-an-entire-freaking-week aspect of it. BUTTTT.....................
   THIS MEANS A MASSIVE, OVERLY PHILOSOPHICAL BLOGPOST, A NARRATIVE BLOGPOST, A COLLECTION OF AMUSING ANECDOTES BLOGPOSTS, OR A COMPILATION OF ANY OR ALL OF THE ABOVE.

     










I don't really know how all of you feel about that prospect, but I. Am. Psyched. (no pun intended, of course.)


P.S. My Star Trek:TOS Marathon is still very much alive. In case you guys were wondering.

♪♫Big Girls Don't Cry♪♫

     Caution: Monstrously long post dead ahead. Turn back now.
     Last night I finally got the chance to watch this week's The Voice.  One of the the contestants, Lily Elise, sang Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry."  While never a big Fergie fan, I've always been a bit partial, probably because it's something of a mantra for me.  Then, after the performance, one of the judges complimented her performance, saying, "Sometimes vulnerability is the hardest thing to show;" that rang true for me.
     Over the past couple of days, I've really been confronted with the concept of vulnerability.  First, on Tuesday, I went to one of my friend's house.  Nina is a foreign exchange student from Liberia who returns home on Sunday.  While still somewhat guarded around her, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was a bit freer with her by comparison and the subconsciously-acknowledged fact that she would soon be leaving seemed to somehow decrease the "risk" involved in being "real" with her. Then, that evening, I came home, boxed up all my "fun," and dealt with my real life.
     Wednesday, I spent most of the day with Jill, one of my youth leaders.  I pretty much just tagged along on a day in the life of  a stay-at-home mother of toddlers.  As much as I may hate to admit it, kids are great, especially when you need writing material or want to learn about life.  They're open and honest, and possess a unique, simplifying insight into some of life's most complex and important issues. "Out of the mouths of babes," eh?
     Well, that afternoon, Jill and I had a chat and much of it centered around vulnerability and my inability to truly be vulnerable.  The fact is I honestly don't know how to do that.  I wish I did, but I don't.  And I desperately wish someone would teach me.  But I know that it would likesly be nearly as difficult to te teach me as it would be for me to learn.
     On a marginally more positive note, Jill's a pretty cool gal.  She's certainly not an overly-emotional individual, but she cares, and care in a real and concrete way.  And she's pretty good in the Common-Sense-That-You-Really-Don't-Wat-to-Deal-With department.  She's really someone with whom I can be open and honest without having to worry about betrayal and hurt feelings, and that's pretty special.  I also know that even if she gives advice that I don't necessarily like, she's saying it because she's trying to help.  And yes, when I'm honest, she's usually right (Jill, if you're reading this, enjoy it, 'cause it's highly improbable that I'll ever say that to your face :P).
     That evening, I packed away all my feelings and thoughts and questions and headed off to church.  I sat down at a table to peer into the gym and imagine having the courage to make an attempt at socializing.  A little later, another older girl - a bit of a "misfit" herself - comae in and sat down at my table.  We talked a while, and eventually Nina and her friend - another foreign exchange student - arrived and joined us.  As we talked, I (as my nature dictates) began to think a bit philosophically about the situation; Nina and Pollynna - foreign exchange students, Ashley - an infrequent attendee who was socially awkward, Mariah - a junior high girl whose friends were out of town, and myself - an emotionally-damaged, socially-stunted hermit.  Why were we all sitting together? Why could I talk in this setting but no other? Here, it was "safer"to be "real."  Not really real; I don't have a clue as to how to do that.  But with these people, I cold at least speck about something other than a simple fact that might answer a direct question.  None of us were "in," so to speak, so there was less pressure to "measure up." I certainly wasn't "real," but I was definitely less reserved.
     When it was finally time to start the service, we all headed toward the fellowship hall to give Nina a proper send-of. Eventually, most of the people in the room were in tears or quite near it.  Of course, I wasn't one of them; I was dry-eyed and quietly jovial in my little "Island of Misfit Toys."  That doesn't mean I wasn't going to miss my best, if not only, real friend at church; oh no, I was quite upset at the prospect of losing her.  But there was no way I was going to let that show even if I were alone and knew that no one would ever know of such a tiny breach in my defenses. Big girls don't cry. So, I bid adieu to Nina Harris of Liberia and left for home.
     At home, that night, I indulged in a bit of a Star Trek marathon with my brother and father.  Afterward, with my over-compensation for an oncoming slump over the loss of a friend and a bit of lightheartedness due to my indulgence in an open conversation that afternoon, I succumbed to a fit of sheer idiocy with my brother as we mocked some of my sister's less-refined choices in music.  I wasn't "open" or "myself" or anything soppy of that sort, per se, but I was less restrained.
     Yesterday, I slept in and watched some TV with my siblings, but I never let my guard down.  I stayed in control and didn't allow the frivolity that would surely have ensued, had I not been there to prevent it.  Eventually, I grew weary of it all and retreated to my room, where I lost myself in a numbing string of movies and television shows for the balance of the day.  When my father came home, he immediately became enraged over the state of the main living quarters of the house and instantly cast all the blame upon me, as I was the oldest and obviously should be the parent. Rather than explain how I felt about the situation and thereby become vulnerable, I returned his hostile onslaught with a louder, harsher, and more eloquent rebuttal, silencing the opposition and removing myself from the situation.
     I spent the remainder of the night in the same fashion as the afternoon, drowning my feelings in the anesthetizing effect of a constant stream of media.  Even alone, I would never let my guard down; such a thing would be unthinkable and, at this juncture, truly impossible for me.
     Vulnerability.  What is it? How does one find it?  Would anyone respect and protect it, were I to give it them?  I don't know the answers to any of these questions; all I know is that I'm a big girl.  As much as I wish I could be a little girl and just have someone scoop me up in a big, safe hug and let me know that I cold let go, that I could jump and they would catch me, that's not what's real; I never learned to be a little girl.  I'm a big girl - always have been, probably always will be.
     And Big Girls Don't Cry.
    
    

1000 HITS!!

I've finally reached 1000 views! Yay!

 

 

K, I'm done.

Isn't Summer Supposed to be Relaxing?

     'Cause I haven't stopped for a second!
     Okay, so it has been relaxing.  But I've been freaky busy the last couple of days, so I haven't had much time to post. :P
     And I've had Writer's Block. Badly.

Can you die from Writer's Block?  Like, if it's severe enough?

Imagine Having Your Dad Do This....

     So, I was looking at Yahoo News today and I found the story of a Utah dad who thought it would be cool to wave at this son (a sophomore in high school) every morning when he boarded the bus.  As if this wasn't bad enough, he opted to dress up as different character every single morning. Now, think about this for a second; every morning you have to worry about getting up, getting ready, getting on the bus, hoping all your homework is done (because really, how many of us actually remember or have time to check in the morning?), and THEN you have to be concerned about whether your dad will be standing outside your house waving at your friends, dressed as bride or mermaid.
     When first reading this, I thought, "Wow.  Now THAT'S some revenge for all those nights he stayed up with you crying through the night....'' And I still see it this way. But then I thought, "Dude, that would be frikkin' awesome!"  Yeah, it would be weird at first, but come on! Once everyone caught on, you and your friends would start seriously looking forward to what he'd do every morning.  I could have an entire blog about it. And it would probably be way more popular than this one......hmmmm.......
     Actually, that's exactly what they did!  This guy's wife took a picture every day and posted it on their blog Wave At The Bus.  All the pictures are up there; check it out! The coolest thing is that they only spent $50 on their endeavor over the entire year! They begged, borrowed, and stole improvised more than 180 costumes for the same amount of money that I spent on a single costume for a birthday party. (Ok, it happened once, I'd probably never do it again. But she was my best friend and it was her Sweet Sixteen....It had to be perfect....) Anywho, I think it's awesome. So, check out the pictures, have a laugh, and let them know how hilariously awesome this is!
 
     P.S. I've already been thinking about having some sort of daily thing to post, and this is just giving me good evidence that people enjoy such things.....hmmm......

My Mind is as Empty as Joe Biden's.....

     I have absolutely nothing witty, clever, insightful, shocking, or even intelligent to say. Nothing. Zip. Notta. Zilch. Zero.

                                                                              

                          
    I started thinking of everyone who has been waiting so long for an interesting post to finally appear again.

Then I started to realize they would all be disappointed.

Then I started to get scared

I started to wonder if they would all hate me forever....

First I felt like doing this

 











Then I felt like this

Then I just did this

[Ok, I regret the last one. That one's just TOO sad..]


Anyhow, That's pretty much me right now.
















I have no inspiration.  My mind is blank. Creativity has forsaken me. I've spent an entire post finding random gifs. I'm pathetic.



















This is what I need (at least verbally via a jumpstart for my brain)

Then I shall be thus

So Make me thus. ^_^

Will I Ever Get There?

     So, I was looking back at some past posts and I noticed that one of my most "popular" (i.e. most views) posts was a post entitled A Place to Call Home (<<<If ya' don't know what I'm talking about, check it).  I thought I'd do a follow-up of sorts, as I'm still dealing with some of the same issues and everything's kind of coming to a head, so to speak.
     Basically, not much has changed. That's pretty depressing to admit, but it's the truth.  Everything that I said about what I wanted is still true, and I'm really not any closer to "getting there" than I was when I posted that. I still wish I had all those things; I still wish I belonged somewhere; I still wish I had a place to call "home." 
     The difference is, however, that I now am beginning to understand that I have to find that home; I have to make it for myself.  I can't sit around and wait for some miracle to rescue me or some especially benevolent person to reach out save me. Oh no, I have to actually change.
     But that's tough. For me, one of my biggest issues is my inability to lose control, to "cut loose," "let me hair down," or just have fun. It's something that I not only never learned to do, but was actually raised in an environment where doing so would have quite literally endangered my life and the lives of my siblings. If I was not completely aware and alert and in control, things could go dreadfully and drastically wrong in the blink of an eye. 
     But I'm not in that situation anymore; at least, not to that extent at all.  Now I have to learn how to not be so aware, so alert.  I have to learn to miss things. I have to learn not care about how I look or how ridiculous I act.  This sounds a bit risky, I know. But the reality is that what is in all probability completely normal and acceptable gaiety for most people is actually complete and reckless abandon for me - something or which I am incapable at this juncture.  So I have to begin forcing myself to do things that I would consider "immature," "reckless," "stupid," and "pointless."  I have to become "less" than I feel proper in order to become more.  It's a conundrum, and I have a lot of problems with it. But that's the reality of it.
     So that's the place at which I find myself. It's not going to be easy; I know this.  But I'll do it. I would like to ask, however, that you all try to understand my awkward behavior and confusion; I'm trying, I just don't know what to do.  Also, I'd like to honestly and genuinely ask you all to call me out when I do things that "don't work."  I know that's uncomfortable, but, believe me, it's extremely difficult to offend me and I truly do want the input. 
     That's all I've got to say about that.

Another Pointless Post That Will Receive No Feedback.....

     So, this, will likely be the last post of this sort, seeing as NO ONE responds to my impassioned pleas for assistance.  *dejected sigh*
     I want to know what ya'll wanna see up in here! So, if ya wanna see a particular feature, style of post, or just have some ideas on some cool stuff, Tell me! I'm interested in what will make you guys happy! haha, so just gimme some feedback, yo!
    Or not. I could just remain lonely and dejected......XP

Post Title Challenge: The Sequel

      While I pledge, in these challenges, to use a title submitted by a reader/heckler, I shall admit that I simply felt as though this title should be modified.  Therefore, instead of the title "The Uniqueness of Laughs" that was suggested, I have modified it to the title actually displayed.  Nevertheless, this post would never have occurred had it not been for the imaginative talents of one Megan "Yo" Trantham. So, without further ado, it is my great pleasure to present to you, my readers,

   The Necessity Of Laughs

     A snort, a chortle, a chuckle, a crow.  Can anyone truly describe the divine beauty of a laugh?  Is there a more beautiful sound than a free, uninhibited cachinnation?  I dare say not. A laugh is an honest expression of mirth, joy, peace, beatitude, and felicity.  No matter the nature of a laugh, it sends both the producer and the hearer of the harmony into celestial rapture.

     All these are undeniable facts. I however, would like to posit the concept that such an intonation is absolutely essential to life itself.  Studies conducted by the B.R.A.I.N.* demonstrate that frequent verbal show of merriment has the ability to lengthen your life by as much as 20.57389 years (180217.5164 hours).  Also, in a study conducted by the combined efforts of B.R.A.I.N. and G.E.N.I.U.S. Society,** subjects between the ages of 17 and 49 who experienced intense laughter at least twice a week were shown to have increased IQ scores of up to 23 points when compared to their less-mirthful peers.  There were also shown to have increased happiness, satisfaction in life, financial stability, SLQ (Sustainable Living Quotient), and weight loss (up to 94 pounds in some subjects).

     How can you see these results? Well, it's not by sitting on your couch with a Monster and a bag Doritos watching reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway, I can tell you that!  No siree!  For this kind of success, you need AeroLaf - the all new, FDA approved form of Dinitrogen Oxide. AeroLaf is guaranteed to give you fast, satisfying results in only 17 treatments!† With AeroLaf, you'll be laughing your way beauty, fame, and fortune in no time flat!  But hurry; if you call now and order a 59 oz. aerosol can of AeroLaf, we'll throw in our collector addition travel size can ABSOLUTELY FREE!  Don't wait; Call now at 1-800-AEROLAF! That's 1-800-237-6523.  Call now!

*Bureaucracy of Radically Astute Individualistic Nitwits

**General Enfranchisement of Nerds In the United States Society

†Do not take AeroLaf if you are nursing, pregnant, may become pregnant, are under seventeen, are over forty-nine, are under five feet tall, are over seven feet tall, have ever been to Ireland, may ever go to Ireland, or have a heart condition. Side effects may include nausea, headaches, excessive sweating, excessive salivating, sudden urges to travel to foreign countries, sudden revulsion for victims of depression and natural disasters, expulsion from funerals, and even death in rare cases. Do not continue to take AeroLaf if lack of amusement increases.  Contact a medical professional if you notice changed behavior or experience these or any other side effects. Ask your doctor if AeroLaf is right for you.

    

It Is Only Logical.....

.....that I should have a Star Trek post, as I'm beginning my first "official" Star Trek marathon.  Though I've always enjoyed the series, I am only now pledging to actually watch every episode - a pledge that seems long-overdue.  Much to my chagrin, Netflix's refusal to fulfill their Beginning-of-June-Instant-Streaming promise means I can only get them in the mail via disk, which takes FOREVERRRR (alright, three-day turn-around. whatever.) and I can only get three discs at a time max. Which, of course, sounds sufficient to most, but is not so to me. However, I shall persevere despite the great persecution from the powers that be.
     Really? An entire post about your starting a Star Trek marathon. You're pathetic.
     Whatever. I was born this way. It's not my fault. It's in my blood.

     That's no excuse. You can change; you just have to want it bad enough.

     But I have no desire to affect such a change.  I am perfectly comfortable with nerdality.
     Then we shall depart, seeing as there is really no way to convert you. Fare thee well.
     Live long and prosper

     P.S.  Just so everyone knows, Spock is most definitely in the running for awesomest dude to ever grace the airwaves. Just sayin'.

♪♫No Time Left for You♪♫

    Wow, okay, you're a jerk.
    Well, I just have better things to do than sit and tell you about my better things to do.
    What.Everrr.Mannnn.....
     I gotta go, so amuse yourselves elsewhere. *waves hand in dismissal*
     By the way, we think it's really pathetic that you're using this imaginary conversation to prolong your post.
     *Does not care*

I've Created a Monster.....

     My Facebook status currently reads:

     Alright, I'm super board and I need something to do. So, I want ideas for a blog post. Write a title here, and I'll take the first five, write them down, mix them up, and draw one. I'll then write an entire blog post on it and post the link so you can see it. Keep it PG and have fun! :)

     The result of the drawing: Free Space on Bingo- Contributing to the Laziness of Young Adults courtesy Megan "The Jerk" Trantham (She decided to add ALL the suggestions and make them ridiculously inconducive to easy writing).  So, here it is - my first Post Title Challenge:

     Free Space on Bingo: Contributing to the Laziness of Young Adults

     You've all seen it.  That little square in the middle of the Bingo board that reads "Free Space."  "I am your friend!" it's tiny voice cries, "I am the key to success!"  But is this little space your savior in the game, or is it something more nefarious?

     Young people today are constantly searching for ever-increasingly easier ways to complete tasks - tasks that are already far too easy to be reasonably justified. Bingo itself is hardly suitable for adolescents and young adults.  Young, virulent individuals should, ideally, be out providing for the weak and infirm, not dilly-dallying with piddly board games.  But, as this point seems moot in light of the deterioration of our foolhardy society, I shall leave it be for the time being. 

     The topic at hand is, when playing this mind numbing game, should you use the free space?  I say "No! A resounding no!"  And here is why:  it is a scientific fact that this insidious little tile, innocent though it may appear, is one of the largest contributing factors to the destruction of the Work Ethic in America and other Westernized countries.  In a recent study conducted by the nationally acclaimed G.E.N.I.U.S. Society,* it was discovered individuals between the ages of 13-35 who habitually employed the Free Space square when playing Bingo were 51% more likely to live with their parents after high school/college, 35% more likely to never attend college, 43% more likely to be obese, 76% more likely to drive a fuel-ineffecient vehicle, 94% more likely to hold a minimum wage job, 89% more likely to be on welfare, and 27.53% more likely to commit suicide than their peers who chose to play the game honorably.

     To me, this is certainly sufficient evidence to support the banning of this abhorrent abomination.  But I cannot rid our great race of this perverse scourge without your help.  We must band together to abolish this plague; petition your senators to pass Senate Bill F920.  Say "NAY!" to Proposition K!
    

*General Enfranchisement of Nerds In the United States Society 

    

May Showers Delay May Flowers

     So, after weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks and - well, I finally got my flowerbed planted.  That's about it.
     YOU PROMISED YOU'D WRITE MORE THIS SUMMER.
     I know, I'm sorry......
     WHATEVER. You lied to us.
     Well, I'm sorry. There's just nothing interesting about which to write.
     Whatever. You're boring and we don't want to hear about your mundane little life anyway.
     That's just as well, as I wouldn't tell you anything even IF there were something interesting to tell. 
      FINE! GOODBYE!
      GOODBYE YOURSELF! 

This Device Seems the Height of Futility

     So, apparently Blogger now has a tip jar.
     Blogger has now added a gadget that allows people give you tips. That's right, folks, you can now give me money any time you want to by simply clicking a button. Now, I sincerely doubt anyone is ever going to actually make any money off of this, myself included. Therefore, I have resolved not to add this gadget to my blog.  However, I live to serve, so if public outcry becomes great enough, I will sacrifice this resolution and add this option to my blog.
     That's all she wrote.

Blow Pops

     I did something a little unusual today; I ate a Blow Pop.  Ya' know, the lollipops with the bubble gum inside? Yep, I ate a big cherry flavored Blow Pop today.

      *Yawn*

       I know, "Who cares?" Right?  Well, I thought it would be a good way to start off my summer of reinvention.

     "You're not making any sense, Courtlyn."

     Well, here's the thing: I'm a very insecure, self-conscious person.  That's a BIG thing that I'm going to be working on this summer. So, first of all, I've always had problems doing anything I deemed "childish," even things that I think are very positive and potentially enjoyable. Suckers of all sorts have always fallen into this category. Secondly, as we all know, Blow Pops (and other suckers) have a tendency to turn one's mouth a very vibrant, unnatural color. This, to me, was always entirely unacceptable, even if no one would see because I wasn't going anywhere on a particular day.  Even if no one else would see it, I still felt embarrassed or somehow inferior or something of the sort if my mouth were an odd color.
     But, now, my entire mouth is a very vibrant shade of pinky-red and the best part is that I'm okay with that.  And, I'm not gonna lie, I almost liked the sucker :P
     So, that's my day in a nutshell.

     "You've explained yourself, and we kinda get what you're saying.  But we still think you're really weird.  Mostly because you're faking a conversation with a group of androgynous, indeterminate entities that you like to think read your blog."

     Hey, that's your loss, Imaginary Audience.
     I'll try not to post anymore today, as this will be my third post. But no promises. XP

P.S. I'm experimenting with various new layouts and will soon choose one. Be patient until then and feel free to offer feedback :)

Due To Neurological Difficulties, The Imaginative Title To This Post Has Been Deleted.

     So, I need ideas. I know I'm going to be posting about the stuff I'm working through this summer and there'll definitely be posts about the mission trip next month and whatever else comes up. But I need some ideas on some things to do. I've obviously got a lot of time on my hands and I'd love to spend some or it blogging! So, what do you guys want to see?  A regular feature? A certain format? Specific updates? Anything! I'd love to have some sort of regular feature, but I have no idea what you guys would like to see! I could start a series of posts on something; I don't know,  Just give me your thoughts! :)

♪♫Everything Gets Hotter When the Sun Goes Down♪♫

     IT'S FINALLY SUMMERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!
    *Ahem* *Regains composure*
     So, I'm finally out of school. And this is good. Because I'm ready to be out of school.
     Like I've said, this summer is going to be a summer of self-rediscovery, and now it can finally begin! I'm going to (hopefully) be posting a lot more here, so ya'll can avoid this page like the plague look forward to that :)
     I'd also like to say to all of you people from various classes and especially Drama: IMMA MISS YA'LL!!
     Talk to ya later! :) *goes to read outside* *sees mud and rain* *changes mind*
     

     P.S. It should stop raining. Now.

Everyboy Talks About the Weather, But No One Does Anything About It

-Charles Dudley Warner

     Well, ya can't really do much about the weather itself.  But many of us can do things to help those affected by it. Most of you have probably heard about what happened last night in Joplin. Last I heard, there were 119 people who lost their lives in the tornado that ripped through the town Sunday evening. I personally know three people who lost family in this storm.  It's horrible.  My aunt (an Ozark Police officer) has spent the entire day since midnight last night down there looking for people and trying to minimize the chaos that's bound to ensue after this. It's a terrible, terrible occurrence that will have long-reaching effects on those people and many others.
     I really can't very well tell anyone what to do. I know that. But I do ask that everyone think about what they can do to help the victims of this tragedy.  Just today, my school had an assembly which had nothing to do with the storms.  At the end, the StuCo president asked that if anyone had some spare change, they would drop it into buckets at the gym doors on the way to class. We collected a little more than $400, and that was just changed that kids had on them.  They also asked that we bring basic supplies - especially water and baby supplies - to school to donate for the recovery efforts.  My aunt says they all really need socks, water (they're on a boil order right now), packaged food that doesn't require cooking (all their homes are gone, so there's not very many appliances), clothes, new underwear, and lots of baby supplies and basic hygiene items.  Most Red Cross stuff is going to them right now, so that would be a great way to donate. I'd like to ask everyone to think about what you can do to help.  Not all of us can do down and physically clean up the debris, but we can all help in some way.  Imagine if it were you who lost your home or couldn't feed and clothe your children. Wouldn't you want someone to give up something so your kid could have clean socks or your baby would have clean diapers?
     If any of you would like to know how to help, I can get more information for you.  I hope you'll all think of something you can do!

Meanwhile, In Mediocreville........

    I've done nothing with this weekend, thus far.  I have started cleaning my room some, which is long overdue, but other than that, I've just had a lot of time to think.  Which could be good or bad, depending where I go from here. Honestly, I'm a little bit at a loss right now and still need to talk some stuff out with someone, but it seems like everyone (including myself, to an extent) is pretty busy. So I'm just mentally exhausted right now. But I'll figure it out.
     And I'm uber ready for church tomorrow. That's about it.
     C'est la Vie

♪♫Well, Life is a Road and I Wanna Keep Goin'♪♫

     Well, nothing new is happening, so I haven't had much time or material to post.  I won't repeat all the thoughts I've already addressed here; that would seem the height of superfluity, even for me (Superfluosness? Superfluosity? Superfluidity? Ahhh, Superfluidityyyy *nods satisfactorily*).  Anyway, I'm watching The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Again. I know; I have no life. (Prime Merlinian? Really?!) Anywho. Yeah, so that's about it; I'm in survival mode until school's out (One more week! *squeal of ill-contained exuberance*).
TTFN: TaTa For Now! *Bounces away*

P.S. Boys are dumb. The wrong one always likes you. It's. Dumb. KK, I'm done.

♪♫You Can Laugh, But I'm Dead Serious♪♫

♪♫Watch her as she goes,
      There's something different and she knows it.
      Ask her why, and she'll flash that silly smile.
      She says she's got a purpose
      And she's done with all the games;
      Jesus saved her soul and she'll never be the same♪♫
   
     So, I've been thinking a great deal lately about a lot of different things. Mostly though, I've been thinking about some changes I'm going to be making over this summer (as I will have a good deal of down time) and the mission trip next month. 
     I've unofficially dedicated this coming summer to getting myself back on track. getting my life on track for the first time ever, now that I have a chance to do so.  It's going to take a lot of work, and a lot of changes are simply going to have to be radical, drastic, and sudden.  I'm trying to start deciding what those might be, but honestly, I really wish I could just sit down with someone and just process it all verbally in a completely honest and open fashion.  So that's a lot to contemplate.
     Also, I'm really thinking about the mission trip of which I'll be a part.  As I understand it - and I don't have a lot of details because I haven't had time to worry about them - we'll be in East St. Louis assisting in a center that essentially has a lot after-school type programs (although it's in the summer, so it's obviously not "after school") for inner city kids.  These are the kind of kids that have truly been through hell and back.  They've been through just about every imaginable atrocity and they live in poverty and abuse every day.  In many ways, I can empathize a lot with their problems; I grew up in a highly abusive home and have a lot of emotional baggage from it.  What I've been through could never begin to compare with the experiences of these kids, but I do believe it helps me to understand their psyche a great deal.  Their pain, for the most part, differs from mine in intensity rather than kind.
     These kids, people who have not been given the chances the rest of us have, people that have known nothing but pain and abuse - they are my passion.  They're the reason I want to be an attorney; it's not for the money or the excitement or anything of that sort: it's for the people without a voice, the ones who can't help themselves.  These are the people about whom I care the deepest.  They're the ones that I truly think that my experiences can help.  I think that through my pain, I have great sympathy, empathy, and understanding for people who have been through abuse and neglect. I think that they are the biggest reason that God allowed me to go through what I did. So I'm dead serious about this trip.
     I might have another post on this topic coming up; I'm not sure yet.
 

♪♫It's Your Life, Whatcha Gonna Do?♪♫

     ♪♫The world is watchin' you.
           Every day the choices you make
           Say who you are and who
           Your heart beats for.
            It's an open door;
            It's your life.♪♫
     So, I'm still completely uninspired. Utterly. Completely. So don't get your hopes up about reading something really profound right about now.
     Essentially, this weekend has been about homework and making it through the last couple weeks of school.  I've expended more creativity and thought this weekend than customarily do in an entire week of school. I. Am. Tired. Of. Thinking. Thus, this wretched post.
     Today, we went to church and Sunday school was, per usual, good.  Then there was lunch with my grandparents and aunt, and I shopped for some makeup at a sale.
     Tonight, I had class and there's where I started thinking.  The class was the second class at church for those of us going on the mission trip next month.  Really, I've just been thinking about it a lot anyway, but I started thinking more about tonight during class and what it means to be a servant leader and just how I should live day to day.
     We were presented tonight with various scenarios that we might encounter on the mission trip.  I answered some questions exactly as I believe the situation should have been handled.  Characteristically, I was forthright, saying, for example, that in a given situation we should "get a glass of water, paint smile on your face, and suck it up! We all signed up for this, after all!"  Then I started thinking: shouldn't we be doing that normally? I mean, I "signed up," so to speak, for the life of a Christian.  That means I should be that kind of servant leader all the time. We should be "on a mission trip" every day.  After all, the point of a mission trip is spread the Gospel. Shouldn't we be spreading the Gospel to those around us every day?  I think so.  As Christians, we have to be willing to show God's love everyday.  We have to be careful of how we represent God; we might be the only Jesus that a person ever sees.
     Anyway, that's what I've been thinking.
     Also, I've been thinking about a lot of things in my personal life.  I'm starting to think that this summer is going to be a summer of self-rediscover and reinventing.  I'm thinking a lot about who I am and how I've become and who I should be.  I really want to finally start getting my life in order, and I figure I better start soon. Thing is, I need people that are going to help me with that; I can't do it on my own. I know; I've tried. So, assuming I can find some people that will truly help me and lead me and guide me and stick with me through all the crap that's gonna go down during this journey, that's what I'll be doing this summer.
     And, I'll be sleeping a lot and going on a missions trip.
     And drinking a lot of coffee.
     And blogging.
     Anyway.
     That's about it.

♪♫You Have Given Me the Pleasure of an Ordinary Day♪♫

   Well, there's not much going on in my world. My prolonged blogosphere silence has not been entirely my fault however; Blogger was under maintenance for a while, so I couldn't post. And I've been busy and uninspired this week :P
     I went to Ozark High's graduation last night and it was great, but sad as well, as I knew so many of the graduating seniors. But hey, growing up and branching out and moving on are all natural parts of life and I embrace them.
      Now, I'm working on homework and attempting to enjoy old TV shows. And by old, I mean.....ollllldddddd.........XP Anyway, I'll try to write something a little more inspired either today or tomorrow, but not at this moment in time. Suffice it to say that I'm kinda stressed right now and am letting everything not necessary to physical survival and GPA take a back burning right now :P
C'est la Vie

♪♫Red as the Bloodshed, Blue as the Wounded, White as the Crosses on Our Soldiers' Graves;

Through the rain, through the sun, these colors never run.♪♫
     Well, not much has really been happening with me over the last few days. The only thing note-worthy, really, is a project in which the high school's social studies department is participating, due to my teacher, who has a tendency to start things like this. It's called "Shoeboxes for Soldiers" and is actually a localized branch of the national organization of the same sort.  Shoe boxes or an equivalent are filled with supplies, food, puzzle books, etc. and sent to soldiers overseas. Each box is addressed to an individual soldier, not a company or other intermediary.  A local radio station in the area, KTTS, sponsors two drives every year - one at Christmastime and one around the Fourth of July, which is the one that is going on right now.  It costs about thirteen dollars in postage to send a box, and my teacher has agreed to pay for the boxes her classes fill.
     I've always wanted to get involved in this sort of thing, but never have. Now, I'm finally getting a chance to do so, and it's made me start thinking; our military fights every day for our rights and freedoms: shouldn't we be using them? If we don't that invalidates all that they do and thus makes their sacrifice futile. Because of the men and women fighting for our country, we have the freedom to think, feel, say, and be whoever we choose. Shouldn't we be doing more to honor that fight?
     I know I should. I need to take advantage of the fact that, because of these sacrifices of these soldiers, I have every right to live my faith and uphold my values. This is not the case in most countries, and I feel that, should we choose to "roll over and play dead" to every whim of society as a whole, we are nullifying the sacrifices of our military past, present, and future. So, I am going to start walking the walk. If God has blessed us with a nation in which we can be free to live and believe as we see fit, I think He means for us to use it to its full advantage.
     So, that's my brief thoughts on the subject. Also, I obviously think that we should be honoring those that serve our country and put their lives on the line for us every day. And this project is just a tiny way in which I can do just that.
     That's about it, so I'll talk to ya'll later! :)

Mother's Day 2011

   As most of you know, I've gone through a lot o changes in the past year.  One of those changes is that, for reasons not pertinent to this discussion, I now need make no pretense of observing Mother's Day.  This also means hat I am now free to observe in a fashion that suits me.  And this is that fashion.
   Over the course of my short but eventful life, I have come across many people of many different beliefs, backgrounds, and temperaments. Among these people, there have been difficult, vindictive individuals judgmental exclusivists, and sacrinely loving givers.  A personage that has been severely lacking, however, is that of a loving, caring mother.  Because of this unfortunate void, Mother's Day , in the past, has meant but little to me; it was a mere formality with which I grudgingly complied. 
   This year, as this holiday approached, I began contemplating the prospect of making this holiday mean something for the first time in my life.  This idea sparked as exploration of the meaning of the word "mother."
   It seems that the word "mother" can be defined in three distinct ways; the first is simply the biological maternal parent of an individual.  The second is the legal female guardian of an individual (this definition is, really, questionable at best; I threw it in for the argumentative types like myself).  The third definition, however, is vastly different; it is, I believe, the definition most proper in regards to Mother's Day.
   A mother is a woman who loves you unconditionally. She is a person that has helped, in some way, to raise you and make you the person you are today.  She is a woman that pulled you through difficult times in your life and hast stuck with you through good times and bad.  A mother hast taught you lessons that have become vial to you and your outlook on life, and she has bee willing to tell you when you were wrong and needed to change.  A woman who has done these things is someone that certainly, in my book, deserves recognition on this day.
   These sort of women are the women I wish to recognize.  Some have simply pulled me through a difficult time in my life or taught me a few important lessons; others have made sure that I never got "too big for my boots;" others have been with me through thick and thin, never backing down from the truth and never letting me give up.  Many of these women are still an active and vitally important part of my life.  Without these women, I don't know where I would be today.  Each and every one of them have shaped me into the person I am today.  Though I live to be thousand years old, I will remember these women and the things they have done for me. They have taught me about love and loss, pain and perseverance, and faith and fortitude.  They are my reason for celebrating Mother's Day.  At some point, they have all been a kind of mother to me.
   Am I going to recognize the same people over and over again every year? Maybe; but probably not. Obviously, I won't know exactly what I'll do next year until next year rolls around.  But I'm thinking I'll probably recognize women who have been important to me over the past year.
   But that's for me to know (eventually) and you to find out :)