Christmas Time is Here Again...

...and it doesn't feel quite right. Usually by this time I'm all giddy and happy, love going shopping and getting presents for my friends, and can't wait until Christmas Eve. This year I'm merely content... that's not the right word... restless... that's better. I'm not excited, not giddy, and with all the snow we've had, I haven't even had the urge to attempt a snowman. Shopping for gifts was more out of habit than anything. And Christmas Eve... it's just another day. Sad, isn't it?

It seems as though all the Christmas Traditions are gone as well. I wanted to go get a real tree this year like we use to. We didn't. The Nativity Count Down didn't even get mentioned. The chocolate Christmas count down was forgotten. Decorating the tree was... bad. Christmas lights are dwindling; no giant candy cane sticks making a lighted walkway, no light arch hanging off the quakie. I think... well... I hope that there is one tradition that will carry through: opening an ornament on Christmas Eve. But there will only be four of us instead of twelve. And I'm wondering if we're going to go to the Christmas Breakfast... we didn't go last year.

I haven't gone sledding or anything in the snow with my friends. Come to think of it, I haven't really done anything with my friends, period. My social life consists of talking to a few people in the morning at drill (Jeans is always one of them); David, Jo, Ryan, and Mr. Bake during band; and Loni in seminary. Then the occasional people that I just say hi to in the halls: Wheeler, Austin, Michael, Elijah. And that's about it for my social life. I guess if you wanted to you could count the all the unanswered texts I send, but I don't. It's like talking to a brick wall.

Jeans and I decided to take a last minute Christmas shopping run to Cortez on Tuesday, right after school gets out... well, before school gets out, right after the assembly. But shopping is just an excuse. We both want to get out of Blanding. We wanted to do a weekend road trip, but we're both almost completely broke, so we're just going to go one day. We'll also get to see Mark while we're there. That will be somewhat of a relief: hanging out with a friend outside of Blanding. Originally Jeans and I were going to runaway to Maui or Hawaii. But we figured we better graduate first in case we don't make it back. Not that either of us would really mind being stuck in Maui or Hawaii, but you know how it goes.

Now don't get me wrong. I love Blanding. I love Christmas. I love all my friends in Blanding, especially at Christmas. But it's just not right this year. I guess you could call me a Scrooge or a Grinch, or even a Scrinchy Grooge, but I just can't get into Christmas. I know, I know. "Christmas isn't about receiving; it's about giving" and "It's not the price of the gift that matters." But that's not really what I'm talking about. I guess I just miss not having my family at Christmas; I miss all the fun, silly traditions we had; I miss being little and not being able to control my excitement for Christmas because it had the greatest feeling in the world for me; I miss feeling that everything seemed right around Christmas time; but most of all, I miss my friends. And Christmas time hurts the most when you've lost a friend...

White Shirts

I have a serious issue with white shirts. I'll do just fine wearing a white shirt. My day will go by without incident. But if I'm wearing a white shirt, guaranteed something will happen. When I was at Region tennis, we went to a football game. I wore my white Royals shirt. After the game, we were walking to the vehicle (I was actually going home with my parents, but walking with the other girls). The girl in front of me stepped off the curb onto the grass. Only it wasn't grass, and it wasn't just a few inches down. It was a long way down, and it was a mud puddle. Now don't ask me how it happened, but it did. Something that only happens in movies. When she stepped down, mud splashed up and completely covered me; pants, shirt, face, everything. I honestly don't know how it splashed up that high. And it didn't even get her muddy, just me!!

So today, I was wearing a white shirt. For lunch, I was drinking chocolate milk. And I was being so so careful. I sat down at the table and set my drink down. I had triumphed. ...or so I though... My mom looked at me and gasped.

"What?" I asked and she just continued to stare. I looked down. Lo and behold, it was my shirt. Chocolate milk stained my shirt from the neck, down the left side, to the bottom. How that happened, again, I have no idea. I had been watching the milk the whole time and hadn't spilled a drop. Of course, it wouldn't have happened if I had been wearing a colored shirt. It never happens when I wear a colored shirt. Things always happen to me when I'm wearing a white shirt. Go figure. Like I said, I have issues with white shirts.

This doesn't look as bad. When it happened (about twelve hours ago) it looked a lot worse. And no, I didn't stay in this shirt, I did changed for the rest of the day.

Chicken Fried

I've only been listening to my ipod as of late, and there are very few songs that I'm in the mood to hear on that. I guess you could say I've been listening to my "It's Not Fair" playlist (though I haven't actually named a playlist that... yet). But today I actually got to drive the Bronco--I've had very limited vehicle access since the Cadillac was totaled and my mom now has run of the Bronco. Plus, my motorcycle parts haven't gotten here, so I've just got my feet (and Dallas' truck when he's kind enough to give me a ride and I'm not stubborn enough to refuse).

So I was on my way home from work, listening to the radio and a song came on that I actually really like, but haven't heard in a while. It's called Chicken Fried.

A little bit of chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair a jeans that fit just right
And the radio on

I love to see the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

That's just the chorus, quite catchy actually, but the whole song is really good. (Sorry, Dallas. It's country. You wouldn't like it.) It put me in, not necessarily a good mood, but a better mood than what I've been in lately.

Funny how it`s the little things in life that mean the most

Just a few of the little things I thought of that make life great (I'll steal a few from the song):
Chicken Fried (I love chicken)
Jeans that fit just right (the best)
Radio (come on, belt it out!)
Sunrises (I see few)
Sunsets
Good friends (that take anything you throw at them)
A mother's love (can't beat that)
Rain (Always loved it)
Early mornings (I'm wide awake while everyone else is still groggy)
The Bronco (I think my brothers will agree)
Snow
Hot Chocolate
Rain
Spring
Leaves in the fall (buckhorns especially)
Good friends
Dancing
Rain
My dog (She looks like a Twinkie now)
A smile
Rings (all jewelry, actually)
Good friends
Feeling flexible
A true, unforced laugh
Good friends

These are some of the little things that mean so much to me. Yeah, there's more, but I'll just let you get the idea. And yes, I did repeat some things. I hope you now understand that I do like rain :) Even if you're in a bad mood, you can still find some chicken fried. ;)

Crowing

I just had to put a note about my dad's chickens. They aren't full grown yet, but they're getting there. One of the roosters is really confused. He's learning to crow, and he's pretty good at it now. The thing is, he crows in the evening instead of the morning. :)

Thanksgiving

Well, I had a really good Thanksgiving, for the most part. All my brothers came (except Beau in Mexico). Chris set up the X-Box and wouldn't leave me alone until I played Battle Front with him. It is a really fun game, I must admit. I love playing it, and probably wasted too much time doing that. But, hey, it's the holidays, right?
Jeannie and I had a girl's night on Wednesday, which we both needed very badly. That was great.
Thanksgiving dinner was in-cred-ible!! Chris and my dad deep-fried the turkey, and, oh my heck, it was the best I have ever, EVER had.
I really enjoyed the break (though I didn't catch up on sleep at all). And then it got to Friday. Jeannie and I went on a double date. *Exhale of Anger* It was horrid! I won't go into details, but Jeans called me at midnight after we had gotten home, and we talked for over a half hour. We are both so annoy, more than annoyed, with guys right now. All guys. Simply for being guys. That's how bad it was. So, nothing personal to the guys, but you're not on my (or Jeannie's) good side right now.

Other than that, Thanksgiving was a blast!!

Something's Got To Give

Something's got to give
It's going to be me
It's two against one
And they're weakening me
My strength is diminishing
My will is gone
I feel no comfort
It's been too long
I stand alone
In anger and fear
I melt in the shadows
When they come near
They look right through me
I'm nothing to them
It's been like this
Since Summer's end
It's a constant battle
To stay on my feet
But I know in this fight
I'm going to be beat
I'll keep on going
For how long I don't know
I'm losing my grip
I'm going to let go
Like now, it will hurt
But I won't be free
Something's got to give
It's going to be me



I wrote this in church, of all places. That's what happens when someone gives me materials to write with. I'll write no matter where I am. And the first phrase, "Something's got to give," I actually got from my Biology class. Random, huh?

When Would You Miss Me?

If I were to pass out of your life
When would you miss me?
Would it be at Christmas
When we don't exchange gifts?
Would it be at your birthday
When I don't show up to your party?
Would you miss me at football games
When I'm not dancing on the field at half-time?
Would you miss me listening to the radio
When a song played that reminded you of me?


If I were to pass out of your life
When would you miss me?
Would it be every time you go swimming
When I'm not there life guarding?
Would it be those early mornings
When I don't come to drill practice?
Would you miss me as you walk along
When you pass places where we made memories?
Would you miss me every day that passed
When I didn't text or call you?

If I were to pass out of your life
When would you miss me?
Or would you not?
Would you forget all about me
When the days have turned to weeks?
Would you forget about me
When you've gained a new best friend?
Would you miss me only
When someone mentions me?
Would you miss me only
When you've no one to talk to?

If I were to pass out of your life
When would you miss me?

One of Those Saturdays

It was one of those Saturdays, the kind that seem to escape reality. It was as though time wasn't happening, unless you were foolish enough to look at the clock. The atmosphere made everything seem lazy. There was no hurry. Yes, it was one of those Saturdays.

That unreal sense followed Emma as she made her way to the high school for her prep class. The sun was warm and the breeze carried that scent of surrealism. As she neared the high school, Emma could hear the wild cheering of sports fans. A mild smile spread across her face as she recalled going to watch the C Team football games on Saturday afternoons. She looked towards the football field to catch a glimpse of the game, and froze. The field, the stands, they were empty. There was nobody in sight. She looked away to reorganize her thoughts and heard the cheers of the crowd again, clear and distinct. She slowly looked back towards the field, the noise undying this time. Nobody.

The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.

Oh the brilliance of insanity! Exactly my point. Ok, so I just got back from a cross country meet a while ago, and it was... well, good, bad, and ugly.

The Good. Since I started running I've been taking a lot of time off my personal record. My first race was close to two minutes faster than my time trial. My second race was definitely over two minutes faster, crushed my previous time. And this race, again, I beat my time (I'm not sure by how much yet, but it was at least a minute and a half). I'm picking up speed and gaining more endurance. Boo Ya! I'm pumped!

The Bad. On our way to Loyd's Lake, where the race was taking place (we run 5k's), I got a headache and started to feel a little bit sick. Great. That's all I needed just before a race. Oh well. I can make it through. So we did a walk through of the course. My headache went away, but I had to stop myself from throwing up three times. That made me a little bit worried.

The Ugly. The race started and I was doing really well. I was keeping a really good pace. I was passing people (slowly) but wasn't getting passed. Sweet. This was going to be a good race... Until I got a little more than halfway through. That sickness came back to get me. I had to stop and step off the trail. I threw up. Twice during the whole race. It was bad. I felt so horrible. When I got back to the bus I was shaking terribly and just felt awful.

But even though I threw up, not only did I finish the race, I beat my time again. And I still beat several other runners. So once I got feeling a little better I realized it wasn't all bad. Just some. I had the good, the bad, and the ugly. But I think the good outweighed the others. :)

My Long Day (Thursday...I think)

I stumble to my bedroom and try to change. It's a wonder I haven't fallen asleep standing up yet. The beginning of the day seemed so far away now. How long ago had my day started? Eighteen hours? Nineteen? Started with dancing at 5:30. Two hours later a 5 hour cramped car trip. Right after, I play two tennis matches. Lost the first. Dominated the second. Still tired from my cross country meet the previous day. But I pulled through. Car won't start. Uh-oh. I have a Biology exam tomorrow. And a dance performance at the football game. Oh good. It started. Now a 5 hour ride home. I try to study in the car, but it doesn't work so well.Home... What time is it? 11:30? My body won't work. I flip on my alarm and fall on my bed. I'm out before I make it under the covers. Two minutes later my alarm goes off. I literally roll off my bed, my bed that's sitting on cement blocks. Rough landing. I hit the snooze button and look at the time. It can't be past one in the morning. Wrong. It's five. Ugh. Time to get going. I think somebody stole my night. There was no way I had slept for 5 hours.I put on my dance clothes and fill up my water bottle, not quite awake yet. I pull on my hoodie and step out into the black morning. The cold...correction, freezing air slaps me in the face, stinging my nose and cheeks. But it does nothing to help me wake up. Dancing. Biology exam. Football game performance. This is going to be another long day. I think I need sleep. Is that what it's called? I think so... yeah. Sleep.

Ranting

Fine. I’ll be honest. I don’t get it. I really don’t. There. I said it. Not something I’ll usually admit to. It’s frustrating. I thought I had it figured out. Or at least started to understand it. But then something little, something insignificant that others would overlook, comes along and ruins it all for me. Don’t know why I’m surprised, though. Seems to happen to me all the time. That sounds very pessimistic, I know. But I don’t really care since I’m in a sort of pessimistic mood right now. I’ll probably look back at what I’m writing in a few days and laugh at how idiotic it sounds. But not today. Probably not tomorrow either. So why even bother? I don’t have to be writing this. I could be, should be doing something else. Is it because I like to wallow in misery and self-pity? Ugh. That sounds bad. Is it because I’m depressed and want the whole world to know that it’s not worth it? Huh. That’s not much better. And they’re both wrong anyway. So why, then? Why go on about how I feel? I mean it’s not like anyone out there really cares. Sure, they may feel sorry for me, but they don’t care. And I don’t like it when people feel sorry for me. A fake show of concern. I can do without that. I’m fine alone. No big deal. And if you’re wondering, yes, I like to write in fragments. If that bothers you…tough. Read something else. You probably want me to answer all these questions, don’t you? To tell you what the heck I’m talking about and what I’m thinking about it. Yeah, you’d like that. But I’m kind of a mean person sometimes, so I don’t know if I’ll do that. And I lost about half my readers right there. Sweet. Only at half a page and already they’re getting sick of me. Sigh. In truth, you don’t get to know what I’m talking about. I have to leave you in the dark on that one. But I will tell you why I’m writing this since you seem persistent enough to keep reading. I’m writing it because writing based purely on emotions is one of the easiest and most… for lack of a better word, entertaining things to do. You don’t have to think about it. You don’t have to try and picture things to write. You just tell how you feel, or what thoughts are going through you’re head (I’m editing my thoughts for your sake). Writing about happy things, or happy moments, is great, too. I do that a lot as well. But it just so happens that at the moment I am not in a particularly happy mood. But neither am I angry or really sad. I just sort of am, really. I feel kind of stressed. And I haven’t gotten a decent night sleep in over a week. It’s great that I’m just sleeping for a few hours a night at this point. I think that I’m just mostly just worn out. And since I’m in such a way, I don’t bother trying to keep my emotions in check. Too much work. Which isn’t really a good thing either because so many things have happened to me that I’m just flooded with emotions. Happy, sad, upset, you name it. Every once in a while one emotion will become more dominant and make me either cry or get onto some crazy high of happiness. But for the most part they just balance each other out, making me… I don’t know. How would you explain something like that? I guess it’s like blending colors. You’ve got bright colors and dark colors. Sometimes you can see more of one color, but for the most part they’re pretty evenly blended, making the color not bright and not dark, just there. Well, it made sense to me so we’ll go with that.
Going back to my comment on sleep. I usually don’t go to bed, or fall asleep until around midnight or later. And then I have to wake up at five in the morning. What little sleep I do get is not very restful. I wake up a lot in the night. You’d think I would take a nap during the day since sometimes I have enough time to do that. Here’s the thing: I hate naps. Ok, so that’s not entirely true. I started to like them, a lot actually, but not so much anymore. It just doesn’t work for me. I don’t like wasting time sleeping when I could be doing something else, especially during the day. And they just make me more tired. When I lay down to take a nap my body realizes just how much sleep it’s been deprived of and so it wants more to make up for it. When I wake up, all I want to do is go back to sleep and my mind stays foggy for a couple hours afterward. Whereas if I just don’t take a nap, I’m good to go for the entire day… unless I fall asleep during class. But that hasn’t happened yet so I won’t worry about it. It used to be that when I would wake up from naps, I would be happy. I’d had a good rest and my mind would clear more quickly. Now… now it’s not like that… at all. That’s ok, though. No more naps. Problem solved.
And now I must express my surprise that you have actually read this far. Wow. There. It’s been expressed. Really though. You must be very bored, very interested, or just don’t care if you’ve made it this far. Heck, I’m surprised I made it this far and I’m the one writing this thing. That’s probably not the best thing in the world when the author gets sick of what they’re writing before their audience does. Huh. Maybe I’ll write an entire book on mindless rantings. I would say that it would be too cruel to give such a thing to the world, but after seeing what the world has already, I’m not so sure… Well, at least the pictures in a book like that would be entertaining.
And now I’ve reached another problem. Ending. I never quite know how to wind things down to a close without just leaving it hanging. I mean you don’t really have a conclusion for this sort of thing. Maybe just saying that it’s the end is the best way to go. I guess I could give it a try. So here we go. This is the end. There’s no more. You can leave now… Dang. It didn’t work. Ok, really. That’s it. I’m done ranting for now.

Dang

Threw up. No will power.

Since Nobody Reads Anymore

Since I don't think anyone reads my blogs anymore, I'm taking a risk. I'm not being as subtle with it and I'm putting things in that I would normally keep to myself. So, yeah. If you read it, it's going to be interesting....

The Joy of Braces

Well, I have braces now. Yes! *Heavy on the sarcasm* I am glad that I have them so that my teeth will get fixed, but I don't like the fact that I actually have to have them. When I first looked at myself in the mirror after they were put on I thought I was going to die. Braces are definitely NOT for me. Now my smile looks stupid, I can't smirk anymore (which really made me sad), and I can't chew. It's not because of the pain that I can't chew, it really doesn't hurt as bad as everyone told me it would. It's more annoying than it is painful. I can't chew because I had such a horrible over bite that my top teeth hit the brackets before my back teeth can close together. Really only two of my teeth can touch now. So chewing doesn't work, at all; trust me, I tried. It hurt. So pretty much all I can have is soup, applesauce, and my mother bought me some Cheetos. They were so good, but it was frustrating trying to eat them. I also pulled off a pop-tart this afternoon. It took me about twenty minutes to eat one. How sad is that? I have to go on like this for a few weeks. Now I know a fraction of what Dallas felt. But I'm not as talented as him. I almost choked a few times because I'm so impatient.

The interesting thing is that it doesn't hurt so much. It just feels restricted (which I might hate worse anyway). It's hard because I used my teeth for everything, like opening things and... well, lets just say I used them a lot. Now I feel handicapped :( The lucky thing is that I only have to have them on for fifteen months, so it really isn't that bad... sort of. I'm one of those people who the doctor tells to leave the splint on for seven weeks and I take it off at five and a half. So this will be hard since I can't do that with my braces.... hey, maybe.... :) No, I wouldn't. But really, no jerky, popcorn, Carmel, nuts, corn on the cob, or ice. Ugh! That's not fair.

And my mother is so mean!! Right after I got my braces on she decided that we were going to have barbecued hamburgers and corn on the cob. And guess who had to eat spaghetti-o's instead. And then to make things worse, her, my dad, and my brother, Jamin, start teasing me about it by asking questions like, "Isn't this good?" "Hey, Jess, do you want some?" "Jess, wasn't dinner delicious? Dad's barbecued hamburgers are so good." "Do you want some corn, Jess?" I just glared at them all. Then my dad got a brilliant idea. He would make me a complete hamburger, with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and then put in the blender for me. Oh yum! *Roll my eyes* Though I wanted some so bad I was almost tempted to try it. And the teasing goes on.

And what great friends I have! The drill team tried to convince me they were cute. Yeah.... except Heather. Love that girl. She placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "I am so sorry." Thank you. And my other friends, they are terrific. They just laughed at me. All of them. Even Dallas! He can't help laughing at me whenever I open my mouth. Maybe I'll just have to avoid him until I get them off.....
My cousin was talking to me and then laughed at the way I pronounce my S's. And Dallas agreed with him. He said, "You do sound different." Though you could easily change that word to "funny" and it would still be correct. So, yay for braces.... I guess. This could be a long year....

Bruised. Battered. Broken.

Yesterday we learned one of our competition dances for drill. We danced for six solid hours. This bruise on my arm is one of many that I acquired from this. Besides every single muscle in my body being totally sore, some that I didn't even know existed, I also have bruises on my arms, knees, shoulder, head, back and spine. If I sit in a single position for very long, it kills me to move. After I woke up this morning I lay in bed for a half hour dreading moving. Now I understand the phrase "that's going to hurt in the morning." But get up I did. Gritting my teeth against the pain like my brothers taught me.

But it was more than just physical pain I was gritting my teeth against. It seems that whenever I get things in my life to click, it doesn't hold for very long. That's how my life feels right now; somewhere between being perfect and falling completely apart. And it's probably my fault anyway. I have a tendency to bring things upon myself. And when things like this happen, I look at things differently. Like, instead of just accepting what someone says like I usually do, I start to wonder about it. I don't think too deep about it, but just deep enough to hurt. And believe me, it hurts.

Since Beau left, my parents have been trying even harder to not let me grow up, keeping me on a tighter leash. I'm not sure how it happened. I use to have a curfew of 10:30 on week nights and 11:30 on weekends. Now my curfew is straight up 10:00 for any day. I don't know if my parents are trusting me less (I don't know why they would, I haven't done anything to lose their trust) or if they think by keeping me home I'll somehow not grow up. But that, in it's own way, hurt as well. I lost my freedom the same time I lost my brother. Harsh.

And I miss Beau a lot. Right now, sitting here, listening to cd's Dallas gave me, being bruised, battered, and broken, I feel so alone. I want to talk to someone. To actually be face to face with someone and have a real conversation. Not light chatting, not an interrogation, not arguing. A conversation. But I doubt that will happen. It's been a long time since I've had a conversation that's actually done me any good.

Oh, well. Life goes on. School has started. I'll survive. And work on my book. It keeps me from too much insanity. Bruised. Battered. Broken. I'll heal eventually.

Smile. It makes life better. :)

Bad Dream

This is the story of how I found out about Eric, Kim, and Brian. I wrote it only about an hour after I heard the news. I was writing to distract myself from concentrating on the reality of it, but I couldn't get my mind off it and before I knew it I was writing about it.



My mom was talking on the phone with my eldest brother. I can't remember where I was going, just that I became interested in the conversation with her words, "Yeah, we're still going. Why?"
She was talking about the trip her and my dad were planning on for their anniversary.
"Ok. I'll call Catherine," she said after a pause, looking slightly confused.
I stood in the hallway watching my mom pace the kitchen floor as she dialed Catherine's work number.
"So what's going on?" my mother asked when Catherine answered. She stopped dead in her tracks as her hand flew up to her mouth. She bent over slightly. "Eric?" she whispered, pure horror on her face. Curiosity flooded through me as I watched my mother. This was bad, I could tell.
When my mom finally hung up she turned to me and called my father.
"There's something I need to tell you," her voice was serious, but pained, "Sit down." She gestured to the chairs in the kitchen.
Sit down? Was it really that bad? I usually stayed well enough in control that I had never needed to sit down.
"Sit down," she repeated, looking at my confused expression.
I obediently sat and rested my chin on my thumbs while I covered my mouth with my fingers. This was bad. How bad, though?
"There was a plane crash this morning," my mother sat down herself, "It took three lives."
Oh, no. I felt my throat tighten a little.
".....Eric Johnson...." What?! My piano teacher's husband? I knew him well, they were in my ward.
".....Kim Acton....." No! We were good friends. He was always teasing me at church.
".....and Brian Bayles....." At this point I felt a numbness wash over me. Brian, too? Good ole Brian who was like an older brother to me? All three of them? All who I knew so well and was so close to? It wasn't true.....
Shock, horror, and the reality of it all washed over me in an instant. It was true. I held completely still, looking across the table into my mother's eyes as tears raced down my own. No. NO!!! My insides were screaming and twisting in agony.
I stood up from the table, quickly losing control, and steadily walked to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Then I snapped. I dropped to the floor, hitting my knees hard, but didn't feel the pain of it. My hands raised up to my head, clutched into fists. My tears were now flooding down my cheeks and neck, dampening the front of my shirt. I rocked back and forth, taking in quick gasps of air as my insides continued to wail.
They were gone. Never to joke with me again. Eric and Brian never to hold their young children in their arms again. Never watch them grow up. Kim never to see his youngest son return home off his mission. They were no longer a part of this life.
My heart suddenly jumped out to their wives. Eric and Brians' so young. Kim's now home alone.
My tears came faster and hotter. It's not fair!! I wanted to scream. My mom came in and put her hands on my shoulders.
"Do we need to get someone to work for you today?"
"I'll do it," I replied weakly, slowly standing up. I went and made the phone calls and returned to my room. My dad stepped in with a look of concern on his face. "Do you need us to stay here?" he asked, looking at my tear-streaked face.
"No. You can go." They hadn't done anything for their anniversary in a long time.
"That wouldn't be very good," he replied, "Leaving you home alone... now.... like this...."
"I'll be fine," I tried to smile as proof, "I'll just keep myself busy."
He pursed his lips and left my room. I was more in control of myself, though my tears still endlessly streamed from my eyes. I stared blankly into nothingness. It couldn't be. Three incredible men. Why? It's just a bad dream..... But it wasn't. I knew that. They were gone. Leaving so many lives altered forever.....

Writing the Night

So honestly, I don't know what to write. I just don't want to go to bed. Because if I leave this computer it means I have to go get my lesson ready for tomorrow. And after I get the lesson ready, I'll have to go to sleep. To some people sleep is the most wonderful thing in the world. They'd rather sleep than do anything else and they're always so excited to finally crawl into bed at the end of the day. Not me. I don't completely hate sleep, but you could be doing so many other things if you didn't have to have sleep. Seriously, that's eight hours (ok, eight for most people) that you could be getting things done.

Now, I'm not one of those people who is always worried about getting everything done. Oh no. That's not me. I am one of the worst procrastinators ever. But what I mean is, you could get things done so that during the day you can be free to do things with your friends or family. Does that make sense?

So really, I'm usually reluctant to go to bed, and sleeping during the day is something I usually try to avoid (unless I have a long shift at the pool). Every once in a while I'll be tired enough that I just completely crash. Like the other day, I came home from a ten hour shift at the pool, didn't even make it up the stairs. I was out on the staircase. And my dad didn't even wake me up. He just let me sleep there for about an hour until I finally woke up. That was a slightly painful rousing.

Also, if you go to sleep, it means you have to wake up. Now, I'm not saying I hate mornings. Drill has made me a morning person. I love mornings, actually. I just hate waking up, at any time really. I'm a morning person, a night person, and a day person. It's just nature doesn't want me be all three. I love the night as well; the middle of the night when nobody else is awake and the darkness is yours. I love staying up late, and I like waking up early in the morning, too. Don't ask me why. So usually during the school year I run off of about five hours of sleep or less a night. Because I go to be late, I'll wake up in the middle of the night (sometimes I'll do homework during this time), and then I wake up early (5 am) in the morning to go to drill.

Now sometimes I do love sleep. Like when I get back from a long trip, or I've been working for a long time, just things that wear me out. Then I will gladly go to bed. But under normal circumstances, I would rather stay up than sleep. And this really doesn't bode well with my parents.... or Dallas either. They would all much rather want me sleeping. And I know I should. I need to get my rest to stay in good health and keep a sharp mind (well, as sharp as my mind can get). So maybe someday I'll start sleeping like a normal person with eight hours of rest a night; going to bed at ten and waking up at six, and trying to sleep the whole night through. But that someday will not be any time soon. Not while I'm still doing drill at least. So for all you sleepers, sweet dreams. For now, I'll just keep writing the night.

No Memories?!

No Memories? Dang. I must not leave very good impressions......

One Memory....

1. Leave one memory that you and I had together, as a comment on my blog. Anything goes.

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll check to see if you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

So Lost

Sometimes when I think about you
I wonder
Why you still love me when I am so lost.
So many times I slip and fall
But you always come back and pick me up.
Sometimes you have to drag me along
For a while
Before I'll get back up on my feet
But you never let go and just leave.
I can be frustrating in my curiosity
And doubt
But if you're irritated, you hide it well.
With me you use patience and understanding
The way you would deal with a child.
You handle me gently as though
I were glass
Careful to leave no bruise or break.
You watch me tenderly, seeing the things
Others don't.
The expression in your eyes shows the pain
Because you can see into my soul.
I push you away and tell you to leave
I try to hurt you to get you to go
But you stand your ground and stay
With me
Letting me hit you as much as I need.
Then at the end of the day
When I lay broken in the street
You lovingly lift me in your arms
You carry me home and tuck me in bed.
You stay by my side as I drift
Into sleep.
When I toss and turn from my nightmares
And wake up screaming in the night
You stroke my hair and calm me
Saying, "Hush now, darling.
Go back to sleep. The morning will
Quickly come.
I'll stay here with you, by your side.
You need your rest. I love you."
"I love you." You say
And it makes me wonder
How can you love me so deeply
When I have become so lost?

Accomplishment

Wow. I feel so proud of myself, let me tell you. First, I've written the lyrics to two songs: Fade Away and Fallen Fairy. I didn't know I could do that. And it's cool because I'm not the only one who likes them.....I hope.....
I'm usually not a poem writer, which is kind of what songs are, but I was able to pull out two of them. So even if they are lame, at least I did it!

And second, I have been wanting to learn guitar since 8th grade, and now I'm finally getting somewhere! Today I bought my oldest brother's acoustic guitar. It is really nice and he gave me a really good deal. It came with three picks, a strap, a tuner, and a really nice case. It's awesome! And then Dallas came over and taught me three chords (he actually taught me more than three chords, but that's all I can remember right now). And he showed me how to kind of read music.... tabs, I guess they're called. So we printed off a couple songs that I get to practice with chords until he comes back when school starts. But I'm finally learning to play guitar, with my own guitar! The only downside of this is that I have to keep my fingernails short now. :( I hate.... no.... I HATE having short fingernails. It drives me insane when I just have to cut them during drill competition. Argh! Oh well. I suppose I'll get use to it..... eventually. But for now, I am totally content with learning the guitar and writing songs. :)

ps. Most of the time I work on my songs when I'm in the cage while life guarding. Maybe the pool is my inspiration place..... :)

The Power of a Song

I've always found it interesting how I can always find a song that completely fits what I'm feeling. Whether I'm scared, angry, happy, or sad to the point of being void. The whole song will fit, but there's always a few lines that feel like they were written just for the purpose of reflecting my mood.

~Seeing it from my view~

This hole in my chest has been getting the best of my life.....
And the chill of your touch
Never thought I'd miss the cold so much
Wrapped in stone
Felt at home
If only you knew that this hole
Was created by you

-By You


~Someone else's view~

Leaving you was the only answer
That I could find
Why did I go?
I still love you, you know.

It's been so long
Since I've known pain
I felt it through your eyes that night
Among the trees and rain

-A World Without You


These are both songs written and sung by Mitch Hansen. I have his album Twilight Hour on my ipod. He based these songs off the books in the Twilight series, which is really cool because it has nothing to do with the movie. I love all of the songs that he did. But these two are the songs that reflect how I'm feeling the most right now, along with Bring Me To Life by Evanescence. But the Mitch Hansen reflect it better and I like listening to them more at the moment.

Not only can songs reflect your mood, they can also have a powerful impact on how you handle or react to a situation.

The song that probably is the closest to how I feel is another Mitch Hansen.

Stay With Me

Can't you see my heart is heavy
Just because I know you're leaving
Sometimes I wish you could
Read my mind

Look at me I'm always lost
But I am found and I can't believe it
There is just one more thing I have to ask

Stay with me for a while
Stay with me and I'll smile
Never leave and you'll see
Stay with me, will you please?

Hollow

Hollow. The cold, black feeling of being hallow. The thing is, I saw it coming from a mile away. I've been waiting for it. I knew avoiding it wouldn't be possible, but I tried to delay it anyway. And now that it's come I'm filled with that hollowness.

It's strange really. You never really think about all the emotions you can feel and how they're different. Becoming hard and becoming numb are probably the closest things that come to it, though they really are nothing alike if you look closely.

Being hollow sort of mixes good emotions with bad ones. All the knots and frustration are gone, and you don't feel angry at all. Yet, you don't feel happy either. Not feeling happy or sad is kind of how it relates to being numb. But it's different because you do feel something, whereas being numb all emotion is lost to you. Being hollow you feel sort of empty..... vast inside.... lost......

It's easy to laugh and it's easy to cry. And it's very easy to do both at the same time. But you never feel those emotions that bring on these actions. It's as though someone has taken a spoon and carved out your insides like a pumpkin. You can feel the pain as it's scraped against your sides and bones. That awful, awful pain. The last thing removed is your heart. As soon as this is gone, all pain dissolves, leaving you an empty shell. A shadow of your former self. Yet you can hide it well enough that people around you think you're still whole. If they cared to look closer they could easily see through you and realize that somethings not right. But no need to worry about that....

You're standing in a black mist in unknown surroundings. You're not scared, but you still don't know what to do. There's no one there to help you or give you guidance. You're on your own in this one. You stand on the edge and look down. You see nothing. Do you jump? Or do you turn around and try to go back? Do you fall on your knees and cry? Or do you find the strength to push yourself one more step? Does it even matter? Can you feel what matters to you anymore?

Lost.

Black.

Hollow.

:'(

....Cam is dead....

Too Much

WARNING: THIS IS VERY LONG WITH NO REAL POINT. READING MAY CAUSE EXTREME BORDOM.


I can't believe I'm doing this! It's too much. I am doing Summer Experience, which has about the same hours as a regular school day, plus weekly trips (sometimes two a week). We've gone backpacking, river rafting, dino hunting, and we still have a lot more planned, like another backpacking trip to Colorado.

Jeans did Summer Experience last year and she told me that since it was so hectic the only other thing she could do was work a little bit in her dad's office. I'm not as level headed as she is. Along with Summer Experience I am working two jobs, filing at the Credit Union and Life guarding; I have drill team stuff going on; I'm helping Jeans with the play "Just Right" for the 4th (she wrote it by the way, it's really good); and I'm training for cross country. I'm also suppose to be playing tennis so I can stay up to speed, but I haven't had time to do it. And also, our baby chicks came in the other day and I have one cripple (Vaz) and one bantom (meaning it will be a tiny chicken) that was piled on top of by the other chicks so she's not doing so great (her name's Cam). I'm really scared that Cam isn't going to make it, but I'm not giving up on her.

So my days are completely filled. From waking up at 5:00 am until I go to bed around 10:30 pm (but I don't usually go to sleep until at least 11:30 because I'm working on homework), I only spend about an hour and a half at home, which is my lunch break and a little time between school and work. (Which is why I'm writing this during my free time in class, I can't do it any other time).

Yeah, I'm definitely not as level headed as Jeans. She was stressed out last year, and I'm on the verge of losing my mind (what little I have). My patience is worn down, my nerves are shot, and my emotions are starting to get the better of me. It's just more than I can handle. But I've already gone through my list; what can I eliminate? They're all important to me. The first thing to go would probably be cross country, but there's no way I can ditch out. It just isn't an option. I am really on the brink of hysteria, and my moods have become somewhat unpredictable.

I feel really bad for the people that have to deal with me throughout the day. I'm actually pretty good in class because I don't talk often and my friends are pretty good at keeping me in a good mood. But my poor dog is probably going into depression from lack of attention. And poor Dallas has to deal with all my venting and crying. Sorry Dallas, that probably isn't how you want to spend your few weeks here; having a wet shoulder and pretending you're really interested in what I'm saying. But thank you.

There's a couple other things adding to my stress, but I probably shouldn't share it, though I really want to and I might later depending on how things go. So I guess this was really a sort of venting session. But just a bit of advice: don't stretch yourself out so much you're never at home between the times of 5:30 am and 10:30 pm. It really isn't worth it. Go home and spend time with your dog, fish, wife, family, or guitar. It's such a better way to spend your time. And now.... drum roll please.... Congratulations on reading this far! I really didn't expect it of anyone. But it makes me wonder if you were just extremely bored for reading this far.... :)

Art

So here I sit in Art Class. Probably not the best place to be blogging, but hey! I can multi-task. This class is nothing like what I expected. I thought we might learn how to draw faces or animals, or maybe make clay pots or something. I've never had an art class, so I certainly wasn't expecting this. We each have our own artist that we're studying (mine is Thomas Kinkade) and then we have to teach the class about that artist and his art. And we do formal analysis' on the art. I didn't know that was possible. Sure I knew you could look deep into a picture to find a deeper meaning, but this is.....well.... crazy. It's like there's a hidden meaning in every little line that the artist puts on the canvas. It all represents something. I haven't yet decided whether I think we're digging too deep or not. But I'm leaning more to the too deep side. I mean, we're comparing each element in a painting to the notes of a song. It's pretty intense.

Ya know, I actually might be pretty narrow minded when it comes to art. I don't mind analyzing these cool paintings, but when it comes to abstract art...... no. A tiny red dot does not represent an ancient war of vikings. I know that's a little extreme, but that's what it feels like to me. It just makes no sense and I don't really see it as art. *gasp of horror* I will actually doodle abstract art in marker when I'm bored sometimes, making lots of lines like a spider web then color in some of the shapes with different colors. Sometimes it looks really cool, but I don't see it as art. It's just random doodlings of boredom. Sometimes I'll do symbols, too. But they actually mean something (I made a new alphabet out of symbols for my book). The thing is, I still don't view it as art. It's just doodlings that I can sometimes connect into my writing. Nothing special that will sell for millions, yet it's just the same as those famous red dot paintings.

Maybe I'm being too critical. Like I said, I'm kind of narrow minded in art. Some abstract art I do find interesting, but I see no "deeper meaning" in it other than what the artist might have been feeling when he made it (which is what we analyze, but to the extreme. We try to make every little speck represent some kind of emotion). And I still wouldn't buy a dot or scribbles for thousands of dollars when I could just as easily have my nephew do it and have that actually mean something to me.

That was probably a little harsh, so I'll give the artists some credit to make up for it. Art actually does take a lot of strategy and talent. I never would have thought about adding implied lines or complementary colors. It takes a lot of thought, patience, and knowledge. Kudos for the artists (even if I don't like them).

The End

The shrieking of tires. The crushing of metal. The shattering of glass. It all echoed in her ears. The flash of headlights. The scarlet of blood. The blackness. It all flooded her mind.

Now she lay in empty silence, pinned under the crushed metal and broken glass. She heard no sound from the others. They were dead. She could feel nothing. Her body had become numb from so much pain. Her vision was foggy. All she could see were dark, fuzzy outlines. Her head was swimming. She could barely concentrate on anything.

Yet amid the detachment, she knew. She knew all that blood was hers and she had lost too much of it. She knew she was trapped under the car with no way out. She knew help wouldn't come; there was nobody to call. She knew her fate was the same as the others' had been. She knew she was going to die.

She slipped her eyes shut, ready to let go. Her ears picked up on the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, and the distant scent of rushing water filled her nose. Cold tears slid down her cheeks and mixed with the smeared blood on her face. This was it. This was her ending.

Growing Up

I've never liked the idea of growing up. When I was little, I always wanted Peter Pan to come and take me away to Neverland. Of course that didn't happen and now I'm less than a year away from being an adult. I have now accepted, but not gotten use to, the idea of becoming an adult, hopefully a responsible one. And actually, one of my dreams is to be a stay-at-home mom. As much as I hated the idea of growing up, I've wanted that for as long as I can remember. Probably because my mom stayed home as I was growing up. She did work as a cosmetologist, but her salon was in our basement so she never left the house and was always there when we needed her.

But probably the thing that scares me the most about growing up is drifting away from my friends. You've known these people for a long time. You see each other almost every day for fall, winter, and spring. And now you'll all be going off to different colleges, and if you're lucky you can see each other a few times over Christmas break. You've just frown so close, even to the ones you haven't know as long. That's going to be the hardest for me. Especially with Jeans. We have been best friends since first grade. That's over 11 years!!! And after we graduate, we'll be split up. It's going to be so hard. She has always been there for me and I for her. I know that I'll make new friends and I can still stay somewhat in touch with my old friends. But that's still a cruel blow that I really don't want to face.

But what can you do? You can't stop time. You can't go back. You can't leave some things out. You have to face reality and take what life hands you. All of it. I only hope that I can deal with it in a way that lets me come out on top. I've done pretty good in that thus far, but we'll see....

No Longer A Blonde

I am no longer a blonde. Well, in hair color that is. I have recently discovered that dying your hair does not change whether you're a true blonde or not. Yes, I am still a true blonde. At first it was just the little things that anyone could end up doing and my family would tease me that the hair dye wasn't working. I just thought to myself, "I'll prove them wrong. I'm not that blonde." Well, I proved something. I proved them right.

I went to the SUU Health Camp this week and it was a blast. I made several new friends and two really good friends: Alicia and Kiersta. It was lunch break and Kiersta finished her food way before anyone else, so she went to wait for us in the lobby. When Alicia and I got done we went to join her.

Now, I don't know what idiot had the brilliant idea of using a dark color carpet with dark lines randomly placed on it, but I think he did it just for laughs. There's a single stair that leads down into the lobby, and you really don't notice it unless you're looking for it because of that stupid carpet.

I was walking beside Alicia and was about half a step behind her. I suddenly saw her stumble and I turned my head to look at her to make sure she's alright while wondering, "Why in the world did she stumble?" My question was quickly answered as I not only stumbled, but completely biffed it off that stupid stair. Kiersta told me later that it looked really funny because she saw Alicia stumble and then I completely go down right next to her.

So I landed on my knees and I just sat there, sort of stunned. Everyone was looking at me like they thought I was hurt, or I was going to run out of the room crying with embarrassment. But once I realized what happened, I started laughing. I wasn't hurt or embarrassed at all. I just thought that it was so funny that I would actually be brought to my knees by a stupid little stair. When everyone saw that I was ok, they all started laughing with me. A couple guys even came and asked me if I was alright and helped me up. But I actually couldn't stand up for a long time because I was laughing so hard. Alicia had to sit down by me because she was laughing really hard, too.

So obviously the hair dye didn't work. But that's alright. That was probably one of my favorite memories of camp.

Sinking Feeling

That awful sinking feeling. It starts in the very pit of your stomach as a sort of tugging. It spreads and becomes a twisting sensation, causing your stomach to lurch. Your insides become tight and wrenched. It quickly spreads up the front of your ribcage and fills your whole chest. Your chest is constricted and breathing becomes very difficult. It feels as though something has enclosed your heart and is steadily squeezing it. Your mind doesn't want to believe it and goes into denial. But that gut feeling knows it's true and knows it's coming. A fiery sensation runs up the back of your neck and your head becomes hot, causing your jaw to clench and your eyes to become hard. The same fire blazes throughout the rest of your body and every muscle tightens. You're rigid and tense, not wanting to believe what you're about to hear, yet knowing there's no avoiding it. Hot head, constricted chest, and lurching stomach, you wait. Your eyes focus on nothing, but absorb everything. All of your senses sharpen, but are tuned to nothing in particular. You don't move independently, but nor do you shy away from any touch. You simply are at this point. Just waiting. Fighting and waiting. There is nothing else that you can do.

Letting Go

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

Or is it more forgetful?

These simple words will strike me

And often pierce my soul.

I wonder if they are really true

And if there's a way to stop it.

Or must I learn to just let go

And see that it is fit?

Change is always coming,

And though I may not agree,

It is a chance to make things better,

It often strengthens me.

But am I strong enough for this test?

To be left here all alone?

Will it give me a humble heart?

Or will it only change it to stone?

This is what I've been called for

And though I may not know,

I will always be given strength,

If needed, to let go.

Letting go's not easy,

But it helps to have a friend.

One you know you can always trust,

Who will stick by you to the end.

Terror at the Mall

I was just watching the TV and there was a story called Terror at the Mall. It's about this guy who was targeting women with young children who drove black SUVs at the mall. He would then kidnap them from the parking lot, handcuff them, restrain them with plastic ties, put blackened swimming goggles over their eyes, take them to an ATM to get money, and then shoot them at point blank. The police would later find them in the back of the SUV back at the mall parking lot.

The interesting thing is, one of his victims was released, they think because she didn't put up a fight; she did everything she was told to do. The other two mothers, however were killed, and they both put up a fight. One of them was actually trying to protect her child. The last victim had actually broken the handcuffs she was put in trying to protect her seven year old daughter.

I think it's sick that anyone would even think about killing a mother and her child, especially shooting them at point blank range. The thing that kind of worries me though, is that I'm a fighter. I always have been, particularly when it comes to defending someone else. So just realized that if I were ever to be kidnapped, I would probably be killed because I wouldn't comply, especially if there was someone kidnapped with me. That's probably a bad thing that I'm so spiteful and stubborn, but I don't believe in letting the "bad guys" get off easy. If I were going to go, I would try and take them with me.

Never Falter

Tick.... tock.... tick.... tock.... The clicks are louder than they ought to be and seem far too drawn out. The silence presses in, thick and heavy, seeming to be a sound all on it's own. Thoughts drift slowly. Some are of happy things, creating a sense of giddiness. But most are not so happy. They fill the silence with anxiety, regret.... fear. The feeling of being alone at such a time brings pain.

Crickets join the ticking to created a song of reflection.

Nothing can be seen except what was done. The feeling of heat and tightness. The exhilaration of closeness and danger. It can easily blind the feint hearted. It can so easily overcome the weak....

The crickets are silent and the ticking now quick. The silence no longer presses; it is light and inviting. The thoughts are now racing, bringing hope. They fill the silence with desire; the desire to change, to become stronger. It is possible. To replace the heat with laughter; the tightness with openness; the closeness with freedom and breathing; and the danger with ease and relaxation. It's not too late to change, to overcome the fear. To stay in control. It can be done. I will stay strong near danger.... never falter.