Three-Part Photograpy

These are for my photography final that are due Friday. I used my best friend for a subject, and these are my final products. Let me know what you think of them! The concept was supposed to be a three part photo series which told a story. The beginning, pinnical moment, and then the finale. This idea here portrayed a girl who either is or has been labeled the things which are written on her body. The viewer could see it either way. The second photo shows her, fed up with what she is covered in, the accusations and names, and she washes them off of herself in the sink to free herself. In the third, she is clean, and has one final thought: She is above all of it. She doesn't care what they think. She is no longer the girl which was first shown, and now she can move on as a new person. 

The Fantastic Monday Flu

Adorable, but full of germs.

It's funny how most of the stress that I have in my life comes from two primary sources: a.) nannying, and b.) Chem. Class. While these two things are completely unrelated, they do occasionally find ways to connect themselves in my vast circle of Unimportant Stephic Events.
Take Monday for example. Dear Lord, Monday.
I showed up for work at the Nanny-Family's to be greeted with the news that I was not going to be alone the entire day with the small blonde one. The trio of Mexican cleaning ladies were going to come at three, much to my utter dismay. I'd made it clear to Nanny-Mommy that I wanted the cleaning ladies to come a different day, because it's a little hard to maneuver myself and Brody around them with their various chemicals, especially when it's about three degrees outside. Usually when they would come, I would just make a point to take Brody out in the stroller for two long periods of time, maybe arrive at the park, and spend a lot of time in the backyard. In the winter, it's so much harder. I also can't play one of the many bizarre games that I make up on a whim to entertain him inside, because they would think I was mental. So, when they arrive, we have to spend the three hours they are here in the child's tiny bedroom.
This, added onto the fact that I had a myriad of questions to answer for my Chemistry class and a Spanish III test to take, just made my stress level skyrocket.
So, the first half of the day went wonderful, mostly due to the fact that Brody took an hour and a half nap in the middle of the day, and we watched half of The Fantastic Mr. Fox. We couldn't take a walk, though, so he was completely hyped up on energy and had nothing to do with it except for pound up against the baby gate and defy my every movement. The joys of being one and a half.
Once the cleaning ladies came, there was no time for a second nap on Brody's watch. I was like, "Shit, now I will have about three hours of homework after I get home...", and since I get migraine headaches at the drop of a pen, I was now in a world of pain. And locked in the baby's room while he spun in circles like a helicopter and threw books at my head.
When Nanny-Daddy got home, I was feeling like my head was going to explode with pain. I was over-stressed, tired, and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for a week. But life can't ever be that simple, can it? By the end of the night, I did manage to get everything done and take a shower before getting to bed, but I still can't believe I managed to live through it.

Then I got the flu.

Early Wednesday morning, I had to jump out of bed two times and sprint to the bathroom to toss my cookies into the loo before stumbling back and landing in Nod. I vaguely remembered Nanny-Mommy mentioning that Brody had had the flu that weekend, and had since recovered, and then regretted ever kissing his little his little head before placing him in his crib. Dang.
I called her and told her I was sick and couldn't make it to their house that morning, only to find out that she, too, had the flu. Coincidence, right?
Puke.

My mom had to go and work at Operation Christmas Child that afternoon, though, so I spent the next seven hours home alone with a plastic bowl and a cat. I don't think I've spent that much time asleep in, well, a very long time. From eight in the morning to seven-o-clock that night, I was more or less drifting in and out of consciousness until Mother and Dano came home with some 7-Up and water crackers for me to consume. Which, then, I realized, I hadn't eaten anything all day. Couldn't keep anything down.
So I ate, and went back to bed. 

180

Watch all of this. It's worth it.

Some Amazing People

I think it's interesting how one's music choice can change in such a short amount of time. The way someone is inside can determine what types of music they prefer over others, and how they stand with their Creator can make such a huge difference in the style they enjoy the most.
For example, my freshman year, I was all into the band Skillet. The only thing I really liked to listen to was the raspy tone of John Cooper's voice and the blaring of their guitars. I was so angry and searching for something outside of myself that I found comfort in the insecurities of the song writer and all the heartache he had experienced in the past. I think that the severity of the music also fed my rage, the way that Cooper was always yelling and shouting about the way he felt kind of soothed me. Nowadays, I can't bring myself to listen to much of their music. I like softer, more quiet tones.
My sophomore year, I was into more happy, upbeat, secular music. I think last year, I was very far away from God, and I didn't really know it. I thought I was all into him, but I found myself not listening to His voice through the music I was paying attention to. I was practically obsessed with Rachel, and wanting to be just like her, I decided to listen to the kind of music she liked, and found things that we could listen to together. Now there's a lot of songs on my library that I don't feel like I can bearly hear anymore because it reminds me so much of her. Now, because of the state of my heart, I'm very prejudiced against different songs that I have, and need to keep myself away from it.
And now, I think it's interesting how since I've wanted to be alone and more solitary, I listen to quieter things. I'm secluded and quiet inside, and so my music choice has changed to mirror what I feel inside. I've gotten very into the work of Shawn McDonald, because he's the type of guy I can really identify with. His biography is so heartbreaking, his story so close to my heart, and when he sings, I can feel what he feels. This man is someone who has hurt so much, and gives it all back to God. I find it inspiring.

I love how he just says how he feels, and puts it all out there for the world to see. His songs bring up topics of insecurity, loneliness, feeling lost, hopeless, and then finding redemption again and sanctuary from all of his troubles. Another artist whom I've really grown to adore is JJ Heller, a young woman who has also seen lots of trouble, but found ways to deal with it, and finally discovered God's plan for her. She's now married and has two sweet little girls, and is happy. Her music reflects that. She, also, is akin to quiet, guitar inspired music in a sort of Indie fashion. I absolutely love her.
These two artists have inspired me and kept me going through rough times. I'll post a few of my favorite songs by them, so maybe you can get to know them, too. 

I hope you enjoy them, and maybe they'll inspire you, too.

Good Evening.

I'm a failure. No blogging? Almost a year? I suck. Here is an "I suck" photo for you. In fact, its title is "I suck" and it is a picture of me sucking.

See, now, I feel like I've completely robbed humanity of my views and all the random crap I have to say. I think now I'll just ramble on something that's been on my mind lately, and something that's been closing in on my state of mind and such and makes me feel completely powerless. I'll just come out and say it.

I can't trust anyone.

There, it's out, I've uttered it, and bang, I already feel a little better. Um, I really hope she's not reading this, but that friend that I used to rave about, Rachel? She's no longer a part of my life. I don't know how to nicely say this, but I honestly feel like she used me. I was like a fad that went out of fashion, and now that she's gone and forgotten all about me and left me in this shocked, pathetic, exoskeleton, I'm beginning to question who else in my life that I have been trusting should I not trust anymore? Obviously, I'm not the best judge of character, seeing as four out of the five best friends I've had in the last three years have left me emotionally scarred to some degree, how many other "BFFs" in my life am I allowing to get to know me better?

And so now, I'm, like, this completely scared out of my beans, paranoid, and un-trusting hermit that has no fun and hangs out with no one because I don't know who actually likes me and who's just pretending. I'm not sure if the kids that I was trying to befriend in my photography class are just being nice because I'm annoying and emotional, or if they genuinely like me. What if they just laugh at my jokes because I say so many of them? Because they find me intimidating? Is my youth pastor's wife just having lunch with me on Thursdays because she feels sorry for me in my fragile state of being? I just don't know, and I have no idea what the duck is going on here.

It's a little like living in Inception.

And I really don't like it, because I can feel myself pulling away from anyone and everyone, and becoming much more cynical and sarcastic than I used to be, and far more darker in my "normal" state of mind than I previously allowed myself to be. Like, even when I'm having a good day, I'm, like, borderline Fang of Maximum Ride. It's frightening, to say the least.
What the blank am I becoming? Do I even like this?

I'm getting addicted to the Sims 3 again, getting lost in the land of Facebook, neglecting Chemistry homework and/or important studying I have to do, and it's just not healthy.
I'd get some help, but I just don't have time.

Maybe the root of all of this is the fact that I now spend sixteen hours a week babysitting a two-year-old who likes to kick and scream and demand things I'm not sure I'm allowed to give him. (I also work a hostessing job on weekends. I'm pretty sure I've broken every child-labor law out there.) Or that my room is never clean. Or that I have a dog that's fatter than a kid on a strict Twinkie diet. Or that the earth may or may not be warming. Or, um, I don't know, that some freaking moose in Alaska just died of heart failure because he wasn't following up on the Iditerod!

Clearly, I'm losing it.

Yeah, I'm losing it.

Also, damn, it's good to be back. I haven't written in so long, and then my history teacher, Mista' B., assigned this super long research paper on what America is all about, and somehow, it just felt...good to be writing. The sad thing was that it had to be a research paper that brought me back to all of this. Somehow I started thinking about my blog after I'd written the seven page monster in under two hours, and how amazing it was that I could write something of that magnitude is such a short amount of time. Maybe it's my eight words-per-minute typing speed or my addiction to caffeine, but I mean, who knows. I'm rethinking my career options after high school (I'm a junior now...is that crazy?), and earlier this month it was definitely a councilor for troubled teens, but then Nicole stole that, but that's a different story, and now I'm wondering if I should write. I mean, I don't mind doing it, it's easy for me, and I think it's kind of fun. And writing stuff like this, on a blog, obviously would not be a practical career field, but maybe writing articles or something. I dunno. It's a small idea. Baby steps, baby steps, that's how I roll.

Look at my cows!

I think I might change the name of my blog. I'm not really sure. But I do definitely need to change the profile picture of me, 'cause I got a new haircut, and I'm almost a year older than that photo. And, see, now that I have two jobs, I can afford to be all girly and stuff now and buy cute clothes and makeup and damaging hair products that make my hair way huger than it needs to be. I kind of love it, and I've come to the realization that I'm a workaholic. I love to be busy, and stressed, and I like to make money. See, and now I don't have to bug my family about buying me stuff, like Nutella and feminine necessities, because I can get them myself, and it feels way better to have earned it than to have mooched.

Anyway, so, yeah, this felt good. It's good to be back. I'll add some nice photos and stuff to make this post more worth your while to be reading it. But, then again, if you're reading this right now, you've probably moved ahead of that already.

And someone had been wondering about my hearing aids? They don't work in the way intended, but they do mask most sounds that normally bug me. It's a really weird concept, and half of the time, I don't even know if they're doing anything productive, but just wearing them gives me some sense of security. I tend to flip out a little more when I'm not wearing them than when I am, for some strange, psychological reason. 

Not Only Do I Have Orthopedic Shoe-Inserts - I Also Have Hearing-Aids. I'm Fifteen.

Yesterday, I learned something that kind of blew my mind: 4S may, in fact, be curable. INSANE, right? Let me start from the beginning.
My mother woke me up at about seven-o-clock and told me that we were going to an audiologist to go look at my ears and talk about my Selective Sound Sensitivity Syndrome (4S). It turns out that there's a man in Colorado Springs who not only has heard about it, but knows how to treat and hopefully cure it.
First off, he explained to me that we needed to take some hearing tests, he needed to look down my ear canal with a microscope thing that showed up on his computer (so freaking awesome), and he needed to vacuum some ear wax out of my left ear (very painful). So, I was put in a soundproof room after getting my ears cleaned and had to repeat words that he said to me, and also listen to different beep pitches so he could measure how good my hearing was. Turns out mine is weirdly acute.
After he was finished with that, he explained to me what 4S is and how my brain is different from everyone else’s. In everybody’s brain, there is a part that processes sound, and a part that processes anxiety sitting right next to it. Normally, these two regions do not interact. But, in my brain, there are connections and bridges between the two regions, and so they intermingle far too frequently.

What the doctor said one way we can break down these connections is through the use of hearing aids. One type of device used has been developed in Australia, and plays a series of chime-like notes in an infinitely random sequence. If I wear these all the time, whenever I come in contact with noises that trigger anxiety, the part of my brain that is beginning to freak out will relax more so my reactions begin to cease. Eventually, he said, these connections will begin to break down, and I should be able to see a difference in as little as two weeks. In a decade, Doc says, my 4S could be completely eliminated.

The ones I have right now are actually not mine, but the ones that my parents are going to buy for me have a switch on them so I can change the type of chime or white noise and control the volume. They'll also be brown so they match my hair color, and the wire will be clear, so they won't be that noticeable.  

Isn’t that cool? This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for! The only downside? They make my ear canals itch, but I think I can live with that.

100 Happy Things

So, I kind of had a rough day. I got home and read up about things to do when you're down, and one of them was to write out a list of one hundred things that make you smile. And I like making lists, so I did it.

Things That Make Me Happy:
1. Reading a book
2. Drawing a picture
3. Writing about life
4. Sunshine
5. Practicing the guitar
6. Practicing the cello
7. Taking a shower
8. The feeling after you're done crying
9. Playing on the Sims 3
10. Listening to music
11. Eating good food
12. Making CD's
13. Shopping
14. Playing with Boaz (my dog)
15. Snowboarding
16. Helping people
17. Having something to smile about
18. Looking at good photography
19. Having good grades
20. Not complaining about things and just taking things as they are
21. Singing
22. Sitting in my Bat Cave (my semi-furnished crawlspace)
23. Feeling like I'm pretty
24. Having nice things to wear
25. Chewing gum (not around other people!)
26. New pencils and pens

27. New books
28. Wearing pajamas
29. Getting a text message from someone
30. Having Facebook notifications
31. Comments on my blog
32. Fanfiction reviews
33. The feeling of after completing a lot of homework
34. Making something
35. Looking at childhood photos
36. Having a face clear of blemishes
37. Losing a few pounds
38. Oreos (funny how this one directly followed the previous...)
39. Chocolate in general
40. Going somewhere
41. Youth Group (when Ashley’s there)
42. Starbucks
43. Baking/Cooking
44. Educational videos
45. Watching movies
46. Going to the movies and being the only people there
47. Learning new things
48. Doing something with my hands
49. Accomplishing something difficult
50. Praying
51. Reading my Bible
52. Glee
53. Hugs
54. Driving
55. Toy cars
56. Dinosaurs
57. Really cold ice water
58. Warm baths
59. Being left alone

60. Flowers
61. Contacts
62. Doing my nails
63. Playing with my iPod
64. Complete and total silence
65. Riding my horse
66. Taking pictures
67. New music
68. Asian people
69. Speaking in Spanish
70. Coloring
71. Crayons
72. Kids TV shows
73. Babysitting
74. Sheep
75. Candles
76. A clean room
77. When my laundry is all done
78. Garlic bread
79. Just bread in general; carbs!
80. Caesar salads

81. Clean sheets

82. Ostriches

83. Anthropologie

84. Computers

85. Powerpoint presentations

86. Petting the cat

87. AFV
88. Painting walls
89. The library
90. The Dumb Friends League
91. Chips eaten in solitude. (Sounds weird, but...yeah.)
92. Earl Grey Tea
93. Hot Chocolate with whipped cream
94. The smell of the book store
95. Writing letters
96. Mika
97. Great art, like Van Gough, Monet, and Georgia O'Keefe
98. Yo-Yo Ma
99. Sporks
100. Not having a rash

To tell you the truth, it actually made me feel a bit better. So, next time you feel like punching the nearest wall, reach for your computer instead and start typing up words! It's kind of fun. Shortly after I finished this list, my mom and my sister came up to check on me because I refused to eat dinner with the fam, so we just talked, and it was nice.
Tomorrow, my mom and I are going to go see an audiologist who specializes in things like 4S, and he might be able to fit me with a pair of hearing aid-like devices which filter out the bad noises. Don't ask me how, but I'm really hoping this works. Please be praying that my situations at home and at school get better, because I'm not doing so well at the moment with everything in general. Life is kind of coming at me in all directions, and I'm just waiting for the storm to blow over.
Thanks, and I hope you all have a great week :)

Merry Christmas / Happy New Year

So, I’m not dead. I realize I haven’t posted in over a month, which is entirely my fault because I’ve had all of break to post again. Sorry. Like, geez, you’d think I could freaking motivate myself to use the computer for something other than the Sims 3 and Facebook. It has also come to my attention that I promised to post right after Thanksgiving about my Thanksgiving, but now I’m thinking that’s way overdue and you probably all don’t really care at this point.

Anyway.
First of all, I'd like to wish you all a Merry Late Christmas and a wonderful New Year ahead of you. I hope that all of you enjoyed your time with family and friends as you remembered the birth of the Christ and what Emmanuel promised to do for his people, and for all the world. In some ways, my holiday wish isn't late at all - we can remember the day the Savior of the world was sent any time or any hour. "Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to all men on whom His favor rests."

The highlights of the last month included snowboarding with a handful of kids from my school, seeing a Family Force 5 and Forever The Sickest Kids concert, and our drummer, Brice, ’s Christmas party at his house. (Sorry, wasn't entirely sure how to punctuate that.) Then after I got off school on December 13th, I was free to do whatever I wanted with myself for three whole weeks. The problem with that? I had no plans whatsoever for the first and last week. And, you know, that could kind of be a problem, considering I usually get pretty depressed when I’m all alone by myself. Week One sucked.

The second week of my break, my family and I had made plans to go volunteer over Christmas at InterVarsity’s Bear Trap Ranch to help serve a group of international students for the International House Party. My family got our own room to stay in, which was complete with a loft and several mattresses to sleep upon. We spent the week mainly cooking different international dishes in gigantic serving sizes, sloshing kimchi out of a big glass jar into a bowl (smelled disgusting), and quartering large sheets of sea weed. It was a lot of work, and I didn’t enjoy most of it, but I gained the satisfaction of listening in one night while the students shared what they had learned about God from the camp. Now I think I would even do it again just considering the spiritual growth that happened there. It was great to be part of something so huge!

(Enter comic relief, stage right:) Here's something funny that happened the day before we left for Bear Trap was opening presents a week early: Last year, to mask the fact I had gotten my brother a concert shirt for Christmas, I duct-taped two bricks to the inside of the box and filled it with packing peanuts, placing the shirt in the middle. This year, my brother did the exact same thing to me. He got the biggest dang box he could possibly find and put an entire cinder block inside of it. What did he get me? A capo and an ostrich Beanie Baby. For Kristen's, he placed the gift in a box, and then wrapped it up in about six other boxes, duct-tape everywhere. Glad to know he had fun doing it, right?

My sister and I decided that we would choose our own gifts for each other so that we spent about the same amount of money on one another. This year, I got her the first season of Glee, and she got me the Sims 3. And that totally rhymed. My life is such an epic.

I also had the opportunity to spend time with both of my best buds this Christmas break. The first week, Ashley spend the night while my sister was having her ugly Christmas sweater party. We played Pictionary Man with my mom and Daniel, jammed a bit with my guitar, made candy houses, and were able to catch up for the first time in what seems like months. I can't believe the last time we had a sleepover was during the summer, which says something: Ashley needs to come to my school!



The day before New Years Eve, I was also able to spend the night at Rachel’s house for the first time ever. Man, it was a blast. We even stayed up until five because we didn’t factor girl talk into our bucket list. She and I watched some Glee and a Will Ferrel movie, played some Sims 3, Facebooked, dressed up as Lady Gaga and Kesha to shoot a twenty minute video, and had a great time. Granted, it felt a little juvenile, but who cares? A kid has to be a kid every once in a while. Plus, I freaking love Rachel.

And finally, New Years Eve came. There was no hint of sadness for me in seeing 2010 leave. I’m glad it’s over. The traumas of the first eight months will never my mind, but now I can see this new year ahead of me and think of nothing but hope. I have new friends, a new school, people in my life who genuinely care about me and my well-being. I know that this year will not be perfect, but I don’t think considering my circumstances, it could be any worse than last year.
I actually just finished reading through the Bible last night. Through watching the Israelites and how God continuously punishes them for what they’ve done wrong, but accepts them right back just as they were was encouraging. Reading Jesus’ teachings gave me hope, told me I am loved, and reminded me that no matter what happens to me, God will always love me. He’s taught me that he wants me to trust him because he is the one friend who will never let me down. He’s taught me that there’s a reason for everything that happens, whether good or bad, and that none of it is by accident or chance. God holds the world in his hands, and he sees each and every one of us. He collects my tears in a bottle and walks me through all of my hardships as they come.
Honestly, if God hadn’t been right there beside me throughout 2010, I may not have lived to see a 2011. So because I cannot find the words to describe my gratitude to Him, all I can do is try and honor him with everything I have in me. Let every breath that I take praise the Lord!


Happy New Year.

Holding On A Second

There are a lot of things that God has blessed me with that I should be thankful for this year. And since it's going to be Thanksgiving for another forty minutes, I'll go ahead and list these things which I am greatful for. My Thanksgiving post should arrive on Saturday, for those of you who want to know what I was doing with myself.
Here we go. I am thankful for...
- My family
- A big house to live in
- My dad and for all he provides for my family and his willingness to go out into the big scary world to make sure we have something to eat and a roof over our heads.
- My mom and her silliness; that she’s the only one in the family who I can go to when I feel stupid or frustrated with something, that she takes care of us when we’re sick, cooks food, and runs errands without ever complaining.
- Kristen, my older sister, and that she always takes the first step in everything to test the waters out for us. I’m thankful this year that she was the one who stood up for me and dragged me to the office when I was being bullied. I’m thankful that she remembers everything and is the quietest chewer in the entire family.
- Daniel, my little brother, that he listens to me when I talk to him. That he’ll come to me when he needs advice on something. I’m thankful that he and I have the same taste in music. I’m thankful that he looks up to me, even though that puts a lot of weight on my shoulders. I’m also thankful for his beautiful strawberry-blonde hair. It’s gorgeous.
- My school, that God provided a safe-haven for me in my desperation.
- Ashley, that she was there for me this summer when I had no friends at all and that she and I, even though we don’t see each other all the time, are still close no matter what.
- Rachel and that she's so much like me that it's scary. I’m thankful she is the only other person I know who also has 4S. I’m thankful she understands me in every single aspect of my life. I’m also thankful that she gives the greatest hugs in the world. Seriously, girl, they are the best.
- Jake, my music buddy. I’m thankful he’s the only other string player in my class and that he’s helped me form our band and help me lead it. I’m thankful he’s the only boy in my class who I can talk to and relate to. Also that he doesn’t drive me completely insane like most other boys I know.
- Rebekah, that she’s always willing to talk, always smiling, and always making me laugh in one way or the other. I love that she likes to take pictures. I love that she has the biggest cat in tarnation named Norman. I’m thankful that she, too, likes socks as much as I do.
- My new youth pastor and his wife. I love having coffee with Mandee, and it really helped me get through the first couple of weeks of school. I’m also thankful for their new baby!
- I’m thankful God didn’t let me kill myself before school started!
- I’m thankful He’s spoken to me through music I listen to and encouraged me through the one place He knew I’d listen.
- That I’m so creative, even when I’m frustrated and cursing because it makes me mathematically handicapped.
- Hence, I’m thankful for the online tutoring site I use for math every single day.
- For my teachers this year. All of them are Christians and share the same views as me. I’m thankful they’re so chill about everything (except for Mrs. Johnson, biology) and really care about you as a student. I’m also thankful they pray before class every day.
- I’m thankful for contacts!
- Oranges.
- Art.
- Music.
- Cell phones.
- Facebook.
- Texting.
- ALL OF MY SEVENTEEN FOLLOWERS. Seriously, I love that you guys care what I have to say and read my blog. (Am I a suck-up? Yes. Do I care? Not really.)
- The fact that I live in America and have a future, other than some of the kids in Mexico or in Romania who really don’t have anything to look forward to in their lives.
- That I can read people’s actions like a book.
- For my job.
- For my dog, Boaz Radley. I love that huge fluff-ball.
- Bacon.
- Our country not fighting some sort of war on our own soil. That could be scary, right?
- I’m thankful for airport security.
- I’m thankful for ostriches, elephant shrews, gazelles, and polyps.
- That I’m an intelligent person who can understand things on a deeper level.
- I’m thankful for being alive. I love my life right now, save 4S, but God has been taking care of me. He knows where my life is going and how certain hardships I go through will end up eventually.

Lastly, I’d like to encourage you to take a minute (or half an hour, like I just did) to take inventory of all the things you’ve been blessed with this year. How has God provided for you in your life?
Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving!



(Sexy, right?)

 Truthfully, this post has nothing at all to do with my Thanksgiving, seeing that to me, it's technically still Wednesday. It's just 12:12 AM. Anyway, I figured I'd try and post something before the holiday so that I could still post about the holiday on the holiday. Actually, I probably won't post again until Saturday, because I'm kind of a slacker, but you get the gist. Anyway, let's carry on:

I don’t post as often as I should. I think I was meaning to post on Sunday ‘cause I’d had kind of an interesting day. But now, for the life of me, I can’t remember what I was going to write about. I need to keep a little journal in my back pocket or something, so I can write down all the memorable things that people say and can put them down on here. Also, I’m probably one of the laziest people I know. I need to remind myself that blogging is not a chore, it’s something that I enjoy. Can you remember that, Steph? No.
On Friday, I spent from three thirty until about seven hanging out with Rachel at the coffee shop down the street from our school and then back at my house for about twenty minutes. We would have had a sleepover or something in order to get a portion of our social activity with one another taken care of, but she had to go to freaking Arizona for Thanksgiving.
Anyway. The beginning of this week was kind of fun. Up until Sunday I’d had no social activity whatsoever since that Friday (a long time, I know) until Jake and his dad decided to drive all the way out from Golden to come eat at the restaurant I work at. I already mentioned this, I believe. Anyhow, I had gotten my Starbucks to drink and quite literally had nothing to do, because I’m a hostess, and it was really slow. I’m beginning to think that I should get into watching football so I can be entertained by the televisions which adorn the bar. So, eventually, a tall, thin figure and a short one next to him appeared at the door. I waved.
“I hear you’re the best hostess in town!” Mr. M chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, taking the menus from the hostess stand and placing them on my hip. “Yeah, ‘cause all I do is run into fish tanks and be egregiously awkward in front of everyone.”
Brittany, the waitress stopped and gaped at me. “You probably shouldn’t be telling customers about your failures.”
Inward groan.
Anyway, I sat them in the booth not directly behind where I’m supposed to stand so I couldn’t hear them eating chips. And, because it was dead slow, I was also able to stand around and talk to them for a good hour and a half. It was great fun! And, instead of me being the awkward one, Jake kept us entertained by choking on his water and sniffling because his burrito came with green chili instead of red.

On Monday, because both of us were beyond bored, Rebekah and I decided to have a sleepover at her house. My family was also still sick and hacking their lungs out, so I thought it would be good to escape and thus remain healthy for a few days longer. Somehow, I’m still holding up.
The very first thing I noticed about her house, more accurately, her room, was that she has a huge obsession with Celtic Thunder. She had all kinds of posters, photos, and autographs taped to her bedroom walls. I felt like I needed to bleach my eyes…they were wearing kilts!
Our first activity was taking a very long walk all over the place. We found dead fish. I wore my hoodie backwards. We found a toy fire truck bigger than my entire arm and played with it. We saw a squirrel. We sat on a bridge. We sat on a bench. We talked and talked and talked and didn’t get tired of it.
After our walk, we returned to her humble abode and took more pictures than I think I ever have taken before in my life in one sitting. She has yet to post them on Facebook, but I’m probably going to have at least fifty new photos of me up by the end of the week. Seriously, it was intense. (Kind of like what, Rachel?) Also, since I brought my guitar, we did a mini band practice with just me and her. I learned two new songs on the guitar, which is a lot for me in one sitting, but it was still loads of fun. I’m beginning to have a new appreciation for music that I never had before.
Apparently, she and her sister both really enjoy the show iCarly, which I’ve was not familiar with at all. I guess it’s a show on Nickelodeon. I thought it was a little bit immature for my taste, since I’m one to thoroughly enjoy a good episode of Seinfeld any day. It had a few funny sayings, which I thought were entertaining. I don’t think I’ll be selling my soul to this show, however, any time soon. I did get her acquainted with the FOX TV show, Glee, because she is a both a singer and a dancer. When she said she’d never watched it before, I was in shock. How could someone like Bekah not be affiliated with a show so compatible with her interests? It just seemed unheard of!
The next day, we started the off with bagles (which I thought was funny because she’s half Jewish) and then went to physical therapy. We’d called Jake and Brice to see if we could get together and play some music because we’re sort of the only committed members of the sophtie band. We’re in the middle of learning some new songs at the moment, but I’m thinking that we need to stick to the same set-list until we can make something sound nice for once. Then we can move on.

The entire practice was fueled on freshly-baked cookies and coffee. We did goof off um, a lot, and my guitar pick ended up in a certain boy’s mouth, but altogether it was pretty cool. I can’t wait until next Tuesday so we can get together and do it all again…but with our beloved drummer this time!

(No, these pictures do not have anything to do with the post,
in case you're wondering or confused.)

Today, I was holed up in my room yet again because of my sick family. My dad actually made a comment on how he hadn’t seen me at all that day. I thought that was pretty weird, because I definitely saw him multiple times as I came up and down the stairs to get certain things. I didn’t actually do a whole lot. I made a list of things to do on my school whiteboard and did none of them. Nada. Zilch. Wait, actually, that’s a lie. I didn’t play on the Sims 2, which was one of the things on my to-do list telling me not to do. (Weird sentence.)

I watched Glee.
I watched Raising Hope.
I read some fanfiction. (PATHETIC, I know!)
I ate lunch.
I made Rachel a pretty sick CD. The fun isn’t in making the playlist – it’s creating the CD case. I think I spent two or three hours on it and used about half a pad of Post-Its. (Come to think of it, I never texted her back two hours ago. Frick. The poor kid’s stuck in Arizona with her extended family.)

Tomorrow should be interesting. I have no idea what we’re going to go do, seeing as we can’t go to a movie or go to a play because I’m so freaking handicapped. We’re ordering our “feast” from Sprouts Natural Grocers because my mom is sick, and can’t figure out an activity to do as a family without driving me up the wall with sounds. I have no idea what’s happening, like I said. I promise I’ll blog about it and let you all know.
Happy Thanksgiving, world! I hope it’ll be a good one for everybody.

Just A Day Late

This was all written yesterday morning, I just didn’t get around to posting it:

EEP EEEP EEP EEEP EEP!
I nearly jumped out of my jammies as soon as the alarm on my cell phone began to sound at eight-thirty this morning. I grabbed the device positioned comfortably next to my pillow and quickly silenced it, thinking that I’d just sleep five minutes longer. Because I usually set three consecutive alarms to ensure that I will wake up to one of them, I had to repeat this two more times before giving up and deciding to sleep until nine. But the next time I opened my eyes and checked the clock, it wasn’t nine, but ten-thirty.
Some days, I hate myself.
Technically, I don’t have school today, but had wanted to get a head-start of everything anyway, because I knew that I didn’t have a lot of homework to do and wanted to complete all of it today. But, now that that was out, I decided to galumph down the stairs and find a suitable breakfast. An Oreo.
Where in the world is my mother? I couldn’t help thinking as I bit down and walked back upstairs to my room. Though my hair is naturally straight, sleeping on my stomach from eight to ten didn’t do very much good for my bangs, which were sticking up awkwardly in random directions. After trying a few different hairstyles and laughing at myself about how pathetic I was, I thought about sending a picture to Rachel just to show her that I am not, in fact, able to pull off everything under the sun. But I didn't, seeing as I looked anything but attractive at the moment.
The rest of the morning, I struggled to remain focused as I tried to email myself the online link for my Spanish assignment and then print it off on the downstairs computer. My Internet Explorer homepage, however, contains about seven different tabs, one of which is Facebook, so I ran into that obstacle a few more times while completing my task.
In all, I believe I spent two hours this morning trying to calculate the age difference between me and the rest of the kids in my class, looking at Mornings With Brant’s wall photos from CURE International in Afghanistan, and commenting on other people’s statuses. Am I pathetic, or am I pathetic?
By the time my mother had made it back from Bible Study, I hadn’t even noticed her absence. She had a few mini bundt cakes from a shop in Littleton which she and the other ladies at church had been sampling for the Christmas Woman’s Dessert. I am supposed to play cello for it in a few weeks, apparently. Joy, oh, joy.
And now, here I am after I’ve finished my History homework and my Spanish homework typing away at my computer. Last night, I’d been encouraged to put another post up to entertain the other kids at school who now read my blog, and I couldn’t think of anything to post about. And then I thought about band practice and my long conversation with Rachel on the phone last night, and my uneventful/eventful morning today. I’m still supposed to do the dishes, because I was too busy last night socializing to complete them, but haven’t even started. I can’t find my special shoe inserts so my back doesn’t hurt when I do them, but I doubt my mother is going to take that excuse when she wakes up from her nap and remembers my unfinished task.

Yesterday was Tuesday, meaning that band practice wasn’t far away. Every week on Tuesdays, we always stay after school and practice on the stage for two hours. Two weeks ago, we had a fantastic get-together and were able to play and harmonize without much difficulty. Yesterday was different. Due to lack of planning on both Jake and my parts, the rest of the band was uninformed about what we were playing, what the chords and lyrics were, and how the heck we were going to put it all together. And we’d forgotten about the sheet music to the songs we’d originally been practicing.

It was chaos.
We’d talked about learning “Hero” by Abandon and figured out the guitar and cello parts to it, but entirely forgot about getting Rebekah to learn the lyrics and/or piano, and Brice, our drummer, who wasn't going to have a part written out.
Also, I’m beginning to think that there needs to be some behavioral structure to our group. I believe I need a whistle or something so that when Bekah is playing The Pink Panther on the piano while Brice is spazzing out on the drums, and Jake is playing some fiddle accompaniment on the guitar, I can get everyone to quit it and focus. It gets a little out of control sometimes. I actually had to smack Jake upside the head at one point.
I was talking to Rachel on the phone afterwards at nine-o-clock and she’d suggested that the next time we get together, we should just sit around and talk about the band. If we’re going to have any structure, everyone needs to agree on things. We still don’t have a name or anything! So I think the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, we are just going to get together and discuss things. Maybe spend some time in prayer, and have some simple worship together with a single guitar. That sounds good to me. (A if you’re in my band, please talk to me and let me know what you think.)

Later after school, as I said, I talked to Rachel on the phone for almost two hours. I kind of just felt like I needed to have a conversation with someone that day, and since I can relate to this girl so well, I thought I’d call her up. Lately, I’ve been dwelling too much on how my 4S is progressing angrily and getting much worse than it has ever been before. I’ve gotten so I can’t really eat with my family at dinner anymore without having to listen to my iPod. I’ve also foiled just about all of my family’s Thanksgiving plans to go see a play or a Christmas movie because I can’t stand being in a crowd of people. I’ve told them over and over again that they should just go anyway and leave me at home, because I don’t want to interfere with them having a good time as a family, and I can stay home and watch a movie in the quietness of the basement while they go to a theatre full of people munching on popcorn.

I also told her of my nervousness about going on my class’ Costa Rica trip this summer because about fifteen parents (almost more than the number of sophomores attending) are coming too. I’ve noticed that many of the home school mothers enjoy chewing gum, which is #1 on my list of things I hate. I’m afraid that I won’t be allowed to bring my iPod with me, or worse, be able to charge it anywhere. What if someone very obnoxious is sitting behind me on the plane? What am I supposed to do then?
So, obviously, I’m getting very frustrated with existing. As I’ve said before, it’s not reasonable for me to commit suicide, but I still think about it a lot. And, you know, now that I have a blog which everyone I know is reading, I feel like I can’t really say that anymore. (But, point taken, I am posting it now. I'm not entirely sure why. You're all big kids and can handle it, right?)

But the yesterday, I just needed to say all those things to someone. And since Rachel has 4S, too, she’s also the only other person in the world who understands what I’m talking about and was able to give me some good advice.  I love how we're so similar in just about every aspect of our lives, and that she can always me feel like I'm not completely bizarre.What are the odds that God would just put someone like that in my life so suddenly when I need it?

To Write Love On Her Arms

My handiwork (right), and my friends' (left).

 Mission Statement:

"To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.


"You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters.
We live in a difficult world, a broken world. My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time. We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments. You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck.


"The vision is that community and hope and help would replace secrets and silence.
The vision is people putting down guns and blades and bottles.
The vision is that we can reduce the suicide rate in America and around the world.
The vision is that we would learn what it means to love our friends, and that we would love ourselves enough to get the help we need.
The vision is better endings. The vision is the restoration of broken families and broken relationships. The vision is people finding life, finding freedom, finding love. The vision is graduation, a Super Bowl, a wedding, a child, a sunrise. The vision is people becoming incredible parents, people breaking cycles, making change.

The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.

The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know.

The vision is hope, and hope is real.

You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story" (TWLOHA).

I know this is kind of a short and belated post, but yesterday was To-Write-Love-On-Her-Arms Day!

TWLOHA is an organization which is making an effort to prevent teen suicide and self-harm. I actually have a link on the side of my site which goes to their website.
And real quick to those of you from school, I'd like to say thanks for supporting me by letting me draw on your arms yesterday! It really did mean a lot, and I hope your parents didn't get mad at you for letting me give you tattoos. I think it was worth it.

Quite Simply, Life is Beautiful

First of all, today was a great day; as are most these days. I was almost late for school due to complications with my sister’s car resulting in my mother having to drive all three of us to separate schools. When I arrived, Rachel tackle-hugged me, but I kind of had to wriggle away ‘cause I was going to be late for Algebra. Which, in that class, I didn’t understand the lesson the least bit because I’m so mathematically handicapped. So that was frustrating. Anyhow, the passing period before the next class, I was like, “Okay, let’s try this again,” and then we were able to SNL roommate huggle.
During study hall in fourth period, I was forced to endure another period with the one woman mentioned in the Pink Shirt post who chews/pops gum and has it all the time. Let me give you a little tip, I will like you as long as you never, ever happen to have gum in your mouth. You lose a little of my respect every time I see you with it.
Also, Colorado recieved its first snow of the year today! Way to be late, weather.
After school, we were able to go to the coffee shop (down the street from school) following watching an Alive at 25 seminar, which does nothing for a teenager except for scare them out of ever wanting to drive again. “If you think this won’t happen to you, it will!”
Thank you, Riley Raincloud.
Anyhow, (erasing all bunnytrails) at the coffee shop, Rebekah, Rachel, Josh F. and I were able to hang out and just have a good time together. All of us, except maybe Josh - I think, got hot chocolate and some sort of baked goods to consume after such a long and exuberating day. I asked everyone about their day, because that’s what I do, and made conversation. I found out that Rachel saves all of my text messages (Everybody say ‘Aw!’). I found out that Rebekah is almost a black-belt. I learned that snorting sugar up your nose with a straw, as illustrated by Josh, is both painful and entertaining. And also that whenever I text Bekah or Rachel, they bounce around their rooms going, “Yayayay! I got a text message from Steph! Yayayay!” Which was, you know, kind of sweet in a juvenile sort of way, but I don’t really care one way or another.
After school (I just remembered I didn’t do the dishes…) I talked to Rachel on the phone for two hours and four minutes. Let me tell you, all those seconds really added up to an interesting conversation. It’s weird how you can be so blatantly honest with some friends, and never tell your family a thing about it. I feel like I could tell Rachel anything and she wouldn’t care the slightest bit. Like, if I was, say, lesbian, she’d probably still accept me for who I am. (That is truly an example; I’m as straight as yellow hay.)

I dunno. It was like we talked about anything and everything, no secrets anywhere. I can tell you right now, I haven’t just been able to do that for…what seems like forever. We talked about boys we’ve liked, friends we’ve had, freshman year, fights, school caste systems, my first day of this year compared to hers, suicide, depression, college, sound sensitivity, fun things, music, art styles, God, and just about everything that came to mind. Mind you, the brain of a teenage female can sure jump around from subject to subject.
I just…I don’t know, I wanted to post and say how much I really appreciated someone just sitting down with me for two hours and talking to me about everything under the sun and not getting tired of anything I have to say. That just hasn’t really happened with me for a long time. Honesty can be such a beautiful thing. Incredibly…freeing. Like, if you think I say too much about everything I feel about life on this blog, I’m sure you’d be surprised about the things which have never been mentioned here.
I’d like to make it official that I no longer have more bad things going on in my life than good. My little scale has been flipped around, and the good finally outweighs all the…shit. (Sorry for the sudden vulgarity, but there is no better word to place there, honestly.) I’d also like to make it official that, while I still think about suicide, I don’t think it’s worth it anymore. I have too much to be happy about and thankful to God about right now to speed up the process of death, which I’m sure some of you will be happy to hear. Just speaking with Rachel today has reminded me of really how far I’ve come. It’s kind of awesome to look back on and see how God has been providing for me all along, even in the places where I thought nothing good would ever come out of.
I love it, quite simply.

“Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don't worry...I'm here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you" ~Charlie Brown to Snoopy

No, Your Other Right!

Today was a good day. Guess why? Because I, Stephany Lewis*, have gotten my driver’s permit. Hey, yah. I have now officially driven from my house up the road to our mail box. Am I cool, or am I cool?

This morning, I woke up at eight forty-seven to make up for my late night. Isn’t it funny how you will always tell yourself to be in bed by, say, ten; but end up staying up until twelve-thirty? Yeah, that’s my life. Anyway, my mother had bought some Toaster Streusels from the grocery store, which never ever happens, so I popped one in the toaster and put the frozen icing in the microwave. About fifteen seconds later, I hear a loud pop and see that the tiny, plastic packet of sugar had exploded under the heat and was now all over the microwave. Well, I thought, that’s fun.
I cleaned it up and pulled to pastry out of the toaster. Naturally, it was cold when I bit in, and so I placed it in the microwave and burned myself trying to take it out. I can’t do anything right, can I?
So I grabbed a spatula out of a drawer and lifted it out carefully, then ate from it awkwardly with the long handle sticking up straight in the air.
“Steph?”
I spun around to see my mother, her hair wet from a shower, standing in the middle of the kitchen. She gave me a weird look, but thankfully didn’t say anything while I lowered my breakfast from my mouth. “We’re going to leave in about forty-five minutes to go get your permit,” she said. “Do you think you’ll be ready by then?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
As planned, forty minutes later, we were both in the kitchen. But, as had not been planned, we were running around like madwomen trying to find A.) my birth certificate, B.) my Alive At 25 legal document, and C.) the car keys.
“Okay, where was the last place you saw it?”
“Not helping!”

Thankfully, praise God, we were able to locate all three of those items, and were off towards the DMV ten minutes later. Once there, as the sign so indicated, I took a number, and my mother and I found seats to wait in until our number, thirteen had been called. The cool thing about being homeschooled is that the lines at the DMV are not very long during the school day when everyone else is at school, and not here to get their permits. So, within ten minutes, I was occupied taking the vision test.

“Okay, in a second, you’re going to see a blinking light,” the guy instructed me. “Tell me right or left.”

A light blinked on one side, but I couldn’t remember which way was right and which was left. “Uh…”
After that was the written test. The woman at the desk told me I could miss only five, and that I would go take it next to the wall over there.
“There” was a pretty vague description of where she actually wanted me to be. So when I found a seat and was just about to answer Question One, a voice barked, “No! You’re supposed to take it over there.”
She pointed this time to a row of booths where I was to stand as I took the test.
Haha, right. This is why I never go out in public.
What seemed like an hour later, I was finally confident in all of my answers and took my test over to be graded before my very eyes. The entire time I was praying, Please, God, let me pass this test. In the name of Jesus, please let me pass because I didn’t have any instruction and I didn’t study and I don’t want inconvenience my parents to bring me again to retake-
Shiz.
The crossed off the sixth problem and my heart sank. She turned it around and grinned. She freaking grinned at me. Is that how you treat a fifteen-year-old whose hopes have been dashed? No, that’s not.
“So,” she said, starting her sentences off like I normally do. Grr. “You passed the test.”
Whaaat?! No way.

I pumped a fist.

“Technically,” she continued, “you missed six, but because this law changed since this test was written,” she circled one problem marked with red pen, “you only missed five. Congrats!”

Well, hot darn.
She handed me something legal-looking and told me to go give it to this other dude standing across the room so he could put my information into the system. I turned slowly on my heel and caught my mom’s eye and grinned.
I gave the man my height, weight, eye, and hair color, and then we didn’t have my social security number for him. So I called my father, because he usually has the answers to such questions. Unfortunately, he was on a business trip and couldn’t find it for me.
“How about I call the secretary at my work in Denver and she can find it for me in my files?” he rationalized, seeing that my mother did not want to drive all the way back home to tear through his home office.
But, naturally, his secretary didn’t pick up the phone.
Dejected, my mom and I went out to lunch, hoping that he could find it on his computer like he’d told us he might have it on after he came back from his meal with a client. So my mom and I found a Tokyo Joe’s to scarf a teriyaki steak bowl for two while we planned how we could find said combination. My dad called about halfway through our lunch and informed us he couldn’t find it anywhere on his laptop, and that he was really sorry.
I was kind of crushed, but then we got a phone call right after from his secretary giving me the numbers I needed.
Back at the DMV, I had another couple of Epic Steph Moments (capitalization needed) while finishing up the process of becoming permitted.

There was the Asian guy behind the desk who talked entirely too fast. I couldn’t understand a thing he said. “Woodyoolktbeanorgnndonarrr?”
Excuse me?
“Sure,” my mom answered for me.

“Can you sign this?” another lady behind a desk asked me.

Well, certainly, I thought, signing the paper which was placed over a screen so they could record my signature on the computer. It took three tries.
“Put your right index finger on this scanner,” she instructed shortly thereafter.

So I put my right index finger on the scanner.

“Um, your right index finger.”

So I put my middle finger on it instead, thinking maybe it was the wrong finger.

“Right! Index!”

Oh, of course. My other right.

So. That's Fun.

I feel like I ruin everything. I can’t seem to get along with my family very well. I mean, my parents are good and all, but I think I fail them way too much. I fail my siblings all the time, too. Nothing I do is ever good enough for anyone.
Take today for example. All day, my back has been killing me. I didn’t bring my cello to band practice because it was too heavy, and all day I’ve been twisting in my chair trying to pop this one part of my spine behind my shoulder blade on the left side. This evening when I came home, the pain was so bad I had trouble carrying my school bin inside because of the weight. As soon as I got inside, I went to my room with a tennis ball and tried lying on the floor and trying to roll it between me and the carpet so my back would pop and relieve the pain, but it didn’t. After dinner, it was my turn to do dishes, and I felt like I couldn’t do them because of having to stand up and lean down over and over again. I was just in too much pain.
So what did I do? I asked my mom if she could possibly do them for me. She didn’t believe my story, so she told me to ask Kristen. My sister didn’t believe me either, and she apparently felt horrendous, so she told me to ask Daniel. Daniel, who was on my laptop doing homework, flew into a rage when I asked him. I told him that I would switch him my dishes night now for his tomorrow. He still refused, so I rationalized, “Why should I let you use my computer for homework if you won't switch dishes nights because of my back?”
He bitched about it, and then sent me down to ask Dad. I explained my dilemma to him, saying nobody will believe me and I just can’t do the dishes tonight. He told me to tell Daniel to come down and talk to him.
On my way back up the stairs, I was met by my red-faced brother who snapped, “Take your stupid computer!”
I’m guessing Dad convinced him to do the dishes, because soon afterwards as I lay in bed, I could hear plates and silverware tinkling as they were placed in the dishwasher. About fifteen minutes later, I received a nasty text message from Daniel which had a bad, all-too-familiar aftertaste of Michael Newman to it:

“Hey Steph! I just want to thank you for making me do the dishes today! It gave me a giant migraine that makes me want to puke! Also, thanks to you, I have a missing grade in Spanish I can’t make up! Just thought I’d let you know.”

Um.

Sorry?

What in the world was I supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry my back hurt?”

Not only do I fail Daniel, I also feel like my dad disapproves of me. He’s subtly insulted me a few times at dinner about my face and features, and has started grumbling and giving me frustrated looks every time I ask him to eat in another room. Today he snapped at me, “Why do you guys fight all the time?”

Whenever I ask him if we can go get my permit, he always exhales quickly, like a sigh, before answering me. I don’t know if it’s just that he’s frustrated at work, or if he doesn’t like me, but it still hurts all the same. I don’t see him doing it to my siblings. Maybe he liked me better when I used to stay in my room all night crying and he didn’t ever have to see me.
I'm so good at hiding when I'm hurt. Nobody even suspects a thing.

"...And If God Cares So Wonderfully For His Wildflowers...He Will Certainly Care For You" (Matthew 6:30).

Top of the morning to you all, my beloved bloggers! I hope you have all been having a great week and that God is providing for you in every way that you, personally, need him to be.

Up until about eleven-thirty at night yesterday, my day had been kind of a wreak. It was a Pink Shirt day, and by that, I mean every stinkin' time I wear my pink uniform polo shirt to school, I manage to have a bad day.

It started out with a delightful [read: horrible] math test that I didn’t know anything about until we walked into class. I hope, I thought, I’m allowed to use my calculator for these simple matrix calculations, because that's exactly what I'm doing. It was one of those instances where you’re not sure if you’re breaking the rules, but nobody says anything otherwise, so you just don’t ask. Like how if a teacher doesn’t specifically tell me to not use Wikipedia, I totally will.

History was cool, except that I’d totally spaced and not done half of the homework the day before. After filling out this long chart about Roman emperors, we were supposed to read a packet and annotate it about the Martyrdom of Polycarp. In class, he paired us off to talk about it and Jake had to explain the whole thing to me, which was a little bit embarrassing. It was interesting, but I’d kind of wished I’d remembered to do it, you know?

At lunch, the girl who I replaced, Holly, came back for a visit and stayed for fifteen minutes. You can't even imagine how out-of-place I felt. Everyone was jumping around and squealing, “Hollyhollyhollyholly! Omigosh I missed you sooo much! Omigosh I love you! Bleh-di-bleh-di-bleh!”

I stood off to the side, trying to think of what to do with my hands so I didn’t look like a freaking idiot while I watched everyone embrace her. Crossed, behind back, pockets, to the side. Should I go sit with the guys? Should I say anything? Should I not? What if I say something stupid and she thinks I’m an idiot?

So I didn’t say anything at all and waited until she had finally left. But afterwards, all the other girls were suddenly sad and nostalgic. This was hard for me, because I never know how to behave when people act that way. Rachel was quiet throughout Spanish as well, so I tried my hardest to make her laugh or lift her spirits some. I don’t know if I actually accomplished anything, or if she felt any better. But finally, the class was over, and I went to Study Hall.

Usually in my second study hall period, I get to sit in the teacher’s lounge by myself so I can focus and not have to worry about the monitor having gum. But today was different. The people who own the church we hold classes in were using our normal study hall room for something else. So now everyone was in the teacher’s lounge, where I normally get to sit. Then I had to worry about again feeling awkward around the juniors and all of the other kids in that period because I’m the only one who sits entirely by myself. Nobody even made an effort to talk to me. And the study hall monitor had gum that popped as a result of the way she chewed.

I wanted. To die. The only redeeming part of the day was after school when Jake talked with me for a while. But then after I got into the car, Kristen informed me that she was sick and I had to work in her place at the restaurant. So, I had to miss my only cello lesson I’d had in months so I could run around like a chicken seating people, grabbing silverware, and making sure the people on the waiting list didn’t get pissed and leave. The waitress Brittany and the other hostess, Caily, complained about life and vulgar language spewed like a fountain from their mouths.

Later last night when I was laying in bed reading my journal from freshman year (Before Common Blog, BCB), I was again reminded about how the definition of hardship last year and the hardship this year are so much different. I remembered that, you know, things could be worse. I could be at my old school enduring another long year of gum popping and being made fun of. I could be really depressed, or even no longer existing. I thought, you know? I think I can deal with a little awkwardness. This is exactly where God wants me to be.

Then I flipped back in my Bible to my favorite verse, Matthew 6:26, and read through the entire chapter for the first time in a while. I caught something new this time after reading it. It says in verse 31, “… ‘but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.’”

Too easily, I can forget what God has already done for me. But just as easily, I know I can lay all my troubles on Him, because he already knows all my troubles and has told me He will give me everything I need if I trust Him. I want to challenge all of you to do the same this week as you face the troubles in your life.

Until then.

Parks and Recreation (and Cupcakes)

A few things have happened this week which I have particularly enjoyed. First of all, yesterday my class went to the Denver Zoo for Biology and we had lots of fun. Unfortunately, we were on such a tight schedule that we didn't really get to look at anything for a very long time. I didn't see any gazelles, saw only one ostrich and just one giant elephant shrew, and the flamingos had disappeared. Was I disappointed? Hoh, yeah. We didn't even get to see the baby elephant shrews which were in the animal nursery! However, overall, the trip itself was pretty fun.

Yesterday, Hannah, Rachel, Bekah, and Alyssa spent the night at my house. After our perch dissection in seventh period Biology (gross, gross gross), everyone, all the boys, too, went and hung out at the park which is a few blocks away from our school. The boys played football, and us girls sat around and chatted. We also made a circle and prayed together, which was pretty cool. After a bit, the guys joined us to play in the kids equipment not far from the field. I feel like whenever the boys are involved with anything, the class gets divided into sub-cliques. Rachel and Jake; Bekah with Alyssa, Aiden, and Nathan; Kaleb with Brice and the others; and Hannah floated easily between all of them; but then there was me. I didn't know where I fit. It was like when you put together a jig-saw, but somehow there's one extra piece. After a bit, I just kind of gave up and stood on the edges of the circles. I hate it when that happens.

Then my mom came and picked us up to get us five girls to go over to my house. I had to ride shot-gun (notice the "had to" in there?) on the way home, and the other sifted through my iPod which was plugged into the tape adapter.

The remainder of the night consisted of decorating cupcakes like monsters using various candies, having a little worship session with guitar and vocals, long walks around the property, and watching a movie. I think it's funny that God worked it out that I learned guitar just in time for my new group of friends.  Bekah's a fantastic vocalist who can lead, and so the five of us just...decided to worship God together. It was really cool.

Then after that, we decided to go out and take walk, which ended up taking two hours due to our pit-stop in a ditch to lay in the damp grass and look at the stars above. The night was lit with a full moon, and so we didn't really have to be afraid of what we couldn't see. In that pit, we continued to sing and discuss how awesome our God really is. How he makes everything work out for good. Like how their friend, Holly, left the group just in time for me to come in and be embraced. It probably sucked for the other girls to see their sister leave, but God knew that at this specific time, I was in need of such a group. Holly and I even have the same personality! And high fives, apparently. How cool is God?

We laid out on the trampoline and looked at the sky, side by side for a few hours, and I finally shared my entire story of last year. I even told them about my being suicidal and how I was going to, you know, do it. But I felt it was necessary for them to hear it so that they knew how much they mean to me. I couldn't even express it in words how greatful I was for all four of them! My eyes started watering some, and because I'd been using The Colossal mascara, my eyes stung and watered more. (Hence, do not buy non-waterproof Colossal!) But they all enveloped me into a sandwich hug/dog pile and told me how much they all loved me. I thought my heart was going to burst.

Afterwards, we went downstairs to watch a movie. Alyssa had brought A Cinderella Story (the one in the nineties with Hilary Duff - gotta' love it :), which brought back so many memories because I used to watch it all the time when I was in sixth grade. Rachel feel asleep about half way through, and after it was over, the four of us barely hanging onto consciousness crashed on the basement couches and floor.

Notice we didn't talk about boys, we didn't play M.A.S.H., and didn't even think about playing Truth or Dare. One more reason I love these kids. (Actually, that's a lie; we did talk about boys the next morning, but that was only because I'm insanely good at reading people and they all wanted to know what I had observed.)

But, yeah, the sleepover was great!