Resolutions

I don't really believe in making New Year's resolutions. You only keep them for about three weeks, and then you feel bad because you've set a lot of unrealistic expectations that you can't possibly keep. However, I've decided to make just a few guidelines (said like Barbossa) that might help throughout the next year. First, I'm going to make a greater effort towards getting out of my comfort zone. I tend to like to stay in my room and work on stories and read, rather than spending a lot of time with other people. That kind of behavior will make me even more eccentric than I already am, so I'm going to try and do better in that area. Next, I want to be a lot more organized in my work, school, and ordinary life. I lose things all the time (I just spent an hour looking for my digital camera-funny how much gets lost under the bed) and I could take better care of my belongings. Thirdly, I want to be a better handmaiden to my Lord. I already pray quite a bit, but I'm not terribly faithful about reading my Bible. I'd like to change that. Finally, I'd like to learn to lean on the Lord. I worry about things constantly-my friends, my family, my future. This past year I've spent in foolish fears. This coming year, I'd like to spend in trust and peace. I want everyone that read this post to know that I pray for you, and I wish the very best for you throughout this new year. May you find fulfillment in all that you undertake and desire. Love, Me.

Yet Another List

Here are some things I've learned this week. Each has been vitally important for my development as a human being.
1.) Antibiotics are God's gift to mankind. They get rid of pimples and ear infections, ergo they're marvelous.
2.) Be careful when you're having a Shirley Temple marathon. The songs tend to get stuck in your head. Right now "Be Optimistic" is running through my brain and it won't stop. I'm getting tired of being told not to be a grumpy.
3.) Sometimes beginning a story is hard, sometimes ending a story is harder.
4.) If you want Shelby to be happy, update your stories regularly.
5.) If you need jeans, go to the after-Christmas sale. However, be sure to be the defibrillator for when your mother has a heart attack in the middle of the store because your sixty dollar jeans end up being thirteen.
6.) Book costs are so much cheaper when you don't have a lot of psychology classes. Take my advice and be an English major. We have more fun anyway.
7.) Eighteen year old girls that get pregnant are stupid.
8.) Looking forward to your birthday is half the fun....especially when you're going to Florida two days afterwards.
9.) Brothers can sometimes be wonderful when you're having a melt-down.
10.) Outlining a story can be really frightening.
Hope you're all well!

Breaking News

I have some very important news. It is as follows: I hab a culd....
Thank you.

Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
One pair of cute pink sheets.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Two Starburst packs
And one pair of cute pink sheets

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Eight kinds of lotion,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Nine bars of chocolate,
Eight kinds of lotion,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Ten Gilmore Girls seasons,
Nine bars of chocolate,
Eight kinds of lotion,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Eleven manicure objects,
Ten Gilmore Girls seasons,
Nine bars of chocolate,
Eight kinds of lotion,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
And one pair of cute pink sheets.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Twelve Shirley Temple movies,
Eleven manicure objects,
Ten Gilmore Girls seasons,
Nine bars of chocolate,
Eight kinds of lotion,
Seven candy canes,
Six Dickens movies,
Five trendy shirts!
Four brand new books,
Three new movies,
Two Starburst packs,
AND ONE PAIR OF CUTE PINK SHEETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a stuffed drawer!

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

In the past few days, I've been reflecting on the nature of Christmas. We all want to do so many things-visit family, make cookies, go shopping, wrap presents-that we forget to take the time to breath and remember just what all this hustle and bustle is about. Of course, this hustle and bustle does more than just make Christmas crowded-it also makes people stressed out and irritable. Why is it, do you think, that we make a season of such joy and goodwill into a season of stress and restlessness? Christmas is all about love, about how love came down to earth, and Jesus humbled Himself so that he could become a man, one of those creatures which His father had created. But how can we possibly appreciate the beauty of the season if we're too tired to notice it? I'll keep this simple, folks. Please, remember what's important about Christmas. Take the time to smell the Christmas tree, to play with your family, to read the Christmas story in the Bible and remember that this holiday is about more than the buying and giving away of presents. Christmas will have no meaning if you take it away.

General Orders of Business

Bobby, you can chill out now. Your comments are now up.
Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Rachel! She's 17 today. Love you bunches, sweetie!
Today is going to be a happy day, I do believe. Firstly, I'll get to wear my new leather jacket out into the world. I got it on Wednesday, for an UNBELIEVABLE price! I was so excited! Although I wasn't sure how to feel when Evan told me it made me look sexy...I suppose I'll take it as a compliment. :D Next, I'm going to be meeting Evan, Bobby, and Bobby's family at the movie theater to see the second National Treasure movie. I loved the first one, so I'm really hoping that this one won't pull a Pirates and be horrible beyond belief. We live in hope!
Finally, I am also planning on cleaning out Evan's bathroom closet. I can't take it anymore-there's a green glow emitting from the premises. I love looking at things after they've just been organized!
Anyway, I hope you all have a fabulous day!

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so totally wigging out at the moment! I'll copy and paste my reasons for wigging out now: Peter Jackson, Oscar-winning director of the Lord of the Rings movies, has signed a deal to produce two films based on JRR Tolkien's The Hobbit.
The filmmaker had been in dispute with New Line Cinema over income generated by the first film in the Rings trilogy.
"I'm very pleased that we've been able to put our differences behind us," said Jackson. "We are delighted to continue our journey through Middle Earth."
A director for the films - prequels to the Rings movies - has yet to be named.
The two Hobbit films will be filmed simultaneously, with their release planned for 2010 and 2011.
'New chapter'
Sir Ian McKellen has already expressed an interest in reprising his role as the wizard Gandalf.
In a statement, Jackson said the agreement enabled his Wingnut Films company to "begin a new chapter with our old friends at New Line".
The three films in the Rings trilogy generated $3bn (£1.48bn) at the worldwide box office and won 17 Oscars.
New Line co-chairman Bob Shaye had previously said Jackson would never make The Hobbit "during my watch".
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I get to go home! I've missed Middle Earth so much, and the idea that I can be there again is just....wow. I almost cried when I found this out. YAY!

Nutcracker

Yesterday, I had the privilege of getting to see "The Nutcracker" performed at the Orpheum. As most of you know, I absolutely love ballet, but I hardly ever get to see it-so seeing any ballet is a treat. And then for me to be able to see "Nutcracker", my absolute favorite ballet...well, let's just say that it was a fabulous experience. I just love the whole story-the idea of a little girl getting swept away into a dream on Christmas Eve, where she goes to the Land of Sweets and rules besides the Nutcracker Prince, and is visited by beautiful dancers and fairies. Not to mention, of course, that the ballet is highly appropriate for modern times. After all, if it weren't for Clara throwing the slipper at the mouse king, the rascally rodent would never have been defeated! But still, I've been entranced by this ever since I was a little girl. My mom bought me a video of Baryshnikov version of it, and I watched it religiously until our mean VCR ate my tape. Then last year, Mom found it on DVD on Amazon, and gave it to me for Christmas. I was so excited! But I guess I'm babbling...in any case, I was just struck by the continuity and the impact of this ballet. It's still affecting people today-it just isn't possible NOT to like "The Nutcracker." When we went to the ballet yesterday, I was leaning forward in my seat, watching the story unfold before me. When Clara received her nutcracker from Uncle Drosselmeyer, I found myself feeling just as awed and thrilled by the sight as I was when I was five. But then, I was flabbergasted by what I heard next. Behind me came the voice of a little girl, whispering to her mother. "She got a nutcracker." The awe, the excitement, and the amazement in this little girl's whisper just hit me. How amazing, that a simple story can still have the same affect on people! I'm almost twenty years old, and I felt a connection with this tiny child behind me, perhaps seeing the ballet for the first time. We didn't know each other, and we'll probably never see one another again. But we were both struck by the same story, and the same magic captured both of our imaginations. How beautiful.

SO True....

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring.
Therefore, according to EVERY historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, EVERY single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl.
We should've known... ONLY women would be able to drag a fat-ass man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.
Sorry, had to share this one.

Christmas

Christmas music rocks. End of story. Christmas attitudes rock-everyone's much friendlier. That is, once exams are over. Christmas trees that are still shining brightly when you come downstairs at night rock. Christmas movies rock (with the possible exception of "It's a Wonderful Life"). Christmas cookies rock. Christmas break rocks. Except it folks, Christmas is an all around, rocking holiday. What part of Christmas rocks hardcore for you? THE MANAGEMENT WOULD LIKE TO OFFER ITS APOLOGIES FOR THIS POST. THE AUTHOR WAS FEELING SLIGHTLY STRANGE AFTER HER EXAM. EVERYTHING WILL BE NORMAL SOON.......SO WE HOPE. IS THE AUTHOR, AFTER ALL, EVER NORMAL? WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. -THE MGMT

Play Darth Vader's Theme Here....

Hey, folks. Can't talk long tonight, because I've got an exam tomorrow and I can't stay up late. I'm not really worried about the exam, per se. I've studied and I know the material fairly well...I just don't test well at all. I'm really nervous that I'm going to walk in and completely forget everything I've learned. Not to mention the fact that it's a psychology exam, and those can either be REALLY easy, or REALLY hard. Please pray for me, if you get a chance. However, I'm also thrilled that my new piano is getting tuned tomorrow, HOORAY! I can't wait to hear how it sounds once all those sour notes are fixed. Today was a good day, though. I slept until ten (guilty), got dressed, and did some chores. Then I went to Target, picked up "Order of the Phoenix" and came home. Bobby came over shortly afterwards, and Evan, Shelby and I played Frisbee with him in the front yard for a while...it's eighty frigging degrees here, so the weather was undeniably beautiful. The Frisbee did get run over at one point but miraculously, wasn't broken! Weird....Evan and Bobby also demonstrated their skill at rolling when I told them how I'd been taught at self-defense class. They tried to make me do it, but thankfully, I eluded them. Soon after this, Bobby took Shelby to the bank, and they came home with ice cream for everyone. Yum! Shelby and I watched Harry Potter while Mom had her yearbook Christmas party (although we were interrupted several times by Mom, Bobby, and Drew. Conspiracy, perhaps? Who knows.). After that, I found out that my exam is tomorrow, not Thursday as I'd thought, so I had to do some power studying. Thankfully, the exam is going to be on Social Psychology, which I'd already spent a whole semester on in my, gasp! Social Psychology class! Anyway, soon after I finished studying, we found out that Drew was going to stay here at the house for the next couple of days so that he can avoid the Italian mafia, so Evan and I cleaned out the guest room and I cleaned his bathroom, because Evan OBVIOUSLY has NO idea how to clean a bathroom properly. Now I'm here. Fun, productive, and FAST! Good day. How was yours?

Cold Turkey No More

Now that the Christmas holidays are finally (almost, still have a few exams, but nothing I'm really worried about) here, the fun task of deciding what to do with my time is upon me. First of all, I haven't been able to write at all for about three weeks, so I think my first order of business is to update my stories. Secondly, I think I'm going to begin one of my novels, I'm just not sure which one. I think "Beauty From Ashes" is the closest to being ready to write...but this journal idea won't let me alone, either. Decisions, decisions. I also think that I'm going to clean out my closet-I can't be sure, but I think perhaps a cave troll might be lurking in there. There are certainly enough places for it to hide. Then, I think I'm going to have a Supernatural marathon and go through both seasons straight through. I haven't been able to do that since school started, and I kind of miss Sam and Dean. I'm also going to finish re-reading all of the Narnia and Lord of the Rings books-it's been a long time. One of my other ambitions is to get some serious piano work done, now that I have a proper instrument on which to practice on. I've been highly negligent of my music, and I don't want to lose whatever small talent I have. I'll also be darned if I'm going to let that mean Moonlight Sonata defeat me! I've been trying to play that song for years, and I quit periodically-not because it's too hard, but because my hands are too small for those massive chords. My wrists start to ache by the third page. However, it's a lovely song, and I'm determined to finish it! In any case, I have lots of lovely things to look forward to. I hope everyone is enjoying the mere THOUGHT of Christmas vacation as much as I am. I'll be twenty in twenty-two days...YIKES! Scary.

My Day

So, my day was rather interesting. It all began much earlier than I would have liked, as I had to go to my self-defense class. I drove there, only to arrive to hear the dreaded words: "We're going to be learning how to fall today." I want give you the sordid details, only to say that one of my legs isn't working and that I have a bruise the size of Texas on my bum. I'm sure you all wanted to hear that, but yeah. Then I came home, and helped my brothers, mother, and grandmother arrange my grandmother's dining room/library, which we'd painted last week. Then I came back to the house and cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom. The rest of the day was spent holed up in my room, watching anime, the Mummy movies, and now I'm on Die Hard 2. I have managed to get something accomplished, so there you are. I'm afraid that I'm in a slightly numb mood, so don't expect anything brilliant from me today. I'll try and do better tomorrow. Love to you all!

I'M BAAAAACK!

Well, as I come sheepishly out from behind a door....leave me alone, Bobby, here's a new post! :D In any case, I have a long list of excuses for having not posted the past week. They are as follows: 1. Exams. 2. Papers. 3. The black cloud that's been hanging over my head; please, let me explain this one. I couldn't use my laptop because my power cord died...along with other various pieces of technology around me, including a tire that I managed to blow. Explode would probably be a more accurate term, but yeah....Been a little busy. However, I do think that the black cloud has dispered...thank goodness, I tripped this morning and nearly sprained my ankle. School is almost over now, and things are starting to relax. The post is a little garbled...I think I'm out of practice. I'll return tonight for another go. Vaya con Dios!

Birth Announcement

I, BlindingFirefly, am the proud owner of a baby grand piano. It sits proudly in my dining room, built of lovely dark wood and gleaming keys. Now, if only I had the money to get it tuned...Still, it's a happy day for my family!

The Next Step to Wiggles World

We, the people of Tennessee, exceedingly regret to inform you, our most beloved public, that our operative's attempt to restrain Dr. Wiggles and return him to Purgatory was, unfortunately, unsuccessful. The crappy professor remains at large, and he is making it a regular habit to invade our colleges and universities and cause valuable students to think quite seriously about killing themselves-that, or continue their tic-tac-toe marathons. It is rumored that Dr. Wiggles has reached new, unheard-of heights of despicableness by making his students write four page papers in two days and give two speeches on the same day while he sits searching for words for an inordinate amount of time. We, the people of Tennessee and the ASPCA, are currently in the process of developing a super secret plan, which involves the cooperation of the Central Intelligence Agency. Their super spy will infiltrate one of Dr. Wiggles' classrooms, and hopefully apprehend him without a single Luther-comment fired. It is a dangerous mission, but one that must be completed. The success of this mission is vital for several reasons: not only must the safety and sanity of Dr. Wiggles' students be respected and saved, but his apprehension is necessary for the preservation Earth in its entirety. The man is far too likely to trip on something and start a nuclear war. The CIA is also working out of grudging sympathy for Barney the Purple Dinosaur, Dr. Wiggles' close companion and bosom friend during his wanderings with Virgil in Purgatory. Barney misses his friend desperately-they did so enjoy singing stupid songs together and playing patty-cake. So if anyone has any information at all regarding the current whereabouts of Dr. Wiggles, they are begged to come forward immediately.

So This Is What Productive Feels Like.....

Hello, all. I write to you in an absolutely exhausted, but fulfilled, frame of mind. I got so much done today that I'm feeling a little better about how the next three weeks will go. I got up this morning and went to class, where I decided that I didn't like Dr. Browning nearly as well as I did when I saw the final exam she's making us do. It's take home, but it's still gonna be about thirty pages long. I definitely don't think that she could feel the love in that room....if looks could kill....After that disappointment, I drove home where I refreshed myself by getting an actual healthy lunch and watching my favorite bits of "The Polar Express." Great movie, for those of you who don't know, I highly recommend it. Then the rest of the afternoon is a blur in my memory-I did five article reviews, wrote a six-page paper about Barabbas, did a PowerPoint presentation on the two routes to persuasion (central and peripheral, to those of you who don't know. Believe me, I wish I didn't.), got a start on answering some stupid questions for Dr. Wiggles, cleaned out my backpack and purse (no small feat), went to the bank with Shelby where she kindly saved my butt, wrote a check for my baby grand piano (that took my breath away), cleaned out my bookshelves, and organized my tapes. Oh, and cleaned and dusted my room. Yeah. I'm a little tired. But strangely, even though I got a lot done, I can't stop my brain from working on everything ELSE that needs to be done, even though my eyes won't focus on my computer screen any longer. Anyway, thanks to anyone that's been shooting up prayers on my behalf-it'll all be over soon! Love to you all!

Count Your Blessings, Name Them One By One...

In an attempt to keep from boring you all with what a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day I've had, I'm going to list out what was good about my day. The list will be short, but it'll keep me from whining, right? First off, I got an A on a psychology test. The good feeling this brought me was further emphasized when I saw that the girl next to me had gotten a 78. After that, I suppose I should say it was a good thing that I didn't crash my car as I drove home in tears. The next good thing happened when my sister very, very, VERY kindly offered to bail me out of a first class, strawberry AND raspberry, good old fashioned jam. The next good thing was that the lesson I taught to my six year old student went very well-she seems to be actually getting it. Finally, my grandmother came over and presented me with a beautiful silver purse, just for the heck of it. A happy can always make things better. However, what with how terrible the rest of the 23 hours and 20 minutes of my day were, I'm definitely feeling a British curse day coming on. For those of you who don't know, British curse days hit me about once a month, in which I use foreign expletives because they don't really mean the same thing here, and people usually laugh rather than act all shocked and horrified when you use them. British curse days are wonderful stress relievers. In any case, perhaps that particular day will come tomorrow....here's hoping that all of your days were exponentially better than mine!

WARNING: DO NOT PROCEED. CAUTION.

WARNING: THIS NOTICE HAS BEEN PUT UP ON THIS BLOG BY THE MANAGEMENT. ALL THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG FEELS LIKE DOING AT THE MOMENT IS WHINING ABOUT HOW HARD THE NEXT THREE WEEKS OF SCHOOL ARE BOUND TO BE. SHE DOES NOT WISH TO WHINE AND CAUSE HER FRIENDS AND FAMILY TO HATE HER, THEREFORE THERE WILL BE NO WITTY REMARKS OR CREATIVE MUSINGS THIS EVENING. THE MANAGEMENT WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE THIS MIGHT CAUSE YOU. THANK YOU, AND HAVE A PLEASANT EVENING.

A List of Thanksgiving Jokes

A geek's list of thanks1. Be thankful you haven't been spammed!2. Be thankful your computer isn't down!3. Be thankful your favorite forum isn't down!4. Be thankful you don't have The Good Times virus!5. Be thankful your server isn't down!6. Be thankful for a vast selection of Web sites to browse!7. Be thankful no one knows who you really are!8. Be thankful someone sent you a cyber sundae, and you didn't gain a pound!9. Be thankful your 28 year old cyberfriend really isn't 72!10. Be thankful for a fast Internet connnection!11. Be thankful no one sent you a cyber voo-doo doll!
Things proven to change the course of Thanksgiving
1. During the middle of the meal, turn to mom and say, "See mom, I told you they wouldn't notice that the turkey was four months past its expiration date. You were worried for nothing."2. When everyone goes around to say what they are thankful for, say, "I'm thankful I didn't get caught" and refuse to say anything more.3. Load your plate up high, then take it to the kitchen, toss it all in the blender, and take your "shake" back to the table. Announce that it's the new Thanksgiving Weight Loss Shake 4. Prepare a several hour long speech to give when asked about your thankfulness. If necessary, insist that no one leave or eat until you have finished the speech.5. Bring along old recorded football games and pop them in the VCR when dad's not looking. Make sure it is set to the last two minutes of the game when he comes into the room, turn off the VCR, and then turn on the regular TV. 6. Bring a date that only talks about the tragic and abusive conditions known to exist at turkey farms. Request that she bring photos.

A Decorating Song

The day after Thanksgiving is tradition
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
We decorate our home with no sedition.
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Filled with lots of fights and laughter
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
By the end we’ve Yuletide treasure
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

First, we bring down lots of boxes
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Filled with ornaments and with….foxes
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
See me nearly fall down the stairs
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Shelby’s all curled up in her chair
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Thousands of ornaments some time later
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Grace our tree, it ain’t a Seder
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Pooh and Mickey wearing red hats
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Don’t slip on the Christmas mat
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Now our home is very festive
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
It took so long, we’re no longer restive
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Please come by soon and enjoy the sight
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
It shall stay until Christmas night
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

A Myriad of Thanks

This evening I sat down to my computer, unsure of where else I could go. What else am I thankful for? I've done posts about my family, my friends, ordinariness, the imagination, and my dog. Yes, my friends, these things (along with religion) are the guiding lights of my life. What else could I possibly focus on? So I've decided to list out the things that are small, but that I'm still thankful for. I'm thankful for brisk cold winds that are crisp and refreshing. I'm thankful for the color purple (no, not the book). I'm thankful for being able to laugh with my sister. I'm thankful for music, in all of its forms except country and rap music. I'm thankful for the joy that playing the piano brings me. I'm thankful for homemade cherry pie. I'm thankful for church, and being able to learn of the Savior that I adore. I'm thankful for the promise of tomorrow, and knowing that there will always be hope. I'm thankful for having "V For Vendetta" back after its extended absence on Drew's shelves. I'm thankful for Star Trek. I'm thankful for school....mostly. I'm thankful for having a marvelous roof over my head, with more provisions than I need. I'm thankful for any meager writing ability that God has blessed me with. I'm thankful for being born into a Christian, Southern family. I'm thankful for Charlie Brown and Linus. I'm thankful for anime, especially "Howl's Moving Castle," the best movie ever made. I'm thankful for dancing. I'm thankful for TiVo, since we forgot CSI was on. I'm thankful for having green eyes. I'm thankful for having all of my Christmas presents bought and wrapped. I'm thankful for having the opportunity to go to Disney World this January. I'm thankful that I only have four more classes to get through with Dr. Wiggles. I'm thankful for Robin McKinley. And most of all, I'm thankful that God has allowed me to finally get past the dark night of my soul, and bring me a Thanksgiving when I'm capable of being thankful.

Heaven in My Dog

I'm thankful for my dog. Iris, I firmly believe, was brought into my life by divine intervention. I began praying when I was thirteen years old for a puppy. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. And God just never would answer. When I was seventeen, a friend gave me a website to look at, called horsecreekwildlife.org. This organization rescues everything from rabbits to horses and rehabilitates them. They never put an animal to sleep. They go around to animal shelters and take the creatures in need of more medical attention and work than the shelters can handle, and take of them for as long as they need to. And when I looked at the page of available pets, my eye stopped on one, a pretty little girl named Iris. I arranged to meet her, and on a Sunday afternoon on our way home from church, we stopped. I'd already worn Mom down with begging beforehand, and she was grimly resigned to at least meeting the pooch, although she wasn't thrilled with the idea of us having three dogs. When we got up to the desk, the man said that Iris had been taken on a walk, and that she would be right back. I waited very impatiently, when all of a sudden I heard something behind me. I turned, and there was this little tootsie roll walking ever so grandly towards me. The lady walking her picked her up and placed her in my arms. She wagged her tail and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek, and it was love at first lick. For those of you who know, Iris NEVER gives kisses to anybody but me. I think she looked at me and instinctively realized that here was her soul mate. And it amazes me how much that dog and I are alike-and no, I don't consider myself to be a female dog. We're both stress eaters, we both like staying in bed curled up with a good book (although I'm the one doing the reading), she gets anxious when she's not around people, and she always has to be the center of attention. I've had Iris now for...three years? And she's brought so much joy into my life. She has recently begun suffering seizures-she actually had one today. We can't figure out what's causing them, but I love the fact that even when she's in the throes of pain and can't control herself, she has never one tried to bite me. When she can feel the seizure coming, she'll station herself right by me, because she knows I'll hold her until it's over. And she's never tried to hurt me at all, which the vet says happens all the time. And you know what the grand part of the whole thing is? Iris was born right around the time that I first began praying that God would bring a dog into my life. Isn't His timing perfect? He was waiting for me to be old enough to appreciate what a gem my dog really is.

Ordinariness

In a life so often filled with ups and downs, highs and lows, valleys and mountaintops, there's something infinitely comforting about plain old ordinary days. And it's often amazing how truly wonderful ordinary can be. Lord, I am thankful for these brief, shining days that come in between the chaos. Today was one of those days. I slept for as long as I wanted, then went back to sleep and slept an hour more. I got up, and stayed in my pajamas for two whole hours while watching CSI with my sister. My big brother, Bobby, came over and watched tv with us, and then he helped me practice my self-defense. Sorry about hitting you, Bob, by the way. Next, Mom, Bobby and I went and ran some errands. We went to the bookstore, where I bought the book "Howl's Moving Castle," which I'm only ten pages into and I'm loving SO MUCH. Then we went to Target, and wandered around looking at legos, Barbies, and flavored milk. I picked up "Live Free or Die Hard," which I'm excited about. Then we got back into the car, sang random Pooh songs, and went and got ice cream. We came home, I made some cookies for tonight, watched more CSI, and then Bobby left as some friends that are girls came over. We talked about the problems of the world, i.e., guys and Crichton, and teased each other mercilessly. We ate junk food, examined Shelby's library, and then we watched half of Transformers before everybody had to go. And now I'm sitting upstairs, talking to you wonderful people. Nothing huge, nothing grand. Just plain and angst-free. And I am so thankful for it. Never call ordinary boring or dull-appreciate it, and remember how stressed out you get when a day isn't ordinary.

Imaginary Lands

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For while knowledge defines all we currently know and understand, imagination points to all we might yet discover and create." That quote was written by my dear Albert Einstein....and I completely agree. What use is the world without imagination? Therefore, I am deeply thankful for it. The imagination has always been fascinating to me, probably because I use mine so much. I was always an inventive child, coming up with weird games and wild stories. Isn't it funny how you return to the things you loved as a child when you're an adult? I went through periods as a child when I alternately wanted to be a nurse, a librarian, a teacher...but now I just want to write like I did when I was little. I firmly believe that my imagination kept my soul alive after my dad left. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I would be somewhere else-usually either in Middle Earth, or on the Starship Enterprise. Later, I added the mansion of the X-Men and Damar to my worlds. You could be looking at me and speaking to me, and I would be completely somewhere else. This did prove to be somewhat detrimental to my social skills...but thankfully I (very) eventually learned how to turn my imagination on and off. Now I listen to music a lot to jump-start my imagination. It's amazing how much it helps to listen to an artist, say Josh Groban, and be able to envision a character I'm developing. I certainly don't get as many looks as I did when my routine involved staring blankly into space. Imagination seems like it should be superfluous-I suppose that some stunted individuals have even wondered why God placed such a mechanism in His creations. But how can we live without it? How can mankind exist the daily hits of normal life without having some sort of fantasy to escape to? Our imaginations refresh us, and they make life more than just a drudgery. Imagination makes the world of Narnia accessible to more people than just the Pevensie bunch. Imagination is behind the works of all great artists. How dull a place our world would be without that superfluous mechanism. Even though mine can be a little overactive sometimes, still, I thank the Lord for it. Now go imagine yourself in a beautiful place, while I go to write a chapter of my story.

A Circle of Friends

As you can tell, I've decided to dedicate today to all of the lovely people that God has brought into my life. If I forget you, I do apologize. It doesn't mean that you are unimportant for me-curses on a ditzy mind! I am thankful for you, Bobby. You are one of my oldest and dearest friends. You've been there throughout all of my highschool and college years, and have been an older brother to me. I can't count the times that you've cheered me up when I've been sad, brought me dinner, taken me to movies when I'm going nuts, shared my silly stories and given me those sweet hugs. I've always known that I can call on you if I need you, and that you'll relish the thought of feeling like a knight in shining armor. You honestly strive to be a warrior for Christ, and your chivalry is unmatched. We have a somewhat interesting relationship, because I do tend to "mother" you....I seem to remember a conversation we had when I didn't approve of a girl you were looking at. But I hope you realize that those conversations were only had because I truly care about you and the person that you become. You're very special, and you deserve the best. I pray that you and your princess will continue to support one another...and that I'll continue to have the priviledge of being one of "Bobby's kid sisters." Rachel, I am thankful for you. You were my best friend long before you were my brother's girlfriend....and I love the fact that I had a small hand in knocking my brother's head against a wall and bringing you two together. You are such a special, beautiful young lady who is rich in God's promise. You are loyal, trusting, and completely blind to other people's faults. You have an ability to love that never ceases to blow my mind. I am truly honored to be considered one of your friends. Whether it's getting stuck in prom dresses, going to lunch, or falling flat on our faces in a hallway, I always enjoy being with you. I may be older, but I find myself learning from you. You are always such an encourager, and you fuss at me when I despair of my thoughts. I only wish that the rest of the world could see through your eyes. I love you very much, and no amount of Starbucks or hugs could ever show it. Jordan, I am thankful for you. You and I had a rather....touchy time in highschool. You got on my nerves, and I was always SO jealous of your ability with the piano. But I finally realized how stupid that was, and now I consider you to be a brother to me. I love how gentle you are with my sister, and how hard you work at your passion-your music. I admire you dedication, and your ability to admire beauty in all its forms. You are a kind, considerate young man and I rely on your imput and opinion. I had a hard time relinguishing my sister to you at first, just simply because I'd always felt like her protector. I want you to know that I fully trust you with her. If that doesn't demonstrate my regard for you, nothing will. God bless you in all you undertake. My pals up at Crichton, I am thankful for you. When I came to school as a lousy freshman who was scared out of her mind, you took me under your collective wing and made sure that I didn't get lost, either in the halls or under the massive amounts of homework I had to do. You never made me feel "less than" because I was younger. I always felt appreciated and like I belonged, and I love you all for it. Rachel, you are quiet, but the more we talk and go through self-defense together, the more I like you. I'm so glad that you're not graduating this year-I would be devastated. You never say anything unless you mean it, and our combined love for literature and "Howl's Moving Castle" makes us alike. Thanks for being my friend, Warrior Princess! Jon, you went to school with my older brother, but you never compared any of us to him. (Love you, Drew, but you left an intimidating reputation behind you.) Your laughter makes the difference in any classroom, and your gallantry in treating a lady as a lady will continue to serve you well. I admire you as a Christian, and I really wish that I was smart enough to understand what you're saying most of the time! Still, every time I read your writing I learn something. Keep listening to God, and allow Him to guide your pen. He'll never let you fall......although the critics will do their best to trip you, I'm sure! I have every confidence in you. Jessica....my sweet Jess, my big sister that I can call and wail to whenever I don't have a CLUE as to what God or guys (equal mysteries) are doing. You squeal whenever I wear hats or mention anything having to do with Ireland, dragons, or Harry Potter. Your enthusiasm for life is contagious...and I'm going to miss you like crazy when you graduate. Thank you so much for being such a good friend to me. I hope you know how much I appreciate it. You deserve the best, and I pray that you'll get it. Hopefully, you and I will be hopping a plane to Ireland in two years! Keep your fingers crossed! My bubbly Julianne, I am truly thankful for you. You and I are so much alike that I sometimes wonder if you were an early quad that somehow got separated from us at birth. However, I can't believe Dr. Callis would be capable of something like that, so I'll just have to believe that we're kindred spirits! You are always so sweet, giving me huge hugs whenever we see one another and squealing over Christian Bayle, Colin Firth, and Neville Longbottom whenever the above are mentioned. You kindly drive Dora the Explorer for lunch and smoothie breaks, and turn bright red whenever anything remotely crude is mentioned. I love that about you. Why do you have to be two years older, and leave me at the end of next semester??? Even so, I hope that God continues to bless you in all that you do, and will make your path smooth after graduation...and I pray even more that our paths will continue to run alongside one another. Steven Bowman, I am thankful for you. Your love of music is infectious, and your earnest desire to use that gift is inspiring. I continue to pray for you, and I hope that you will find next year to be ten times better than this one. Well, folks, I'm starting to feel the early beginnings of Carpal Tunnel just from this post, so I'll let you go now. Please know that everything I've said is the honest truth. Lord, thank you for the blessings that you've bestown upon me in the form of friends.

A Week of Thanksgiving

Hello, folks. As you are all infinitely aware, next week we celebrate the holiday of Thanksgiving. Due to some discussion on the subject by friends of mine, I've decided that Thanksgiving gets ignored most of the time, and treated as merely a time to catch up on some sleep, eat good food, and have an excuse for watching the football games. But Thanksgiving should be more than that, so I've decided to celebrate it a little bit differently in my own little way. Every day up until Thursday I'm going to post about something I'm thankful for. So please read, for in all likelihood, YOU are going to be on that list at some point. I'm going to begin this week long diatribe with giving my thankfulness for something easily seen, but no less important-my family. Mom, I'm thankful for you. You've stuck with us, even when it would have been easier to get up and leave. But you didn't-you stuck it out through house payments, family meetings, homeschooling, depressions and church-hopping. These past nine years haven't been easy for you, but I can only hope that the best is yet to come. I want to see you go to school, get your degree, and find peace with yourself. I think you're well on your way, but I want to know that you are happy no matter what comes. We fight sometimes (even did a little tonight) but I hope you always remember how much I genuinely love you and support you. You're a special lady who deserves the world, but only ended up with four kids, dogs, and getting dumped on. I pray that the dumping is over, and that the blessings begin. Drew, I'm thankful for you. I'm thankful for your quirkiness, your moodiness, your obsession with Star Trek that we share, and your earnest desire to be the man that God made you to be. You and I had a troubled relationship as kids, but I like to think that now that we're both older and more mature that we've been getting along much better. I've always been proud of my big brother, even if I didn't always understand you. You're brilliant and yet so lost sometimes-you remind me of a puppy that's jumping through hoops just trying to please everyone. I hope that you remember that the only people you have to please are yourself and God. I'm proud of you already. Shelby, I am thankful for you. You and I have always shared a special bond. Some of my favorite memories are of you and I singing to each other at night after Mom had put us to bed. We made American girl and Barbie towns, played Runaway, School, and yes, Tree Cherokees. You were always ready to follow wherever my overly-active imagination led, and I love you for that. You've always been willing to help me when I haven't felt smart enough at school. You've forgiven me for my very obvious faults, and somehow, it is virtually impossible for me to be mad at you. I'm so proud of the wonderful woman that you've become. You have the world by the tail, and I have every confidence in your ability to grab hold of the angel and wrestle, saying, "I will not let thee go, unless thou bless me." Sacrilegious or not, personally, my money's on you. But despite your tenacity and determination no matter what you're facing, you're also gentle. I admire that so much about you, my sweet sister. Evan, I am thankful for you. You and I have always been so darn alike. Yes, I know that that's fairly obvious. Heck, we shared a womb. You've always been a follower, content to go wherever Shelby and I led you. But in the past year or so, I've watched a confident man emerge. You've always felt such responsibility towards Mom, Shelby and I, especially after Dad left. I appreciate you SO much. And it's more than just taking out the garbage or fixing sinks or crawling around under my car-you are willing to be our protector and friend. I hope and pray that you will continue to allow God to lead you in your life, like you have by following His will concerning our sweet Rachel. Let Him provide for you, bro, and you will never have cause to be sorry for it. Stand strong as His warrior, and know that your sister loves and appreciates you. NanNan, I am thankful for you. Your generosity towards us throughout my life never ceases to astound me. I will never forget those sweet trips we made as a child back to your house, and meeting you at the mall for lunch. You've had quite a large hand in shaping me into the person that I am, and I am deeply grateful for everything you've done. I don't know if I have, or ever can say it often enough, but thank you. I hope that I can be as fine a woman as you are someday. PawPaw, I am thankful for you. I know you can't read this right now...but I pray that someday when you are walking with the Savior, that He will allow you to read this and know how much your granddaughter appreciates you. You stepped in and became my father when I no longer had one. You bailed us out more than once with money, protected us when times were hard, and held us when we cried. You were always so quiet and so gentle, and always so willing to teach. It still haunts me that the last time you knew who I was, you looked at me with disappointment in your eyes. It was just after your surgery, and you said my name and knew me. I played some joke on Evan, and even though I know that you couldn't understand the joke, the look of sadness in your eyes I will never forget. Still, I will also never forget your phrases, your silly whistling, and how you would putter around with the cars outside. I have learned so much from you, and one of the biggest regrets of my life is that you will not be able to walk me down the aisle someday, as I so hoped you would. I love you even now, and I hope you can feel it, even though you are trapped within your own mind. As for you rowdy Arkansas bunch, I am thankful for you. You have never hesitated to support my family no matter what the situation. As I've gotten older I've realized how much I truly love you. You all exude many genuine qualities that are gone now. You are all truly seeds of Grandma and Grandpa, and your goodness and loyalty are unmatched. For my family, dear Lord, I offer my thanks.

Give It Up

I just wanted to let anyone know that's been praying for me that God finally managed to get through to me last night. The entire semester, I've been fighting this dumb, stupid fear that absolutely would not let me alone. I truly believe the Enemy has been behind the constant attack I've been facing. It's somewhat stupid, and I'm a little embarrassed to blog about it, but....I've been scared absolutely senseless this entire semester that I would never be loved and that I was going to die old and alone. Kind of silly, right? Well, believe it or not, that's what's been running through my brain almost nonstop for so many weeks. However, last night due to some family drama, I was up fairly late, and all of a sudden, something miraculous happened. I actually found myself thinking, for just a minute, I am so glad that I never dated. This is major progress for me-I always saw the fact that I had never dated as some kind of failure, an acknowledgement that I was unlovable and that no one would ever see anything of worth in me. But for just a minute, I was able to wonder if maybe the problem wasn't with me after all. Maybe, just maybe, the problem lay in the fact that I wasn't willing to leave the problem with God and allow Him to guide the right man into my life. Shocking, right? However, this led to a deeper problem. I didn't trust God. It was too big an issue to leave to someone sitting up in heaven, who undoubtedly knew what was best for me, but whose plan would also undoubtedly contain pain and possibly loneliness. How pitiful is that, that I didn't trust the maker of the universe-my own maker? Before you start judging me, though, take a second and see what you don't trust Him with....you might be surprised. But in any case, God broke through my fear and with His help, I think I've finally let go of the fear. Satan's not happy about it, and he's still casting the thoughts into my mind. But I have help fighting it now....and I can say as truly as I'm capable of being that I'm trusting God to lead me in this. I truly hope that I won't be one of those woman that doesn't marry until she's fifty...and I hope even more that I won't be one of those woman that remains single all her days. However, I'm going to do my best to rejoice in being single at the moment, because that's what God wants me to be right now. His timing is best.

Hit Hard

So, apparently today was the day for hard hits of many different varieties. It all began with going to school...nothing exciting there, although I did enjoy the drive. I've discovered a new band, Vertical Horizon, and I really enjoyed listening to that, especially when I found a song that was absolutely perfect for a character I've been writing. For some reason, it really helps when I have music that defines a character. It helps me connect to them better, and is usually good for brain-storming. So that was nice. I came home, taught piano lessons, everything was fine. I got a new student, who was absolutely adorable. However, I decided to go with my mom to my old high school choir this evening to help her take pictures for the yearbook. It was fun to go back-my director waving happily and giving me a hug, getting to see some of my friends *waves at Rachel and Clarissa* and even getting to croak along with "Every Heart a Bethlehem." It's not Christmas until I've sung that. (I croaked because I have a cold, btw. Ahchoo!) I couldn't decide whether I felt really young or sooo old, though. I felt young just being back there again, like I'd never left. I felt really old, though, because of how young everyone else seemed. Still, it was an intriguing sensation, not totally unpleasant. Just interesting. Then, however, disaster struck. My beloved mother realized that her batteries were nearly dead. Rachel, bless her, had her camera on her but she'd left it back in the choir room. So I grabbed her hand and we started running like maniacs back to the choir room. We were laughing, having a grand time, when we were dumb and kept running down an incline. To say that we fell would be an understatement-I'm surprised there wasn't a crater where we landed. There were, however, skid marks. We both just lay there for a minute, stunned. Rachel had landed on her hip, and I'd hit my knee and head. Finally, we just started laughing at ourselves and then helped each other. Thankfully, that sort of thing has happened enough to me in my lifetime, i.e., I'm a klutz, so I try to make it funny. We managed to get the camera and take it back, and after much more drama which included having kids spelling their names for me because my brain wasn't functioning, we finally got the pictures made. Mom and I then left and picked up some dinner, and then we went back home to watch CSI. Tonight was important, you see. Tonight was Jorja Fox/Sara's last episode. Was I disappointed? Haha. Another understatement. I was FURIOUS! I would rather they had killed Sara off, rather than have her just leave like that. Grrr. And I missed Supernatural for that. Double grrr. In any case, I realize that this is all not really important in the grand scheme of things. I'll be happier by tomorrow, I promise. Goodnight!

Waste

I was sitting in class on Monday, waiting for my professor to arrive. I always sit beside the same girl. We're not great pals or anything, but we talk occasionally, wave to each other in the halls. That sort of thing. So anyway, we were just sitting there, and I heard her saying to one of the Irish guys in my class, "Yeah, it took me a long time to get drunk on Saturday." Did everyone just do a double take at their computer screen? Because I sure did. I remember thinking, Wait a second, isn't this girl a freshmen? Yes, my naivete is quite sad. So I said, "Umm...you were trying to get drunk?" And she answers in this totally nonchalant voice, "Oh, yeah. Took me a while, though." HOLD THE PHONE! Here is the first disturbing part of this conversation: the fact that getting drunk was a state that she ASPIRED to attain. Pardon me, but I thought most people tried to avoid being drunk??? It gets worse. I say, "How old are you?" "Eighteen." Ok, let's forget the fact that she was underage. Then she says, "But my mom says she doesn't care as long as I don't drive." That mom needs to be shot. Why would you encourage your daughter to drink to the point of intoxication? That's like injecting Clorox into your brain! I just can't decide what I'm devastated more about in this exchange-the fact that my freshmen friend gets drunk routinely, the fact that her mother knew and didn't care, or the fact that I was surprised. It appears that I still have a lot to learn about the world....but I'm not sure I want to.

Merry's Song

Here are the results of my boredom in Dr. Wiggles' class. Occasionally, something of worth is accomplished, whether by accident or not. :D Of course, if Wiggles knew that such literary progress were being made, he'd probably forbid it, the old tyrant. Curse him. The idea just hit me, and I went with it. This is still a little rough, but it's done enough for everyone to get the idea. It's titled "Merry's Song", for the hobbit character in The Lord of the Rings. I tried really hard to capture both his strength and his confusion. I hope I suceeded somewhat. I hope you enjoy it! Verse 1:
I don’t want to leave my home.
Cast into the wild, compelled to roam.
But how can I abandon my friends?
Refuse to walk the path with no end?

So I will put on a brave face
And give everything I have to this great race.
I feel so small, what can I hope to do
To change this world and make everything new?

Chorus:
So I will stride into the gathering dark
I will walk this path and make my mark.
All I need is the strength to strike
A blow for my home, my friends, my life.

I may be gone, but I am not lost
I want to do my share, whate’er the cost.
The dawn is behind me, but it I can’t see
Until I complete the journey before me.

Verse 2:
He stands so tall, so strong and dark.
She stands so fair, so white and stark.
I cower in the dirt in-between.
What can I do? What does it mean?

I’m so tired, so depressed and confused
There are two paths, only one can I choose.
Do I let her die alone? Do I stand beside her?
This is my chance, this dark I can hinder.

Chorus

Verse 3:
I’m home again, and nothing’s the same.
They cheer when I pass, call me “ruffian’s bane.”
They want me to stride about, singing a song.
It’s a part I enjoy, and act all day long.

Sometimes I ponder on what is gone forever
My innocence is lost, eternally severed.
My friend is wounded at heart and in pain.
Where shall he rest? Nothing’s the same.

Where shall the years take me, to warmth or to cold?
Will I inspire others to stand? Will my part in this tale be told?

I am a goldfish.

Today, aside from being the dreaded Monday, also happens to be preview day at school. This means several things, some good, some bad. Preview Day basically means, in essence, that throughout a good deal of the day, the hallways will be clogged with tons of high school seniors, many of which seem to think that being out of school for a day gives them license to talk loudly in the halls. It's impossible to get to your classes on time because they won't move. The come into the library and stare eagerly, and then during your class times they come and look through the windows in the door, giving me the distinct impression of being a goldfish. However, one of the good things is the fact that the cooks in the cafeteria change their oil, so the food is actually palatable. Not that it does any good, because I think I'm going out to lunch with my pals during my break...YAY! Of course, that means I'll have to bs my assignment for Wiggles...quickly.....

Monday Moaning

Everyone that knows me knows that I hate Mondays. There isn't any real reason as to why I hate Mondays. I go to school from 9-2:15, and then I'm free for the rest of the day. I don't even WORK on Mondays. I guess I despise Mondays for all that they represent, namely, the beginning of another week. It also means that I have two more Wiggles classes to get through before I get a reprieve. I hate Mondays for their very essence-the soul-sickening knowledge of all the trials and annoyances that yet await you, lurking. The period that I call Monday Moaning begins around 7:00 Sunday evening, and continues until about 3:00 on Monday afternoon. Then I seem to get over it. Perhaps there's some form of Tuesday Teasing that starts happening around then. You know, the sense that the week is progressing after all, and you just might make it without killing someone. Metaphorically, of course.

Shoe Fetish

You've got to understand the fact that my sister is quite possibly one of the coolest people on the planet. She's got flawless taste in clothes and decorating, is crazy smart, a fabulous artist, and even a good manager of her money. All of these things are things that I lack, and therefore, admire. She's kind to just about everyone, but completely no-nonsense if the need arises. Although she's never quite stern enough with her art students....sometimes I have to get in there and make them behave. They always seemed afraid of me. Am I that scary? Don't answer that. In any case, Shelby is absolutely amazing and I'd lay down my life for her without hesitation. However, she's also completely freaking hilarious when it comes to how she categorizes things. For one thing, she has a shoe fetish. She's completely and totally one hundred percent addicted to shoes in all their forms. Wedges, heels, flats, boots, espadrilles, stilettos....if it had a hard sole and you can walk in it, she knows it and loves it. As long as it's fashionable, of course. One time, we were out shopping, and she was squealing and ooohing and ahhhing over some brown shoes. My mother, wise and thrifty as she is, reminded my sister of the fact that she already had a pair of brown heels. Then Shelby, with completely sincere seriousness, replied with an "aren't you dumb" tone of voice that she already had a pair of light brown shoes and some medium brown shoes. These were DARK brown shoes, and therefore, essential to her existence. It isn't possible NOT to love my sister.

News Bulletin: Santa Afraid to Come On A Midnight Clear. We Might Shoot Him.

Ladies and gentleman, we have reached an all-new low in regards to Yuletide. Yes, I was just the horrified witness to a commercial, in which the item being sold was a singing, dancing turkey. I repeat, a singing......dancing......turkey. That's just sad.There's so much more to this than horrendous decorating. But of course, this new brilliant marketing scheme is not surprising in the way that the modern world has twisted Christmas from the holiest time of the year into a farse that only succeeds in selling money and causing hangovers. As dear Master Jenkins says, Santa is shown kneeling at Jesus' feet. That's the only reference to religion allowed, along with the insipid and insulting "Happy Holidays." Ugh. I could say so much more, but I'm watching CSI with my family. Have a holly, jolly, gobble Christmas.

When I Consider the Heavens...

"To be a star, you must shine your own light, follow your own path, and don't worry about the darkness, for that is when stars shine brightest!" As much as I'd like to take credit for that statement, alas and alack. I found it on a quotes website. But how often do we really take the time to consider the stars? For those of you who don't know, I'm scared silly of the dark. I've only in recent years been able to give up on having a nightlight. My brother gets highly irritated when I make him do something outside for me, even if it's something as trivial as going out to my car to get something, because I'm too chicken to do it myself. It's not laziness, Evan, I swear!And it's not even the dark I fear, necessarily. I fear what the darkness holds. My all-too-imaginative mind is always creating rapists, monsters, rapid dogs, irritated raccoons and a hive of angry bees that are just waiting behind the air conditioner unit, drooling in their desire to wreck havoc on me. Evan was kind enough one year to buy me a high powered flashlight, and it helps when I've got to walk to my car at night. But still, as you are all infinitely aware by now, I don't like the dark. However, I do like stars. I can stand outside for forever, just looking. When I was a little girl, I used to plan going outside during a warm summer night, getting onto a float in our pool, and falling asleep. Thankfully, I was always too sleepy or, yes, too afraid of the dark to ever actually do this. I think my love of star-gazing was developed in the third grade, when I did a DAR project on Maria Mitchell. Aside from being known as a pioneer in the area of education, Maria Mitchell discovered a comet. After having written an essay, drawn a poster and a stamp, and performed as Maria Mitchell in one of those "Halls of Famous People", in which you dress up and are still until someone pushes a button and you talk about the person you're imitating, I was hooked on the idea of discovering a star. Of course, my early exposure both to Star Trek and the Apollo 13 movie are both possibly very viable culprits. I also like stars for the wish factor. I cannot see a star at night without making a wish, usually the same one every time. But I won't tell you what it is; then it might not come true, you see. There is something so mysterious in a tiny, blinking light high aloft in the ebony sky that makes you feel certain that maybe, just maybe, your wish will come true. A little bit of magic exists in the stars, a magic that is close enough to see, but forever too far away to touch. There is something so brave about them, and I find myself loving one of Madelaine L'Engle's descriptions of them, as warriors who are forever fighting the great evil, and are slowly winning the battle. Which is why I wrote the following poem, titled "The Unknown Battle: It must be so hard to shine on high,
In danger of falling from the velvety sky
To offer yourself in total sacrifice
When no other gift would ever suffice.

The stars place themselves between us and the night
And continue to shine with a glorious light
Their arms are spread in total acceptance
As they sing while performing their cosmic dance.

Their eyes behold the earth with its trouble and strife
Where people live between dark death and sweet life
And offer their examples of courage to men
Who, at the stars urging, turn from their sorrow and sin.

Yes, it takes great bravery to continue on
When the dark is coming and the day is done
Knowing that one day your time would come
To fall from the sky, and leave your home.

Still, I will follow in the star’s glowing wake
And will be brave with every breath that I take
For when a star falls, the darkness must flee
And another star soon joins the night’s harmony.

Yanked From Glory

Has anybody besides me ever considered Tabitha? She was the woman in the Bible (can't remember which book at the moment, sorry) that was brought back to life by Peter, I believe. I remember hearing that story as a child and thinking, "Oh, cool! She died and got to come back!" But a few years ago I reread that story, and it made me pause and think. If I had been Tabitha, my first act on returning to my body would be to scratch Peter's eyes out. What was he thinking? She was a Christian, that much we know. This was after the death of Jesus. We all know where Tabitha went. She went home, to her true home. How would you like to be in heaven, walking with the savior and finally away from all of the sorrow and pain of earth, and then be brought back???? What possible good would that be? You would spend the rest of your life, remembering what you had left and longing to go back there. That is, unless God performed some kind of cosmic mind-wipe so that she could return to her body. That makes sense, I suppose. But can you imagine? You could never go to market, without being "that lady that died." You'd be a zombie! A divine zombie, granted, but sheesh. Anyway, that's something my restless mind has been pondering on all morning. What kind of life would it be, and how could being brought back from the dead be to the glorification of the Lord? We're watching "Barabbas" in my film class, and it was one of the scenes there that made me think on this. One of the women in the movie, a lovely woman named Rachel, was accused of blasphemy and was stoned. She went quite willingly to her death, and the beauty of the light on her face astounded me. She knew where she was going, and she wasn't afraid. Tabitha was already there, and was ripped back. I'd love to ask Jesus about that someday.

The Wandering Path

Here are a few things that are on my mind right now. First of all, there can hardly be no greater pleasure than driving home from class during the fall. The leaves are turning into brilliant shades, your radio is blaring Josh Groban, and a huge assignment has just been turned in. There's a slight crisp in the air that makes you just feel glad to be alive. Happiness. Not to mention the fact that I just finished teaching my last creative writing class, PRAISE YE THE LORD, HALLELUJAH! In a class full of young boys, there isn't much creativity. That class was the bane of my existence. However, it's over, it paid for six months of car insurance, and now my Tuesday afternoons are free. Next, I keep thinking about something my social psychology professor, Dr. Browning said. She stated that depression was anger turned inward. How perilously true, and how sad. Imagine the paralyzing, lonely, and overall helpless anger that that must be. And how weak people feel, to imagine that they can do nothing about that anger. Finally, I've discovered that I absolutely love the writings of my distant relative, Helen Keller. Here's a gem of hers for you to enjoy: Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.
Helen Keller

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up King and Parli'ment.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

Lost

Most of the time I feel fairly confident. I like the way my life is going and how I'm living. But right now, I'm feeling completely lost. My school is going down the tube, at the helm of a madman that everyone else is powerless to stop. The teachers have tried, the students have tried. Nothing helps, and everyone is starting to suffer. I have a full scholarship, and I know I probably shouldn't complain...But seriously, folks, isn't the point of school to, I don't know, get an education? School is school, not a church. Our president wants the school to become urban focused, to help the city of Memphis. I'm all for helping the city of Memphis. I was born here, raised here. But the school is lowering educational standards, punishing the smart kids and calling them "snobs" and "selfish nerds", and bleeding everyone to death. I'm to the point where I'm looking at my options. I have to keep a fairly high GPA in order to keep that lovely full scholarship, but the school is requiring me to take courses outside of my major that weren't in the catalogue when I came in, and that I'm doomed to fail. It's educational suicide. I'm just so frustrated right now, partly because I still love my school. I love the teachers, the smallness, being able to walk down a hall and know almost everyone I meet. But I can't stay here at the risk of my education. Please pray for me. I don't know where my path leads....for that matter, I wish I could find the path. I seem to be lost in the forest at the moment.

A List of Ghastly Proportions

So far, I've been shamefully lax in blogging during the month of November. I regret to say that I'm deep within the mire of Slough of Despair that is sophomore year, and I'm having trouble motivating myself to do anything. However, I'll be on my best behavior from now on. Nothing much has happened to comment on, so I'll be succinct. 1.) I cannot seem to attend a self-defense class without injuring myself. I go and give absolutely 100% at class, and by the next day I'm the walking wounded. This week, I was thrilled to learn something called the rear leg high kick-which has left me limping as I've pulled something in my knee. Joy. I hope I leave this class knowing how to kick some serious butt, or I'm going to be mad. Hi-ya! 2.) Tomorrow we have a meeting with the head of the Honors department to complain about Dr. Wiggles. I don't have any faith that anything will be accomplished-it's too late in the semester to do anything. Still, please pray that our voices will be heard, which I've no doubt they will. But also that our professor will act as wisely as he can. 3.) Tomorrow also begins a classmate's and mine attempt to keep our sanity despite the fun-sucking influence of Dr. Wiggles, an attempt in the form of what we've dubbed a Hat-off. We're each going to wear a different hat each day, just for the fun of it. I love hats, so it should be interesting. Too bad I don't still have my pink straw cowboy hat. THAT would have turned some heads. 4.) My brother, his girlfriend, my mom and I have just finished watching a good portion of Mr. Holland's Opus, which is undoubtedly one of the best movies ever made. I never realized how much it influenced me as a child, but my eyes were really opened. That's where I received a good share of my love for red hair, piano, clarinet, and protest songs. Don't ask, I'm an eclectic individual. Go out and watch it right now if you haven't. 5.) Tomorrow is Monday. Need I say more? 6.) Daylight Savings Time is perfectly marvelous in the fall. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to sleep an extra hour today. 7.) I got a wonderful idea for a story-we'll see if it pans out. I believe that's all the news in Katie's world now, so good night and good luck!

All Saint's Day

I meant to blog this yesterday, but I ran out of time. Yesterday was All Saint's Day, a very cool holiday in our world's history. I'm going to paste in here some of the things I've found out. In the early Church, Christians would celebrate the anniversary of a martyr's death for Christ (known as the saint's "birth day") by serving an All-Night Vigil, and then celebrating the Eucharist over their tomb or place of martyrdom. In the fourth century, neighbouring dioceses began to transfer relics, and to celebrate the feast days of specific martyrs in common. Frequently, a number of Christians would suffer martyrdom on the same day, which naturally led to a joint commemoration. In the persecution of Diocletian the number of martyrs became so great that a separate day could not be assigned to each. But the Church, feeling that every martyr should be venerated, appointed a common day for all.
A commemoration of "All Martyrs" began to be celebrated as early as the year 270, although no specific month or date are mentioned in existing records.[1] The first trace of a general celebration on a specific day is attested in Antioch on the Sunday after Pentecost.[2] There is mention of a common day in a sermon of St. Ephrem the Syrian (373), and the custom is also referred to in the 74th Homily of St. John Chrysostom (†407), who speaks of a "feast of martyrs of the whole world."[3] As early as 411, there is found among the Chaldean Christians a general commemoration of all Confessors (Commemoratio Confessorum), celebrated on the Friday after Easter.[2]In English speaking countries, the festival is traditionally celebrated with the hymn "For All the Saints" by William Walsham How. The most familiar tune for this hymn is Sine Nomine by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

Rolling Stones

This morning in class, my teacher read something that Amy Carmichael had written. It was talking about how when the women went to Jesus' grave, the task of moving the stone away for themselves would have been very difficult, if not impossible. So God just stepped in and did that much for them. Isn't that amazing to think about? I can just picture those grieving women, grunting and groaning as they tried to roll away a vast and heavy stone, knowing that they were going to see something totally heartbreaking when the job was finally done...But then God just gave another bit of evidence about His grace. He didn't make those women roll away the stone, only to find the sepulchre empty. He did it for them. I think that there's another lesson in this. God doesn't make things any harder on His children than they have to be. He does exactly what needs to be done, and in His wisdom it's always right. As much as we like to lift our faces to the sky and moan "How long, dear Lord? How long will you make us suffer?" all of that angst isn't His will. We should know that just as God sent His angel to roll back the stone, He will never place a burden too great to bear upon our shoulders.

Give Me Your Hand if We Be Friends...

My friend Jessica kindly offered my sister and myself two free tickets to see the ballet, "A Midsummer's Night's Dream." I absolutely adore this play (gotta love good ole Bill Shakespeare) and add a ballet and Mendelssohn? You've got quite a powerful combination. So this afternoon, I gallantly gave up by Sunday afternoon nap and drove Shelby and I down to Beale Street to the Orpheum. Now, Memphis is famous for Beale Street, but I've only actually been there a handful of times, and I'd never driven there. Thankfully, we got there without much trouble and were briefly victims of extortion, which masqueraded as a parking fee. No matter how many times I go, I never get tired of the Orpheum. It's so beautiful-it's a tangible piece of the past that we can see and touch and experience. I always find myself wishing I could see it back in the old days, with all the people dressed in their finest and so excited. But I digress. We sat down in amazingly good seats (I could actually see, which is amazing, considering how bad my eyesight is) and the show began. The ballet was absolutely amazing-the sight took my breath away when the curtains first rolled back. There was this giant flower on stage, and fairies danced around it. Petals floated in the air, and the audience truly felt like they were in Fairyland. The choreography seemed a little odd in places-sometimes the arm movements looked like something out of "Thriller." However, Jessica and I sat on the edge of our seats, and I found that I remembered more than I thought from the old ballet days. We critiqued the costumes, the performances and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The guy that played Puck did an especially good job. The program said that he had been born and raised in the Bronx-I couldn't help but wonder what his friends thought when he started running off to ballet school every day to wear tights and jump around. But he undoubtedly made a fabulous Puck, very humorous. In any case, if you ever have the chance to see that ballet (or any ballet, for that matter) I highly recommend it. I don't understand why people think that ballet is boring-it's just as lovely and expressive an art form as movies and plays.

Cornballs

So, last night I went to our local Corn Maize with some of my buddies from school. I had been looking forward to it all week. For those of you who don't have a Corn Maize, our local agricultural research place grows a huge field of corn every year. Then, they make a maze out of the field in some sort of shape-last year, for instance, it was King Tut. Then they set out a sign, and presumably rake in thousands of bucks just by selling tickets and setting loose a bunch of people into a corn field to get lost. Whoever thought this up was a genius. However, as the year draws closer to Halloween, the brilliant people who run the corn maize pay a bunch of bored teenagers a certain fee to go out into the cold and mud, crawl around in the corn and mud, and scare a bunch of people senseless, usually 14 year old girls. They do this with "scary" masks, air horns, and the time-honored "BOO!" In any case, a group of us world-weary college students met up at the corn field, got tickets, and then went and got pizza, in order that we might stuff ourselves while waiting for it to get dark. After all, it's no fun to get lost in a haunted cornfield unless it's dark. Then we went back, put on warm hoodies, and went into the darkness. Stephen was our scout and Pathfinder, walking out ahead of the group. We let him-after all, the person who walks out first gets killed first, right? Next came the brave Jonathan, picker up of all deserted flashlights and myself, the Girl Who Was Only Startled Three Times. We were the ones that kept our ears carefully attuned for the presence of little girls-it's the most fun to walk just behind them and laugh when they get scared by that guy in the weird clown mask. Behind us came the gentle Rachel and the wise Evan, Seer of all horror movie questions. Last came Dee and her boyfriend, Tony/Troy. Don't ask how he got two names. In any case, we tried to deliberately get lost, because it's no fun unless you're in there for at least an hour. Even with answering all of the questions deliberately wrong, we were still in and out of the maze in thirty minutes, which was slightly disappointing. The highlight of expedition was undoubtedly when we encountered the funky chicken-I'm his biggest fan. Any dude that can put on a chicken suit and go wallowing through the corn and do this weird chicken cackle is well deserving of praise. We were all deeply saddened, however, when we couldn't track down the guy hanging from the gallows. Hang it all. After we got done with the corn maize, everyone came back to my abode, where my mother had kindly made hot caffeinated beverages, popcorn, and chocolate chip cookies. We then proceeded to watch a highly intellectual film *cough cough Spaceballs cough cough* and call it an evening. That, my friends, is a good time.

Simple Things

Here are some things I found myself appreciating at some point today: 1. Sleeping without having to wake up to an alarm clock. 2. Wearing socks all day and then taking them off and climbing into bed. 3. Knowing that tomorrow is Friday. 4. Looking forward to going to the Corn Maize. 5. Being able to talk to an old friend. 6. Reading Jon's poem-that just rocked. 7. Knowing that God works in mysterious ways-the one day I was going to have to miss class due to my back, the professor was sick. While I'm sorry about Dr. Browning being sick, I'm very glad that I didn't have to miss a class. 8. Watching Transformers. 9. Hearing my young piano student telling me that she wished every day was a piano lesson day. 10. Waking up to my dog all snuggled up against me. Take a moment, and try to figure out what you appreciate.

Funerary Arrangements

This honored website regrets to inform you all of the death of Katie's back. It was killed last night when she, in a fit of actually trying to take care of herself, decided to exercise. In the process of this highly noble ambition, she managed to throw it out somehow. The poor back has been buried in her bed, wrapped in the loving embrace of a heating pad. The rest of Katie's body mourns this honored and most beloved comrade, and her spine in particular just doesn't know how to stand up without it. All those who wish to honor Katie's back and the wonderful job it did during Life may either send flowers or leave an epitaph here. Farewell, beloved back. We will miss you always. Life is just a pain without you.

Ireland Blessing

I just wanted to share this, because it was so beautiful. I hope you all enjoy it! "May the blessing of the rain be on you—the soft sweet rain. May it fall upon your spiritso that all the little flowers may spring up, and shed their sweetness on the air. May the blessing of the great rains be on you, may they beat upon your spirit and wash it fair and clean, and leave there many a shining pool where the blue of heaven shines, and sometimes a star."

HELP!!!!!!

I am unashamedly asking for some help in this post, simply because I'm vastly interested in all of you fine people's opinions. In my social psychology class, we've somehow gotten onto the topic of suicide and sin. There are a few members of my class that staunchly believe that suicide is an unforgivable sin, and that you will get sent to hell for committing it. I've never held that opinion-I thought that the only unpardonable sin was the sin of omission, in other words, not asking God to enter your heart. But they say that it's unforgivable because you can't ask for forgiveness when you're dead, and that killing yourself is murder. I believe that the blood of Jesus covers all our sins-but does asking for the forgiveness of the sin make the difference? As you can tell, I'm really confused. I'd really appreciate y'all's thoughts on this. Thanks, and blessings!

Dona Nobis Pacem (so don't hit me, please)

It is my regret to inform you all that I think my foray into the Presbyterian Church is over. Before you get up in arms about this, let me explain myself. I have loved attending Riveroaks Reformed Presbyterian Church-the pastor is marvelous, the music gorgeous, and the people kind. However, I have several reasons for leaving the church. 1.) I miss worshiping with my family, particularly my mom. I miss singing with her, and learning with her. I miss singing Baptist hymns! I know, it's pathetic. But I worship through music, and having to sing unfamiliar songs over and over again left me cold. 2.) As much as I loved singing in the choir at Riveroaks, I was lonely. Nobody there was my age, and while I've always interacted better with adults rather than people my age, I got a little tired of sitting in the corner. I can imagine most of you staring at your screen in wonderment as you try to see me sitting quietly in a corner, but yes. I must assure you that it is true. 3.) To be honest, I think part of the reason I stopped going with my mom to church was that I was still dealing with the death of our former pastor. It's weird-I still miss him so much. It was a comfort to look up at the pulpit and know that the man standing there knew you, knew your problems, and loved you bunches. It was hard to see Bro. Sam, admirable as he is, in Bro. Davy's place. It won't be easy now, but I'm going to try and deal with it head on. Besides, I don't think I'll be "that weird homescooled girl" any longer. Ahh, college. The great equalizer. 4.) Finally, I must place a disclaimer with this last reason. I have no problem with people who believe in things other than me. I have no difficulty in accepting other people's points of view. But while Riveroaks was the closest thing to a Baptist church as you'll ever hope to find, I just couldn't condone some of their religious practices. While I have no problem with people that practice it, I simply don't believe in infant baptism, among other things. I just couldn't reconcile myself to that, no matter how hard I tried. Thanks, Mom, for passing on mule-headedness. Sigh. Well, I'd like to thank anyone that's been praying for me. These past few months have definitely been a growing time, as I've tried to figure out what I believe and why. I just hope now that I'm on the path that God wants me to be. Please keep me and my family in your prayers. Blessings!

????

Here's something that I've been pondering heavily for the last 24 hours....do Transformers ever run out of gas?
Just wondering.

The Way of the Sore Samurai

Well, folks, yesterday was an interesting day. I got up, very grumpy because I had to go to my first self-defense class. The idea of going to a class on Saturday morning was highly repugnant to me, and I complained about it with fervor. Still, there was no choice. I had to go. So I dressed in my "Don't talk to me when I'm talking to myself" t-shirt and headed down to the church where the class was being held. Thankfully, I didn't have to drive all the way down to Crichton. When I got there, I met up with my friend Rachel, and we headed into the class. To my great relief, all of the students were girls, while the class was being taught by three 50-year-old men who weren't terribly frightening, despite the black belts they wore that inspired a certain amount of awe. After giving out our contact information, our instructors proceeded to lead us in a series of stretches that I haven't done in years. Thankfully, a lot of them were the same as what I had done in ballet a few years ago, so I wasn't completely helpless. I was also pleased that despite my bodily changes since then, I could still bend and have some balance. The rest of the lesson was taken up in our instructors demonstrating how self-defense was important, and what to do in certain situations. They then showed us how to take our fighting stances, how to make a proper fist, and how to track your opponent. I even learned how to jab and punch! That part was lots of fun. Learning how not to break your hand when punching seem highly useful. However, after an hour and a half of this, I was really sore. The class is going to be fun, but I have a feeling that it's going to be taxing. But they say usually in every class they have someone that gets really caught up in it, and becomes a "killer." I have a strong suspicion that it just might be me. I've always wanted to earn a black belt in something, just for confidence and bragging rights, and to know that I will never be helpless. If this class continues to go well, I just might sign up for a class next spring. Can you imagine me with martial arts knowledge? Sweet. Anyway, I've got some other things to blog, but I think I'll let that wait until either tonight or tomorrow. Blessings, and don't get into fights that you can't win!

Mysterious Disappearance, Read All About It! Girl Lost Valued Treasure!

Attention: This post should be read in the attitude of those old black and white detective stories. It is supposed to be melodramatic. Thank you. Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered weak and weary, a young girl was at school. All was well, another class conquered with no danger to its students, when the girl went outside to her vehicle, in order to get home. Her silk garments swaying in the wind, she climbed into her flashy car, fully intent on enjoying her drive home with loud music, fast speeds, and a lowered window. Imagine her surprise, therefore, when she reached into her backpack and discovered that she had no ipod! (Cue music) Duh duh duhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Frantic, the woman cried, "Oh, help! I've lost my ipod! That's three hundred dollars, gone with the wind! Please help!" Several people jumped immediately to her aid-her brave brother, the noble Evan; the ever sarcastic yet helpful Steven; her kind female cohorts, Jessica, Rachel, and Julianne. Everyone rushed to help our heroine in her plight, but alas and alack. The ipod was not to be found. The young girl walked around her school for an hour, searching classrooms and asking questions of those in authority. Finally, footsore and with a heavy heart, she went to her car. She was certain that her precious music player had been stolen, and was even then being sold at a pawn shop. Someone else would enjoy her Linkin Park, her Goo Goo Dolls, her Rascal Flatts! It was too much to bear. Casting her eyes to the ground in misery, she stops! She stoops, and bring her hand up to the light. There, within the grasp of her fingers, was her ipod! It had fallen out when she had exited her vehicle, and its dark color had caused it to blend in with the pavement. Rejoicing that it had neither been run over or picked up by some miscreant, the girl went on her way, determined to make sure that the horrid incident never happened again. The End.