A Reunion of Sadness

Funerals bring people together like a warm bonfire on a cold winter's day. Black-clad people from all walks of all life join together to tell stories, shake hands, share laughter and tears. People who know each other only by name cry and hug each other in a slow, sincere, sorrowful way. Hidden smiles are released as well as hidden tears. It is a reunion of sadness.

It's sad when relatives and old friends have to gather together on such an occasion as death. My Uncle Nathan died about a week ago and I attended his view the other night. It was hard, seeing my family cry like that. It's the type of tears that come straight from your heart, sobs that never end, empty stares. I don't really feel sad for his death since I hardly knew him. He lived in Colorado for the past few years. I do feel sad for all those who are hurting because he left.

I've experienced that sadness leaves when we're around others, especially those who love and care for us. All those people in the room of the viewing shared in one universal unspoken language of sorrow. They all felt that sad emptiness that comes with death and because of those feelings they shared, they were able to connect. People who hadn't seen each other for years would embrace as if they were the best of friends. It was amazing how as soon as the people filled the room, comfort and happiness entered too.

I was thinking about this years reflections theme, 'Together we can...' I know that a lot of people may take this to mean together we can do anything or together we can make a difference. I've been thinking of it in a more solemn, every day sort of way. Together we can make it through this. Together we can heal.

9/11 was this past weekend, and we watched a few hear-wrenching videos with footage of the tragedy. That was a hard thing for America, and when that occurred everyone across the U.S. shared in that unspoken language of sorrow. I believe that we have never been more united as a people than we were at the time of that awful tragedy. People came together because that sadness and fear was too great to bear alone. Together America is still healing.

We have families, we have friends, we have people because we, as humans, need company but we also need comforters, people who share our hardest feelings. We need people to listen to us, to hold us, to lift us up. We, as humans, cannot stand to live alone. I don't know how the hermits do it. Only together are we strong enough to face the tragedies and awful events that shape us as a Nation and as individuals. Together we can...

Ironic: opposite of what is expected

I think I'm going to talk about irony. You see I had to make a poster on the vocab word, 'ironic' for English. The picture I drew depicted a more coincidental situation than an ironic one and I got docked points. It seems ever since then the world has been try to show me what ironic truly means. Lately I've been trying to go to bed earlier so that I can get up earlier therefore giving me time to work on my online class. Well, every night ended up the same and I stayed up a lot later than I wanted and never did get up earlier. Last night, though, I finally went to bed at nine o'clock and had set my alarm for six in the morning. I was just falling asleep by nine twenty when my step dad came in, turned on my light and told me to get up I'm leaving with my mom.
It's ironic that the first night I actually go to bed early I end up staying up till midnight. To make a long story short, my mom and step dad were having some problems and she called the police. I always wanted something different to happen in my life to sort of mix up the ordinary routine, but having three men in uniforms in your house isn't always so fun. At least my mom let me skip school today to catch up on my homework and sleep.
Another ironic thing. Today would probably have been the only day in a while I would get either time to myself or, if my mom stayed home, at least alone time with her. Having seven younger siblings can be fun when playing games, but having seven younger siblings also means that there's seven other kids competing for two parents' attention. I was hoping that, when I found out my mom had stayed home, we would have some time together, but then I saw my step dad. Well, that's how it goes right? Thank you world I think I understand what ironic means now! I can say one thing, I will never again misinterpret a vocabulary word, I mean what if next time I get 'chaos' or even worse, 'annihilation?' I think I'll keep my dictionary close by.

Caught up in the Tornado

It seems I was sitting there enjoying my summer vacation, then school starts and its not too bad, then I hear this rumble and it's getting closer, and closer and then what hits? Life. I have something planned every day of the week. Even now I am not supposed to be typing this blog, but I feel like I need to get one post in here since I haven't written for so long.
When your little your birthday is a big occasion but as you grow older you realize that life goes on. The end of the term is coming up and I have three big tests this week, on my birthday, it's just the way it works. Adults are always telling you to grow up, and in the end you don't really have a choice. You get caught up in the crowd pulling you along through life and your sort of forced to forget how it felt to be carefree. During the teen years you seem to be in between adulthood and childhood. I'm transitioning from having nothing to do but watch T.V. to having too much on my plate that I can't eat it all.
I have compared life to an airport. How much it can be like one! It is an organized chaos of people all pushing and bustling around to get somewhere. It's hardest when your one of the people without a real purpose yet, when your still trying to figure out where your headed. My best friend is moving an hour away. It doesn't seem too far but it is still really hard. Right now I feel like I'm caught in a never ending tornado that just keeps picking up more problems as it goes along. I feel like if it could just stop, for one day, I could get things in order. I wish life could just halt for a few hours so I could learn what it's like to do nothing again.

Blue Eyes

A few weeks ago my great-grandma on my step dad's side died. I only knew her for a year and loved her dearly, still though I did not feel sad when they told me she died, I knew she was old and lived a good life. My grandpa said he could hear her talking to her husband, he said that her husband came to get her and she went with him. It's funny but the days before she died I cried when no one else did, when my step dad told my family that she was gone it seemed I was the only one who didn't feel sad.

The reason I bring this up is because I wrote my great-grandma a poem I never got to give to her. I wonder if she can read it from heaven, if she can know that I wrote this for her. The poem may not be that great, I wrote it on a whim one night when I couldn't sleep. Anyway here it is.

Blue eyes

By: Elizabeth Leatham

Dedicated to my great-grandmother Pala who

I was lucky enough to have as a part of my life.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

Tales of heartache, pain, and sacrifice.

A person hurting deep inside.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

What heart is that that feels for me?

A heart so true, of noble breed.

Loving, deep understanding.

What heart is that that feels for me?

What lips are those that call my name?

What secret prayers,

Said with no shame.

What lips are those that call my name?

What person is that who loves and longs?

Wisdom of years,

And courage so strong.

What person is that who loves and longs?

Why who can hold secrets behind such eyes?

She who will reveal the story’s behind.

What heart can love with such freedom?

The same who now dwells in God’s kingdom.

What lips can call so many names?

She who loves them all just the same.

Why what a person can love and long,

Is she who has an Angel’s song.

Come tales of heartache, pain, and sacrifice.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

Names

Imagine being up in the mountains. There's the wind in your hair, the smell of smoke on your clothes, a fishing pole next to your cheap folding chair, and the sound of eighteen kids screaming and running in the background. For the majority of our week long camping trip we had only eleven kids, but for one night we made it all the way up to eighteen. I'm starting to get used to my big family, in fact I even could say at times that I enjoy it. There's always actors for a movie, or inspired characters for a book. You can always find someone to read your school essay or to tell you how you look.

Sometimes, though, when your trying to get to sleep in a thin sleeping bag on top of four rocks in a thin tent and the sound of the crickets is drowned out by six boys voices carried over from the other tent, yes at those times I wish I was an only child. Really the camping trip was quite enjoyable, but the ratio of eighteen kids to seven adults wasn't very good odds. Once I learned the art of hiding and reading the trip was more fun I could say.

I had another experience this camping trip. I've been called many names before. People have called me pretty, cute, weird, strange, and random people have often times come up to me and called me beautiful. It's sort of a strange experience but I suppose it's always flattering. This trip however I had the chance to overhear a couple of boys calling me hot. Well now I figure I've been called practically every name to simply describe a person. Something my dad always taught me, though, was that you can never get caught up in names. Every girl should always believe she is beautiful but the moment that a person starts becoming vain and thinking that they can get anything with their looks is the moment they fail on a very important test. The test of the heart. It's our spirits that really matter, our bodies only last for this life but our spirits go on forever. My dad told me once that he had met many beautiful woman who had such ugly spirits on the inside. I never want to become like that. Sometimes I even try to bring myself down which is the other extreme that can't be any better than vanity. My grandpa told me this trip that one day I would have to realize I'm beautiful and stop trying to make myself not. I think he meant the way I always try to criticize myself to prevent from getting to caught up in my looks. I'm trying harder to just expect myself and stay at a happy medium. I am still young, growing and learning. I want to become as beautiful on the inside as others see on the outside. The world tests us all with its views on how people should look and behave. I will hold to my religion and my standards, for they are the only true firm things I have.

Mother

I've decided to post a few of my favorite poems that I have written.
I'll post them in time so that there is not an overwhelming amount of new text here.
This first one I wrote for my mother for mother's day.
This is dedicated to her.

Mother
By: Anne Ivy

A darkness deep,
Surrounds my child,
In restless sleep,
Lost and tired.

There is a light,
A beam of hope,
To give sight
To a world unknown.

A smile, a sigh
A lifelong friend.
A loving angel
I will send.

To bless, to help,
To save, to bring
All my children
Back to me.

Through lives trials
My children will fall
She is a soft pillow,
To catch them all.

She will never be
As any other.
My dear, lost child,
I send you a mother.

I am so grateful for all that my mother does for me. Every child deserves to have a mother, even when at times a teenager would wish they didn't, just ask the orphans or those who have lost mothers, I bet each one of them wishes they had one. This poem is written from God's point of view in case you were wondering.
Thanx to those who read my blog, I enjoy sharing with you.

Getting Somewhere

Life can be compared to an airport. It is a chaotic organized jumble of people all trying to get someplace in the world. The planes are each leaving to a certain place in life, which places the passengers are trying to reach.
One passenger has awaited his flight his whole life. He arrives at the gate hours early and simply waits. Another passenger never really cared where he was going and made a last minute decision to board the plane. He arrive barely in time.
Now the third passenger flys standby. He arrived at the airport with only an idea of where he might be going, yet he might be the most prepared. He will go through the airport checking boards, making phone calls and gathering information before he selects his flight.
There is no telling which of the three will be more successful with the direction they've chosen. It might be the man who took all the classes to be on that flight, if he fails he has no other choice, or maybe it will be the one who didn't care about his class selections and simply picked a random place. Possibly it could be the man who took every class available to him. The man who, though he did not have a ticket upon entering the airport, took the most time in making a wise decision.
I do not know if or when I'll get married. I don't know which college I'm going to. I don't know which teachers I'll have next year or how they will affect later decisions. I do know that I am entering that airport. I only have a few small bags but I am ready to fill them with knowledge. I will travel through the halls for as long as it takes to find my place. I can use my talents to help influence my decisions so that one day I can walk up to a ticket agent and say, "I'm ready to board."

Rainy Days

It’s been days of rain both outside the house and in. Grey days have hit our home. Days when you cry yourself to sleep while listening to others tears. Every family goes through hard times, no marriage is perfect. Every time my step dad and mom have a fight I get afraid that maybe this time it won’t be okay. The past has shown me, that with the sun comes happier faces, yet the fear that happiness won’t return can be terrible. My brother resolved that he would not go to sleep until the fight ended, sometimes I stay up with him and listen.

I just want to march up stairs and shake my step dad and say, “Listen, just listen to her, just hold her, just tell her you love her that’s all she wants!” Maybe to him it isn’t so simple. I understand my mother because me and her have very similar personalities. I know from myself that when she cries she just wants to be held. In this troubling world there are so many days when your hurt, or stressed, or have just had a bad day and sometimes the whole world seems to press in on your chest, and the tears don’t seem to ever stop. It hurts, and sometimes it feels as if your heart really has the capacity to break. At times like these you cry, you scream, you complain, you yell and somewhere inside you all you really want is to be held and told your loved until it all goes away, until love washes the pain right out.

This is something my step dad doesn’t get. I don’t think he likes to see tears much. I have never seen or heard him cry, I don’t even know if he ever does. He doesn’t like any of us to cry outside our rooms. When I came to this house I had to learn to cry alone. It’s terrible to bear all the pain of tears and sadness until it passes. Sometimes you need someone there to share the hurt with you. I hope that one day when I get married I won’t have to cry alone any more. I hope that my spouse will know what pain is like and that he will hold me as I cry. I want my mom to have the same thing. I just wish my step dad would understand, but he doesn’t.

Of course I know that neither of us really do cry alone. God is always there listening to our silent prayers and watching each tear fall. I know that he cares for us, but he can’t be here. That is why we were given families, so that they could love and comfort us when our heavenly father cannot. There are many different personalities. I sometimes envy my sister for her ability to hide all the pain, as if it never existed. All hurt seems to pass through her as if she were immune to it. I sometimes wonder if my step dad is the same way. 

Honestly when I think of my step dad the first thing that comes to mind is a rock. I’m sure he has to cry sometimes, maybe, but it just doesn’t seem like he really ever feels sadness, hurt, betrayal, or pain. I know he must feel emotions as all humans do, but I don’t know how he cannot show them. Me and my mom express our emotions freely, that’s not always a good thing and many times I wish that I could hide my emotions as easily as some do. Isn’t it true that the silent child is the child every parent wants and the opinionated child is the one they hope they don’t have? It seems that way. 

At times I feel this blog a good way for me to write what I am feeling. I don’t want to offend any one or make my step dad look bad or anything. It just seems like peace is staring him right in the face and he won’t take it. I’m sure he has his own point of view on why he won’t just simply hold my mother, all I know is that I don’t understand it. Loving someone seems so simple, loving someone who is crying and hurting may be more difficult but I know it can be done.

From feeling the nothingness and empty pain of crying alone I wish that every one can always have somebody to hold them while the tears flow. I don’t know of any one who wants to feel sadness, but we all feel it anyway. Hopefully the sun will shine tomorrow both outside and in, it is late and I will hopefully sleep. Now I say goodnight to the constant stars if only life could be like them, bright and steady.

Death

It doesn't really seem fair, death. It swoops in and takes people you love away when you least expect it. It is so strange, and incomprehensible, it is something that we as mortals may never understand. Today I learned something new about death. In the past I have had people die. People who lived near me, or people whose families I knew, but I was either too young or not close to the person. I never understand before.

Much had I contemplated death. All the time I think about the eternities and heaven. I thought it would be okay, I have the knowledge that God lives, that we can return to him, that we will be able to see our family again. I thought it silly why people were sad, when I was certain that if someone I knew died, I would not be sad, but happy. I was wrong.

  A boy in my ward died today. He was my friend. He was a sweet, kind boy, and funny too. It's so hard to think that I won't see him in sunday school anymore. It's hurts to know that he won't be walking the halls at school. I think about it, and it makes me cry. It's a type of sadness I've never felt before. A type of sad that you don't notice hunger, you don't want to talk about it, but at the same time your soul is dying to let it all out to someone. Mainly it hurts. A burning feeling in your chest that all is lost. I couldn't imagine feeling this and not knowing that boy is in heaven and that we will see him again, it would be so hard.

Everyone wants to be understood, but in truth no one can ever fully understand another, because we are all different. The thing about death is that no one can say they understand until they've experienced in close hand. When I was about seven a girl my old-old ward died, she was thirteen. I thought it was sad, but nothing more. Just last year an older boy whose family I once knew drowned, I thought it was sad, nothing else. I know now. When someone dies who was close to you, you feel that sadness. My brothers and sisters see nothing wrong. My mom tells them a young boy in their ward dies and they ask why I'm so sad, because they don't understand. I was like that. I could never know how much death hurts, until it is hitting me in the face.

Yes, maybe one day I will get to see that boy again, but for the rest of my mortal life I will never see his smile, watch his eyes light, see him joke around with the other boys and tease him. I can't even begin to comprehend how his family is hurting, but I know how it is affecting me and it doesn't feel good. I wonder if he's up there now, I wonder if he wishes we wouldn't be sad, if he wishes we would know he's okay and happy. I think, though, that it is part of a human life. When we cry it lifts a burden off our shoulders and so we cry and cry and eventually accept the truth.

Death is something I thought much about, but never felt. Death is something that I will never understand. Death hurt me today as it hurt many others. When people mutter I'm sorry for your loss, I don't know if I could ever say such a simple thing again. Death hurts much more than a simple sorry could ever cure. Only time, tears, and faith can cure the sadness of death.

In a tale of Wales, Mario Cart, and Sleeping troubles!

10:10 a.m.

Okay so I'm having some sleep problems and can't seem to wake up in the morning. Argh! I like this pirate them, I'm gonna stick with it. Anyway I went to Wales, it was cool. Yes I walk four miles in the rain, and yes I spent most of the time car sick or air sick on buses or planes. But it was still cool. How many kids can say that they've been to Wales, how many kids my age can even say that they've gone out of the country? The country in Wales in really quite beautiful.

I learned something today, that I really suck at packman. I am still in my pajamas actually and need to rush off to school. Aaaaaaah! I am so, so, so, so excited that I have only two days of junior high next week, and no dance, no clogging or ballroom! Which is good because my thighs hurt and my toes hurt and my heels hurt, and ow my elbow! Oh, wait I hit that on the corner of the wall, that is one injury that did not come from dance.

Okay well, that is all and all.

I just decided to type random stuff, random random!

I think I'm getting good an Mario Cart and then I play my five year old brother and get beat good so I guess I'm really not improving in the game cube area.

I hate the cold and love the wind!



Good bye!

Silence, at times powerful and other times a hurtful enemy

So it was my birthday two days ago. And no I'm not going to say I feel old, because I don't. Anyway I think my sister broke my ipod which sucks, it's frozen on one page and it stays lit up. Oh, but about two days ago. So for my birthday I got hit in the head twice by metal doors(once by my locker and once by the school front entrance doors as result of an accident), oh and my pencil broke in math so I had a lot of homework and I had to walk to and from school on a spranged ankle. Fun, wouldn't you say? But then we went to YW night of excellence and my YW leaders from my old ward came and brought me 25 roses. It made my day, they are so nice to me! I miss my old ward so much, it's so hard to adjust to being in a new ward, especially when your shy like me. Most people who know me might not think I'm that shy, but I am until I warm up to people then it's like hyper mode and talkative and laughing and smiling all the time. My mom says it might take two years for me to fully get used to this ward. I really don't want to be in uncomfortable silence for that long. It's painful to just stand on the outside, I've never been the type of person who can push into cliques very well. I mean these Young Women, their parents grew up together, they've grown up together and here I am just plopped in here. When your standing on the outside it's painful on your soul and your legs, you just keep thinking of ways to talk to people and get involved and then when you try you feel so stupid afterwards. I love our new house, and out new step dad, he's awesome and yet sometimes I really wish I was just back in my old ward where I had friends and good relationships. I really shouldn't be complaining, at least I didn't have to change schools.
I've been thinking alot about silence, I read this book called "The Chosen" that had alot about silence. They say that through silence you can hear the world crying, that through silence you can listen to what isn't being said. It seems that each person wears a mask, a writer wears the mask of his/her writing, and actor can play any role they wish but rarely will they play the role of themselves. I know that it is very difficult for a person to understand another person when they are not standing in their shoes, and even then they don't have their soul, another person wouldn't deal with on situation the same way as someone else would. I think though we can create a link of understanding if we try to look past the mask, see the person, take the chance to look through their eyes and most importantly listen to what their not saying.

A helping hand

No one sees the girl,

as she sits alone, so alone.

No one cares to say hello,

everyone passes no one notices.

Tears run down the small child's face,

a face where a smile should have been.

Legs held tight to her chest,

arms wrapped gently about her.

People pass her on their way to their busy lives,

only no one stops to see the girl with tears on her face.

Until one day someone sees,

and that someone changed her world.

I do not know really why I wrote this post only that I did, and that this short poem is not really fictional but is more real than we can ever know, the last two lines don't have to be there, it can end with 'the tears on her face', but those two lines are there in hopes that there is some one who would help such a child, we don't even know how much of a difference we can make in one little girls life, that difference can amaze you and can amaze me. That pretty much explains the poem though it does not explain my reason for placing it here, I guess you could call it, inspiration that needed to be written down. As in the above picture we can offer a helping hand to the child, we can change their world, in some cases we may even save their life, this is the simple truth, we live in a world where terrible things happen to children, we have it extremely good. If the time comes that I ever meet one of these children I hope I will be brave enough, strong enough to reach out my hand and pull her up.

I want to...

I am soooooooo bored! I want to listen to music, I want to spread eagle on my carpet, I want to curl up in bed and be a rock, I want to run in the rain, I want do a cartwheel, I want to climb on the roof, I want to fly a cow, I want to grow a potato tree...I actually really do not know what I want to do, at all! This totally sucks, I have gotten what, like two hours of sleep in the last three days? Excuuuuse me if I can't think correctly, I think I had brain damage since I was born! So I'm in this war with my friend, my flying cows against her fat sheep that can roll, only it seems we're at a stand still, we've been in this war what, a month and neither of us will give in to the other! Elle, if your reading this right now you are going to lose, I will prevail my cows are soooooo much better than your sheep! Anyway that is all for now, this post began with no point and will end with no point and so I say...Hey look a Llama!

Saying goodbye...

Yesterday we had some bad news, we have to get rid of all our cats, all four of them. The parents have threatened with it before, but this time I'm afraid their actually going go through with it. I love my cat, Taffy, so much. The only reason they have to get rid of them is because their finding pee all over the house, the problem is why do we have to get rid of all of them when it's probably just one or two cats? Only the other problem is how do we know which one, I've tried other things, expierements on my own and I am almost completely certain my cat is not one of the culprits, only the parents havn't seen the evidence I've seen and how are they to beleive what I beleive if I'm not even absolutely sure myself? The thing is there were so many things I told them they could have tried a while ago and by now they probably would have had just as much pee in the house only they'd have known which cat(s) had done it. I love my kitty, she is my comforter when I'm sad, and I hate to get rid of her. I can only hope that I can find my loving cat a home. Two times now I have, or my cat has been, the culprit of accusations. I already had to get rid of my first cat, Licorice, to the pound, no one can know what that was like, how terrible it felt to hear his frightened meows, imagine having remembered the last moments spent with your cat of him balled up against the back of a carrier, hair standing on end, frightened and scared. It was not my fault that I was forced to give him up and yet I am the one that feels the guilt when I remember the way the woman at the pound looked at me, I am the one who still gets tears to my eyes when I think of those last pictures I have of him, no I will not do it again, if Taffy ends up having to be taken to the pound I will not take her, I would so much rather have my last memories be holding her in my arms, if the parents want the cats gone they should do the dirty work, they should feel the guilt as the woman looks in their eyes with dissapointment. But I'm not giving up yet, I'm going to try to find her a home, she is a good cat and I love her as if she were part of our family, I'm sure someone else could love her just as much. The saddest part is though the parents keep them outside and so we can't even spend any of the last few days, hugging, playing and remembering our loving pets, instead we can only hear their tortured meows as they cry out to be let inside. I don't mean to make the parents sound like the bad guys, I mean what else are they to do? I know it's hurting my mom too, not because she actually cares about the animals, but because she knows getting rid of them will hurt us, the children. I'd like to end with a short poem I wrote last night when I couldn't sleep.

To never feel her gentle fur
To never hear her happy purr

To never hold her close to me
To never pet her while she sleeps

To never see her green, green eyes
To never hold her as I cry

Because now I have to say "goodbye"

Packing my bags and I'm out of here, as soon as I turn eighteen...

When the wood floors shake beneath your feet and you hear a very loud banging noise like thunder much too close for comfort, well it ain't no earthquake it actually happens to be a washer machine, dun, dun, dun, dun. Especially on spin cycle, your afraid that thing is going to blow up in your face along with all the clothes in it, that is one scary thing, I don't think it can help it really it was never a good washer and it is older but our nice washer broke so out with the calm swishing and in with the thunder! I'm so excited that the signs of fall are actually here, it does happen to be my favorite season, not that it has anything to do with my birthday being in October or anything, okay maybe just a little bit. But I really do love the way the leaves turn color, I love the soft cool breezes blowing in, the wind and the rain (that's my favorite part) altogether fall to me, is the perfect season. I never really liked snow though, or sweltering heat, I've always wanted to move to Oregon, they never get snow where my cousins live and hardly ever have sweltering heat, mostly just rain and wind, which would be nice, very nice. Okay well now that you got me started I'm going to have to tell you all the places I want to live, working at my grandma's allowed me to pick up on a few geographical things.

Boring or Zigzag, Oregon

Chattanooga, Tennessee 

Chickamaunga, Minnesota or Michigan ??

Atlama or Gill, Georgia

and last but certainly not least

Sandwitch, wherever that is one of the M states, how am I supposed to remember?

Anyway I think that's enough writing for today, oh and news, I got my passport two days ago I am now a free woman! I can't wait to go to Whales, Great Britain, that's the first place on my list and guess what, my dad said he'd take me for my birthday, mostly because he's a flight attendant and we have free flights, but that is still sooo cool! This is the end of todays post if you are still reading than your just like me and can't be satisfied until the text comes to a complete stop, but what if I just kept on typing and typing and typing than would you ever get off the computer, ever? It's kind of like the game, big red button, if you've never played it, you should now is the official end to the text.

The sun burns! I thought summer was over...

I've been lazy I admit, I should have written a while ago, it's not like moving my fingers along the keyboard is really that difficult, of course writing this does require some brain power, which sometimes I don't seem to have. I'm listening to sherwood right now, I got some new songs from them and their awesome so are the wombats, their from england which is cool! So I spent all this time writing a story for my step brother for his birthday and when he first sees me he says he hates me and hits me, I know he's having trouble adjusting but he really seems to hate me, I never even mentioned his present. Anyway school started yesterday and I made it confusing for myself, again. I'm going part time, my foot in two different schools, the best of both worlds right? Well it can get really confusing, but I'm happy, I really like having choices, a little of each I don't know if I could stand to sit in classrooms all day long! It was soooo hot yesterday and I go to school in the afternoons, it was torture and the longest most boring school day ever! Mostly because it was the first day where the teachers read disclosures and all that, my other school hasn't started yet and so up until noon I really have nothing to do, I guess that's why I decided to write this, only an hour and a half more, I'll find some way to pass the time, mostly I've just been reading and writing and listening to my little brother play his computer games with the volume turned up all the way, of course I try to drown it out with my music, doesn't always work, well enough of the meaningless typing, I think my brain is getting sick of staring at a screen, algebra should do me some good, might make my brain happy at least, that's all for today, zoning out...right now.

Apples, Bannanas, and Flying Cows

Sooooooo here I am finally finding myself writing this, I wanted to post a blog on 8/8/08 so the blog date would say 8/8/08 and that would be pretty cool, actually last year I wanted to write in my journal on 7/7/07 but I ended up not doing that either, once the year 2013 comes along there won't be anymore of these special dates so next year I can't forget, wow it's been a whole year since 7/7/07 and I don't even know where all that time went, it seems like not long ago I was sitting on the couch being lazy thinking that I should write in my journal about that date before the day ended. It seems at times that I want to grow up so fast and than I look back and see how fast it really is going and I realize I don't really want to waste my life away wishing I was a year older than I was, that is never going to do me any good. Now finally to explain the image at the top, I know I'm extremely weird so this next thing shouldn't make you think I'm any more weird, right? Anyway I have the perfect picture of me, the flying cow(above), that must sound weird but I am like totally obsessed with flying cows, okay not that obsessed but I do like them maybe it's just because their a random thing and I'm a random person, I also really like potatoes, bet you didn't see that one coming anyway so the picture is there at the top as you may have noticed. That is all I have to say for now, well actually I have to quiet writing because my friend is going to drive me insane by singing the song apples and bannanas. Here is the link if you want to hear the extremely annoying song and feel my pain!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmW3aBqZtKQ&feature=related

Out of the fridge and into the oven

If anybody can guess where I am right now speak up, that's right I'm here in the burning never ending heat of Utah, as my dad said "Welcome back to the oven!" At least we have good food here right? Any way the willow tree in the front of our yard is dying and it makes me really sad, I mean I know this sounds silly but it was my friend. I haven't been outside much since i got back, the heat makes me feel so lazy and tired, I want to like run around the block at midnight when i can actually feel a chill, in fact last night I was on the grass at midnight, the place I always go when I can't sleep. I know I' m totally weird, and yet at night is like my day, it's when all the ideas flow to my head, I can think more clearly, especially when I'm out in the night air. At midnight last night I decided to paint this magnet board my friend gave to me last year, and then I started making up another board game, this would be my fourth. My room smells like paint now, but I don't care much, it also seems to be cluttered in wrapping paper, paint brushes, beads, poster board, scissors, glue and I think you get the picture, I'll clean it up sooner or later. Anyway the real reason I'm posting this is to say I have returned successfully back out of the fridge and into the oven. Warning: If this blog post inspired you to lay on the grass at midnight do so with caution, after all sleepless nights never did much good for me!

The Child Psychiatrist

Guess what I found out? We're terrible children, well our family's not perfect anyway. The lady we're staying with kicked us out of her house, she said the neighbors were complaining. She's a child psychiatrist and her children are like perfect, they never fight, quarrel or anything. So yeah she thinks we need "serious medical help" I don't know what's wrong with us, I mean most people I meet end up thinking stuff like that. I mean I don't think I'm some kind of alien, I think I'm a human that lives on planet earth. Anway that's all the bad news but the good news is I get to come home earlly, today actually, which is cool but this psychiatrist still kind of bothers me. This lady thinks my dad is such a great guy, she thinks he'll be our savior our only chance at sanity, she seriously thinks we're like going crazy or something, if there is something really wrong with me I think somebody should say something. I mean I've never been a real fan of psychiatrists they never know how you really feel and yet they think that they do. We're just kids, we're only human, we're still learning, just because we sometimes cry when we're sad, or get angry at times when our siblings really, really get annoying doesn't mean we're crazy right? Just because we're not perfect doesn't mean we need "serious medical help" and I mean really if you agree with the psychiatrist tell me, I think I should know if there's something messed up in my mind!

Freezing in Cali

I have to admit I come from Utah a place where it is one hundred degrees in July, here in California I am a wimp. I mean when you walk outside and have to wear long pants with a jacket in the middle of July there is something up or straight ahead, that something is probably called the ocean. But seriously how many people living in Utah can say that they have had to put two blankets on at night during the hottest month and seriously air conditioners like don't exist here, I wonder what the winter months are like *shudder*. Well at least when I go back to Utah and every one is complaining about the 105 degree weather I can tell them to go to california and bring their winter gear!