How to save a life

The lesson I am trying to learn is how to save a person who will not allow theirself to be saved. I try to save the world neglecting myself while my friends try to remind me to save me. It is hard for me to see the importance of my own life if I cannot stop a person I care about from taking his own. My friends say that now I need to worry about me more than anyone else, and I'm trying but I find it hard to care. The Fray's song has one line that says exactly what my friends do for me "And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life," the difference being of course that they did know, and they did save my life. Still as much as I want to do right by them after what they have done for me I cannot forget about the others it seems I need to save. I feel like I am responsible for the lives of those around me, when they make a stupid decision, it is my fault. Sometimes I look at my life and can see only the failure, the sin, and the imperfection. The people around me are trying to show me who I am to them but it can be so hard to see. It is hard to believe I am good when I screw up so often, when so much goes wrong. So instead of thinking about me and my insufficiencies i think about other people and how I can save them. It is hard though when they wont listen when they wont believe that I care, because I do, so much. Sometimes my caring is lost, when a person will not talk to me and though I know it is not my fault, I cannot help but believe that I should have been trying harder. Maybe if I had just chosen the right words they would have opened up. Now when he talks to me his voice is dead and toneless his words express how little he cares and it scares me. I think to myself, "what did I do wrong." I tell myself that I can do this, that I can help him, but in the back of my mind lies the thought "what happens if I can't?" And really I don't know. I am trying to better myself, to become happy so that everyone else can stop worrying. I will fix this, I have to.

People Care

sometimes the easiest thing to remember is the feeling of loneliness, and it seems as though no one could possibly care about you, because you are so small and insignificant. And then you find out that they do. This past monday, I had something of an interesting experience that reminded me that people cared. See I knew all along that people cared about me, but I didn't want them to have to be in a postion to prove it. See monday I was watching a late movie after work, we started it at like one o'clock and by around 2 thirty I was starting to feel really sick. My body was shaking and I felt like throwing up. I didn't want to leave because sitting next to me was my best friend, and her boyfriend who is my friend also but things are a little complicated. You see I like the kid, and my best friend knows but we are trying to find away to both be happy. I wanted to seem strong, I wanted to be strong. Awhile ago I told her that she should go out with him no matter how she thinks it makes me feel and I think I was right. No, I know I was right. We shouldn't both be unhappy when one of us has a chance at something amazing. So anyways, when I was beginning to think I was going to vomit all over the floor I got up and left, shaking like crazy. I went to the main bathrooms of the movies theatre but the janitors were in there so I had to go to the other bathroom. I went in the stall but I couldn't throw up and i just leaned against the side for a minute trying to remember how to breathe, until I couldn't stay anymore and I knew I had to go home. So I went to tell Aubree. I got up there and told her that I was going home and she asked if I was okay. Of course I said yes because that is just what you say to a question like that, and I told her that I just didn't feel very well. Then I walked down the theatre steps and started towards the exit, but she came up behind me and gave me a hug. Weirdly before it comforted me, it scared me like a million times worse than anything had ever scared me before. Then i kind of broke down. I was shaking so badly that Aubree had to help me sit down and remind me to breathe like a normal person. I remember that she kept asking me if I needed jarom to drive my car home, but I didn't know. Finally I said yes, and I am so glad that I did because if I hadn't I would not have made it home. So she helped me out to her car and Jarom went to mine. She drove me home. I was shaking so badly, I had never felt so out of control in my life, my body was shaking and I could not stop it no matter how hard I gripped the car. Aubree noticed of course and she was asking me if I was cold or if I was just shaking but I couldn't tell her, I didn't know. We passed a sprinkler and the water came in through the window hitting me and scaring me. I was confused at first about what it had been but I got over it. I could see that Aubree was scared and as sick as I felt it was worse knowing that I was scaring her. then we were at my house and she came around to open my door for me but I couldn't get out anyways. I felt so weak and so worthless and I knew that both she and Jarom cared about me. I also knew by the way she was trying to get me out of the car that she was going to break down and that she didn't want me to see it. I stood up, but that was as far as I could make it. I leaned against her car just bawling and knowing that she wanted me to be okay. And then Jarom came over and he asked me what was wrong, and I couldn't explain, I couldn't even explain to myself. They helped me into my house and they didn't leave until they knew that I was going to be okay. They really cared about me and it made me want to cry. I had never really seen Aubree cry before, and now I had and it was because of me. She was leaving for camp later that morning and i could not let her leave worrying about me. I made myself call her and tell her that I was okay even though I wasn't sure that it was true yet. All week I felt guilty knowing that I had made her cry, even though I knew it wasn't my fault, I felt worse about that than I was worried about what was happening to me. That night they saved my life, Aubree and Jarom, and I don't know if I can ever thank them enough. If I had tried to drive home, I would have never made it. It was amazing to see how much they could care, about me.

Wreck of the day/ Paper Bag

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And the light's always red in the rear-view
Desperately close to a coffin of hope
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up.
On love, On love
Driving away from the wreck of the day
And I'm thinking 'bout calling on Jesus
'Cuz love doesnt hurt so I know I'm not falling in love
I'm just falling to pieces
And if this is giving up then I'm giving up
If this is giving up then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love
Maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love
All my resistance will never be distance enough
And it's finally quiet in my head
Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed
And if this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love



She don't run from the sun no more
She boxed her shadow and she won
Said I can see you laugh
Through these bottle caps
And this wire around my neck ain't
There for fun

But someday we'll all be old
And I'll be so damn beautiful
Meanwhile I'll hide my head
Here in this paper bag
Cause if I cant see you
Then you can't see me
And it'll be okay
Fly little bee away
To where theres no more rain
And I can be me

Yeah they talk about her
She smiles like shes so tough
She says
"hey can you talk a little louder,
I don't think my heart is broken enough"

But someday we'll all be old
And I'll be so damn beautiful

Meanwhile I'll hide my head
Here in this paper bag
Cause if I can't see you
Then you can't see me
And it'll be okay
Fly little bee away
To where theres no more rain
And I can be me

Some days I wade in the indigo
Singing that song on the radio
I blame these puddles on the rain
You know I gotta keep these cheeks dry today
Gotta keep my cheating strategy
And baby I'm gonna have it made.

But someday we'll all be old
And I'll be so damn beautiful

Meanwhile I'll hide my head
Here in this paper bag
Cause if I can't see you
Then you can't see me
And it'll be okay
Fly little bee away
To where there's no more rain
And I can be me


It's funny how sometimes music can describe exactly how you feel, even when you wish it wouldn't. These songs did that for me and, I don't know if I can ever listen to anything else again. The second verse of Wreck of the Day described how I was feeling exactly this past week. It couldn't be love, I was falling apart, it hurt too much and I was ready to give up. I really was. And when that song came on I was near a breaking point and I did my best to not cry while driving down the road. Especially that verse and the two lines: Maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love, All my resistance will never be distance enough. I was so ready to just believe that it wasn't for me that I wasn't good enough, or pretty enough, or anything enough. But then the next song came on and it was so perfect and it made me stronger. I love the second verse in this one too, where she sings about the broken heart and how she pretends to be strong and okay when she isn't and it is so hard. And then it goes into the chorus saying that some day she is going to be so beautiful, everything will be okay, and she will be able to be herself. Last of all there is the part about the puddles and the cheeks, it's very descriptive of me and I admit it. So I know I will get over it, its hard but I can do it. Sometimes I believe my tears are a sign of weakness, but I know that they are just my reaction and they don't make me any weaker or stronger than anyone else.

HMMM

I am a confused mass of emotion and thought. I am always thinking and always feeling. I am like a crazy emotional thought machine that cannot be turned off. No matter what I am doing, my thoughts are running wild. I think about books and science and art and boys and work and friends and my family. Even when I am asleep I am thinking I remember atleast one dream almost every night. They vary, there is an occasional dream that makes me never want to sleep again and then there are those ones I hold onto so tightly because I do not want to lose them, they are so perfect. And then, there are weird ones. Being a thinker can sometimes get me into trouble, I think of amazing ideas that are almost genious until they are ruined by minor "realities". My ideas sometimes lead to the laughter of my friends for years after the actual event. I am also a very literal thinker, like if someone were to perhaps tell me to look under something for scissors, I would probably lift it up and look under instead of checking the cupboard underneath, actually believing that they will be there. I will never live that one down.
Besides the thinking I also mentioned feeling, I am a laugher, and unfortunately a crier. When things are hard or I am tired or in pain, or I am just overly confused I cry. It is the way I deal with things though I wish it wasn't. I wish I sould deal with them by carefully thinking them over and coming to an intellectual conclusion within minutes. Instead, my face crumples, my eyes fill, unidentifiable noises exit my mouth, and I gain an excellent spotchy complexion. That is one thing I do not really like about myself, I cry easily and often although luckily it is usually more of a quiet streaming tear type of things. It is not just my own pain I cry for, I don't like for other people to need to cry so... obviously I join them. I do not like that other people need to feel bad ever, I want them to always be okay, and they can't be. But I do also laugh, sometimes this is an innoportune habit but it is more enjoyable experience. I really like those times when I make other people laugh however few they may be. Mostly when people laugh at me it is because I have done something stupid, but sometimes I am actuallly funny, and I like to see other people laugh.
In my mind everything is overemphasized, and everything has massive importance. I cannot make it through the day without thinking about some strange pattern that no one else can see, or analyzing the importance of the rain formation on my window ( is it picasso or monet.) I think now that I have thouroughlly explained the oddity which is my mind I should shut up before you think I'm crazy (for definition check blog titled "crazy"). So anyways i'm going to skeedadle. BYE!

Girls Camp

I did not want to go to girls camp this year, last year had been a little... less than perfect and I didn't want to repeat the experience. You see, last year I kind of lost my best friend at girls camp, no big fight, no argument just "best-friendship," ended. It was funny (Ironic funny, not silly funny) because we had been drifting apart all year and I just didn't want to see it, and she didn't seem to care. Midway through camp she just left my cabin, and that was it. I had two amazing best friends back at home already, but I wanted this one, atleast at camp. So this year I stalled packing and I tried to think of good ways to get out of it, like getting hit by a car... without serious injury of course, or maybe a sudden case of the flue or something... anything. But on sunday I talked to some of my friends in my ward, pretending to be just as excited as they were and deciding that I had to go, even if I didn't want to, just to be with them. So I went.
Tuesday morning I woke up at nine o'clock hoping to get the last two episodes of season 2 of charmed in before going to camp. Ten minutes before the season finale of charmed was over Ashley Boice came to my door to pick me up, so I left, stuff and all, my mind still dwelling on the events in the oh-so-important episode of charmed as we headed for the stake center (due to my own excellent sense of direction.) As we loaded the bus I have to admit, my excitement built. Mia Shalom is definately on my list of the most beautiful places in the world, It's gorgeous, and I love it. That first afternoon it was fairly warm, windy but livable. We went to flag, performed our skits, and went to our cabins to perform our nightly rituals, story time with Sarah Christensen, and scripure reading with our individual cabins, you know the usual stuff. Then we went to sleep, alright so maybe sleep is exageration, I went into a state of constant waking up for about 6 hours.
The next morning when I first decided to glance out the window I witnessed an amazing sight... snow, which turned out to be a perpetual event for the next two days. So after my group [the rainbow dinosaurs (don't think too hard aubree)] made breakfast we retreated to the cabin for, seriously almost the rest of the day. Stuck inside the cabin I got to know the leaders and girls better than I ever dreamed was possible, and it was amazing. I watched as Ashley, a leaderr that I had never really known particularly well, became a friend and an amazing example, even as she danced around in her long johns putting on actual pants only to use the restrooms... interesting concept, eh? Laura Talbert, Sarah Monson, Abby Millard, all those other monson girls, and every single girl and leader at camp this year, they became friends, most of them already were, but now I knew them.
Wednesday the leaders brought dinner in, to us in the cabins, so we would not have to venture into the 20 degree weather. Now I need to explain what we loosely describe as cabins, they are small A-frame structures with holes big enough to see light and feel wind through, with the temperature of 20 outside the cabins were at a warm 41 so don't get excited thinking of our heated rooms with running wateer and clawfooted bath tubs. So wednesday night we were ready to go home and we thought we might be able to. Kirsten Little our camp director drove down the mountain on icy roads to make a phone call as Ashley gave us a much needed lesson on the importance of courage and we did our hair with pipe cleaners. When Kirsten came back we were all releived to see her safe and she told us that we were going to stick it out, and with our new found courage we cheered.
The next morning was about a million times more freezing and we began to decide who we would eat first if we had to go donner party. Our leaders came up saying that we were going home, and that it was time for us to pack up our stuff two days early. It was a bitter sweet moment, and we got packed up quickly. Then just as we had put the tie on the last sleeping bag we found out that we had to stay, and it was too much. I went into breakdown mode, I had wanted to stay, but I do not like to feel played with, and I did. I didn't eat much for lunch and I kind of sat around crying for awhile. My mom and I had talked to the stake leaders and I felt llike they ad taken the brunt of the blame, so I decided that they needed to feel our love. I thought we should write them a letter, and we did. When I went to the stake cabin with Brittany to drop it off, we found them sledding down a hill in garbage bags, and I decide that that was how I wanted to be: positive in a hard situation. So I joined them, breaking every rule available but finally I was happy.
The bishopbric came up that night with reinforcements in the form of extra sleeping bags, coats, hats gloves and hand warmers. Testimony meeting began in clearer weather with a lot of the ice actually melted. And the tomorrow promised to be beautiful, and it had better have been because it was to be my last day, and I wanted it to be amazing. At this point I almost wanted to stay at camp forever.
Friday was beautiful, and i did not want to go home at all, the only reason I could go home early was to take the ACT and I was not exactly looking forward to it so... anyways. But reinforced with dried mangos and all packed up I left for home, and the boredom TV had waiting for me. The charmed episode did not seem nearly as important although that didn't stop me from finishing it after a hot shower. So that was camp it was amazing and I am so glad I went.

Amazing

Life is interesting, fun, boring, crazy, painful, and difficult. It's funny, but you can feel all of these things in one day. Sometimes life is so hard, and so painful, that it is hard to believe that you can actually make it through. I sometimes wonder how I can possibly last the day, and I believe that this trial is the one that I will not be able to conquer, the one that stops my growth. But really I know that this cannot be. I will never stop growing, I will never find a trial that I cannot conquer, and even if there is one so difficult I think I might die in the effort, I will do it, because I want to better myself. I am in no way perfect, I'm not even close. I am surrounded by amazing people, and it is often hard to believe that they should want to be friends with me. I have the most amazing friends EVER, and I really do not understand why they would choose to be friends with me. But they do. And that means that I must have some worth, if they want to be my friends, than I must be better than I think. You see, my friends are the kind that are always there for me, always. So, as I strive to improve myself, I am not alone. I have amazing people on all sides, rooting for me and helping me whenever they can. The trials I overcome, wil not be overcome because of my strength alone, but also because of the support I have from everyone around me. Aubree, Becky, everyone... Thankyou so much for being there for me. I do not know what I would do without you.

Swim

I am one of the Mountain View swim captains next year, but the thing is, I am not fast or skilled nor do I have amazing endurance for the super long races. Sometimes I wonder if I should resign the title because the team needs a quick captain. But, maybe they need some one like me. I, though not fast, do not give up, I keep swimming until I can't anymore, and I like the feeling of water on my skin. There are bad days, days where I feel small, stupid, and slow, and I wonder why I even bother. It is a hard thing to swim every day and to see everyone else beat you to the wall... every time. If you have never felt that before, you can't understand. I am the one the coach puts in the slow lane to be with the new swimmers and easier sets despite my 2 years of swimming. And really you have no idea how much I wish I didn't need that. I would give almost anything to be fast. I really would.
But, there are also good days, days where I decide not to care about speed, days where I give myself up to the water and it seems like it is meant to be. The best time for this is in the warm up, I just swim and breathe as little as I can without feeling like I am going to die. It seems like I should be fast if it feels like this, but that's not the way it is. i don't know why it is me who can try and try and never get fast, but it is. I have needed to get used to it, and I still have days where I want to quit because it is so hard for me. But I don't, because I know the next day can only be better. When I have hit the lowest point, when I think there must be something wrong with me, because there is no way someone can be this slow, I know that I can make it. That I am better than giving up, that I am above that. And my knowledge of myself makes all the difference.

Perception (Mr. Rich I think this one might be worth your time)

But you don't know what it's like when you try
and you try and you try and you never get there.
Because, Because you were born perfect and I was born
like this and you're perfect. People like you don't know
People like you don't know what it's like to get hurted
because you don't have feelings People like you don't
feel anything.

That is Sam's opinion in probably my favorite scene of "i am sam" his words are followed by Ritas expression of her own failures:

You think you've got the market cornered on human
suffering? Let me tell you something about people
like me: People like me feel lost and little and ugly
and dispensable. People like me have sons who hate
them and I've screamed and screamed horrible things
at him, a seven year old, because he doesn't want to
get in the car at the end of the day. And then he looks
at me with such anger and I hate him then. 'I know I'm
failing you I know I'm disapointing you I know you
deserve better but get in the f'ing car' it's like every
morning I wake up and I fail and I look around and
every body seems to be pulling up but somehow I... I...
I...can't. No matter how hard I try some how I'll never be
enough.
Every time I watch this scene I cry because I understand how they feel, both of them. There are those days where I try and try and try but I can't do it, I can't be good enough, but everyone else seems to be doing just fine in their perfect little worlds. I think everyone has days like this, days where it seems that they are destined to fail. So it seems, after all of that crying I should hate this scene, but I don't. There is something about the way it can connect me to Sam and Rita, it makes me know them and know that I am just like them. Even when I feel that I can only fail, I can make it. See here's the thing: life is not about always feeling good about yourself or being perfect, it is about trying as hard as you can, and even when it is so hard that you KNOW you can't do it you still try until someday you do it, and it feels so good that you want to laugh and you want to cry because you feel so amazing and you never want it to go away.
Sam believes that he is the one imperfect man and that everyone else is doing better than he ever could. But he is wrong. A disability does not make you less of a person. I can connect with Sam, I have no disability, but there are times when I think there must be something wrong with me because nothing works out right. On good days (most days) I remember my dreams and my capability. I am worth something. There is no one who is worthless, we see the world as being full of perfect happy people while we feel dejected and overworked, and they think the same of us. How can we believe that we are worse off than anyone else when we don't know what goes on in their heads?
I think that we know how we feel, and that is first priority. We believe that our feelings are so deep and real that no one could possibly understand, and if they don't they must not feel, at all. Then we justify, if they do not feel than they do not have problems, if they are problemless than they are perfect, and their perfection makes them happy, beautiful, intelligent, and a little bit pompous. So whats the deal? How can we really believe that there are normal people who don't feel at all? We don't. We just can't make ourselves believe that they might understand us.

Guilt Trip

Normal people feel guilty when they've done something wrong... then there's me. I on the other hand am guilty the first time I think about doing or saying those things. I try my best to avoid being mean to people, because I already feel bad about it before I've done anything wrong. When people are rude to me I often just let it pass because I don't want to hurt their feelings, completely disregarding my own. The analytical part comes now, why do their feelings seem more important than my own? Well it starts with the fact that I do not know exactly how other people feel, so I know that I could be hurting them more than I see. So since I know my own feelings I can deal with them, but it is not my right to manipulate theirs. Then, I also know that as bad as I feel already about what I have thought, I know that I will feel much worse when I have said it. I hate being the cause of other's pain, I can't stop thinking about it when I am. If I end up saying the mean thing, I turn it over a million times in my mind and by the time I am done with it, it has become the most terrible thing anyone has ever said. Thus my guilt is increased. The last reason would have to be that people have said things to, and about me that were horrible, and I did not like it. I do not want to be one of those people, the ones who don't care about their effect on others. So I try to be nice, as my guilty conscience directs.

Mesa Vista

This is the second blog I have written today, but it is the more analytical of the two so Mr. Rich this is the one for you. Mesa Vista is a care center in my stake's boundaries, for people with mental and physical disabilities. Twice a year we go and give the sacrament to these people on sunday mornings. And I have a definate love hate relationship with it. I love to go and help these people, but I hate that they have to be there when I do not. My question then, is why do I feel that way (not "how the heck can I have a relationship with a care center)? Well, it all begins with a comparison of my body to theirs. I have a body that I take for granted and that works pretty well, I do not share the physical disabilities that prevent them from blowing their own noses or even walking. It seems unfair to me that I can move freely, do my own hair, and go for a swim, while these people cannot even live with their families or leave the center by themselves for an hour or two. It leaves me questioning why my body is strong and and free and they are stuck inside of theirs. The next step comes from family. I live at my house with mine, while they live in a center and recieve perhaps an occasional visit from their parents. Today there was this boy there who had Downs syndrom he was probably between seven and ten years old. Have you ever seen a child with Downs? They look almost perfect in a way, with smooth skin, soft expressions, and a kindness that you don't often find in anyone else. But this boy lived there, in a care center, while I live at my home with my family. It made me cry, I am not angry with his family, because I do not know why they don't keep him with them, but I wish they could. One time at the care center, I was going to sing in church afterwards, I was about twelve, and I had dressed up for the occasion, and one of the girls was telling me about how her parents were coming to visit, and that they were going to give her a dress like mine. I do not know if they came or if they found her a dress, but I hope they did. The last thing affecting my relationship with this care center would have to be the mind. It makes me feel unworthy to be with them when I think of the many advantages I have. I can read a book, quickly, and completely comprehend it but some of them cannot even talk to explain how they feel. And I wonder how can I even pretend to understand how they feel, whe I have so much. I have so much. And, I take it all for granted, when I go outside, to work, or to a friends, I do not think "how lucky I am," in fact I am probably thinking about some small unimportant thing, like the terrible weather. Who am I to think like that? That is why I love and hate visiting Mesa Vista, because I love to see them I love to interact with them, but I hate to see their pain and to remember how much I take for granted. They appreciate the small things. There is this girl Allison and one time she had a bottle of hairspray that had been replaced with water, and she loved it, she was continually spraying her hair because she felt it was helping and she was so happy. I need to be like that, happy with what I have, and don't we all?

Reservations

There are times when you have no one to talk to. It is not that no one cares, or that no one wants to help, but it is because of you (me). When I cannot find anyone to talk to it is usually because I do not want to burden anyone with my problems, or because I feel bad and I don't want them to understand because if they did I would have to listen to what they had to say. I wish that I could just feel comfortable talking to some one and showing them a part of myself that they may not be able to see other wise. But I don't. There was a time where I was more open, I talked to two people I trusted completely, and it felt good. Until, I was betrayed. That may seem to be a strong word but actually it is weak compared to how I felt at the time. One woman listened to me and helped me, and the other spread my secrets. I still feel sick when I see her. I don't know, that is kind of a stupid thing, it has been a long time and I should have forgiven her completely, and I think I have, until I see her and remember. It isn't fair for me to feel that way towards her when, truly she was trying to help. I can't really help it though, I'm not angry, I just have a hard time retaining food inside my stomach when she is around. I don't know exactly where I am going with this, but I had to get it out on paper (or the Internet) so I wouldn't have it festering inside of me.

MORP

So, Morp is a good thing. I had a lot of fun despite being extremely sick. When I left for the day date I had a temperature of 101 Fahrenheit, and when I got home (around midnight) it was at about 103, so pretty much it was crazy. I still managed to have a pretty large amount of fun. It all started with a trip to the mall, where my date and I thoroughly lost a people scavenger hunt, and came to the realization that young couples don't like to be talked to. Then we went to the park for a picnic and drank Kool-Aid that had double the sugar and Kool-Aid packages for the water in it. Through it all Aubree was kindly reminding me of how out of it I seemed to be, and it was an interesting experience. At the park while everyone else was being crazy on the slides and swings I was busy taking pictures of my date Ben (Belnap) in his best attempt of seductive, dying and dead poses after Aubree quite evilly pushed him down the slide. So after dinner we dropped the boys off at their homes and changed into our cowboy/girl attire. At the dance the mantra became "are you okay?" And of course my answer was consistently "yes," whether or not it was completely true, because at the dance is a little bit late to tell the guy that you can't go. When I finally arrived home I thought that I might be dead, but I wasn't. So here comes the ever-awaited question portion of the blog, how is it possible that with a fever, sore throat, runny nose, and headache I could have a good time? And the answer is: with the help of a sweet date, amazing friends, and slight delirium. Anyways, thanks all of you, especially Ben, for making Morp great.

Rhetoric and Composition

When I was quite a few years younger than I am now, I was once asked the qestion, "Do you believe everything that you read?" and my prompt reply was "it depends on wether it is fiction or nonfiction." Since then, the literature world has not gotten any more simple, through high school I am faced with some teachers bent on teaching me how to write to fit their personal opinions with no consideration of teaching me to write well. This is definately not true of all teachers, but it does rise the question... ... ... What is good writing? And the answer to that question, has not yet been discovered. This past thursday afternoon I accompanied my mom to a lecture on Rhetoric and Compostion at Westminister College in Salt Lake City. I was excited to go mostly because I wanted to be in Salt Lake and not for the lecture, but against all odds it was a lot more exciting than the title foreshadowed (I didn't think that anything could ever be more exciting than Rhetoric and Composition sounded, but it was). What I learned was, that "good" writing-as it seems it must be--is completely subjective, and dependant upon the audience. And, therefore, a really good writer would be one who could appeal to many, or dare I say, all audiences. Now, it seems much to difficult of a task for the average highschool student, and I am no different, except maybe that I actually care. It is important to me to be a good writer, I do not really care wether or not my writing gets me a good grade, I want it to be good, and hopefully a good grade will follow. In this lecture many different types of writing were aknowleged that I had never even thought about before. For example, the lecturer displayed a YouTube video as a form of composition, and though it had many different mediums it was writing. Lab reports, memos, letters, blogs, the backs of cereal boxes. Those are all examples of writing, and someone had to write them. Each of those are different an serve a different purpose, but they are all writing, and people actually think that writing is unimportant and not at all useful. How wrong they are. So its Easter sunday, and I sit here writing a blog about the importance of writing while eating yellow peeps, and waiting expectantly for a dinner of stirfry with brown rice, and an after dinner activity, coloring eggs. And, I wonder why the heck I even care. And really I don't know. I want to have the perfect elixir that cures bad writing and tranforms the minds of young writers, creating a complete moster- the author. But, despite my efforts, I cannot, it is a second type of alchemy, and destined to fail. But i did not write this to be the discourager of students, My actual intent was to show that you can be a good writer, even if all of your essays come out with a large red letter F on them. That is not the only writing, and that same essay could be submitted to a different audience and win some strange writing award. Don't be afraid to find the writer inside of yourself.

About a Boy

This is not a blog about a boy, (although at the moment I could write a great deal about one of them) instead I am going to write about, "About a Boy." It is an amazing movie and... I love it, I love it because I can relate to it. First there is Fiona who is one of the main characters, Marcus', mother. There is one scene where it is morning and Fiona is trying to get breakfast for Marcus, but she keeps on spilling the milk and the cereal and she is just crying, and trying to appear happy and strong for her son. I understand that, I have days when everything goes wrong and I feel like crying, but I know that I should pretend to be happy for the benefit of others. But, those are just occasional days, other times I relate more to marcus. The poor kid is kind of a misfit, he, had friends at school, but they stopped being his friends to avoid bullies. That is not the part that I relate to, but I thought that you might like some background information. Marcus is like me during the Christmas scene, in a way that I think makes him relate to almost everyone, first he gets a tambourine from his mom and a pair of socks from his insane father. And, second he received a CD from Will. He acts happy and excited for all of his gifts, even though tambourines and socks aren't exactly ideal presents, and he didn't even know what a CD was. We have all experienced that type of thing, you recieve an undesirable gift and are obligated to be happy to have it. And sometimes you receive a present you don't understand that turns out to be amazing. The last person I am going to relate myself to is Will, and it is hard for me to do that because, he is kind of a selfish guy, and I don't want to have to admit to any selfishness myself. He lies about having a two year old son in order to find an attractive single mother to date, and have break up with him. When I was in 5th grade I switched back to my old school in the middle of the year, and none of my old friends were in my class. When a girl came up to me and talked to me about her favorite TV show, I told her that it was one of mine too, even though I had never seen it. In order to keep up that pretense, I started to watch the show, and it turned out that I did like it. I do not believe that it is a good idea to ever start a relationship based on a lie, but I was a ten year old kid with no friends in my class, and I did not know what else to do. It ended up working out a lot better for me than it did for Will, but still I can relate. "About a Boy," is great, and I am sure that if you were to watch it you would find a connection too. It contains all the likable things, awkward preteen boys (who actually are now quite good looking), attractive men named Hugh Grant, and ducks who get hit in the head by large rock-like loaves of bread.

Graffitti

So from the title of this blog, one might assume that it was going to be on the reasons behind graffitti: the quest for the title "Grafartist," but, if that is what you are looking for, you are reading the wrong blog. This blog is not actually on graffitti, instead it is on Alias, a show almost as terrible as the two-second graffiti on the wall opposite my house, but so amazing that I will probably never stop watching it. Last night I finished the first season, at the third to last episode everything began to unravel and I almost couldn't take the tension... almost. Instead of cracking under the pressure, I watched the show, eyes practically glued to the screen, as wives where threatened, partners discover secrets, and Will Tippens has a tooth forcefully removed. So here comes the part where I ask a question: Why the heck am I watching a show that made me cry almost 10 times in one episode? And, the answer is that if a program has that much power over my emotions, it has to be amazing. So, I continued to watch the show until the season was over, lacking the forsight to order the second season in advance. Alias is amazing, it pulls you into the life of the characters until for an hour it is hard to distinguish a difference. "Oh, no they are torturing my best friend Will what will I do, oh ha ha, its just on the TV, I was just kidding about that." And that is pretty much how it is as I watch it, I think about how Charlie is cheating on Francie and what I personally am going to do about it, I wonder what i am going to do if Sydney's mom turns out to be the bad guy, how can I live after that; and I fear for emily's life after she is cured of cancer, how interesting of a dillema, now that she will not die from cancer, she has to fear for her life. Alias may as well be some addictive substance in my system, now that I've started I cannot stop without difficulty. Try it and you will see, a show really worth analyzing.

crazy

What is it to be crazy? How do we decide who is crazy, and how is anyone left out of that group? There are some people that seem so completely normal it makes me sick. I am weird but... am I really? So, there has to be specific guidelines to what makes a person crazy, but these guidelines vary from person to person. It is like when criminals are referred to as armed and dangerous, as if a murderer with a gun could possibly be gentle, calm, and harmless (actually it is not like that at all but I was thinking about that so I had to put it in). I find it hard to understand why we put people into the category of crazy, when we KNOW that we are probably in theirs. I consider some one to be crazy if they run around naked down the street, but to some that could be completely normal. Someone may think that I am crazy for dreaming big, and expecting to make it. It doesn't really matter who thinks what is crazy, because who knows how sane they are anyways. This blog could possibly be the weirdest thing you ever see, but if it is, I feel bad for you. Who said that weird was a bad thing, really it just makes life more interesting.

Expectations

As Humans we are all faced with certain expectations, they can be from your family, friends, teachers, and most importantly yourself. Sometimes it seems that the weight of those expectations is beyond the maximum weight you can hold. Screwing up is bad enough when you are the only one hurt, but when you see the disappointment in someone elses eyes it is too much. That is what sometimes makes life seem too hard. We can never meet everyone's expectations, especially when those expectations contradict one another. Some expectations are impossible to meet but we still must fulfill them no matter what the cost.
We all place impossible expectations on the people we love, and we all hate having those expectations placed upon ourselves. Why do we choose to have improbable expectations when we know that they will probably be missed? I think that when you love someone you want them to be the very best they can be, and our idea of "the best" is usually different from theirs. People want you to be the person they believe you can become, but they sometimes forget to care about who you want to be. When goals are placed too high, at a point where they can not be reached, disappointment always follows. In my opinion, there is nothing worse than not reaching the expectations of someone you love. It makes you feel like you should have been so much better, or have tried so much harder, even when you couldn't have. People's high expectations can lead to big crashing falls that could have been avoided if there was only, support instead of cricism. Think before you speak, and before you act ask yourself this question,"how far will they fall if I ask them to be this perfect."

Why I love the Rain

I love the rain because it is water, and I love water. No, I just thought that I would say that as a broad nonanalytical beginning to my blog. I really do love the rain though. There is something about the sound it makes as it hits a roof top that has comforted me since I was very young. The smell of rain is also something I love, not the terrible Utah Lake fishy smell, but the clean rain in the mountains smell. Rain, is a beautiful thing, and I love it. When I cannot sleep I wish for the quiet raindrops that create, for me, a lullaby. There is something in the way the world is clean after the rain that makes me long for it. A rainbow, though the meaning has been disfigured a bit in recent years, is a beautiful thing to say. I remember playing in the irrigation water while it was raining and coming so cold, and so blissfully happy, that I could not even try to explain.
I stand in the rain, head pointed upwards and I feel happy, really happy. As the rain flows freely down my face, it mixes with my tears and I feel safe. That is why I love the rain, there is a safety inside of it that I long for.

To speak your mind

The words you say are not the words you feel. They are a censored version created to make everyone happy and to keep you safe from judgement. It is not your fault, everyone does it. We are all so afraid of what other people think that we forget about how we feel. We forget the freedom honest words can earn you, we remember only the pain we feel when our ideas are thrown to the ground. And, sometimes they are. That pain is more physical than it should be. It feels as though a part of you has died and will never come back. You can never believe that again, it is wrong, and will never be right. No wonder progress is slow, the whole world has a bad habit of pandering. We wand to look and sound good for everyone else because what they say matters more. It shouldn't. We need to start caring more about what needs to be done and less about what the "important" people will think about it. Not every idea can be amazing, but that doesn't mean that you should never share one, what if you have the idea that will change the world and you hid it away to become perfect in a dusty corner of your mind. However bad it feels to share an idea and have it trashed, it is worse to have the chance to save a life and throw it away.

My impending death

So, this blog is about the signs I have seen of my deaty and why. Yesterday it began when I was watching both how to lose a guy in ten days and CSI at the same time. It waas the first time I had ever seen anyone on tv with my same name, and in the episode of CSI the murder victim was named Corinne, a little bit creepy, eh? But here comes the really scary part, the next show to come on was Patch Adams which I had never seen before, but the female lead was a woman named Corinne. And, consequently near the end of the movie she was brutally murdered by a man named Larry. All of this happened with in about a three hour period and at the end I was slightly freaked out. I do not believe that TV can predict the future but nevertheless I knew that it must mean something. Perhaps my life is not a life at all, but instead a book that some soon to be famous author is writing and the death of two Corinne's in one day was a strange foreshadowing of my impending death. This author must be extremely talented because my life feels quite like a real life, and my friends and family don't seem to be fictitious characters but it could be possible. Another option is that my life is more like the Truman Show and I was chosen as a baby to star in a reality TV show that I would never know about, but instead of figuring it out, the world would become bored with my show and I would be murdered to add some action. I actually do not believe either of these theorys but I had to write a blog about something and that strange coincidence seemed like a good Idea.

My friends, again

I know that I have already written about my friends but, they are pretty good friends so one blog was not enough to fully describe them. Lately we have been discussing the reasons for our friendship and those reasons are as follows, Aubree has a phone, Becky has a car, And I, though lacking things of a material nature, am there to help them with their English needs and to solve minor disagreements. The real reason though is that both of them are completely amazing people who I can talk to and have fun with even when my legs are being, slowly and tortorously freed of hair. Cool is not enough of a word to describe them, and fantastic is a little bit too lame.
I have had best friends before but no friendship has ever been so important to me as this one. People always say that your High school friends will not be your friends after High school is over, but I hope that it will not be true, at least in this case. Some High school friendships may collapse due to the insecurity of their foundation, but, my friends know things about me that I have never dared to share with anyone not related to me. If your name happens to Becky or Aubree, I hope that you know this is for real. I like you guys a lot and I will track you down. Well I hope that this hasn't been overly sentimental and goopy because that was not what I was going for. The end.

College confusion

I am a mere junior in high school and it seemed that college was many many moons away. But, that all ended yesterday when I received 18 emails from various colleges and universities, in addition to the three letters I received on that same day. I hope that all of these college board members realize that I am not nearly so interesting as they seem to think I am. The Email that I was most excited to receive is the one from Stanford University about a summer learning program for high school students interested in attending Stanford where you take courses and stay in dorms for a month over the summer. Why are colleges so very interested in my attendance? I think I have found the solution, they are under the severely misguided impression that high test scores mean genius sized brains. So, so untrue. It is not of course that I am stupid, many an IQ test has proved that to me, but I do not want to send a false impression of superior brilliance that I can never live up to. But the confusion I feel is not only because of that. There is that whole thing of knowing what to do with my life, I have no lack of ideas or desires but I do have a slightly gargantuan amount of indecision deep with in me and also quite near to the surface. This blog has mostly been an (analytical) shpeel about my inability to make life effecting decisions but nevertheless it has been effective in convincing myself of my own large cash of options between which I have no hope to decide.

Super Nintendo

Today after much anticipation I have rediscovered the joy of super Nintendo. There is nothing in this world quite so fulfilling as playing Donkey Kong in your PJ's, really there isn't, and if you don't believe me just try it sometime. It seems that the game station world can not possibly have gotten better than those two half naked monkeys (actually the dad is a gorilla, something I have yet to comprehend) trying to save their banana collection. In "real life" it is not very often that you actually get to see monkeys in baseball caps and neck ties swinging through the trees. And so to bring in the oh so important analytical portion of this blog, I ask myself, why do I like this game so much? Well reason number one would have to be, it is a most excellent way to avoid doing my homework, 2 I like to be a monkey okay, is that a crime? 3 Though real life bananas are quite disgusting there is something appetizing about them when they are my source of life. 4 would have to be the amazing before their time graphics that grace the TV screen every time I play. Alright so I am quite the super Nintendo junkie, and it is not just Donkey Kong, I will gladly play Mario or Earth worm Jim to pass the time. Well whatever, I think I'm just about done so I'm going to shut up and play some high quality video games.

Frustrations

Life is full of millions of things that cause me, and everyone else involved in any sort of life at all, to be completely and totally overcome. Sometimes what I want more than anything else is just to give up, go to my room, cover my head, and go to sleep until the magic fixer fairy comes to save the day. Sadly I have never had a day where the fixer fairy actually came through for me. Still I hope, or not really, I have finally settled to the fact that I must actually do things for myself. Sometimes it seems that the whole world is in my hands pushing with a crushing force that I cannot control or even begin to handle. How can life really cause me this much frustration? I know that these troubles are not permanent, that in fact they are very brief, but still the end looms so far away that I can hardly dream of tasting that sweet victory. Will I really come out victorious? I don't know, it seems that I fail so often in the little things that I could not possibly win, but I do know that I can try and that if I am really willing to try hard enough I will find a way to at least overcome somewhat. I cannot bring myself to believe that I am a failure, I have tried so hard and faced to much for that to be true, but inside of my head there lives a small insect created of all the doubt I have and it is not afraid to bite. Though the bite is small it sometimes begins to take over, the doubt replacing the faith, and the darkness replacing my light. Luckily the insect has no real poison unless I let it have control and that is something that I can never do. I will not let the pest of my own doubt win no matter how overpoweringly right he may seem to be, He is only strong when I allow him to be.
That is why I will win. I will come off conqueror and so can you. Look beyond the darkness of doubt and find the courage to believe, in yourself if nothing else.

Hurt

Both the Nine Inch Nails and later Johnny cash sang the words, "The needle tears a hole, The old familiar sting, Try to kill it all away, But I remember everything." these words are referring to the use of drugs in order to escape pain, but they also acknowledge the fact that it doesn't work the way you want it too. Drugs are proven to give you an amazing high that temporarily masks the pain you are feeling but, in doing so it destroys your body's ability to naturally produce the chemicals that make a person feel happy. Why would any person choose to experience an inescapable low, just for a short time of uncontrollable high? I cannot think of a single reason. I understand the pain, a pain so deep you want to escape from so badly that you would do almost anything just to be free for a few minutes, but how can that short time be worth anything if the end result is a depression that you can only escape from by taking those same drugs again. People lose their real emotions, they forget how they love their children, or how they used to actually enjoy the normal average parts of life. Most of all they lose their self. How would it feel to forget the person you are and begin to do things that you would never have done otherwise. People steal from their families, they compromise the safety of those they love, and they take away their own lives and the lives of others. They are stuck, the choice they first made for freedom has locked them into a pattern of pain. They have a need for drugs just to feel normal, not good, just normal. Why do they do this? The reason I can think of is that they feel that they have nowhere else to turn, that the pain they feel is so huge that no one else could possibly be feeling anything even close to it. They cannot believe that they are not alone. Or maybe their whole lives they have been ostracized, and alienated because of their situation and their problems. They feel so lost that the only way they can think of to relieve their pain is to turn to unnatural producers of happiness. Maybe this is partially our fault, maybe if we would reach out to those people who seem different and troubled instead of turning away in fear, we would be able to help solve this problem. If everyone had a person that they could actually turn to they would not have to turn to drugs. This is not really a realistic request at this point, we cannot help every person, but is that any reason not to try?