to nonbelievers:

So Rebecca and I were talking about this (and I might be revealing too much about friday's youth group).

I've noticed recently a common trend among the depressed people I've talked to. They all tell me that there seems to be something missing in their lives. In more common terms, it's what we call "lonely." So, society tells us to find solutions through girlfriends and boyfriends, through clubbing and porn, through an overload of friends who you surround yourself with to make yourself feel more accepted, more liked, more popular, and less of an outcast.

Either that, or they'll step into a new dimension that asks, "what is the purpose of life?" And get lost.

But either way, it's true. Nonbelievers have an empty void. Some of them wonder, "What's in it for me?" Well, I'll tell you what's in it for you- you get something to live for. You get a reason to wake up every morning, a reason that's more glorious and everlasting and awesome than some crush or boyfriend. You get a purpose, you get a plan, you get a call to action. You get an incomprehensible love, you get unabounding and undeserved mercy. You get joy. You get a shield from Satan. You get purity, cleanliness, peace. You get everlasting life.

That's what you get. So if you think that there's no benefits, no pluses or bonuses, then you're way off target.

Others think that it's a drag to be a believer and so much more "in" and "cool" to be of the world. Here's another wake-up call for you: what happens when you die? And what's the point of conforming to this world and being "cool," anyways? Please, do tell.

I'm curious.

I have a gift, actually.

(picture: Thank you SO MUCH ALICE, for giving me this awesome tea. It was the best, and it really did make me feel a million times better. Thank you x)
I have a gift.

I never knew that I would ever be able to say that about myself, because I always seemed to be so mediocre, so average, so regular and everyday that there couldn't have possibly been anything to separate me from anybody else. When I see the professional pianists play, I wonder why I can't be as good, why I can't play things by ear and compose music like it's my sixth sense. When I see how the guys in academic bowl compete, I wonder why I'm not as smart; when I watch the monologues of our school's thespians, I wonder why I'm not as funny; when I hear my friends play instruments, or read their stories, or watch them dance, or examine their art, I wonder to myself why I got the short end of the stick, and why I couldn't have some extraordinary talent that made me who I was.

But yesterday, it came.

Guys, you might not believe it, but I'm good at speakng and writing, or more specifically, slam poetry, oh yes. It was overwhelming, how many heartfelt compliments I got. But when I got home and reread the poem I had written, I seriously wondered where those words had come from, where that sudden passion erupted from when I began swinging to the ring of the beat. It wasn't from me, that's for sure. It just happened.

And I am so excited, and yet, so afraid. I have a gift...
and now, well, I have to use it. What a task.

Anyways, I just came back from an awesome one-on-one with one of my friends. I love those kinds of hang-outs, when it's just you and a friend, and no one else. I was originally invited to help with a bible study lesson, but there ended up being no kids, so one of the moms came and gave us a lecture. I could feel a bit of awkwardness in the room, but she raised a good question- Why are you Christian? I think I'll mull that one over a bit. Then, we drove around, sang songs, told stories, stopped at Barnes and Nobles... I'm so satisfied. :)

let's go, white blood cells!

I might be going insane. Or giving up. Or feeling apathetic. Or maybe and hopefully I'm just sick and this will pass and be over by tomorrow (but unfortunately, this is what I've been saying everyday this past week, and so far, it hasn't been happening).

So basically, I've been talking to myself, or more specifically, my immune system. My hourly conversation will go something like this:

"GO ANTIBODIES, GO! Are you working? You can't be on strike now! I have to get better! You know, I don't feel good right now, and this is really unfair. This is not the time to be lazy. Where are you, white blood cells? This is WAR! Fight! Fight! Fight! We must win! GO!"

LOL so you can imagine. Of course, I obviously was not screaming in the middle of the hallway (then I really would be crazy), but it definitely passed my mind more than once today, and I actually did start talking to myself about twice with this conversation when I was in the hall alone. But as we all know, if you're by yourself, nobody can hear you except yourself, so it doesn't even matter anyways. But thanks for the support, guys. I've realized that my friends are a lot nicer than they have to be, especially when I'm being an annoying little girl who won't stop complaining. They even took me to Waffle House this morning, and it was one of the best mornings I've had in a while. So really, I have no right to complain. It's just hard, when you feel all congested and exhausted and gross and the teacher's telling you to pay attention while you're hacking up a whale at the same time. Blech, I hate sick days (or weeks) at school. Even if my voice does sound sexier.

Currently, the TV's playing on in the next room too, because I really want to catch Kim Yu-na on the Olympics, but I'm not sure if she's already passed and I don't quite have the patience to watch anyone who's not her, so I'll probably just search her up online later. She's quite fantastic. She also makes me feel bad about myself, since I know I'm getting to be her age and I haven't really reached the point where I can do a triple axle and compete at the Olympics... because I'm still in high school doing physics and scheming of ways to get back at my Spanish teacher, that's why. Well, I guess that's one thing I'm better at than her- I can calculate the free fall of some flying projectile. That'll come in handy some day, definitely.

good, good, good. kindof.

**This is extremely frustrating. I began typing this entry yesterday, when I got interrupted by my dad, who was looking over my shoulder. He grunted, "what's that?" And I replied with a timid "oh, it's a blog." At which he responded by going on a rampage and saying I had better things to do. So I logged off and now, I've lost my train of thought. All I know is that today was a terrible day.

---

Every time I finally have something to blog about, there seems to be a huge list of things to talk about (like that post with nine things), and sometimes I wonder why these events couldn't have been spaced out more. Oye.

Firstly, my laptop crashed, and the stupid thing won't revitalize. I wonder now if it was because I spent the majority of yesterday playing minesweeper, but it's frustrating, because now I must share this computer with my brother (who usually spends about 8 hours on it and who also refuses to share the majority of time), I lost the entirety of my music that I've been collecting for a while, I also lost the poem that I was going to read this Saturday at coffee house, and I lost my history! I don't mean to complain, but this just sucks.

Secondly, it's been a bad/frustrating day for the entire family, and my mom was fighting back a scream as she laughed, "Gee, we've just been breaking everything today." She broke her glasses, my dad broke his finger (okay, he cut it), and I broke my laptop. It really is a joyous Sunday.

Okay, now on to other things that I would've talked about had it not been for these misfortunes..

This past weekend, I went to a state debate tournament to judge (and ended up judging varsity finals, which is just a tad illegitimate because these are the guys who I usually debate and who usually beat me. And yet, I was still one of the better judges, which is sad). Anyways, I would like to comment on the actions of one particular guy, who I thought I had lost respect for; he's done a lot of crap in his life that I don't approve of. So when we were playing "never have I ever," and one sophomore girl proudly declared that she had drank some alcohol before (and all her little friends swooned at her feet), I expected him to approve. I opened my mouth to protest, but I was surprised to find a voice that was not my own, but his, telling them that drinking is not good. I raised my eyebrow, silently suppressing a cough in the dark humidity of the bus. Did he just say that? I looked up at him (I was sitting on the floor) to confirm my doubts, and sure enough, he continued talking, bashing on their ideas of what it meant to be cool.

And I felt pride swelling up in me. I'm not sure why I of all people did, but quite honestly, I'm glad he's not as bad as I've portrayed him to be. Yes, he's still bad. But at least his head's screwed on a little tighter than I thought it was, and that just makes me sleep a little bit better at night. At least he's still got his morals (somewhat). Thank goodness.

See, I told you guys. There is some good still left in people, even the people who you thought were hopeless.

[ insert picture here that would have been saved on my laptop which is now dead ]

--- end yesterday's post, start today's.

Now, I will complain and gripe some more, because that's what a blog is for.

Ah, nevermind. I've got better things to do than complain about a past that I can't change. All I can hope for is a better day tomorrow, right? Peace out, guys. I'm sick and need some sleep; I've halfway gone insane too.

and off i (don't) go.

Well, seems like we're all taking big leaps nowadays. Finally jumping the gap that used to be so huge. Getting off that side of the cliff, because the view's getting old. Leaping for something new. Well, except for me, it seems. I used to always be the one who'd do everything because I was never scared, because I wanted to try something new and see where it'd take me. But it was a mixed blessing, because with so much initial acceleration, I came crashing down, and now I can't do anything without second guessing, without taking a small cautious step and calculating my chances of survival before fully wading in.

I'm so scared of myself now, and I'm scared of other people. God, it feels like I'm finally stepping out of this happy, protective cocoon that I've lived in my entire life, and seeing the world as it really is. You can tell, just reading this blog. And I try to fight against it, but this world just keeps pushing me back down, and it's getting harder and harder to get back up and dust myself off. And I just don't want to find myself, one day, lying in the dirt with my face flat in the mud, arms crippled from pushing myself up too many times, clothes torn and heart ripped.

I look strong.

But really, I'm just like every other poor soul on this planet, searching for some kind of redemption.

i'm going to sleep at three again.

but this time, it's because i was playing pictionary,

with someone who I'm very thankful came into my life.

very, very fun times. :)

(btw, time stamps are correct now, and there's a small little categories box on the sidebar, which currently only has two links... but i figured i'd start being organized).

&where do you think you're going?

so I wonder if

running away,

makes you feel less

lonely.

tell me later,

if it worked.

by the way, just because you have more friends, or have had more boy/girlfriends,

doesn't really mean anything to me.

doing whatever cliche things you're supposed to do when it snows.

I am so glad, so so so glad, that today (well, technically yesterday) turned out the way it did.

For the past few snow days we've had (which have, quite remarkably, been a lot), I've stayed home, taking advantage of the extra time to sleep and study, my specialty (the sleeping part, not the studying). But today, I went to Rebecca's house, and I had one of the most fantastic, splendid, fairytale-esque days that I've ever experienced, and this day has definitely been engraved into my book of memories piling up in my head. Probably because of the two inch snow (quite a marvel down in Georgia), and because of the warm french vanilla coffee, and because of the sledding and snowball fighting and snow angel carving and snowman creating, and definitely because of Rebecca. I felt like I was in a movie scene, in a child's cartoon, in a postcard sent from some place like Missouri or Kansas or Ohio. I could just see the camera film rolling as we ran around the cars dodging snowballs launched from her dad, or as we attempted to slide down a snowy hill on a piece of cardboard and failing, or as we tried to roll the snow into a block to make it into some resemblance of spongebob squarepants. We did all the cliche things you're supposed to do when it snows, and it was fantastic.

And her family & neighbors are so nice, and Rebecca girl you're incredibly fortunate you live in such an environment. The food was great, the sushi was great, the soy milk was great, the dumplings were great. And Mulan II was most definitely great; goodness, I don't want to ruin it for those of you who haven't watched it, but it's got as many twists as a korean drama. Loved it.

It's a shame I didn't sleep over and that we didn't get to talk more,

but I already know I can talk to you about absolutely anything and you'd understand... and that, I believe, is the best feeling in the world. Even better than having a secure best guy friend who you know won't turn into anything more. :)

Also, last night, I went to sleep at three watching Bridget Jones' Diary, and I thoroughly enjoyed it (but I can enjoy practically any movie since I'm not much of a movie critic, so sue me). It had the same storyline as Pride and Prejudice (okay, the man's name was even "Mr. Darcy," could it get any more obvious), which might be a reason why I loved it so much, but I also can't get enough of those British folks (especially Hugh Grant!) I'm honestly tempted to use more of those British phrases (ie "bugger off!") Dude, British people are so blunt, and obscene, and clever, and hilarious. And rated R for good reasons (ie Love Actually, which had too much nudity but is still one of my favs).

Well, now that I've lived through a cliche snow scene, hopefully I'll be able to live through a love one sometime. Trust me, I'm a huge realist. But I do believe love is real.

Mark Darcy: I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are.

valentines shmalentines

Technically, today's not Valentine's Day, but it might as well be, because the only reason people care so much about the day is because of the hype it causes at school. And since today was the last school day before Valentine's Day, it automatically becomes Valentine's Day, hearts and roses and balloons and chocolates and stuffed animals and all. It's fantastically pink.

You know, I used to care so much about giving off the impression that I had a secret admirer. Ha, you might think it's funny, but when I was in 6th/7th grade and had a flaming mad crush on a boy who wouldn't look at me twice, I would always hope that this day would lend itself to some kind of nice note or sign of appreciation by the opposite gender, but of course that never happened. So I didn't think it was funny in the slightest bit. Especially when all of my little sixth grade friends pulled out long love letters and candy hearts from their lockers, with looks of awe and pride painted in their eyes. And I'd open my locker to see the same broken orange locker shelf with the stack of books lined up neatly below. Empty. And really, I was half a step away from buying myself my own valentines candy gram in 7th grade and sign it anonymous, but I knew that wouldn't fool a soul.

But I figure I'm never going to get my share of Valentines' romance until I'm grown and old, because even last year when I wasn't even single, the day was still a complete disaster. So I'm so glad that I don't care anymore (and I'm actually not lying), and that I don't have to worry about it either, and I'm especially glad that I didn't get some anonymous love note, because I just might have thrown myself off of my roof if I did. You don't understand how much of an effort I put into avoiding close contact with boys who don't know any better. I'm glad it paid off.

Anyways, with that said, I'll have you know that I enjoyed a certain conversation with a boy today. It was a depressing topic, but I argued him down until we were louder than the rest of the library, and I hope I showed him that I actually care enough to disagree. I love brotherly friends.

I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I've always been a freak. So I've been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know. I'm one of those people.

-John Lennon

Second Grade

I looked around the playground at the sea of unfamiliar faces; everyone already had their comfortable niche of friends, except for me. The new girl in school. I shrugged my shoulders and ran toward the playground, climbing on top of a red beam that bounced as I walked across. As I spread my arms out and attempted to keep myself from falling off, a girl with frizzy, outrageous red hair ran up to me and smiled a toothy grin.

“Hey, wanna be friends?”

I stared at her, unused to such sudden and abrupt meetings.

“Sure,” I responded with a half-hearted smile. Friends wouldn’t hurt.

As we settled in the classroom, I sat on top of my desk with my legs crossed, facing toward the chalkboard. A girl sat on the floor in front of my desk, and when I caught a glimpse of the familiar straight, black hair that ran in my family, I was filled with a rush of excitement. Without thinking, I leaned over and looked straight into her upside-down face, letting my hair fall to her legs.

“Hey, I know you!” I exclaimed. It was only after I looked at her face that I realized that I had made a mistake; I had never seen her in my life. I frowned before she could respond.

“No you don’t…” she said hesitantly and a bit disbelievingly.

“Yeah, sorry.”

I flipped my head back up and stared at the chalkboard again, discouraged and reminded of the friends I had left back in Tennessee.

After a few more awkward meetings though, we became best friends. The redhead and I though, we didn’t make it quite so far.