stuck.

You know how I get all sentimental at night. Forgive me in advance, but I write as sincerely as ever. Even though I'm punch-drunk on flavoured water. Hehe.



What I feel right now is...unreal. And no, I'm not talking about the flavoured water getting to me. I'm being serious now.

I'm sure everyone's felt like this before. It's pretty common, I guess. We just don't talk about it. It's an unpleasant feeling, one you don't know how to react to or to put into words. Maybe you can relate...

Suffocated. Limited. Restricted. Useless. Trapped. Under-utilised. Ineffective.

Man, does it ever really occur to you how big the world is, and how little you are?

This realisation hits me like a riptide every time. And it makes me so motion sick, to think that I sit here on my duff and write lame Facebook notes while THE WORLD KEEPS SPINNING, so careless about what I do or say.

Shoot, I feel useless. Like I have this great purpose, this insane, out of control desire to SERVE and to HELP others and to MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE...but I don't know where to start. Or how to go about making effective, lasting changes.

Right now, I just feel this crazy urge to LOVE someone. It breaks my heart over and over and over again, insufferably so, to know that there are people out there right now who are starving, who are cold, who are sick, who are lonely.

While I sit here on my duff and write lame Facebook notes.

I don't know what to do. I feel a mixture of things.

I feel angry that, again, I'm sitting here on my duff and writing lame Facebook notes in my big comfortable home with air conditioning and heating and refrigerators and carpeted floors and solid walls and MATCHING LIGHT FIXTURES. I hate this. I hate feeling like I have so much useless crap when there are people who have houses smaller than my bedroom.

I. HATE. THIS.

Now, don't call me ungrateful just yet. I have been monumentally blessed with a supportive family and a great many material possessions (mostly wholly unnecessary). God has given me a tremendous amount of love and redemption, and He has provided for ALL of my needs, and yeah, a few of my ridiculous wants. I find incredible joy in view of His gifts and mercies.

But my joy is just not worth having if I can't share it with someone. Love isn't meant to be stowed away, or kept under lock and key and only taken out for the enjoyment of the holder. It's meant to be given. There are brothers and sisters out there, humans just like us, with feelings and souls. And so many of them die nameless because nobody bothered to look outside of their comfy cages into the REAL world.

You know, I cry for only two reasons.

One, because I am happy. I am ridiculously overly happy. I am so in love with my life and the people in it. I am happy to have a purpose, though I don't yet know the details. I am happy to have a full family, a full heart, and a full future. Of these three things, I am certain. And certainty brings with it a certain degree of happiness.

But I also cry because I am devastated. My heart is so broken. This world spins wildly out of control. It pains me to see people chase money and comfort and lust and power. We ruin relationships, we make a mess of marriage, we sabotage friendships, we disband families. We'll cut corners, ignore the people who need our help, just to get a leg up on the other guy. We buy things we don't need, with money we don't have, to impress people we don't like.

Meanwhile, PEOPLE STARVE.

People die from easily treatable diseases.
People freeze to death on the streets of cities.
People lose their few possessions to natural disasters.
People suffer from loneliness in a world of almost seven billion people.

This is unjust. And we let it happen. And it's driving me mad.

I feel weighted. Like it's my fault. Like it's my responsibility. Like it's MY wrong to let it all continue, when I'm so capable of leaving my comfortable life behind and chasing this vision of a better world.

I feel limited. Because in reality, I can't leave this place yet. I have to finish high school. Then I have to go to college. Then I have to finish my graduate studies. When the heck am I supposed to find any dadgum time to make differences? I mean, I know I can make small differences, and those count, too, but I want to do it on a bigger scale, with nobody holding me back from the world.

I feel powerless. I'm restricted by money, by responsibility, by expectations, by requirements. If I could truly abandon my immediate, material goals, I could go now. No questions asked. But I owe my parents. And my school. And my friends. And my insurance company. And my cell phone carrier. And my city. And my extended family. And everyone else who wants to own a part of my life. (this is good and bad sometimes, to owe yourself to others)

I feel like I'm making excuses. And I am. I could be doing more here in Northwest Arkansas. I could be reaching out online. I could be writing books. I could be starting an organisation. I could be doing SOMETHING, ANYTHING.

Instead of sitting on my duff and writing lame Facebook notes.

Talk about a lack of priorities!

You know what baffles me the most? Take a gander. Run through the forest with your eyes closed; see if you hit the right tree...or spare yourself the pain and read on...

WE HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL.

There is NOBODY holding us back.

We have this great ability to band together, as teenagers and young adults, and fight this cycle of hopelessness among some of the world's people. Yeah, it seems strange and scary, but if people gave up at the first sign of awkwardness, well, our parents probably would've never had kids.

And if we make ourselves out to be clueless, unorganised, or directionless, then we'll really just do our age group's stereotype a justice. So truthfully, we have nothing to lose in terms of how the world sees us. We're fortifying its opinions if we sit back and enjoy the ride...so anything we do to rise above complacency already exceeds expectations.

Sounds like a sweet deal to me. Nothing to lose, everything to gain.

I've said it before, and I'll maintain it now: humans are highly capable of creating, of constructing, of uniting, of rebelling, of changing, of progressing. We're the only ones holding ourselves back. Do you get that? Do you hear me loud and clear?

People have fought for less consequential things than world peace. I don't see why we bother holding back, when our cause is noble, when our minds are willing to engage in proactive thought, and when our bodies are ready to tear down and rebuild "the system."

Service isn't rebellion. It's just a different way of approaching the same world.

What's the worst that can happen? Someone says "oh that's so stupid, you're wasting your time"? It's not like your dignity will remain perfectly intact for the rest of your life. You're going to be challenged, and isn't this a challenge worth taking on?

I'm done waiting. Change doesn't HAPPEN. It's MADE. It's delicately crafted with strong but patient hands. It's an investment in the future. It's an investment in the present. And it's a big sucker-punch to the scars of the past.

I'm going. Full speed ahead.

Anybody with me?

affectionate.

A Letter to My Future Husband (whomever, wherever)

Hey there. It’s nice to finally talk to you. How ya been? Good, I hope.

I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, since I’m basically about to start my independent life. I pray for you almost every day, and I hope that you’re out there somewhere, setting your own life into motion. I’m sure someday our paths will cross, and we’ll get the chance to weave our stories together. I just hope that I know it’s you when I see you. Everyone says they “just knew,” but I don’t think I’m that impulsive or foolish. But we shall see!

Until then, I want to tell you a few things about me, so there aren’t any quirky surprises later down the line. I’ve wanted to write this letter for a while now, and even if you don’t read it for years, maybe someday you’ll see this and just know that we were made for each other.

Firstly, I can’t cook. Forgive me in advance. I hope you are more skilled in the kitchen than I am, because darling, I can barely make toast, let alone a full meal. Seriously. My parents get edgy when I use the microwave. I’m a lost cause! So if you’re willing to shed a few pounds in the beginning, then we should work out just fine. Maybe you could teach me some things? I hope you have a culinary inclination. We’re in deep trouble if you don’t!!

Secondly, I’m all about changing the world. And if you’re not with me, then get the heck outta my way! I’m on a mission. One could even call it a “great commission.” Anyway, there’s a whole world out there, and I’m not going to miss a bit of it. So I hope you’re really into travelling. I can guarantee we’ll be doing A LOT of it.

Thirdly, I will not always agree with you, even when you’re right. I am super stubborn, and incredibly headstrong. I always have been. I like to make my own decisions. I like to go out alone. I like to hold my own. But there will occasionally be instances in which I have to cede to your flawless logic. Just don’t make too much fun of me when I fall on my face, okay? That’s called tactlessness. And it breaks my little bitty heart.

Fourthly, I intend to do everything in my power to protect and nurture you. Contrary to popular belief, I HAVE A SOUL. You will be my second priority in all things. (sorry, Jesus kinda takes the cake here…) I will do all I possibly can to ensure your happiness and success, and if there is ever a moment when you are down, I promise I will pick you up, dust you off, and keep walking forward with you. I am not one to quit when the going gets tough. I’ll be your partner in crime, your sidekick, and your best friend. I’m looking forward to it; I think we’ll make a great team.

Fifthly, I am great with money. I don’t have much, but what I do have, I guard carefully. You will never have to worry about me buying ridiculously unnecessary things, like gilded candleholders, themed coasters, and custom-shaped waffle makers. I mean seriously, I think we’ll have better things to spend our money on, like charity, philanthropy, and of course, travel. Money isn’t a huge priority to me (though I talk about it often), so if you’re not uber-rich, I still completely adore you. God will provide us with whatever we need. So I’m not all that concerned.

Sixthly, I sleep a lot. If my koala-like sleepiness (and cuddliness!) bothers you, then you need to find a way to make me like coffee, or give me daily caffeine injections. I love my shut-eye. The best cycles in the world are spin cycles, bi-cycles, and REM cycles. Also, I will never promise to wake up and look good. Sorry. My hair will be in various degrees of “OMG” and my face…well…you’ll see. It’s rather unpleasant. I suggest you wear an eye mask to sleep.

Seventhly, if we have kids (heaven forbid…I hate the little bloodsuckers), then I will be the bad cop in most situations. I’m all about responsibility, etiquette, discipline, knowledge, and perseverance. My kids will be brought up to be socially and academically conscious. Also, I will never EVER give “because I said so” as a reason for anything. I want my children to get answers for every question they ask. I am of the mentality that if neither I nor you can give an appropriate, logical reason for doing something, then the task is unreasonable and/or a waste of time. Also, I will never blow off our kids to do something selfish, such as watch a TV show, paint my nails (yeah right), or talk on the phone. My kids will be my third priority (bested by you and Jesus).

Eighthly, my sense of humour is cruel and unusual. It’s probably also a form of punishment in some countries. I want to let you know that if (and when) I tell you to jump off a cliff, I don’t literally mean for you to do it. That is, unless you are a professional cliff jumper. Then it’s okay, because you’ve received the proper training and certification to do something reckless and stupid like that. Otherwise, please know that I’m kidding. I will make light of dark situations, and will offer wit and sarcasm whenever it’s appropriate, and sometimes when it’s not. That’s just how I deal with things.

Ninthly, I’m really into trying new things. I don’t want to go to the same restaurants, watch the same movies, listen to the same songs, or wear the same clothes. I want some diversity, some variety, some spice! I hope you can stay on your toes enough to keep up with my spontaneous changes of pace. I promise I’ll keep you moving. That’s just more weight you’ll burn off, in addition to the weight you’re losing for my lack of home cooking. Haha.

Tenthly, I’m the jealous type. Until we’re married, I will constantly be worrying about other women. It’s more of a “Me thing” than a “You thing.” I worry that I’m not good enough, that I’m leaving you feeling like you’re missing something, that I’m not making you as happy as you should be. So if I ask a lot of questions about your ex-girlfriends, your old best friends, and your female co-workers, then don’t panic; this is just me covering my bases, trying to stave off my insecurities. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, since I trust you and all, but there is only so much blind ignorance I can handle!

Eleventhly (darling, is that even a word?), YOUR PARENTS WILL TERRIFY ME. Now, I do fairly well in most social situations, but in the curious case of parents, I fail. I don’t know why. I usually get along well with mothers, but fathers always seem apprehensive. I don’t get it. I think they feel threatened? I dunno. In any case, your parents will make me feel very small. Since these are some of the most important people in your life, it is imperative that I get along with both of them. I hope you’ll help me out in that regard. Sing my praises, speak of my merit, I don’t care. I just want them to love me as much as I love you. Because it would absolutely suck to have in-law conflict. The stress that causes is nigh bearable.

Twelfthly, I’m very thorough. I bathe everything on me twice, I vacuum the floors using the extension tube because the main sucker isn’t “accurate” enough, I stack things perfectly, I repeat all tasks until they are done completely and correctly, and I am all about colour-coding my closet. Our house will be a clean house. Lived-in, certainly, but also clean. I don’t like to leave things scattered around, but I can’t say that’ll never happen with shoes and papers. I’m an unappealing shade of “inconsistent.”

Thirteenthly (okay, now my spell-check is freaking out), your happiness comes first. It is my job to ensure you are well-taken care of, and that you are never without love and support. If you lose your job, I’ll be there. If you are upset and want someone to talk to, I’ll be there. If you feel lonely, I’ll be there. If you need a helping hand around the house, I’ll be there. (grudgingly, but still there) I am at your disposal, and you are at mine. As your wife, I will be all about you and our family. (and Jesus…can’t forget that…) After all, what are spouses for?

Fourteenthly, I’m a go-getter. I’m all about winning, about racing, about achieving. I used to be “really really competitive,” and now I’ve mellowed out to just “really competitive.” If you want something, I’ll chase it down for you. I’ll personally pursue it. I will work toward a goal without resting or slowing down. I hope you can handle this furious persistence of mine. I’ve got plans and goals that I have no intention of putting on the backburner, so I pray against reality that you can tolerate my fierce determination, and maybe even possess a similar trait.

Fifteenthly, I stay up really late writing lame Facebook notes to and about you. Sorry if this is really creepy. It’s a bad little habit of mine. Ya dig?

I guess that concludes my letter for now. I’m sure there will be an extension to this later, but for now, I’ve said what I felt I needed to say. I hope that somewhere out there, you’re writing beautiful sonnets about me, like Michael Drayton’s “How Many Paltry Foolish Painted Things,” or writing amazing piano pieces for me, as does the fine specimen that IS Edward Cullen.

Forgive my temporary lapse of judgment. Edward Cullen is entirely fictional. I’m sure you’re better than him anyway. He’s a massive creeper.

Well love, keep your eyes peeled. You never know when we’ll run into each other. Hopefully the pain and awkwardness will be minimal, so as to preserve our fragile egos! ;)

Until then, my friend.

Yours Entirely Truly,

M.

pragmatic.

For the first time in a long time, I can breathe.

It's more than just an inhale, more than oxygen rushing back into my blood after a long era of thirst. It's more than my throat loosening up, more than my stomach calming down, more than my muscles rehydrating.

It's peace.

Complete. Total. Absolute.
Peace.

I know that most, if not all people come to a crossroads in life where they must make a monumental decision, choose battles wisely, reassess priorities, etc. Most people experience several of these interchanges throughout their lifetime.

For the first time in my life, I have reached one such junction.

It has taken hours of self-convincing, days of continuous mental nagging, weeks of reprioritising, and months of preparation, but I have made my decision to abandon the things that hold me back from surrendering to surrender.

It's not apathy that relieves my fears; it's acceptance of what I can and cannot change. The future. My appearance. My family. And all other things finite.

I am surrendering to the fact that I cannot make a college like me, no matter how much I try to pad my résumés and edit my essays and sell my soul to their admissions counselors. At this point, I simply don't see a reason to stress. What's gonna happen is gonna happen. I can confidently say that I have done my best, and cannot offer more to any college without risking insincerity or pretentiousness. If they want me, they'll take me, and if I'm not good enough, they'll reject me. Either way, right now, I'm ready for all mail, bring it good news or bad. I'll go where the good Lord sends me, and if I'm dead before I make it there, then He did me a right nice favour.

I am surrendering to the fact that I am not attractive. I don't mean unattractive or not beautiful; rather, just not attractive. Now before everyone goes all "Oh but it's the inside that counts!" and "Oh but you have cool hair!" I want you to know that no matter what you or anybody else says, this is the opinion I have come to establish of myself, and I don't want anybody to bother it or try to change it. It is not about appealing to boys, or competing with girls...it's about feeling happy with myself. I am completely content in my own skin, and wouldn't change any of it. I have finally come to accept and love myself as I am; don't take that away from me.

I am surrendering to the fact that I cannot trade my parents for compassionate, selfless servants of God, no matter how much I pray or bite my tongue. It's not my job. It's not in my power. I can't change how vain my family is, I can't change how selfish my family is, I can't change how money-centered my family is, I can't change how controlling and limiting my parents are. But I can accept it, deal with it for a few more months, give my thanks, and take my leave. I can reinvent myself to be the best person I can be, and bring back a finished product someday. The best part is I don't have to look back, though I will, of course. I have accepted my family as they are, and have decided to wait until I am free, to look back and smile. For now, I turn and walk in my own direction.

I am surrendering to the fact that I have lost my job. I have come to realise that it is for the better, and that free seminar periods and free after-school hours are what I WANT, and have wanted for at least half a year now. I am finally getting my time back, to do with what I please. And this makes me so happy. To know that I will finally get away from the drama and the expectations of others makes me feel alive again. It's been so long since I have hung out with friends after school, or since I have been able to go to a club meeting without feeling guilty. I don't need the money, and I want the time, so this is all-around a fair reconciliation. I am at amicable peace.

I am surrendering to the fact that I will die. I've thought a lot about my death, and have come to realise that absolutely nothing I do or say will be remembered if it doesn't have at least some small impact on someone else. I believe that if I make a positive difference to at least ONE person, somewhere out there, then my life was lived fully and completely, and I will leave this world feeling as though I had fulfilled my purpose. And for this reason, because I know I have impacted at least one person out there somewhere, I am not afraid to die. In fact, I am eager. Death is such a sad thing; why, I don't know. But it is. And I hope that in my death, I am not missed. I hope people will look at what I did and say, "That's great, but how we can IMRPOVE it, take it ONE STEP FURTHER?" The true measure of a leader is not the cause they championed, but the number of followers who hold steadfast to the cause long after their leader has passed.

I am surrendering to the fact that I am small. Not physically (say what you will), but existentially. In the grand scheme of things, I'm a microscopic little blip in history. I'm here, I breathe a couple times, and I'm gone. I leave some dust behind, maybe some ashes, but my soul is departed. Lately it's been on my heart and mind that I am so perpetually tiny, and that very little of what I say has a ripple effect. I'm not a prodigy, a genius, a model, an example. I'm just normal, and right now, normal is what I want to be. The competition and jealousy that today's teens experience is unhealthy and damaging to the soul. I have put this behind me. I'm looking forward to a bright new world, one where I can make a difference and ultimately change the worldscape that future generations will live in and improve upon. I demand progress. I expect it. And I will instigate it. Then I will die. And hopefully by then, what I have set into motion will continue to revolutionise the way we look at each other and our world.

My current state of mind is restful. I don't feel philosophical or emotional. I don't know whether to cry, or to smile, or to laugh. I feel as though any of the above actions would disrupt this stillness. For once, I just want to breathe. I just want to sit in silence and hear my internal music continue. There is no music more beautifully composed than the pulse of my heart echoing through my veins.

Back to love.

I have seen the devastation and destruction caused by mankind. I have seen the affliction and the suffering and the trauma and the loneliness and the despair and the poverty. Not all firsthand, but it doesn't need to be physically present to be felt, I believe.

Humans are SO capable of building each other up, of supporting and caring for each other, of laughing, smiling, sharing joy, comforting one another, and creating life.

And so, it is a great tragedy that humans are also capable of breaking each other down, of criticising and discouraging each other, of inflicting pain on others, of ruining families, and of consciously destroying life. With words. Weapons. And war.

For a species so capable of good, we sure do a lot of bad.

It is my ultimate goal to change this. Starting with myself. I've had a lot of sincere apologies collecting dust in the back of my head. I've had a lot of rusty Christian virtues revolving slowly in my mind. And I've got this threadbare love complex that's just rotted away for lack of use.

And I'm sick of it.

I'm so dadgum SICK of the way things are.

I'm sick of vanity, and anxiety, everybody always having to get their way NOW. We're in such a rush to get somewhere, and when we finally do, we turn around and make a mad dash to the next destination. Where in this madness do we taste fulfillment? I simply don't see why we have to run each other over in an attempt to satiate our empty desires. I just don't get it. And I don't get why we can't all see that WE'RE ALL HEADING IN THE SAME DIRECTION. You are born with nothing. And you will die with nothing. So what have you lost? NOTHING. So take your time. Drive in the right-hand lane. Stop and hold the door for somebody. Start a conversation with an old friend. And forfeit yourself, for a few warm moments of happiness.

I'm sick of making resolutions that I never live up to. Most of it stems from the fact that I am deathly afraid of rejection. I'm scared just thinking about changing how I treat others. What if they think something's wrong with me? What if I say something stupid? What if I try to be serious and they think I'm joking? What if the damage has already been done? These thoughts keep careening through my head, and I haven't been able to shake them until now. It got so bad that I just said, stop. I have had enough. I have nothing and everything to lose. My life, until my death, is subject to my interpretation. Ergo, I am blazing my own trail. Anybody that wants to walk after me is welcome.

I'm sick of anger. I have gone through phases in my life where anger was the only thing I felt for weeks on end. I have seen and read about anger ruining marriages, friendships, churches, and even entire countries. I've had my fair share of it, and I'm here to throw it back. I'm done with feeling like the world owes me something. If anything, I owe the world. Through suffering and injustices, I have been made stronger and more prepared to enable others to fight back. Anger is a state of mind, and now that I have accepted control over my mind, I'm exiling anger. I'm putting my fire down and planting flowers with my free, bare hands. My war is over.

More than anything else, I am sick of fear. My own fear, as well as the fear of others. What do we have to be afraid of? Death is just another thing that happens in life. Rejection is a widespread feeling; everyone can relate. Public speaking is humourous. Small spaces are comfortable, and big spaces are breathable. There is nothing and no one left to fear but God. And that's really just a love/fear relationship. So in reality, in the physical, tangible Earth, we should be fearlessly exploring, fearlessly embracing, fearlessly inventing, fearlessly innovating, and fearlessly loving our species.

I have accepted myself. And my past. And my future. And it is with keen, clear eyes that I greet all three with a smile, and a nod, and a heart open to infinite possibilities.

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace." -Jimi Hendrix

fatigued.

"It was a long, harsh winter."

In truth, winter has yet to come. But it feels so cold and dry outside, and the weather is bleak, so I guess one could credibly say winter ran over autumn and took the lead rush.

September passed by with so much humour, so much happening. September was probably the funniest month I've ever lived through. I met so many new, exciting people. They keep my life interesting.

In terms of fulfilment, I have felt empty. I refill my gas tank more than I refill myself. I have had so little alone time, so little quiet. Not that I want to be lonely, but it's refreshing to take a minute and just breathe.

But who has time for breathing when life is going on all around?

My first article was published in Celebrate Arkansas Magazine. Maybe it's just me, but it wasn't all that great. In fact, I'm kind of embarrassed by it. There are some editing errors that I'm pretty sure I did not put there. And if I did, how were they overlooked? It made me look so stupid.

I could criticise myself forever. But I'm just too tired to fight myself right now. Especially because I know I'll win and lose anyway.

I think this post is the result of me listening to sad songs and rereading sad e-mails. It's all just really fitting to my mood right now, I guess. People tend to gravitate toward things that match and complement their moods.

I'm just worn out.

The world is just a little too heavy for me today.

frustrated.

I only eat on days I write, but do not fear: though I have not been faithfully writing on this blog, as I had hoped to, I continue to write outside of the Internet, in my journal, in my Draw Near book, and more than enough in AP English.

Today, I wanted to share with you a list of language-related things that really irritate me.

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?
After entertaining some thoughts while home alone, feeling sad, sick, and sorry for myself, I decided to put my pathetic physical and mental self to work. I have compiled a brief list of idiomatic errors that drive me absolutely bonkers. I understand that this means I am a huge loser, and that I have nothing better to do with my time. (during which I should be sleeping, drinking lots of fluids, and doing homework) I accept this judgment, and disregard it entirely. Also, I am not a grammar queen (the United States declared itself independent from a monarchy on 4 July, 1776), but I do like to think I have a fair grasp on conventional English rules. Correct my mistakes, if I should have any.



1. A picture is not a pitcher. A crayon is not a crawn. To wash is not to worsh. To drink is not to drank. And most importantly: an orange is not an ornch!



2. In standard American English, punctuation is placed WITHIN the quotation marks, unless it does not pertain directly to the quote.

For example: Have you heard the new song "This Song Title Was Made Up Just So Melissa Would Have A Sufficient Example For Her Note"?

Notise how the question mark is located OUTSIDE of the quotations, because the song title is not a question. Otherwise, the punctuation would basically be located inside the quote.



3. There are other words besides "good," "fine," "okay," and "alright" to use when describing how your day went. Every single time someone uses the above words to describe something, I want to kick them in the back of the knees. Lord have mercy on the person who's on the receiving end when I finally snap. http://thesaurus.reference.com/



4. Oh wee little dangling participle, whatever are we going to do with you?

For example: After rotting in the cellar for weeks, my brother brought the oranges upstairs.

Why is your brother rotting in the cellar? What's that you say? He isn't? OH, I see. The oranges (NOT ornches) are rotting.

This is a common mistake, and is the embarrassing result of a failure to verbally reread one's writing.



5. While I understand why some homophones are spelled incorrectly, I simply cannot come up with a reason as to why words that DO NOT SOUND ANYTHING ALIKE IF YOU SPEAK CLEARLY are used interchangeably.

For example: lose vs. loose (looze vs. looce), affect vs. effect (uh-fect vs. eh-fect), accept vs. except (ack-cept vs. ex-ept), and fax vs. facts (facks vs. factz)

These horrible crimes against humanity and the English language are most often the result of people not knowing that there are subtle differences between certain similar vowels and consonants.



6. The semi-colon is used to connect independent, albeit related, clauses; however, they should almost always be used in conjunction with a connecting word, such as "however," "therefore," and "but."

The colon is used to separate an independent clause from a list that follows it, to precede an explanation/example, to indicate a salutation, or to mark a time/title/passage (as in the Bible or a book title).

For example: "To: The Future Mrs. Melissa Homeyer"; "It's 9:00 on a Saturday..."; "The Draw Near memory verse for last week was James 4:8"; and "I need you to get the following things from Wal-Mart: a sledgehammer, some strawberries, and an Easy Bake oven"



7. Apostrophes should ONLY be used to indicate possession or contraction.

For example: That note was written in Melissa's own style. It wasn't written by her idiot friends.



8. I should of written a point somewhere in this note about the improper use of the word "of" when one means to use a contraction, and I could of, if I would of planned my day better.



9. You ARE allowed to stick adverbs into infinitives. It's the spice of life.

For example: I wanted TO BOLDLY GO where no kitten has ever gone before.

See how the adverb "boldly" was inserted into the infinite "to go"? Pretty nifty, huh?



10. Of all linguistic rules that I have seen broken, this one breaks my heart the most: the improper use of past-tense verbs.

For example: I would've came to your AP English study session, but I runned late because of something I had ate.

Typing the above sentence not only made me cry a little bit, but it also made me angry. Darling, we learned how to speak way back in the day, when we were young and immature. These horrible habits were instilled in us at our most critical age. If you are still making these types of mistakes, nobody loved you enough to correct you. And if someone did attempt correction, then you were too stupid to listen. If I wrote down every time I seen an error like this, I would have an entire novel wrote by now.



11. The next person who uses a double-negative in my presence is going to have a doubly negative life span. I can't get no satisfaction.



12. I'm glad to hear that I did good on that English test comparing the use of "good" and "well" when describing the quality of a previous action.



13. "Real" is an adjective that means "true, genuine, actual," whereas "really" is an adverb that means "truly, genuinely, actually." "Really" is also used to indicate the quality of something, as in "this note was really well-written."



14. There is no such word as "alot." And if you think there is, I will put you through alot of serious pain.



15. They're, there, and their. If you don't know this by now, go paper cut your eyeballs and squirt lime juice in them. I believe the neighbours have some self-destructive supplies that you may borrow. There is a lime in their refrigerator. I would see if they're home first, so as to avoid barging rudely in.

apologetic.

Holy crap, I've missed TEN WHOLE DAYS of blogging. I am a FAILURE at life.

If it means anything, and if you'll accept my apology, I have been incredibly busy lately. The amount of homework I'm receiving is simply ridiculous. I'm a SENIOR, dang it.

Needless to say, I should be writing my English essay right now. I just thought that between essays, I could update this dusty old thing and get that outta the way.

Terribly sorry for the lack of interesting material. It's been that kind of month.

I leave you now with the words to "Ubi Caritas", the best song I was ever forced to sing for All-Region Choir.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor.
Exultemus, et in ipso iucundemur.
Timeamus, et amemus Deum vivum.
Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero.

Where charity and love are, God is there.
Christ's love has gathered us into one.
Let us rejoice and be pleased in Him.
Let us fear, and let us love the living God.
And may we love each other with a sincere heart.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur:
Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus.
Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites.
Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.

Where charity and love are, God is there.
As we are gathered into one body,
Beware, lest we be divided in mind.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease,
And may Christ our God be in our midst.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul quoque cum beatis videamus,
Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus:
Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum,
Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.

Where charity and love are, God is there.
And may we with the saints also,
See Thy face in glory, O Christ our God:
The joy that is immense and good,
Unto the ages through infinite ages. Amen.

overwhelmed.

Is it bad that I'm already feeling stressed about school, and I've only been to three days of it so far?

I've got five homework assignments, and so far, I have chewed my way through three of them. The remaining two are essays, so I'm not incredibly worried.

I guess I could give you a class analysis/breakdown/report/update?

First hour, I have AP Spanish V with Señora Kirkconnell. From the handful of times I've attended her class, I can already tell that it's going to be a little bit difficult and a lot of fun. The class is actually taught primarily in Spanish. We've used very little English thusfar, and we've only had one official day of real class. Sadly, this detail is what's making two of my near and dear friends quit AP Spanish. LOSERS. We took a placement test to see how our Spanish skills are doing, and I'm embarrassed to say that I was quite rusty after the summer, and probably bombed the practise test. I couldn't remember the difference between the indicative and the infinitive; that was pretty much my only big trip-up. That, and not remembering how to conjugate "ser" or "salir"...I hate -ir and -er verbs! But I am definitely looking forward to learning more Spanish. I can definitely increase my fluency if I work hard enough; I've been listening to the prescribed Spanish podcasts on iTunes most of the morning, and I'm pleased to say that I've been catching on!

Second hour, I have Human Behaviours and Disorders with Mr. England. First of all, I really like Mr. England. His sense of humour is dry, but blunt. I think he's hilarious. He's the kind of guy who'll tell you straight up if he doesn't give a damn about something. And he has told us this. Multiple times. The fun of this class is enhanced by how easy/interesting it's going to be, and by the two guyfriends I have in my class. We spent our entire first day talking to Mr. England about our future plans and our goals and dreams. It was neat to hear what kinds of different career paths my peers will be taking. I'm looking forward to a very amusing year...full of Mr. England's military stories, medical stories, and personal stories about his cat.

Third hour, I have AP English IV with Mr. Davis. It seems as though all of my male teachers have their own distinct sense of humour. I can't really describe Mr. Davis's. I'm happy to say that he is a known-to-be-difficult grader, as far as essays go. I'm extremely pleased to hear that English will be a challenge. The amount of growth that takes place when one is challenged is...phenomenal. So far, all we've done is talk about writing good college essays and read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, a very odd book that I'm thoroughly enjoying.

Fourth hour, I have AP Government and Politics with Mr. McElroy. He's got that kind of humour that makes him backtrack, sidetrack, uptrack, and pretty much derail off the track. He's amusing to listen to, because he speaks his mind and seemingly improvs everything he says. I think the otherwise boring material we'll be learning about will be made fascinating just because of the way he presents it. Oh, and did I mention he puts disco music on between classes, so we walk in to some crazy old music? I saw him bust a move once...needless to say, that barmy old codger has earned a shred of my utmost respect.

Fifth hour, I have AP Statistics with Coach Mayer. His sense of humour and mine are incredibly similar. He's the type of person who would tell you to your face (jokingly) to shut up because you're making his life more difficult. So far, I've notised that he is very birdlike in his movements; he kind of bobs his head when he speaks, and he turns it sharply when he looks around. That, combined with the fact that he's tall and has a pointy nose, makes me think of a bird. Not sure what breed, but definitely avian. What pleases me even MORE is that I'm really truly enjoying Statistics. Love it. It makes PERFECT sense to me. I can SEE and MANIPULATE and COLLECT and INTERPRET actual data. What I love about it is that it's real, applicable, and solid math. There's none of this gay Calculus crap, with formulas created to explain dimensions and concepts that don't exist in the real world. When am I EVER going to find the derivative of something? Hmmm...never? When am I EVER going to need to interpret a complicated graph? Hmmm...ALWAYS? Statistics makes so much sense, and I love my class, with the exception of two incredibly vain, annoying dance team girls who sit irritatingly in front of me.

Sixth hour, I have Human Relations with Mrs. Lumpkin. This is the only class I don't enjoy yet. It seems like it's going to be very boring. It's not necessarily the material that I think will bother me; it's the teacher. She seems like a sweet little lady with nothing mean to say, but at the same time, she can't raise her voice (you can barely hear her), she is incredibly conservative (politically and socially), she is very domestic (I can't imagine her standing up for herself), she is entirely old-fashioned (not the strong, independent, fierce American woman I envision myself becoming), and she majored in Home Economics (I'm sorry, but WTF?). I don't think our personalities will mesh very well, though she seems kind. I have a mixture of interesting people in my class, who I think feel the same way I do about her, and I think my class will be particularly hard for her to handle.

Seventh and eighth hour are, of course, my apprenticeship class periods, and we all know I hate my job and the people I work with, so there's nothing left to be said in THAT regard.

Today, I have finished all but one homework assignment, I have taken a three-hour nap, I have vacuumed the entire first floor, and I have successfully avoided taking a shower. I feel gross, and am really sick, but I don't think I can take another moment at this bloody computer. I need to get up and move a little bit. My joints hurt from racquetball last night, and my muscles are complaining bitterly, but this screen is burning my eyes. I have these horrible bruise-like shades under my eyes, and I can't help but worry about them...I have been sleeping horribly for the past week or so. My dreams are plagued with nightmares. I really need some sunshine, but I hate the outdoors. I feel lonely and distant from people, but I know that's by choice. I need a break from life. I need to sleep for at least a year.

Why don't humans hibernate?

uninspired.

I'm cheap, so I'll toss out another college essay for you to read. This one was written more from the heart than my others, and I think that crazed adoration shows through my threadbare vocabulary and syntax. Forgive me?

TOPIC OF YOUR CHOICE.

“I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn’t, I would die.” While I don’t usually agree with Asimov’s personal statements, I wholeheartedly believe in this one.

Because that same love for writing resonates in the quietest shadows of my soul. Great writing is a blessing that great writers have shared with little people like me. Like many composers before me, not only do I WANT to write; I NEED to write.

Through writing, I find my purpose. I can to produce something original that I can claim as my own. I can take what lies deep inside me, and put words to it, bring it into existence; through words, I can invent! Everybody has read at least one literary piece that has inspired them, the piece of an author they’ve never met, but by whom they have been profoundly shaped. I write every day in the hopes that, perhaps in my future, I will have a redefining impact on a stranger miles away, who will never meet me, but with whom I can share a piece of my heart.

I also write to defy the standards set for my generation, a generation of consumers and buyers. I suppose that in today’s society, I’m not really expected to contribute much of anything. I am expected to simply regurgitate and recycle what generations before me have actualised. Rarely does anybody my age create something new and lasting. But I aspire to change that. I have grown restless with the low expectations set forth by the infamous “They”, who have always assumed I’m not capable of giving back to the world yet, because I am young and inexperienced.

I am here to demonstrate that writing does allow me to give back. I know that my written words carry tremendous, intoxicating power. What is in my mind can take whatever form I will it to, venom or vindication, and the responsibility of controlling this power is great.

So I write to spread love. I write to praise, to encourage, to persuade, and to advocate. Writing makes easy what is so hard to live. Any disciple of text can attest to its ability to completely redirect a mood. This is the beauty of writing: that it is a fresh, raw, dynamic snapshot of one’s inner thoughts and feelings.

Furthermore, I write because I am an addict. This addiction begs no rehab; I don’t need pills or needles or restraints. I just need ten fingers and a mind of my own because I am addicted to the blood of a pen, the spine of a pencil, and the muscle of a printer. The feeling of a smooth new eraser will never stop reassuring me that I can always learn from my mistakes, with a few smudges left behind as promising reminders that there IS a future, should I choose to invest time in creating it.

I wrote this essay not as a chance to show off, or to impress you with any linguistic prowess I may or may not possess, but because I believed my love letter to letters was long overdue. The irony is that when I write, when I give so much of myself to paper, the paper is only ever giving back to me.

It is my gift to myself, and now, it is my gift to you.

embarrassed.

I'm hugely pathetic and lonely, so it's only natural that I would gravitate in the direction of a fictional character right? RIGHT?

In terms of the ever-popular Twilight series, Edward Cullen is definitely THE vampire of choice, hands down. But I've gotta say, after seeing the movie, I think Jasper Cullen is the single most attractive vampire to ever grace the silver screen. What is it with me and unattainable blondes? (see previous boyfriends)

Heck, even Carlisle was hot, and he was supposed to be, like, in his early 30's or something?

Rank in attractiveness, from hottest to least hot:

1. Jasper (looks a little constipated, but otherwise, beautiful hair and face and body build)
2. Carlisle (can't get enough of his facial bone structure! perfect!)
3. Edward (sorry, I'm biased for blondes...and Robert Pattinson has chest hair...I hate chest hair)
4. Emmett (meh, his personality was well-portrayed, but he wasn't very cute)

I feel like such a loser girly-girl, reading these cheap thrill romances and obsessing over fictional guys, but can you really blame me? When you're as romantically ignored as I am, you tend to get a little desperate...falling in love with fictional characters, Google-stalking their personality factors, and combing through every literary and screen analysis ever written about them.

There isn't much that I do in regards to my femininity, but irrevocably adoring fictional boys is reeeeeeeeally high up there on my list, next to doing my hair and squealing at the thought of certain very attractive vampires. ;)

I wish I had something better to talk about, like school and work and the meaning of life, but sadly, I've just been wasting my time reading the Twilight saga repeatedly.

I can't say I hate it; rather, I love being so absorbed in something. I haven't been this devoted to anything since I was in AP Biology and obsessively studied. But Twilight is just so much more INTERESTING than biology right now. There are BOYS in Twilight. BOYS.

Don't worry, mom and dad;
I'm bracing for a single senior year.

preferential.

Some of my MOST FAVOURITE WORDS, in no particular order. I could go on forever, but I stuck to the basic 50. Enjoy! I even added my own pronunciations. A couple of them vary from the normal, because I tend to speak in tall vowels, but for the most part, we walk on even ground.

1. facetious (fuh-see-shiss)
2. infallible (in-fal-ih-bul)
3. heightened (hy-tinned)
4. pavane (puh-vawn)
5. corpse (core-pss)
6. affable (ah-fuh-bul)
7. aloof (uh-loof)
8. irrelevant (ih-rell-uh-vehnt)
9. ascription (uh-skrip-shin)
10. caustic (caw-stic)
11. knickers (nih-kerrs)
12. dismantle (diss-man-tul)
13. dignified (dihg-nih-fyed)
14. craft (crawft)
15. awkward (aw-kwerd)
16. fraudulent (fraw-jule-lehnt)
17. grey (graye)
18. epitome (eh-piht-uh-mee)
19. encapsulate (en-capp-sul-ayt)
20. perception (pur-sepp-shin)
21. circumnavigate (sur-cuhm-nah-vih-gayt)
22. kapok (kay-poc)
23. commerce (caw-murce)
24. paradigm (pair-uh-dym)
25. Guernica (gwair-nih-kuh)
26. declassé (dee-claws-ay)
27. toxic (tawks-ic)
28. intensity (in-tenn-sit-ee)
29. luminosity (lew-min-aw-sit-ee)
30. voluptuous (vuh-lup-shoo-iss)
31. aggressive (uh-gress-iv)
32. improbable (im-praw-buh-bul)
33. pedagogy (pehd-uh-go-jee)
34. deconstruct (dee-cun-struc-shin)
35. infidelity (in-fih-dell-ih-tee)
36. exact (eks-akt)
37. impact (im-pakt)
38. transcendental (trahn-sen-den-tul)
39. crisp (cr-ih-sp)
40. cognac (cohn-yak)
41. desperado (dess-pur-aw-doe)
42. earthscape (urth-skayp)
43. tourniquet (tore-nih-ket)
44. composite (comm-pawz-it)
45. fracture (frak-chor)
46. dissociative (dis-sos-ee-ih-tiv)
47. delicate (dell-ih-kit)
48. tactical (tak-tih-kul)
49. wok (wawk)
50. fortitude (for-tih-tyood)

attentive.

This one felt a little confrontational throughout its drafting, but I think I finally settled on a more subtly frustrated draft. This essay has undergone one round of drafting and will probably endure one more before its printing. I hope you like it!

DISCUSS SOME ISSUE OF PERSONAL, LOCAL, NATIONAL, OR INTERNATIONAL CONCERN AND ITS IMPORTANCE TO YOU.

If I were hypothetically asked to name a concern that applied personally, locally, nationally, and internationally, I would jump at the chance to scream RACIAL TOLERANCE. And since this question isn’t so hypothetical anymore, I must pay my dues and proclaim RACIAL TOLERANCE as loud as I can in writing.

As person of mixed ethnicities, I struggle to accept the use of the term “race” when specifying an ethnic origin. According to my trusty sidekick, Webster, race is defined as “a competition; an urgent need; an onward movement”. I had to read further to find the definition I was looking for, the one I was expecting: “a group of persons related by common descent or heredity”. If I was to believe that we all evolved from a primordial speck, and therefore shared a common ancestor, would that extinguish the word “race” from my cache of descriptors? If I was to believe that we all descended from Adam and Eve, and therefore genealogically overlapped, would that be enough to justify the removal of “race” from my mind?

My least favourite definition of the word “tolerance” is “the act or capacity of enduring”. If I were to say that I was “tolerating your race”, then I would be back-handedly saying that I’m “enduring your race”, as though your race were a bad odour or an unpleasant sight. I firmly believe the word “tolerance” should be redefined to mean “accepting, though not always understanding, something that is different from you”. In my perfect world, the last thing we will notise will be the colour of skin. We will accept our differences, revoke our claims of superiority, and abandon our mistaken perceptions.

If we define ourselves as the human RACE, and not as the human SPECIES, then have we not been abusing the word “race” for far too long? It is my personal belief that we are all one race. We are all humans. We are of different cultures, different bloodlines, and different customs, but we share this planet. We share the same bodily structures and the same anatomical functions. We have the same hinges, the same networks, and the same chemicals. All in different proportions, but that doesn't change our fundamental structure: that of a homo sapien. We've gone to war over ethnic differences, but how grand are the losses when placed alongside the victories! Are you not built like me? Are we not the same? If we get cut, we both bleed. If we are shoved, we both bruise. But I believe that if we fall, we will both get up. If our leaders and our citizens could learn to abandon their predispositions, their assumptions and inclinations, perhaps our world would be a more beautiful, accepting place.

My generation’s history has been too badly scarred by racism to be healed. I feel I have no choice but to press forward, to change the standards by which my ancestors lived. I have the power and the ability to change the worldscape. I am the next generation. I will inherit the problems of my parents and will be charged with the responsibility of changing the flaws in the system. My hope is that by the time I lay down to die, my peers will have successfully realised and reached their fullest potential as individuals, as communities, as countries, and as a species.

dynamic.

Happy birthday, world. Here is my response to the first Common App essay prompt, "Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you." It has some editing to endure yet, but I think it's a good rough draft. Enjoy!

(P.S. Bear with some of the cheesiness...it's the inevitable result of emotional attachment to a topic. Also keep in mind that it's a college application essay, and it is therefore meant to expose my many facets in a glorious light. Oh, and another thing: this is so ridiculously copyrighted, that if you bother to take even one sentence from it, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.)


Though that day was average, that night was redefining. It was the day I discovered a new depth in my convoluted bloodline; it was the day I found out I was part Jewish. That Wednesday night, my world was profoundly rocked, not because I had any expectations, fears, or qualms about my cultural future, but rather because of what I had considered myself to be in the past, a member of only three ethnicities: German, Irish, and mostly, Mexican.

To uncover a new blood-truth, however tiny, was uncharted territory. I, the invincible, all-knowing teenager, knew who I was and what I was made of. But this discovery eroded away any semblance of self-assurance I had worked to construct. It brought into my mind a set of unfamiliar questions: does this mean I must start reading the Talmud? Is it time to start observing the Shabbat? What the heck is the point of a yarmulke? A seasoned Googler, I took my inquiries to the Web. While revising my searches in order to “yield more specific results”, a guilty question passed through my mind: why does it matter "what" I am? If not to me, then to whom does it matter?

The week following my ethnic unearthing was one of the most, shall we say “mentally tumultuous” weeks I have ever experienced. I spent that time looking for answers to questions I'm sure generations before me have been quietly asking: why do we use race to distinguish ourselves? Are we not all members of the HUMAN race? Why it is that on standardised tests, under the Ethnicity/Race column, "human" isn't an option? (yes, our ancestors had standardised tests and asked such questions). Race wars have caused the deaths of thousands of people. To subject myself to the labelling that caused such destruction seemed…hypocritical. So I kept asking my questions, kept doing my research, and eventually found some solid answers:

There are no answers. There never were. I think somewhere inside, I knew the end before I began. My acceptance of this Inevitable Truth put my identity crisis to rest, if only for a moment. I have made the choice to be confident and secure in my total self, regardless of my individual components. Is the whole not infinitely greater than the sum of its parts? What my ethnic enlightenment and the ensuing questions taught me is that I don't have to let a term define me, limit me, expose me, or brand me if I don't bloody want it to. I am not obligated to conform to anybody's expectations of who I should be because of DNA that was simply given to me. The power to define myself is mine alone, and is a gift that I will never surrender.

regretful.

I failed to write a blog yesterday.

This was largely due to the fact that I got home, read Breaking Dawn for half an hour, went to dinner for two hours, came home and read MORE Breaking Dawn, then went to bed at 8:30. No, I don't think the Twilight series is fine literature, nor do I think it's particularly well-written. I just...needed some romance in my life. It's been kind of a drag. More on my sordid affairs later.

I have totally disappointed the blogging world with my inconsistency. Forgive me?
In any case, I guess I can give you a quick update on how I feel today...

Today was one of those days in which I REALLY couldn't stand the people I work with.

Now, I like most of my coworkers, I like one of my main bosses, and I hate pretty much everyone else. It's just a negative, arrogant, stressful environment. Whatever happened to just relaxing? I know it's work, not play, but can't we all just get along? Why is it such a competition to see who's better at this, who has the better that? I'm sick of it. Days like this make me want to quit.

In fact, I just might.

I'm getting sick of the bloated ego that my general workforce seems to have hovering over it. If I have to hear one more thing about anybody's ANYTHING, I am going to explode.

Other than today at work, I've had a very good day. I had dinner with the marvelous Annie Barry, who is only, like, my best friend in the entire world. Which was lovely. We caught up on college stuff, governor's school stuff, and of course, BOY STUFF!

Which makes for a nice segue into my next topic...BOYS! (audible sigh from the audience)

I'm at the point in my life, the brink of my senior year of high school, where I don't know what I wanna do about my relationship "situation". By this time, it's too late to consider getting a serious boyfriend, because I know we'd have to break it off at the end of the year to go to college. Who wants to commit to an end?

But at the same time, I've been a serious relationship almost my entire high school career. I dated a guy throughout my entire freshman year, a different guy from the beginning of my sophomore year until March of my junior year, and now I'm stuck here. With nobody. Alone. I truly do prefer being taken as opposed to being single. I'm happy either way, but I just enjoy being with someone more. I like commitment. And now I have none.

And don't start pity-partying me.

I've been on three dates this summer. Which is a healthy amount, I'd say. But I didn't really LIKE any of the guys I went on dates with. They were just good friends to me. And I prefer it that way. With them.

But that doesn't mean I'm not looking. I do want to meet somebody worth spending lots of time with. Someone worth talking to. Someone interesting and intelligent. But the odds of that happening in Bentonville...SO slim. So should I bother investing time in trying to find someone I couldn't get too attached to anyway? I don't know. Seems like a waste.

I think I'm just looking for someone to talk to, someone who likes talking to me, who likes listening to me. That's all I really want from the opposite gender right now.

Yeah, a true relationship is always a plus, I can't complain about that, but when it comes down to it, I just want a good friend. And nobody seems to get that. I try to be friendly, and they think I'm flirtatious. I try to be distant, and they think I'm rude. I try to be noncommittal, and they think I'm lazy. What the heck, man? Why can't I just be taken at face-value? Ugh.

So I'm ready to throw in the towel on dating. There's nobody left here. Or maybe it's because I have really high standards? I mean, there are lots of great, decent guys, and most of them are already my friends, but I have a strict set of criteria already in place...and I don't think I'm quite willing to make exceptions and be dissatisfied.

I'm just picky.

It's not like I haven't TRIED to make exceptions. There are some non-negotiables...my non-negotiable list gets longer after every guy I date/like. I guess I could give you my current non-negotiable list, and if you know anybody that meets the standards, send 'em my way.

1. Christian. That's just hands-down, no ifs ands or buts about it. This is the singular most important thing to me right now as I carry on my quest for somebody to love. If he's not into God, I'm not into him.

2. Intelligent. I'm talking Mensa-qualified. I'm talking ACT score above 28. I know that sounds superficial, to ask for someone soooooo smart (28's not that hard, you dummy), but to me, anything lower is LAZINESS or LACK OF MOTIVATION or SHEER INCOMPETENCY. I got a 28 my first try, and ain't nobody beating down MY door 'cause I'm a genius. I didn't even try. So he'd better be my level (31) or higher. Preferably higher, of course, but you take what you can get.

3. Blue-eyed. Three of the four guys I've dated were blue-eyed. And after going blue, I don't think I could ever go brown. It's just not as interesting. Blue eyes are just so beautiful. And clear. And readable. And thoughtful. And everything that could be perfect about little squishy round spheres.

4. Honest. I need some good, sensible smacking around sometimes. I find that blunt honesty is extremely beneficial. Not necessarily rude or tactless honesty, but not candy-coated honesty either. A healthy medium. I don't like to lie, and I don't like to be lied to. I expect the same good, fair, honest, just treatment I give to be reciprocated.

5. Fashionable. My definition of fashion is weak in terms of myself, but I can spot a stylish man seven miles away. This really has nothing to do with other peoples' perceptions of what's hot and what's not...it's all about what I think looks attractive on that particular male. Some guys look great in khaki cargo shorts and flip flops...others look ridiculous. It depends on how well I think the guy wears what he's got.

6. Parent-friendly. He dates me, he dates my family. They're so loving and welcoming, it would be extremely difficult to date somebody who distances himself from others. We are a giving, kind, nurturing family. We're VERY close. A guy who can't handle that has no business dating me. He needs to be able to jump right in and swim to the finish line or he isn't worth catching.

7. Giving. I need someone who isn't all about himself, who isn't so wrapped up in his tiny world that his perceptions of the REAL WORLD are limited and flawed to his few square miles of it. I DON'T WANT A FISHBOWL BOYFRIEND. I greatly desire someone who is just 100% all about being there for someone else, caring about others, serving those who have less than him. I'm very much into community service/volunteer-type stuff, and I think anybody with shorter priorities than me, in that regard, isn't going to get along very well.

8. Attractive. This is entirely subjective. I can't list any criteria here because you wouldn't understand. It's all opinion. It's all personal. Sorry, love. See #5.

That's all I can think of right now. Of course, I'd absolutely adore a blond-haired, blue-eyed British boy with an urban style, a Ph.D, and a huge heart, but those are just so rare nowadays. They're the kind that get snatched up by blond-haired, blue-eyed trophy wives who are nothing short of perfect. Why do I even bother?

I'll just have to settle for a nerdy Harvard guy, I guess.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. ;)

descriptive.

I guess I'll kick off this post by telling you about myself because I want you to know who sits on the other side of your computer connection. And because I'm just a naturally conceited person.

1. I am a big fan of you, baby, you.

2. I truthfully don't care who reads this or what they say about it. I'm impervious to snide commentary and malicious gossip.

3. It's time for REALLY important information.

4. I don't like pickles.

5. I like cucumbers.

6. But not pickles.

7. That was dumb. Everyone knows pickles and cucumbers are in the same family. Okay okay, I'll get serious now. Sorry!

8. I actually love being at school, and I make a point of being there extra early every day because I love the atmosphere and the people and the overall hustle and bustle. I love having something to do. I would totally be an English teacher if they got paid more, but sadly, they don't. I guess I'll be a doctor instead.

9. If I could, I'd go to church every day. If I could bottle up how I feel at church and carry it with me everywhere, I would, but of course, the heart does not make a solid, indestructible carrying case. Neither does the brain.

10. I mostly sleep while at home. Sleep, read, and occasionally play games/watch movies with my parents. I thoroughly enjoy playing rummy (classic card game), Sequence (tests our family telepathy), UpWords (a spelling/vocab game that I rock at), Cranium (an excellent thinking game...my fave, but it requires a lot of people), and Pictionary ("IT'S A GONDOLA!" "how the eff did you get that, Dad?" "No luck needed; I've got skill...and it looks kind of like an awkward banana").

11. Speaking of those crazy old people, I love my parents. They can be a little overbearing, a little controlling, and a little quick to "know exactly what we're talking about", but I still love them and would be so completely lost without them.

12. I listen to music while I write. Subsequently, song quotes will often turn up in my writings. You'll have to excuse me. I hope I don't get sued for copyright violations. It's usually classical music or really ambient, light listening, the kind of stuff I can do homework to. Like right now, I'm listening to French music. It's very relaxing. The French have such a beautiful, useless language.

13. Now that I mention it, I guess I should mention my linguistic abilities. I can speak Spanish/English, read in Spanish/English/French, write in Spanish/English, and understand Spanish/English/French when it's spoken. I can also read pretty much any basic derivatives from Spanish, such as Italian and Portuguese.

14. I took a year of Latin and Greek in the seventh grade. I LOVE Latin and Greek roots. They have proven to be more useful than anything else I've ever learned in English class. Infinite possibilities!

15. My favourite dessert is cheesecake. Just straight-up cheesecake. None of the sauce crap. I just want a good cheesecake, with the right softness and the right consistency. I don't like really hard graham crusts, either. It needs to be a soft shell with a creamy interior. (random transition from languages to desserts, but roll with it, okay?)

16. My favourite culinary "genre" is Chinese. I'm a HUGE fan of fried rice, which is so typical, but I'm always game for pork and beef, prepared any which way. Even though it's not Chinese, my favourite fried rice is from Thai Kitchen. Man, they know how to do a good rice.

17. I'm so near-sighted, it's a miracle my glasses even go up to the required power needed for me to see. My contacts are a power lower than my glasses, so I can't see as well with them. How sad. But I'm not blind! Thankfully.

18. Richard Gere (Pretty Woman) is a sexy old man. So is David Duchovny (The X-Files). And Harrison Ford (Star Wars). It doesn't matter how old or young you are, whether you're a guy or a gal, those three men are SO attractive, even in their advanced age.

19. But I generally date guys only a year or two older than me. They're generally more mature and more established in their habits and hobbies. Hopefully when I get to college, all the guys will be on a level playing field. But that might be too optimistic.

20. I used to want to be a lawyer, from the time I was in the 2nd grade until I was a freshman in high school. I credit my "social discovery" for changing my mind. I realised that I really love people, I love observing and noting and describing and prying and reading people. LOVE IT. People are so fascinating, how they're always shifting and changing. It never gets old. And they all FEEL! And THINK! It's amazing, the variety. So yeah, now I want to be a mental doctor, not a vampire.

21. I've dipped my toes into just about any sport you can name, but eventually, after years of dissatisfaction, I decided that I'm a big fan of racquetball. Mostly because something about being trapped in a giant, white room makes me think of a pscyhological torture game, but also, I find the echo to be appealing. It's like a dog chasing a fish around in a pool; you know you're limited, and you also know the fish is never that far away. In a racquetball court, you can almost always get to the ball in a few quick steps. And because it's a very bouncy ball in a very solid room, the game goes on long after you're gone.

22. I spend a fair amount of time on Facebook. It's a great way to keep in touch with people that you wouldn't see or talk to on a daily basis. I think all the little people in life really count. Each one is different, each one has a different purpose. It's soothing and stimulating for me to watch other peoples' lives play out. It's like a real-life soap opera/sitcom/romance/action flick. Brilliant plot twists.

23. I will NOT dance at any dance. I will slow dance, but that's about it. Otherwise, I'll have paramedics swarming me because the only dance I can do is the Seizure Dance!

25. I can't shave worth a crap. You could buy me the best razor, the best shaving cream, and enough time to make a diamond, but it wouldn't make a difference. I ALWAYS miss a spot. There's always a little patch that I have to go back over. I hate it. I am so incompetent. And gross.

26. As if I wasn't gross enough, I bite my nails. I've been biting them since I had teeth. It's just kind of an old habit. They never have a chance.

27. Old habits are EXTREMELY hard to break. My dearest friends will know what habits I'm referring to. Let's just say...the chances are slim that I'll trim the old habits away.

28. I wear a size 4 shoe. Do you know how impossible is it to find a size 4 anywhere? Kid sizes ended around 3, and woman sizes start around 6. I rarely find a good 4 or 5. Luckily, my mom, sister, and I all wear the same size, so that takes the total pair count to around 150 pairs of SHOES!

29. I bet I know more people than you. Well, maybe. All of my Facebook friends are my real friends in real life. I don't add people I haven't met. It's better, safer that way.

30. I can almost always identify what radio songs are rip-offs from older songs. Did you really think half the crap on today's radio is ORIGINAL? Ha! No way; the music was so much better the first time around.

31. I really don't like cake. Or cupcakes. Or brownies. I really don't like bready desserts. Nor do I like icing/frosting. It's gross. Pure gooey sugar. See #15.

32. I can put together a mean puzzle like it's nothing. I LOVE puzzles. If you're gonna get me anything for Christmas, get me a PUZZLE! I seal them and keep them forever, so I'm always needing new ones. I think they're totally fun and never boring. I know, I'm a loser. With way too much time.

33. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm totally self-deprecating? I put myself down a lot, but in reality, I don't know if I mean it or not. I mean, I suck at a lot of stuff, but I'm pretty good at some things, too. Okay, now I'm rambling.

34. I have a very abrasive sense of humour, and if you don't like it, you can go papercut your eyeballs.

35. But I'm actually a nice person. I'm not good at showing it AT ALL, but I try! I often come off as very lovey-dovey or very cruel. Just be patient with me; I'm learning how to be consistent.

36. I pay exceptional attention to detail. If you tell me anything, even once in passing, I almost always remember it. Stuff like addresses, preferences, and directions. It just sticks with me. The only things I'm bad at remembering are numbers. I won't often remember your house number, your phone number, or your year of birth. But I can remember most else. It's an odd talent of mine.

37. I don't like wearing socks. I hate 'em. I wear flip-flops almost every day, every season, so I find socks to be incredibly...restrictive. There's no freedom to be had! In fact, I wear flip-flops so much, I have very visible tan lines on my feet. It's kinda cute...and kinda sad.

38. I am fiercely independent. I HATE HATE HATE group projects. I really feel as though the only way it'll get done right is if I personally do it myself. The more people you work with, the more error-prone you are. Also, every time I have ever been group leader, my group has made above a 95% on the assignment. The ONE TIME I wasn't the leader, we got an 86%. See what a difference it makes? I MUST lead. It's an inborn desire for me. I am SO Type A.

39. I'm aggressive. The word "passive" doesn't even exist in my personality. I am never passive. I am always the aggressor, the pursuer, the go-getter, the chaser, the scorer, the winner, the competitor. I am not content to sit back and watch anything go by. Not people, not opportunities, not time.

40. Which, as you can imagine, makes me a worrisome individual. I worry about everything, even stuff that has nothing to do with me. In my worry, I furrow my brows, tug at my eyelashes, pop my fingers, pluck my arm hair, bite my nails. I'm a nasty-looking trainwreck disaster! I worry way too much, but I wouldn't consider myself a stressed out person. My parents thoroughly disagree. But what do they know?

41. I bruise easily. Which is bad, because I'm not very coordinated. I've got bruises on my knees, my hips, my elbows, my back, my ribs...you'd think I was abused or something. But nope, I'm just a clumsy fool.

42. If I seem to ask direct, focused questions on one particular topic, it's probably because of a boy. For example, if I ask questions like "Have you ever wakeboarded? Did you enjoy it? Would you recommend it? How hard is it? Do you know anybody else who wakeboards? Would you consider yourself a fanatic?", then it's almost certainly because I like a boy who wakeboards. Why else would I be so interested in something so inconsequential?

43. Naturally, I'm one of those annoying people who MUST KNOW EVERYTHING. I ask way too many questions, read way too many Wikipedia articles, and familiarise myself with too many different subjects. I'm insane. Of course, I know it's impossible to know everything, but the more, the better. I can have a fluent conversation with just about anybody about at least one thing. It's a nifty skill to have.

44. I can quote Zoolander word for word. From memory. I've seen it upwards of 50 times. It is definitely my favourite movie. And yes, I know it's ridiculously stupid. But I love it. I like stupid things.

45. I prefer taking left turns as opposed to right turns. I'm always afraid of hitting the curb on right turns, but with left turns, you have a lot of freedom to go faster, turn sharper, whatever. It's liberating.

46. I have astigmatism. This means I have depth perception problems because of the shape of my retina (among other factors). This, combined with my nearsightedness and general ignorance, resulted in me ripping the right sideview mirror off of my car after backing out too close to the garage wall. I cried for an hour straight, after which my then-boyfriend brought me a milkshake to make me feel better. I should rip my mirrors off more often.

47. But I swear I'm not a bad driver. I switch lanes like Michael Jackson cuts a rug, and I love accelerating to get onto the highway, but that's about all the reckless I am.

48. This is probably the most important thing in this entry: I HATE KIDS. Little, ankle-biting heathens. Hate 'em. They're smelly, they're expensive, they're loud, they're annoying, they're attention-stealers, they're pudgy, they're uncoordinated, they're unintelligent, and ALL THEY DO IS POOP. I hate kids. They're basically useless and irritating until they hit puberty, and then they get a little more interesting, a little smarter, a little more realistic. I love teens. Hate kids. Always have. The most I would be willing to have is one, and it'd better be a boy, or I quit life. I would consider adopting, of course, but even then, I'd adopt a preteen, thereby skipping the "pooping excessively" stage of life.

49. I think drinking is stupid. Of course, I do enjoy a nice Cabernet Sauvignon (what a cool name for a red wine...only tasted it once, sadly), and I'll reluctantly take a glass of wine (my dad always buys this excellent Riesling...the only white wine I can tolerate) or champagne (wedding champagne is excellent...so crisp and fresh), but really, beer and other hard liquors are just a waste of money. I have very little respect for people who drink because they feel they have to in order to socially facilitate themselves. They are incredibly weak-minded. Yes. Even my own mother.

50. Obviously, I speak the blunt, solid truth without remorse. It's one of my...less pleasant qualities. But I find the truth to be extremely necessary. If we all just told the truth more often, well, more of us would be dead, but the rest of us would be exceptionally progressive.

I'm sure there will be more to come after this post. I can't resist blabbing about my pathetic life to whoever will listen. Of course, nobody really cares, except me, and even then,

I'm losing interest in myself.

habitual.

I mentioned in my very first post that I would most often default to writing about myself, since I think I'm only THE SECOND GREATEST THING TO EVER WALK THE PLANET (bested only by the mighty tyrannosaurus rex, and you just can't beat that).

I don't actually think that way about myself, but I'd venture to say that I'm mildly interesting?

In any case, let me walk you through a summer day in the life of, well, me.

6:15 - Wake up involuntarily. I'm a creature of habit.
6:20 - Alarm goes off. Usually a song by U2.
6:35 - After three songs by U2 ("Where the Streets Have No Name", "Sunday Bloody Sunday", and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"), haul my lazy butt out of bed. Songs last approximately 15 minutes...an adequate snooze.

6:40 - After sleepily deliberating what to wear for the day, make my way slowly to the shower. Some people have snidely asked me before if I pick out my clothes in the dark. The answer is, well, YES. What did you expect? A personal dresser?

6:41 - Tune radio to 107.9 to catch the weather. I know, I know, it's old people music, from our parents' generation, but A LITTLE DISCO NEVER HURT ANYBODY. A day started without listening to Guy and Jennifer in the morning is a BAD DAY. Also, I use the bathroom before showering. Muy importante.

6:43 - Step into the shower after undressing and placing the day's clothes in a convenient, chronological order that facilitates quick dressing.
6:45 - Enjoy two minutes of hot water, then begin washing body. Wash everything twice.
6:51 - Wash face, first with exfoliating scrub, then with cleansing gel. I dunno know why I bother; I break out from stress anyway.
6:54 - Apply shampoo to hair. Massage scalp for the duration of one song, usually an Elton John song by this time.
6:57 - Rinse shampoo out.
6:58 - Apply conditioner. Leave in for the duration of usually a commercial break.
7:00 - Step out of shower, squeaky clean and freezing cold. You know how some people manage to exit the shower and look all flushed and refreshed? Not me. I look like a sick, shaking rat. There is NO rejuvenation going on. Only shivering.

7:02 - Dress after completely drying off, with a large towel for the body and a small towel for the hair. Dress in such order: unmentionables (underwear/bra...why'd I just mention them if they're supposed to be unmentionable?), pants, and undershirt (overshirt comes after brushing teeth, so as to avoid errant toothpaste flecks).

7:03 - Comb through hair, drying with towel as I go. Watch the ends of my fried hair snap off.
7:04 - Dry hair with large bristle brush. The one with the broken handle. Oh the disadvantages of having a little sister. Hmmm.
7:10 - Begin parting and straightening hair with comb and small plastic-bristled brush to prevent breakage. Usually fail and snap off half of hair anyway. I lose a lot of hair in one day. Usually finish in time to listen to the Celebrity Scoop without having to hear my hair crackle as I straighten it.

7:20 - Brush teeth for the duration of one song, usually a Michael Buble song if Jennifer's in a good mood.

7:23 - Put on main shirt/blouse/top, apply deodorant shortly after. Contemplate eating breakfast. Cereal never sounds appealing that early in the morning. Maybe a bagel...but we never have bagels. Disappointing.
7:24 - Deliberate the wearing of jewelry and what shoes to wear. I'm a big fan of both, but I rarely wear a lot of jewelry, and I only wear a few of my 40 pairs of shoes. It's excessive...excessively ridiculous!

7:26 - Decide to skip breakfast and get on Facebook instead. Harass the snot out of some online friends. Regret this later, around 9:45.

7:45 - Realise I'm probably going to be late for work. Rush out the door after mixing a quick water with a Propel packet. This will serve as breakfast. Flavoured water. Yum.

8:00 - Clock in.
4:00 - Clock out.

4:12 - Use the bathroom immediately after getting home. Get back on Facebook. Talk to mom about my day. Work on any projects I've got going (puzzles, drawings, music, essays, that sort of nonsense). Play a computer game, possibly some Plants vs. Zombies, if I'm in a bad mood. I'll write if I'm in a good mood. And maybe I'll eat. Not all in that order. The only thing I do at the same time every day is go to bathroom. My mom knows to get out of my way until I've had time to go. I'm cranky when I have to go. And I only pee twice a day, so you'd think I could get some respect during the two times I do need relief.

5:15 - Dad gets home. I say hi and we hug. Always.

6:00 - Dinner, usually.

6:45 - Back down to the Bat Cave (computer nook in the concrete part of our basement), unless my family decides to watch House or play cards/games together. It happens sometimes. Or we'll rent a movie. Usually a comedy.

8:30 - Start feeling tired.
9:00 - Really tired.
9:30 - Start attempting to rip myself out of the Bat Cave.
9:59 - See that it's almost 10. Give up and go two floors up to my bedroom.

10:02 - Put on pajamas. Shorts with a t-shirt. Very sexy, I know...NOT.
10:03 - Brush teeth and put in retainer (sometimes). Put on the most essential beauty item ever invented by man: CHAPSTICK (my only beauty product, sadly).

10:06 - Turn on the fan, turn on my bedlamp, turn off the main lights, climb up into bed. Usually slip going up a step. This usually hurts. A lot. I'm always bruised!

10:08 - Start reading.
12:30 - Finally put down the book and go to sleep.



Yeah. I told you I was a creature of habit. My days are, for the most part, pretty organised. They tend to revolve around work and meals, and occasionally, sleep. That's just my summer schedule so far. School is different. I tend to go to sleep a little earlier (or a lot later, depending on if I have a lot of homework), and I'll go out more with friends. There's usually less computer time during the school year. I also usually throw in more social time during the school year.

I'm early to rise, and late to retire. I've been known to take phone calls and texts in the shower, too. I know, pretty stupid, but hey, I'm young. That's not really an excuse, but that's what I like to tell myself to make myself feel better about taking mindless, potentially expensive risks.

If anybody ever feels like tearing my routine apart, please do. I love surprises like phone calls from old friends, texts from travellers, and mail from new people (NOT from colleges and credit cards...that stuff sucks). The easiest way to make me happy is to come over announced. Ballsy, but worth it! I really like people. The more people in my day, the better! I love extensive communication. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone else is preoccupied doing whatever it is they do during the day, and I'm left to socially fend for myself.

But don't feel sorry for me;
That's what Facebook's for!

purposeful.

After a series of failed blog attempts, I have decided to finally COMMIT...goodness knows I have commitment issues. The sweet thing is, this blog won't abandon me, right? RIGHT? Of course, now that I said that, the Web is going to collapse, sending me back to pen and paper (which I wouldn't mind), and then I'll have to revert to tablet and chisel when the world's supply of trees and dye runs out. Operating with limited resources sounds like fun right now, actually. Whatever happened to quills and ink pots and parchment? I mean really. Everything today is TOO convenient.

Sorry. I digress.

I guess I should begin the kickoff of this blog with a brief description of what I wish to achieve with it and a short summary of why I started it. Break out the celebratory champagne, because from here on out, it's going to be an interesting ride.

Basically, I want this to be a space where I can rant freely about whatever the devil I please. For a better description, check the light blue tag line that runs across the top of the page. Also, this will be a more open forum in which I can post my essays. I don't really consider myself to be all that great an essayist (this blog post is not indicative of my hidden talent!), but that's the beauty of being able to write every day: I'll get better. I think this blog will be beneficial because it'll give me a quick place where I can go to flex my writing muscles (physical and mental). Like right now. I'm doing some serious flexing.

Now, I can't guarantee that what I write will always be interesting, or serious, or intelligent, or sympathetic. More often than not, I'll probably write about myself (how un-fascinating) and my sordid affairs. Since I know myself better than anybody else, I will most likely use "me" as a default topic. At least that way, I'll never run out of things to write about!

So allow me in advance to write about stupid, boring, funny, and downright retarded things. I'm not here to step on anyone's toes or challenge anyone's beliefs, I'm just here to satisfy my craving for creation. Writing's one of the only things that can satisfy that desire. Photography and sketching are the only other two ways I enjoy fulfilling my artistic urges. Maybe I'll share some of those works with you, too, eventually. For now, though, let's delight in the simple written word.

Forgive me, also, for any errors in punctuation, capitalisation, vocabulary, and spelling that can and inevitably will occur. Nothing's perfect, myself included! Oh, and just a forewarning: I really really really hate contractions, but sometimes, in the interest of time or context, I'll use them fluidly. I know they are SO unremarkable and can be distracting or too conversational, but if they get the job done, I'll take 'em.

I believe this concludes my first post. It feels so un-epic. Like a bad disclaimer that nulls the possibility of anything good coming from the deal. What a cheap rip-off. Sorry?