An Unofficial Guide to the Teenage Years

It's BaAAAcccKKKKkkkkk....

2011-03-27T21:21:00.001-07:00

(My apologies for the tacky shot of me in the background)

Day 02 - A picture of you and the person you have been close with for the longest

2011-01-31T14:07:00.000-08:00

My siblings. I love them! I've known them all my life, and they are my favorite people in the whole world. I miss them when they're not around, and I'm the happiest when they are. I wouldn't change them for the world!

Day 1: A picture of yourself with 15 facts

2011-01-30T16:01:00.000-08:00

As of today, there are exactly 126 days until my birthday.
I hate running, but I loved cross country and I miss it a lot.
(see above picture) when I was younger, people used to call me Shirley Temple :)
I like to read. A lot.
Studying people is fascinating to me. How they interact, how their minds work.... the whole deal.
I have never broken a bone.
I almost had to have heart surgery when I was a baby.
I've only been hospitalized once, and that was when I was diagnosed with diabetes.
Although I've only been hospitalized once, I have over four doctors/medical professionals that I see quite often.
Hearing about broken bones and all that stuff grosses me out, so I could never be a doctor.
I think being a doctor would be amazing though :)
I should be doing my homework now.
learning about serial killers and the holocaust are both very fascinating to me.
If you call me blonde, I will shoot you. (not really, but still)
I have an irrational fear of touching creepy pictures of animals on the pages of books.

30 Days of Pictures

2011-01-30T15:56:00.000-08:00

So...... someone I was at EFY with had this on her Facebook. 30 days of photos; fun beans, huh? Starting today I will (try to) post a picture every day and see how things go. I figure that I don't use my blog for much else, so why not?

Day 01 - A picture of yourself with fifteen facts.
Day 02 - A picture of you and the person you have been close with for the longest.
Day 03 - A picture of the cast from your favorite show.
Day 04 - A picture of your day.
Day 05 - A picture of your favorite memory.
Day 06 - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.
Day 07 - A picture of your most treasured item.
Day 08 - A picture that makes you laugh.
Day 09 - A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.
Day 10 - A picture of the person you do the most messed up things with.
Day 11 - A picture of something you hate.
Day 12 - A picture of something you love.
Day 13 - A picture of your favorite band or artist.
Day 14 - A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without.
Day 15 - A picture of something you want to do before you die.
Day 16 - A picture of someone who inspires you.
Day 17 - A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently.
Day 18 - A picture of your biggest insecurity.
Day 19 - A picture of you when you were little.
Day 20 - A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel.
Day 21 - A picture of something you wish you could forget.
Day 22 - A picture of something you wish you were better at.
Day 23 - A picture of your favorite book.
Day 24 - A picture of something you wish you could change.
Day 25 - A picture of your day.
Day 26 - A picture of something that means a lot to you.
Day 27 - A picture of yourself and a family member.
Day 28 - A picture of something you're afraid of.
Day 29 - A picture that can always make you smile.
Day 30 - A picture of someone you miss.

2011-01-10T19:56:00.000-08:00

I sing in the shower like nobody's business.

I often stay up late watching chick flicks because I don't want anyone to see me cry at the sappy parts.

I have a random love for nuts. Last year I was addicted to peanuts, and now I am addicted to almonds--not the roasted, sugary carnival kinds--straight almonds.

I sometimes fantasize that I am a famous dancer, which could never be possible because:

a) I took dance for two years when I was REALLY little

b) I am not flexible

c) I have absolutely NO rhythm whatsoever

and,

d) I am a member of the Farmer family

I also fantasize about being Harry Potter and/or being at Hogwarts. Although, if I was at Hogwarts I would be a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor.

I have an insane fear of heights and I hate it. I've always wanted to have a tree house (much less climb up into one), but every time I start climbing the ladder to one, I start to shake so violently it's almost as if I'm having a seizure.

I am O.C.D. about grades. I don't just want to get good grades; it's as if I have to. This may make me sound all stuck up and goody-goody, but I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't good at school. I've always been the nerdy one!

I've got my life planned out for me: I'm going to marry an insanely rich guy and go travel the world/live in England. Although, if I did live in England, I wouldn't want to live in a mansion even if my husband was rich. I would live in one of those quaint English cottages.

I love to volunteer. My favorite thing about having diabetes is that there seems to be more opportunities for me to volunteer at diabetes-related activities and such. The sad thing is, I've had conflicts the past year or so and haven't been able to do it.

I love classical music. I would never ever listen to it on my iPod, but I absolutely go giddy if it is played on the piano. It's so beautiful.

I also love rap, but mostly just Eminem.

On this little music kick, I like almost every kind of musical genre, except opera. Give me some country: love it. Rap: sweet. Pop: Pretty good (now, if you were to make me listen to JB or Smiley Miley Cyrus, that's a whole different story). Indie: awesome! Rock: pretty cool. Just no opera, thank you very much.

My favorite SNL actor is Kristen Wiig, and if you haven't seen any of her videos, go here and watch some of her videos.These aren't all of the skits she's been in, so if you like her, go searching for more!

Oh, speaking of great videos, if you haven't seen this music video, please do. I think it's hilarious, but maybe that's just me.

That's a little bit about me. Marissa Ann Farmer. Take it or leave it, it's what makes me me, what makes me happy, and I don't change for nobody.

2011-01-09T11:40:00.000-08:00

Branded

I float through a sea of nameless faces,

People I should know but don’t.

They appraise me with their all-knowing gaze,

Deciding my social status with a single glance,

Am I a nerd?

A band geek?

A nobody?

A freak?

Where I live, these labels are determined for you,

Not based on who you are,

But based on how you dress,

Your body type,

And what you look like.

This is why I shuffle along, day after day,

And wonder,

What name is branded onto my forehead?

This week in my life....

2010-09-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

This week has been a really tough one on me, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes when I have trials I question why they happen to me, or why I seem to feel so alone when they do. Then Brother Young said something in seminary (yeah, I know, good little church girl here) that really hit me. He said that sometimes when we go through rough times we expect the Lord to show his love for us in a certain way, and then when he does help and comfort us, we don't realize it because we're expecting this totally different thing to happen. I know that I don't expect to receive a vision or anything telling me it'll be ok, but sometimes I just get it into my mind that the Lord will answer my plea in a certain way, and then I feel even worse when it doesn't happen that way. Sometimes I even feel like giving up. This week was kind of like that. My diabetes freaked out on me during school, and I felt so sad because I didn't want to have everyone freaking out over me. I don't want to be the person that everyone worries about all the time, I'm more of the person who is more likely to be concerned for others. But thinking back over that day, I realize that what happened could've happened for multiple reasons. Maybe someone else had to learn something from that experience, but more likely I needed to. I got caught up in my own little world and failed to realize how wonderful my friends really are. Each of them (you!) are like gods already, you're always there for anyone who needs help or even just a shoulder to cry on. You guys are amazing! I'm so blessed to be here and to know all of you wonderful people. I don't even know if any of you will read this, but I just want you guys to know how much I love and appreciate you all. I know that how you helped me this past week, and how you always help me when things are tough, are part of the way that God shows he cares for me. Thank you for caring for me, and I hope I can be even half as good of a friend to you as you always are to me.

2010-09-25T17:55:00.000-07:00

Pen on paper,

The words spill out on the page,

I'm helpless-

Helpless to stop them,

They scream the truth.

Pen on paper,

My thoughts wrestling in my mind,

Each needing to be the one written down,

Although almost all would hurt me,

Or hurt someone else.

Pen on paper,

My life is written out

In three simple words,

Spoken, or unspoken,

I know they're true.

Pen on paper,

I close my fist,

Sweep the pages to the side,

I tell myself that what I've written isn't right,

Maybe it was at one time,

But not anymore.

Things have changed.

But have they really?

Pen on paper,

I must find myself again,

Cling to the thoughts,

Those thoughts which kept me going for so long,

I can't think,

I must write.

Pen on paper,

Scratching across the surface,

Messily running through the lines,

My hand flying across the page

As I write this letter,

This truth I cannot deny,

Written by

Pen on paper.

I Swear I'm Perfectly Normal...

2010-09-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

This semester I'm taking creative writing, and right now we're in our poetry unit. This was the last poem I wrote-- Tell me what you think about it! :)

Waves envelop me

As I wade into the water.

Colors, more than one would imagine

Swirl around me as I sink slowly.

Memories flash through my mind,

My first kiss,

My last argument,

Holding my baby sister in my arms.

I feel nothing anymore,

No pain, no joy,

Only emptiness,

As slowly, my world fades to black.

2010-06-28T16:36:00.000-07:00

The rain is falling,

Pitter, patter, on the ground.

Dark clouds loom overhead,

The sound of thunder pounds in the distance.

And where am I?

I'm not hiding from this wet monster,

Nor watching it safely from the comfort of my house,

I'm not walking down the street guarded by a black umbrella,

No, I'm outside, barefoot and free,

Twirling around, my face turned towards heaven,

The music of this storm plays on in my head,

As I direct the orchestra of clouds with my hands.

"Are you crazy?!" some might say, as they pass me on the street,

"Perhaps," is my sly reply.

As the drops of water coat my skin,

And the danger of lightning is imminent,

I ponder their words.

Were they right? I don't know,

but I don't care what they think,

They may laugh, they may scorn,

But I am strong, I can make it through,

Because....

"life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass it's about learning to dance in the rain."

Who Am I?

2010-06-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

This past year I've had some struggles with knowing who I am.

I never thought I'd have that kind of problem, yet I did.

I tried to be who YOU wanted me to be, someone who YOU would like.

It doesn't work that way.

I lost myself this year.

I justified what I was doing because of the popularity I was gaining.

People actually noticed my existence! And not just because they needed help on homework.

I finally felt like my opinion mattered to someone-that I mattered to someone.

And I thought you had the same feelings I did, the same beliefs on life.

Then when I found out, I acted like nothing was different-like it didn't bother me that you had changed.

I was changing too, I reasoned.

You either sink or swim in this world, sink or swim.

What I didn't know was that I was sinking.

I don't blame you for dragging me down, you didn't.

It was my pride that did it-my need for social acceptance.

You are who you are, and I know that I can't change that fact.

But then, I said something that shocked me.

Had I really changed that much, that I would agree to something like that?

Who was this person saying these words?!

Where had I gone?

For the next few weeks I hid in the dark corners of my mind.

What had I done?

The guilt was eating me.

I felt so wrong, so empty, so lost.

I don't really think that. That wasn't me.

If that wasn't me, then who am I?

It finally came to me. I am:

Marissa Farmer

Member of the

Church of Jesus

Christ of Latter-

Day Saints.

And I'm proud of it.

p.s. the title of this post makes me think of one of the greatest musicals of all time- Les Miserables, and this song. If you haven't heard the music from this musical, I strongly recommend it! It's a beautiful, powerful story.

2010-06-16T20:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when life's a little crazy, all you need is just to sit with your brother in a car at 9:30 at night, playing air guitar (and drums) to Hoobastank.

p.s. to anyone who actually READS my blog, sorry. As I said above, life's been kinda crazy for me. I'll try to make time to blog soon!

2010-05-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

Smile...

And see what happens!

The Swings

2010-05-12T19:42:00.000-07:00

I see her sitting there, all alone in the park.

The swing she's perched on is gently rocking back and forth. Her head hangs low, her shoulders slumped, and although her back is to me I know that she's been crying.

I know because I've been there. I was once that girl on the swing set, no one to talk to, drowning in my sorrows. I've been there before. We all have.

As I watch her I think to myself, "Does she know? Does she know how beautiful she is?" I wish I could reach out and envelop her with a hug, and tell her that eventually it will be okay.

The struggles at school.

The trouble at home.

The lack of self-worth.

The sadness.

The loneliness.

The pain.

She doesn't have to deal with this forever (no one does).

I can tell what she's thinking, the things she's contemplating that will, in her mind, make it better.

They won't.

"You're beautiful," I whisper into the wind, hoping she might hear me, "Inside and out. You don't have to do this to yourself."

I think of the Savior, and what he did for each of us, how he suffered all of our pains. No matter what we've done, he still loves us. He wants us to return to live with him someday, and to live a good life before then. He wouldn't want that girl to be swinging alone in the park, lost in her pain. He wants us all to be happy.

As these thoughts race through my mind, I hear the creak of rusty swings that have been neglected far too long. I notice that the girl is swinging higher and higher now, her head raised, pumping her legs with vigor.

Why did she suddenly seem more happy?

Then I noticed a stranger swinging in the swing next to her. His entire countenance seemed to be glowing, and from across the park where I stood, I could feel a sense of love coming from him. Impressed in my mind were the words I had read only hours before in seminary,

"In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." (John 16:33).

I smiled to myself; everything would be okay.

Signs, part 5 (the last one!)

2010-05-09T22:07:00.000-07:00

Signs can tell you a lot. They can tell you what to do at an intersection, how to behave in an area frequented by animals, or cautions for your safety. Signs are seen on the front of buildings, or plastered to a billboard. They can tell you where are, or where you're going. Most importantly, signs can tell a story. These signs tell my story. Some of them are comical, some romantic, some just normal every day signs, but all of them have been a part of my life-my story.

Signs, part 4

2010-05-09T22:03:00.001-07:00

Signs, part. 3

2010-05-09T21:56:00.001-07:00

Signs, part 2

2010-05-09T21:40:00.001-07:00

Signs, part 1

2010-05-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

Now what's your story?

Gone Fishin' (to Europe)

2010-04-23T06:32:00.001-07:00

Be back soon!

Memories

2010-04-17T17:23:00.001-07:00

I'm lying in the middle of a field, my arms spreadeagled out around me. The warm spring sun washes over me. Clouds pass overhead but I do not notice because my eyes are closed tight. I am thinking, dreaming, being. This is where I am the happiest. No expectations, no judging eyes staring at me. Nothing but the colors swimming on the inside of my eyes. I bask in all my good memories as I hide away the bad ones for just a few hours. A birthday party. An afternoon with friends. A family reunion. These are the times that I dwell on-only the positive. Finally, even for that brief time, I feel... happy.

This is Sort of a Sad Tale (a.k.a. I have no life on Friday nights...)

2010-04-16T19:05:00.000-07:00

This is the rough draft to a story I've been working on. Let me know what you think! (And any advice you'd have for me would be welcome too) :) Enjoy:

"I just got off the phone with the doctor. Your father, he's...gone."

Those words sounded like a broken record in my mind for the next month as funeral arrangements were made, the will was read and followed, and all the stuff in his apartment was boxed up. In fact, that is exactly what I was doing when my mother first suggested a trip to the doctor.

"Honey," she explained, "You haven't eaten a solid meal in weeks! You shut yourself in here all day, and you only leave if it's absolutely necessary. I really think we should go see someone."

"You mean, like a shrink?" I asked quietly as I slid the packaging tape across the opening of the cardboard container holding the last of my dad's vast book collection.

"A grief counselor. Many people go to one when they lose someone close to them. It's totally normal!"

As always, my mother sounded like a peppy high school cheerleader. Had I been a stranger meeting her for the first time, I never would have believed that her ex-husband had died three weeks prior, let alone that she had once had a husband. Her bleached-blonde hair and salon tanned skin would be right at home with the popular girls at my high school. It had been 17 years since she had graduated from the same school, yet I could tell she would give her $40 fluorescent fake nails and all of the Botox injections she had ever received to be back walking the halls of Steelecreek High.

At 35, my mother was about as mature as Katy Perry, and probably a little more naive than Miley Cyrus. I suppose that was partially due to the fact that she hadn't had much time to learn about the real world after leaving the public school system. She had married her high school sweetheart (and the captain of the football team), Jordan McDaniels, about four months after graduation. Nine months later, they got me; and two years after that, my mother filed for divorce.

Whenever I asked her why she had ended her relationship with my father, she always told me it was because her expectations of marriage had been too high, and she found that she preferred the single life. Mom went on a lot of dates throughout my childhood and teenage years, and she always left me with my dad, who lived in the exact apartment where I had resided for my first two years of existence. Even though I resented my mother for ditching me to go out with her boyfriends, these times spent with my dad became times to look forward to. We played endless rounds of games like 'Sorry!' and 'UNO', went out for ice cream at the local Dairy Queen, tossed a football around at a nearby park, and watched practically any (and every) type of movie. These little 'dates' with my dad were the most special because I got to learn a lot about who Jordan McDaniels really was.

I learned that he loved to cook, and that he had always dreamed of going to culinary school and becoming a chef. He hadn't, however, because my grandparents didn't believe that cooking food was a respectable profession. Instead, he was stuck working at an insurance company and trying all his new food creations out on me. I also learned that he had loved my mother since they had started high school, and that even though she despised him and wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, he still loved and cared for her.

And when I was twelve, I learned that my dad had cancer.

"Well, what do you think, kiddo? I think that talking to someone like this will help you move on a lot easier."

My mother's words brought me back to reality, "I'm fine," I mumbled, frustrated at her persistence.

"No, sweetie, you are not," she whispered, reaching out to move a stray curl from where it had fallen over my eyes. I turned my head, willing her to get the message that I didn't need anything from her, and that I definitely didn't want anything. Her gaze was now pleading as she looked at me, "I made us an appointment with Dr. Baker tomorrow at three. I would really like you to come with me."

"Whatever," I replied, ending the conversation.

She turned and started to leave the room, "Okay Alex," she sighed, looking, for a moment, as if she were ten years older, "Call me when you're done here and I'll come pick you up."

Without waiting for a response from me, she swept from the room. I let out my breath that I had been subconsciously holding for who knows how long. I ran my hands through my dark brown locks as the first sob caught in my throat. Soon the tears came pouring down my cheeks, as they had on so many other afternoons such as this. I had given up trying to hold them back long ago, and now let them freely come. That is, until I spotted a tiny box in the corner of an otherwise empty shelf that I must have overlooked before.

I stood and wiped my eyes, now red and puffy from crying, on my shirtsleeve. Making my way through the stacks of boxes and other paraphernalia, I moved almost as if I was in a trance towards the bookshelf. I looked down at the small box and saw that my name was on it, written in my dad's messy scrawl. I had no clue how I could have possibly overlooked it before, but all that was forgotten as I lifted the lid. Inside the container was a chain holding on it a small key and a tag stating that the key belonged to a bank located just a few short blocks away. I put the key in my jacket pocket and quickly walked out of the apartment.

*****

The bank employee led me to a room filled with safety deposit boxes of all different sizes. He took the key from me and opened a medium-sized box, removing the contents. He handed to me two leather bound journals and a slip of paper which read:

These are for you should you want them.

I love you so much Alex!

Love,

Dad

Thanking the employee, I quickly exited the bank and made my way to a nearby deserted park, with its plastic playground faded and run-down. I sat down at the bottom of the large yellow twisty slide and opened the journal marked with a number one in black ink. The first page read:

July 12, 1992

Dear Alex,

I witnessed a miracle today. That miracle was you. I never thought I could love someone so much, yet when I first saw your beautiful face looking up at me I knew I was hooked. Your tiny fingers squeezed my pinky so tightly as I held you in my arms. You are already so strong, Alex! Soon I realized that I couldn't afford to forget this day-or any moment of your life. I walked down to the hospital gift shop and bought this journal in which I am now writing. Not only am I writing this for my own sake, but for you also, so that one day, somewhere down the road, you will read this and smile, knowing that I-your father-love you more than I have ever loved anyone. Never, ever forget that.

Love,

Dad

I shut the book and leaned back against the cool slide, closing my eyes. For the first time since my mom had shared with me the painful news of my father's death from cancer, I felt as if I could breathe again. A weight had been lifted from off my chest that I didn't even realize had been there. Even though it still hurt, and even though there was now a hole in my heart that I knew could never be filled again, I could sense that things would get better. My dad was not completely gone from me-I still had his memories.

I slid my cell phone from the front pocket of my whitewashed jeans, and pressed number three on speed dial. I could tell she had been waiting for my call because she picked up after only the first ring:

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom, I'm ready now. Do you think you could come pick me up?"

Things wouldn't be perfect between us, not by a long shot. I realized then, though, that you never truly know what you've lost until it's gone, and that you should fix any mistakes you've made, and let those you care about know how you feel, because you never know how long you have left.

"Oh, and Mom? I love you."

It's Almost Time....

2010-04-12T20:12:00.000-07:00

The sights...

The smells...

The sounds...

My dream for so long is soon to be realized.

Soon, this photograph of the Eiffel Tower will not just be a picture off the internet,

But a real image ingrained in my memory.

I love to travel.

Saint Louis

New York City

Florida

Anywhere. Anywhere... Different.

One of the biggest things I will make sure of when I get married is that my husband likes to travel.

At the very least he better be OK with being dragged around to various places around the world.

Because we WILL be traveling.

And finally, in almost no time at all,

my dreams will begin to come

True.

The Festival of Colors

2010-03-28T19:43:00.001-07:00

Sorry the picture is sideways. And errr... slightly creepy. But that's me! All covered in a TON of cornstarchy colory stuff. Personally, I think I look AWESOME. haha. but that's just me.

For those of you readers who are unrelated to me and do not know, this is my brother. Tadd. He's a history teacher and I think this picture depicts how wise he is. Can't you just see the years of knowledge pouring out from his soul through his eyes?? Random, I know, but I love this picture :) And I love you Tadd!

we were COVERED in colors! I have found colors everywhere, from my ears to underneath my toenails, from my nose to my back...from my... yeah, well, you get the picture. It was EVERYWHERE.

I don't know exactly why I love this picture, but I do. There was SO much junk all over the ground, I feel so bad for those people who had to clean up the place after everyone left...

When Tadd and I were driving down there we both saw this and immediately knew that our day would not be fulfilled if I did not get a picture of it. We then spent the next 15 minutes turning around and going back in order for me to get this shot. I'm not really sure why I find it so hilarious (perhaps because my NAME is Marissa), yet I do. You don't think it's funny? Well, that's just too bad. That's why this is my blog :)

2010-03-12T08:19:00.000-08:00

Friendship is the cooperative and supportive relationship between two or more people. In this sense, the term connotes a relationship which involves mutual knowledge, esteem, affection, and respect along with a degree of rendering service to friends in times of need or crisis.

Got friends?

2010-03-10T19:48:00.000-08:00

Sometimes all you need is to change into some sweats, curl up in a blanket, turn some music on, and read a good book. Sometimes that makes all the difference in the world :)

Do you ever have one of those days??

2010-02-24T14:47:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have one of those days (or weeks) where you go about your day putting on a happy face for everyone, when inside you're screaming? When it seems like you're trapped in a sound proof box, where no matter how hard you pound on the walls or how loud you scream, no one notices you're hurting? Those times when you feel so empty that you search through all your old notes and ticket stubs and fill yourself up with the memories? When every time you see your old friends walking down the halls at school, you wonder what you could've done wrong to end your friendship? Or watching those who are your friends now, and wondering how long it'll take for them to forget about you? Those days when you don't want to reply with the traditional "I'm fine" when someone asks how you're doing, yet you still do? Do you ever have one of those days? I do.

Meg

2010-02-14T19:23:00.000-08:00

It was the summer of 1982 when everything changed. I remember sitting out on my granddaddy’s porch in my favorite tank top and cut-offs, sipping lemonade and watching the sun set over the distant horizon. My granddaddy would sit next to me in his wicker rocking chair, not talking much, just gazing into collage of colors in the sky. This is how every evening went, sitting on his white wrap-around porch which was faded from too many years of neglect. Momma said that when Gramma was still alive the porch always had a fresh coat of paint, just like the rest of the house. Now it was only a glimpse of how beautiful the house had been. The green shutters that outlined the big, clear glass windows were starting to fall off their hinges and the paint was rusting. The porch steps were completely destroyed so that you had to leap all the way up to the porch from 2 feet down. The inside of his house wasn’t much better.

The only things on Granddaddy’s property that didn’t show signs of their age were the sweet birch trees that grew all over the property. Granddad would always make sure they were watered and cared for properly, and sometimes he’d let me help him. I always wondered why he’d take so much care of the trees and not his house, but I had only asked him about it once. When I asked him, Granddaddy just looked over at me with his wise blue eyes and said, “Now Meg, these trees are part of the living folk, like you or me. We’re just helping them stay that way.”

It was that year when Granddaddy got diagnosed with lung cancer. He didn’t like going to the hospital much so they didn’t find it until he collapsed in the kitchen when he and Aunt Bee were having a talk one afternoon. Aunt Bee called 911 and they rushed him to the hospital where they discovered that he had a brain tumor. They immediately started treatment though the doctor told my momma there wasn’t much hope of his living, seeing as the treatment was so rigorous and he was so old. The doctor also said that if Granddaddy came home after his first round of treatments, he’d need somebody there to look after him. Momma and I talked about it a lot and decided that we’d move into his house from our own beat up apartment building. We were the only ones who could, after all. Uncle Carl was in law school up north, and Aunt Bee had 6 children to look after, whereas all Momma had was me. It wasn’t too different to actually live in Granddad’s house. After all, we spent most of our time there already.

The only strange thing was Granddad. A lot of the time he wasn’t at home and when he was there, all he did was sit in his bed watching the brand new TV my Momma bought him and sleeping. It scared me how different he seemed. His face looked older, more vacant, and he was a lot quieter. We never sat out on the porch and watched the sunset anymore. He would just sleep. Sometimes I’d sit outside his bedroom door and watch him, how much more frail he looked. And thin, he was way too thin. And when he would get sick and hurt a lot I would be hurting with him. I would never cry though. I needed to be strong for Momma since this was her weakest time.

A few months after the treatment begin Momma brought Granddaddy home as usual, but something was different. They were standing up a little taller and my momma’s face shone as she grinned and said, “Hey baby, guess what? Granddaddy’s in remission.”

That night we had a celebration. Remission meant that Granddaddy had won his battle with cancer, at least for now. We dressed up in our best things and went out and bought a pint of ice cream to share. We turned on the radio and danced around in our living singing at the top of our lungs until we collapsed in a heap on the floor because we were so tired. When the sun set all three of us went out to watch it. And in my 9 year old mind this was the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. Even now I can picture it as it was on that on that evening. We sat side by side on the porch swing, my head in Momma’s lap and my hand clasped in Granddaddy’s. I never wanted this night to end; I wanted it to go on forever.

For the next 2 months everything seemed brighter and more upbeat. Momma and I cleaned Granddaddy’s house and even put a fresh coat of paint on the outside. All three of us would go to the park at least once a week and I would play on the playground while they would watch me. They’d clap when I did a particularly hard trick, hold me up when I couldn’t reach the monkey bars all the way, and comfort me when I fell down. We'd go everywhere and see everything around during the daytime, but we always made it back to watch sunset on the porch. Oftentimes I would fall asleep with my head in Momma's lap. Those days were the epitome of my life, nothing could be better.

It was one of those days when everything was chaos. Granddad, Momma, and I had gone to the park in the morning, then run to the grocers, and then back home to work around the yard for a while. Momma tried to make Granddad lay down inside while we puttered around the yard, but he wouldn't have it. He told us that if we were going to make him sit down and watch us work on his own yard, he might as well be dead already. So Momma gave in and let him work with us, though she wouldn't let him do anything she deemed 'too strenuous'.

We worked all afternoon and then went inside for some sandwiches. Granddaddy said he was just going to take a quick nap before supper because he was a little tired. We didn't think twice about it and kept on fixing our sandwiches. When we were done with the dinner preparations we checked on Granddad and saw that he was still sleeping, so instead of waking him up, we went ahead and ate our sandwiches.

Momma and I found quiet things to occupy us as the sun grew lower and lower in the horizon, but as the evening wore on and Granddaddy still didn't wake, we began to worry a little. As the sunset began to fade without us there to share it, Momma decided to wake Granddaddy up herself. She went into his room and gently shook him, but he didn't wake. She tried a little harder, but to no avail. Then she prodded and poked him until my arms hurt just thinking about it. As she was doing this her voice called out to me, calm, but forced like a kid being forced to come back down after jumping real high on a trampoline. "Hand me the phone baby girl," she said slowly.

Now when Momma gets that tone with me, I've learned to do whatever she asks as quickly and as quietly as possible. I grabbed the phone from the kitchen counter and handed it to her. She dialed a three digit number and quickly placed the phone by her ear. I stopped listening as soon as Momma started talking. Her voice had lost its calm tone and took on a more frantic, more weak one. That scared me just as much as her first tone. I didn't know what was happening to Granddad, or why he wouldn't wake up, but I knew it wasn't good.

Soon the sound of sirens filled the neighborhood as an ambulance pulled into our driveway. Some official looking men came into our house with a stretcher and took Granddaddy away. They asked Momma if she wanted to come with them but she said no, she would be along later with me. Then Momma started packing Granddaddy's stuff together and piling a lot of it in the car. We both got in and drove off into the night, following the distant sounds of the ambulance. Momma's hands were tense on the steering wheel, which meant she was concentrating real hard on her driving, so I didn't bother her with the thousands of questions I was dying to ask.

We rushed into the Wakefield Medical Center and straight up to the reception desk. The lady there directed us to the curtained space where Granddaddy was being held in the emergency room. He had doctors and other medical staff swarmed around him, poking needles into him and doing all sorts of scary stuff which brought me to tears. My Granddaddy looked so helpless lying there. We sat down by the curtain, out of the way so they wouldn't have to trip over us to help Granddad, but close enough so we could hear what they said. After what felt like hours one of the doctors came to us and told my momma that Granddaddy's cancer had come back and had spread all over his body. They were going in for emergency surgery, but they needed her consent first. Momma readily gave it, but not before she asked what the chance of recovery for this kind of procedure was.

"15% chance of making a full recovery, seeing as the cancer has spread, and looking at his age," the doctor said matter-of-factly, "We'll see you in a few hours and give you an update on how it's going."

The night following was the longest night of my life. Scenes of it flashed in and out like dreams. I remember us crying and hugging each other, scared for each other, and scared for Granddaddy. Then things kind of went to black until the doctor came out and told Momma that they had lost Granddaddy half way through the surgery, and even though they had tried for an hour to revive him, he was really gone. Momma bent over she was sobbing so hard, and then gripped me in a hug so tight I feared she would never let go. In my 9 year old mind I couldn't possibly fathom what death meant, because all the people I had ever lost before were gone before I could remember much about them. I believed that Granddaddy would reappear the next day, right as rain, and ready to go care for his trees, and watch the sunset with me. But Granddaddy didn't appear. Not the next day or the next.

The funeral was on Saturday. I put on my new little black dress and followed Momma to the church, where I had one last look at Granddaddy lying so still in his coffin, and it hit me then and there that I would never see his smiling face again. I broke down into tears and couldn't move from that spot until the pallbearers came to take him away. Momma escorted me to a nearby chair where I sat crying while the funeral was going on outside. She sat with me the whole time, helping me through my break down, as I had helped her through hers a few days before.

That night, and for many nights to come, as the sun went down, I wasn't out there to watch it. The trees in the yard stood forlorn and forgotten. The house went back to its previous state of disrepair, though not because of Momma. She went to work at two jobs, one at a gas station, the other and a grocery store. I, on the other hand, couldn't bear to do much aside from getting up in the morning, anything else seemed like I was betraying Granddaddy by doing it without him. I couldn't even move the TV remote from his bedside table because I was afraid that by moving it, I would lose the memory of seeing Granddaddy pick it up, and flip through the channels on a day when he was too tired or too sick to do much else. I didn't want to lose him, or lose my memory of him. I felt that by doing things he would've done without him, I would forget the memories we'd had together, doing those things.

I had gotten so out of schedule that I didn't even remember my own birthday until we got a letter in the mail announcing that school was going to start again in two weeks. My birthday was always on the day we received that letter, and Momma always told me that they used my birthday to remind them to send out the notice. I didn't think I could go back to school again and face all my friends, knowing that my life had completely changed since I saw them last. I tried not to dwell on the memories of Granddaddy walking me to school or hobbling along the street after me with my forgotten lunch box. School would never be the same.

Since it was my birthday, Momma came home from work that day with a small cake that said, 'Happy birthday Meg' on it along with 10 little candles. It was late in the evening as Momma blindfolded me and led me out on the porch as the crickets serenaded us with their song. She took the blindfold off my eyes only for me to behold the most beautiful sunset that I had ever seen. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of all the times Granddaddy and I had spent out here together.

"I can just see Granddaddy up in heaven, painting this sunset in the sky just for your birthday, baby girl. He was always the happiest out here with you," Momma said as she smiled down upon me. I realized right then that Granddaddy was still watching the sunset with me, except now he was up in heaven, where there was no pain and no sickness. And as far as forgetting him, watching the sun go down and the stars fill the night sky would rather be a reminder of all the memories we'd had together.

p.s. Happy Valentine's Day Grandpa! I miss you and love you and hope you're having a great time up in heaven :)

Europe and Commercialized Holidays

2010-02-14T18:37:00.000-08:00

Weeeeeeellll folks it's that time of year again! Time to turn your piggy banks over and shake every last coin from them. For those of you who live under rocks, it's Valentine's Day, one of the fastest growing commercialized holidays out there (I can see the owners of Hallmark sitting in a dark office room greedily counting their money right about now). No more is this holiday about spending time with your loved ones, it's about how extravagant of a gift you can get your sweetheart, a competition between you and your friends about how many Valentine's you received. But I'm not complaining, because who doesn't want a good excuse to eat chocolate right?

I feel like I had to add something in there about Valentine's Day to give me a better excuse to blog. If you would like, feel free to erase the first paragraph out of your memories. On to the most exciting part of my post this fine, fine day... I'm going to Europe! For real this time! I have my passport application sent in and everything. We're going (probably) the last week in April, and I'm so excited! It's going to be me, my parents, my brother Tadd, and my brother Brad and his wife Alyson (again, probably). We'll be traveling to some of the places I've always wanted to go to, Paris, the Loire Valley, and London! I'm so excited! Just typing this paragraph is making me hyperventilate. It's literally a dream come true!

Well, I just wanted to share with you all that news. I hope you've had a great day! And a Happy Valentine's Day to you all!

p.s. Do you think Mrs. Shinn would give me extra credit for seeing a play in the Globe Theater? Hmmm.

Do You Ever Feel Like....

2010-02-06T11:15:00.001-08:00

Something's missing?? As if you go about your life in the same routine, doing the same things day in and day out, with little change. Sure, you ate Frosted Flakes for breakfast today instead of Cocoa Puffs, but other than that it's all the same old-same old. And every time you try to break out of your routine and do something different-be someone different-you are held back by the sameness of your life. Sometimes don't you just want to throw back your head and yell into that blue abyss we call the sky, and tell the clouds that just once could they let it snow in the middle of July? To have your teachers decide to go outside and play kickball instead of making you take that excruciatingly long test. Where's the spontaneity in life? The little things that catch you off-guard and make you smile. The song that comes on your Ipod that fits your mood like a glove, or getting ten out of ten on a skills test you thought you'd fail in gym class. This mindless routine is not good enough for me, I need more from life! That's why no matter how many times this routine and complete sameness holds me back, I'm going to dare to be different and perhaps slip a little Tabasco sauce in my Kool-Aid.

Change

2010-01-17T19:16:00.000-08:00

Change,

The cry of a newborn,

The first snowflake on your nose in December,

Listening to a different radio station.

Change,

Leading your team to victory for the first time,

Forgiving someone you hate,

Tasting something new.

Change,

Making the Youth Council in your town,

Watching a horror movie instead of a chic flick,

Playing the piano in seminary.

Change,

Finally getting those braces off,

Getting a bonus at work,

Winning the Geography Bee.

Change,

Watching your youngest go off to college,

Your father losing his job,

Your first day at a new school.

Change,

Learning you were never good enough,

Going through a divorce,

Being diagnosed with a disease.

Change,

Growing apart from your friends,

Having your favorite show cancelled,

Not achieving your dreams.

Change,

Moving to a new state,

Failing a class,

The death of your companion in life.

Change,

Can be good or bad,

Big or little,

Surprising or planned.

Change is.... inevitable

New Years Resolutions

2010-01-06T17:31:00.000-08:00

Yes folks! It's that time again... a time for change! For promising yourself that you will make changes for the better in your life! It's time to make your New Years resolutions! Well, most of you will have already made your goals and may be working on them as I slouch in the old folding chair in front of my computer writing this post. Some of you may be thinking that perhaps you should have made some goals for the new year, but instead you're sitting on your lazy bums watching TV all day. And still others have already given up on your resolutions for this year and are concentrating on keeping the rest of your life together. Because honestly, how many of us really have time to focus on goals? What am I doing this year, you ask? I am working on goals in four categories- intellectual, social, physical, and spiritual. My goals are such that I can accomplish most of them WHILE sitting on my lazy bum watching TV. Lucky me. I dearly hope that I can kept my resolutions this year (hey I've lasted almost a week!), but who knows what delicious cake donuts will be tempting me that I simply can't refuse?! I mean, a girl can only resist so much in life! Studies show that about 92% of Americans don't keep their resolutions, and about 45% give up before the end of January! But don't loose any sleep at night over this, you could still be in the 8% who actually accomplish their goals. And I commend you for that! Bravo! You should give yourself a huge pat on the back for that one! But as for the rest of us? Our lives go on the same as before without hardly a second thought... at least until next New Years.

2009-12-30T13:12:00.000-08:00

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all"

-Emily Dickinson

Childhood Memories

2009-12-21T10:16:00.000-08:00

You may call me a copycat, but I have nothing else to blog about, so I decided I will take Celeste's delightful idea of putting you English stories on your blog. The next few blogs will be about the time David Black cut my long brown locks, childhood anecdotes, and my 4th grade romance, respectively. Enjoy!

2009-12-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

HAIR!

Practically from our mother's wombs, my next door neighbor and I became best friends. We played together all the time, making up adventures in the fort in my backyard, or having tea parties in his. Then, when I moved 300 feet away from my old house, suddenly there were new places to explore and new things to do! I had a sand box in my backyard and we spent endless afternoons making castles and little mud pies.

One of my favorite things to do with him, however, was play with my Barbie dolls. We would place Barbie accessories all over my room to make it one gigantic Barbie mansion. The Kelly House would be in one corner of my vast closet, the Polly Pocket mall in the other corner. The petting zoo (fully accessorized with a panda bear, monkey, koala bear, and a swan with her baby), rested on top of a pink quilt folded neatly on the edge of my bed. I played the part of the girl dolls, most noteworthy Barbie and her daughter Kelly. My neighbor, David, played the part of Ken and Tommy, my only two boy dolls. We made up stories for their lives and the scandals that happened in them.

I always loved doing the dolls' hair. I would soak it in water and then attempt to comb it and put it in a cute hairdo. I always tried to get David to join me but he, being the boy, was reluctant to do anything that didn't involve blood and guts. One day as I was pleading with him to join me in my daily hair-doing rituals, I came up with a brilliant idea. I had seen my mom cutting my dad's hair a few days before, and I knew where she kept the scissors.

"We should cut the Barbie dolls' hair!" I shrieked, delighted with this plan that surely had been made by a genius.

I was confident that my plan, in all its simplicity, would work perfectly, and that my mom would be so delighted if one so young as I was able to prove her astounding hair cutting skills to her. David quickly agreed to this plan, and we quickly checked to the see if the coast was clear (my mom was working outside) before racing to grab our weapon of choice from where it was carefully placed in my parent's bathroom drawer.

My genius must still have been flowing at high speed because once we returned to my bedroom I proposed an addition to the plan. "Hey, besides cutting the Barbies' hair, do you want to cut mine too?"

David's eyes sparkled as he contemplated this wondrous idea and finally admitted, "That would be cool."

We sat on the blue rug placed carefully on my bathroom floor as he hacked off my hair, just like the lady in my ward did when she cut my hair. The Barbie dolls were pushed aside as this new pastime took their place. I was blissfully ignorant of any consequences that could come from this activity, and only thought of the happy look on my mother's face when I showed her the finished product.

Soon enough he had finished cropping my hair to the length and style I had dictated to him before he began his barber tasks. I stood on the green and yellow plastic stool and admired myself in the mirror. I was decked out in striped blue and white overalls over a white t-shirt, but that was not what I was admiring on this fine summer day. It was my hair, beautifully cut so that it was so short that you could practically see my skull in some places, and past my shoulders in other areas.

Unfortunately, we didn't have time to prepare for my grand entrance into society, for at that moment my mom chose to come inside to check on us. I grinned, a few teeth missing, as I twirled for my mom. She, however, did not grin upon seeing the state of my brown locks. She simply asked, "Who did this?"

I pointed to the edge of the big white bathtub, where David was placed, scissors in hand, trying to make himself as small as possible. He saw what I could not at that moment, that this was not something to be grinning about. My mom ripped the scissors from his grasp, told us to sit right there, and immediately left the room. Soon we could hear her talking on the phone to someone, saying things like, "Do you know what your son did?" and, "I don't know how they knew where those scissors were!"

My mom soon came back into the bathroom with orders to send David right home. He walked past her with a sheepish look on his face, without so much as glancing in my direction. As soon as he was gone, my mom flashed her fiery eyes in my direction. I gulped loudly, I had never seen her so angry. She gave me quite a talkin'-to that day, and the spanking my dad gave me when he got back from work still brings back pain whenever I remember it. My mom took me to get my hair fixed (at least, as well as our hair dresser could), and I learned from the many tears shed over the next few days that having a 6 year old cut my hair was probably not the best idea. Still, I'll never forget that warm afternoon with my next door neighbor.

2009-12-21T10:14:00.001-08:00

CHILDHOOD STORIES

My favorite joke from my childhood:

Marissa: Knock knock

Dad: Who’s there?

Marissa: Cantaloupe

Dad: Cantaloupe who?

Marissa: Cantaloupe baby, Daddy’s got the car

*****

I didn't start walking until I was about 16 months old, but my sister swears I started talking at around 4 months. Now I don't completely believe that, but I do know I had a very extensive vocabulary at a very young age. During family scripture studies, I would have my own set of scriptures placed in my lap so that I wouldn't feel left out. I would stick my nose straight into the book and loudly proclaim some gibberish as a contribution of my needed few verses. I would then turn the page and continue with my 'reading'. This is how I became the official reader in the family.

*****

My siblings used to teach me to do things when I was little that they thought were funny. Personally, I think it was torture, but they just wanted a good laugh. Whenever we talked about Thanksgiving they would ask me what my favorite thing to do on Thanksgiving was and I would reply by sticking my hands straight up in the air and shouting, “FOOTBALL!”

The most embarrassing thing they did to me, however, was quite terrible. They would ask me, “Where are your cheeks?” My little two-year-old self would slap my hands to my face in glee. Then they would ask me, “Where are your other cheeks?” And I would proudly grab my little bottom, elated that I was able to prove my genius at such a young age.

*****

When I was two, my sister would always take me with her and her friends when they hung out. I called these outings my ‘hot dates’. Most of the time it would be my sister, her boyfriend, and one of her good friends who was my ‘date’. He was half-Japanese and my little eyes had never beheld such gorgeousness. I would always ask my sister when I could go on another hot date with Braden. Usually we went to Dairy Queen where I would chomp on my Dilly Bar while throwing flirtatious glances towards Braden. He always told me that unless someone captured me first, we would get married someday. Although he is now happily married, I still get butterflies every time I hear his name and remember those hot dates at DQ.

*****

It was the summer of 2005, and I was headed out on one of my weekly outings with my sister-in-law and her five boys, Cayden (6 ½), Alex and Drew (almost 5), and Adam and Isaac (8 months). This time McDonald’s was the destination of choice. Once we took our food to our tables the boys and I shoved it down so fast we hardly got the chance to see it. The hamburgers and chicken nuggets were just an after-taste in our childish mouths. The three older boys and I raced towards the empty playground, calling out, “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

It was a great afternoon until disaster struck. Cayden and I were waiting behind Drew to slide down the huge yellow tube slide. After Drew hopped into the slide and careened downwards we realized that he was leaving brown spots in his wake. It took us a few moments before we realized that those brown spots were in fact poo. I gulped loudly. I was NOT going down that slide anymore!

Instead, Cayden and I raced back down the play ground (a different way from that slide), and told my sister-in-law, Alyson, that Drew had pooed all down the slide, and the slide was now full of little brown mush. Drew, on the other hand, was now playing around like nothing had happened. Alyson immediately took hold of Drew and steered him towards the bathroom giving Cayden and I the instructions to go down the slide with wet wipes, cleaning it up. I was beginning to regret ever coming on this little excursion.

The walk to the top of the slide was probably one of the longest in my entire life. I felt as if I was in a funeral procession, and I was the one in the casket. I kept picturing all the grotesque things that could happen on that cursed slide. The feel of the brown matter on my hands, or anywhere for that matter, made me shudder.

When we finally arrived at the slide my face was pale white and my palms were sweaty. My nephew, Cayden, being the boy he is, had no problem whatsoever with the present situation we were faced with. He lowered himself into the slide and looked back at me as if to ask, "Are you coming?" I swallowed hard and placed myself beside him holding the wet wipe out before me to ward off any incoming poo. We slid down the slide, inch by inch, rubbing the disgusting waste off the yellow plastic whenever we ran into it.

By the time we arrived at the bottom, I was ready to forget about this terrible afternoon. Alyson had cleaned up Drew and had taken the infant Isaac's pants (who, let me remind you, was only 8 months and had been born premature), and put them on Drew to keep at least some of his decency. The funny thing is, those shorts were only a little too short on him. After everything had been settled, we quickly left and I was able to go home and forget about that traumatic day, at least until now.

2009-12-21T10:12:00.001-08:00

FOURTH GRADE LOVE

Note: Names have been changed to protect the innocent (although, I'm not sure if this means me or the kid this is about).

It was the first day of fourth grade and I couldn’t wait to arrive at school! My mom had helped me put my hair in perfect little ringlets, and I had on my brand new clothes purchased not even a week before. I was so excited I could barely hold still as my mom put the finishing touches on my outfit. Once I was all ready for school, I raced down my driveway, my one-shouldered purple backpack bouncing along with me. My neighbor, Brianna, was waiting for me at the bottom of my driveway and with a quick ‘hello’ we were off!

Along the way to school we chattered incessantly about various things, but mostly about school. Brianna was to be a fifth grader this year, and was so excited for the new adventures that held for her! We waited for the crossing guard, who was shrouded in a bright orange vest and holding a scarlet stop sign, to wave us across the street.

Once across that busy street, we stopped and gazed up at the beautiful building before us, the words ‘Jennie P. Stewart Elementary’ blaring out at us in bold black letters from above the front doors. We ran to the side of the building near the white portables where we would be lining up with our classmates before school started. I found the bold ‘N’ spray painted on the asphalt in orange marking where Ms. Nelson’s class would line up at the bell. I looked around at the students already standing there-they were to be my future classmates. I saw a few people I was friends with and quickly ran to share my joy at returning to school with them.

Then, the bell rang. All of the students quickly lined up in their various classes as the teachers walked out the side doors of the school to pick us up. As Ms. Nelson stood before us I looked at her smiling face and instantly knew I had been placed in the right class for my fourth grade year. She led us to her classroom and as soon as I stepped in I felt a warmth and love resonating around me as if I had just stepped into my grandmother’s kitchen. We hung our backpacks up on the pegs assigned to us and found our desks by the name tags placed on top of them. I looked around at my new neighbors, would they be my new best friends? This year would be different than previous years, this year would be amazing, I could just sense it.

It wasn't until lunch that I discovered the boy I would be in love with for the next year-and-a-half. I was sitting with my friends Maggie and Kate, discussing everything from nail polish to licking food off of hobo's feet, and then Kate got onto the topic of boys. We chatted a bit about cute boys in our class, especially the new kids. She then mentioned a particular name that sparked little interest in me. Johnny. I had noticed him from afar, yet he was no different than any other guy. However, Kate's descriptions of him made me see him in a whole new light. Let's just say, I never looked at those blue eyes the same way again. He was sitting at a lunch table just two tables away from where I was squeezed in between my friends. I watched him chew his food, noting at the graceful way his jaw moved up and down with each bite.

After that moment, I was hooked. My nine year old self was convinced I had found my one true love. The only problem was Kate felt the same way and we battled over him, calling out 'he's mine' to each other whenever we passed, as if he was a piece of land...or meat. We convinced Maggie to ask him at least once a week which one of us he liked more, so it was probably no secret how we felt about him. Each time she asked him it would be a different answer. Some days it was "Uh... I guess... Marissa?" Others, "Kate? Sure? Kate?" And still others, "Is there a door number three?"

On those days when he picked Kate over me my little heart would break just a fraction. However, this would only make me fight harder to win my prize, to be the number one in this adorable little boy's life. All three of us were in the same class so the battle for the boy raged on all day long. I took pride in the fact that I was a great listener, and I would start up conversations with him as we waited for the bell for recess or the end of school. I swung back and forth, my hands placed firmly on the desks to either side of me, as I listened to him explain what he had done the previous weekend. A lot of the time, he would talk about going paintballing with his friends, and although I had no clue what that was, I would smile and pretend like I did. "Oh, I do that all the time! It's my favorite activity!"

I was the better candidate for his love, and Kate knew it. She spent all of her time insulting me, whining to me, and even hurting me when I tried to talk to Johnny. One particular incident happened after he performed well at a school event. It was during recess and I was playing our regular game of wall ball with Kate and several other friends. I noticed Johnny and his friends walking the track close to where we were involved in our intense game, so when the ball bounced off of the cement I volunteered to retrieve it. I bent over to grab the pink bouncy ball off the ground right as he was passing. "Good job John-" I started, about to congratulate him on his good performance. Right at that moment, however, I felt a body slam into me from behind, knocking me into the asphalt. It had been Kate, the lioness trying to wipe out the competition for her mate. Kate laughed up at Johnny's shocked face, as if this was a joke that he did not need to be bothered with. He walked on, and I shoved Kate off of me, my head pounding and hot tears forming in my eyes.

"You're so--evil!!" I shrieked. At that moment jealousy and hatred coursed through my veins. Through my blurred vision I saw Kate for who she truly was, the devil herself. I slapped her as hard as I could and ran away from the scene of the crime. From that point on, Kate and I were never truly friends again. We may have been forced by our parents to apologize to each other, may have even gone through the motions of becoming friends again, but I could never completely forget about what she had done to me.

Many incidents of this sort happened throughout the school year. The summer brought a trip to Oregon with my parents. I brought along a bright orange Winnie the Pooh notebook that I would fill with doodles of Star Wars characters and romantic lyrics from the CD I was listening to. I decided that I would give this to Johnny on the first day of fifth grade. Kate had moved away that summer and so I had Johnny all to myself.

On the first day of school I arrived there with butterflies in my stomach, the orange notebook clutched tightly in my arms. I could see Johnny's freshly cut hair standing out over the crowd of kids. I fought through the hordes of children until I stood before him. "Here, this is for you," I whispered, my heart in my stomach, as I handed him the notebook I had worked so hard on, "You can throw it away if you don't want it."

He wasn't in my class this year so I hardly ever saw him. My infatuation with him carried me through the first half of the year, but by January I was totally over him and had moved on with my life. I realized that the only reason I liked him in the first place was because I wanted to be better than Kate in some way. It took me years before I could talk to him without blushing, and it took even longer for me to get over the grudge I held against Kate. I don't know if he still has that notebook, or if he remembers those times as vividly as I do, but I'll always remember that year and a half spent gazing at Johnny's handsome face.

p.s. Since I do not have to worry about him ever reading this, I feel safe to say that Johnny is in fact a kid by the name of Brennan McEwan. I heard that he wrote a story about me too (probably about how I STALKED him practically), but sadly, he didn't have the opportunity to share it.

I Enjoy Long Walks on the Beach...

2009-12-14T18:39:00.000-08:00

I seem to be blogging a lot lately, which I suppose is good-I'm making up for those 9 months of silence from me. It's also because I'm grounded from pretty much everything else...yeah. I deserve it but it's still not fun, and I'm just digging myself in a deeper pit of despair these days. Who knows when I'll be let out of this gilded cage? But that's a whole other story. My blog posts seem to be all serious, but that's no surprise since it seems the only things I can write are serious. Tonights little slice of my brain will be on one of my favorite things to do-take walks. I love to go on walks, especially at night. I know, you're probably all thinking, "Are you serious? What about the creepers that come out at night? And you can't see the ice, what if you fall?" Trust me, I've thought about all those things, and more. Even those things can't stop me from walking at my favorite time of day. Walking at any time of day is really pleasurable to me, but I especially enjoy nighttime, and here's why:

Picture a sky so dark you can't tell exactly what color it is in the center, that lightens up to a faded shade of blue on the edges. It's full of stars, thousands, millions of them, too many to count! If I could paint like Jill or Grandma Allen, I would paint that sky, although I'm not sure I could capture the thousands of different shades I can see as I tilt my head upwards and gaze into the dark abyss. It's so beautiful I can't help but feel sorry for those who live in the city, unable to see the sparkling lights above them because of the blaring ones that engulf them, that swallow them whole. There is a steady rhythm of cars as they pass by on the nearby main roads, but otherwise there is silence. The still, peaceful sound of this part of the world going to sleep is refreshing after a day of social pressures and demands. It helps me forget about my internal sadness, my failure to do everything right, my inability to be the perfect 'only child'. It lets me escape into my own thoughts, my own memories, without forcing me to cope with the reality sitting in a nice house two blocks away from where my feet have taken me. There is no pressure, no expectations, no strained relationships. I love it. This dark, protective, peaceful, night.

p.s. sorry the picture is so small!

When You Were Young

2009-12-09T14:44:00.000-08:00

When you were young did you ever think about who you were hanging out with? Or what talking to them would do to your reputation? Or what labels people might've been placing on your forehead as you walked from place to place? Did you think about how nice (or not) your shoes were? How your shirt or pants hung unflatteringly on your either too fat or too skinny body? I personally never thought about these things. I don't even know if it crossed my mind what the gender was of the kid I was playing with at the time.

This is one thing about Junior High that I can't understand why it goes on. You go to school on the first day of 7th grade and after about the first few weeks you are branded with a label that hardly ever changes throughout the next few years. You could be a 'nerd', 'jock', 'popular', 'band geek', 'choir geek', or even one of the 'untouchables'. It all depends on who your friends are, what you wear, what you like to do, stuff like that. And I'm not proud of it, but I do it too. I label. I remember the first day of school there was this cute boy in a bunch of my classes and I TOTALLY thought he was a popular kid... until I saw his shoes. That's how I knew he wasn't popular, because of the shoes he wore! Crazy, right?

I also hate this system because (unless you're working on a project together) you don't talk or associate with people of a different 'class'. Us lower down folk are practically invisible to the popular kids as we wander down the halls between classes. And there's some kids who are less than invisible... they are bullied to their faces! These kids are looked on as something to joke about, creeps who don't contribute anything worthwhile to society. I'm not proud to say I've made a few jokes about these people at some point, but I'm trying to do better. I just wish we could all get along, and look for the best in people, regardless of their status in Junior High school society.

Well, that's my rant for the day! Enjoy!

New Beginnings

2009-12-05T15:56:00.000-08:00

"Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new"

-Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

My brother told me I had to write a blog entry by Christmas, so here it is! If you've read my blog before you can probably tell I've made a few changes. I think my original blogging attempt pretty much failed so I'm starting all over again! Before I was too worried about making myself sound really smart or cool or mature, but then I realized, I'm a teenager! Hellooooo! I shouldn't be trying to make myself sound like a college student or someone like that.

This time around, I am going to share crazy teenage things, complain about my life, and go off about things I don't like. If you don't like that, don't read my blog! Here is my true teenage spirit unveiled:

I like being alone. Is that normal for a teen? I don't know. Yet I find myself counting down the minutes until my parents leave me at home by myself. If I don't get some time to just clear my head and think in the week then I go insane! Sometimes it gets so hectic inside my house that I just have to go take a walk for an hour or so. My favorite time of day is night, when everyone is asleep. I get to just sit there and do what I want, uninterrupted. There are no parents breathing down my neck right then, no responsibilities, no pretending. I can do what I want, say what I want, think what I want, wear what I want--whatever I want with no expectations. You probably think I'm some self-centered chick who has no life. I probably am a bit self-centered, but isn't that how everyone is at age 14? And it's hard for me personally because I'm practically like an only child, so my parents are focusing all their attention on ME. They seem to expect so much out of me and sometimes I fall short of those expectations. And since I'm the only one at home, when I fall short I seem to fall a lot farther than everyone else. That's partially why I like being alone so much, so I don't have to deal with those pressures. Another reason is because I love the quiet and the still that comes with knowing you're the only one around. The sounds of nature, usually unnoticed, that fill up that space. The sound of crickets chirping in the summer, the pounding of rain on the roof in the spring. It makes me feel more at peace with the world.

Well, that was my two cents worth for a while. And now Tadd can't nag me about blogging anymore ;)

Birthdays!

2009-02-28T14:04:00.000-08:00

Well, since I failed to write a blog about Cayden's birthday (sorry Cayden) I guess I'll just follow the family tradition of compiling birthdays together. So happy birthday Cayden and Elise!! I love you both and I am proud to be your aunt!

Happy Birthday Tadd!

2009-01-17T10:04:00.000-08:00

As you can tell, this is a very special occasion. It's Tadd's birthday! He is such a great part of my life and one of my favorite people to be around because he has the talent of making me happy even when I'm sad. We've had some fun times together (see picture above).

I have to say he's my favorite brother that's less than 11 years older than me, and one of my best friends. I still don't understand why he's still single.... But for any girl who's out there looking for a husband:

Noah Baker

2009-01-09T13:56:00.000-08:00

Ok, I didn't know this kid, but I swear every Junior High/High School aged person in Centerville has been crying the past few days (including me). Noah was a seventh grader at Centerville Junior High School. He was born with a hole in his heart (like me, but mine healed up) and ended up having some five surgeries because of it. He had a pacemaker and while doing his paper route Monday night his body for some reason rejected it, and he had a heart attack. When he was found he was brain dead. They took him to the hospital and he was on life support until around six the next evening, when they pulled it.
At school we have been signing placques and big sheets of paper with condolences to the family and I think this has probably been the main topic of most people's conversations. I didn't know Noah personally but I hear he was a great kid and Centerville Junior High will mourn the loss of their student.
If anyone who reads this believes I have the facts wrong, you can feel free to correct me. If you would like to read his obituary the link is right here:

http://www.legacy.com/DeseretNews/Obituaries.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=122360715

I know Noah has gone to a better place and that his family will see him again. Thank goodness for this wonderful gospel or I think I would probably die if this happened to me.

Happy Birthday Dad!

2008-12-11T20:53:00.000-08:00

well, I see I'm the last person to do a blog on Dad, but certainly he's worth one more. I just wanted to take this time to say thank you for being such a wonderful dad! I love you!

My New Locker Decoration

2008-11-05T14:29:00.001-08:00

don't you like the addition to my locker??

Big Surprise. Not.

2008-10-25T10:57:00.000-07:00

Well, as my past few blogs have been about Molly, it should come as no surprise that this one is. We got rid of her. And that's all I have to say.

Let's Take a Vote!

2008-09-21T17:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, so you know how we got a dog? Anyways, she's cute and all, but like you guys probably guessed, we don't spend much time with her. Mom already wants to get rid of her because she's too busy doing her sewing projects and stuff. So I decided to take a vote. Somewhere on my blog there will be a poll thingy that you can cast your vote as to whether you think we should keep "Dear Molly" or not. I would really like your input so kindly take the 5 seconds it will take you to scroll to the poll and click on an answer. Thank you.

Molly!

2008-08-03T16:00:00.000-07:00

you know how we were going to get a dog? Well, we got her! And she's a little smaller than Dante....

Meet Molly. Our new puppy! Isn't she so cute?!?!?!

Already Mom's in love with her! she spent like an hour just playing with the dogs!

Compare:

Dante....

Molly....

Let's hope that Molly doesn't get as big as Dante!

Whoops! How did this picture get in there.......I must've mistaken it for Dante...

Tagged.......

2008-07-15T12:43:00.000-07:00

ok.......well.......um......let's get to this:

4 things I was doing 10 years ago:
1. Living the cool life of being 3 going on 18.
2. playing with barbie dolls and getting my hair cut David Black style (I liked it!)
3. Hanging out with my siblings and their cool friends!
4. trying to read all the books in the house.

4 things I was doing 5 years ago:
1. I had just got baptized.
2. I was enjoying being an aunt (well, I'm still enjoying that but I'm running out of subjects).
3. I was about to go into 3rd grade and I was loving school!
4. My friends Melanie Saunders and Brooke Chaston had just moved away, and the ward boundaries had just changed so a lot of my friends had moved out of the ward.

4 things I did yesterday:
1. I went to my scrapbooking class.
2. I started cleaning out the game closet
3. I read a little
4. I gave my friend Cheyenne piano lessons.

4 tv shows I like:
1. Smallville (the first seasons only)
2. Saved By The Bell
3. iCarly
4. America's Got Talent

4 Biggest Joys in My Life Right Now:
1. My family
2. BOOKS!
3. My friends
4. Zingers (YUM)

4 things you did not know about me:
1. I have never had a cavity in my whole life.
2. I had 3 retainers before braces, and I never lost any of them, but then I got my retainer after my braces, and I lost it 2 times.
3. I have never broken a bone or gotten stitches.
4. One time in New York we were at a store and I couldn't find anyone and when I looked outside the car was gone so I thought my family had left me, so I started crying. But then my mom found me and told me that my dad had just gone to get gas. what a relief!

4 people I tag:
1. Tadd
2. Stephanie
3. Jill
4. JIMMY!! (AND JIMMY HAS TO DO IT!!)

Arabian Golf

2008-06-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

While we were on our trip to Florida, Tadd came up with the brilliant idea of playing a 'new' version of the card game Golf. We called this 'Arabian Golf'. We added some new rules, such as:

All sevens are unlucky, so if you get stuck with one at the end, they're worth 20 points.
You don't get to turn over any of your cards before the game starts.

and the best one:

you have to wear a 'turban' on your head for the whole next round if you lose that round.

here are some of the pictures from the game:

COMING SOON: ARABIAN GOLF 2

The Florida Trip

2008-06-08T16:09:00.001-07:00

Well, Tadd and I are posting a blog about all the crazy things that have happened to us this trip. And since Tadd's blog is not supposed to be written in for another month...we are using mine.

We will start with Wednesday. We woke up at 6:30 and Aunt Kathie took us to the airport and as usual, mom found some mormon family to talk to during the layover in New Mexico. Dad found some connections because the lady was from Mexico City...so they spent a while talking about the beauties of Mexico. Then we got on the plane and went to Florida. When we got to Tampa, we ran into some guy Tadd knows from working at the MTC...He said he was going to his friend's wedding in Orlando. Then we parted ways and went to find the rental car. When we first got outside the humidity hit us like a thick blanket of water. It was crazy. Then, once we found the car, we spent 30 to 45 minutes looking for our hotel...which turned out to be about 15 minutes from the airport. We got up early the next morning and traveled to Orlando where we spent MY BIRTHDAY at Epcot (Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow). We went on Soarin' over California again there, and we talked Dad into going on it. He was the live entertainment. The whole time he was sitting there with his eyes closed and the funniest look on his face. We went on other rides and then we watched the fireworks which were pretty cool. We were watching them right at the moment I turned 13. It was a cool birthday for me.

Friday we spent at Hollywood Studios and Magic Kingdom. We went on a lot of cool rides, and then we went swimming at the hotel. Again, fun day.

Saturday we went to the Temple. Tadd and I ended up in the baptistry with a deaf lady (who was being interpreted to by a 13 or so year old girl who was getting sealed that day to her family), and an obviously Utah-mormon family from Vernal. Tadd ran into his old bishop there. We got out about an hour before mom and dad and sat in the waiting room for a while. Then we went outside and ran into the guy we had seen at the airport. He was there for his friend's wedding. Tadd was walking around outside when he saw something that looked like a stick that was sticking up out of the ground. He looked closer and it moved. It was a snake! It almost gave him a heart attack. Then he showed me and it disappeared so I was freaking out cause I couldn't see it. Then when mom and dad came out Tadd called his good friend Sister Bailey and we visited with her (of course we'll add pictures as soon as we get back). After that we went and visited with the Schmidts for about two hours. We talked a lot about thing happening in Centerville. Once we had left Mom confided in us that she was worried we didn't tell them enough things that were happening in the 9th ward. Tadd told her that, "If we told them anymore, we'd have to start making things up."

On the way back to the hotel, we passed a lagoon type carnival. There was a bungee thing where people would be slung up into the air and bounced around in the air (you've all seen it at lagoon probably). While we were passing Mom spotted a smaller one. She described it as "Oh, they have a smaller one for kids. They bounce them on the ground instead."

Last night when we were about to go to bed, Tadd turned around and saw a cockroach the size of a silver dollar! It was way cool.

Today has been a quiet day. We went to church and talked to some of the people Tadd knew from his mission. We are looking forward to our last few days in Florida, and the chance to come back to good ol' Utah!

school!

2008-05-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

ONLY 12 MORE DAYS OF SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THEN THE SUMMER!!!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've Been Tagged (or whatever it's called...)

2008-04-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

ok, well, I don't really know how to do this so I'm just going to copy what Jill's questions were so I hope I get this right....anywho....here I go:

TEN YEARS AGO....
I was 2 years old and mom was potty training me (or at least that's what she says...I don't remember that long ago...). Mom also says that Mark was on a mission and that Brad & Alyson were getting married that year.....Mom says that I was (and I quote), "So cute with your darling long curls....everyone in the ward said you were so cute and they still think you are cute!"

5 things on my t0-do-list:
1. Dominate the world along with my best friend Ashley
2. Get a 4.0 the last term of 7th grade
3. Direct a hit movie and earn an annual salary of $101 million just like Steven Speilberg.
4. Read all the books in the world (especially those ones that are coming out this year!)
5. Force Melanie Saunders, Brooke Chaston, Emmalie Arntz, and Briana Cullimore to move back into my ward. I need more than one girl in the ward that's in my grade!

WHAT WOULD I DO IF I SUDDENLY BECAME A MILLIONAIRE?
I would probably buy a castle in France...or heck, I'd BUY FRANCE! (Who cares if $1 million isn't enough money....). Also, I'd probably send me and my friends and family to Europe to tour it. Also, I'd start up Holocaust museums all across the World to teach people about the horrors of what Hitler did to the Jews. If I had any money left I would give all my family and friends money.

4 BAD HABITS:
1. Staying up late.
2. Being on the computer or watching tv practically 24/7. (a.k.a. wasting time)
3. Having to be reminded 5 or more times to do something.
4. Breaking things (I've broken 3 bowls and 1 glass cup in 1 month).

5 JOBS I'VE HAD:
1. Mowing the lawn
2. Babysitting
3. Emptying the dishwasher
4. Folding clothes
5. Cleaning bathrooms

PLACES I'VE LIVED:
1. Centerville, Utah
2. 100 yards away from place #1.

THINGS I LIKE TO DO:
I like to read, write, hang out with my friends, listen to music, watch movies, and play the piano. I also like to learn about things in History.

I TAG...Ainsley, Ella, and Elise.

My talk

2008-02-24T13:26:00.000-08:00

Per Heidi's request, I have decided to post my talk.....and I don't know if you can attach things to this so I'll just type it in. It's probably not very good since I wrote it myself...but here it is:

My Talk

I was asked to speak on family. Family is the most sacred unit of the church. But a happy family life isn't that easy to achieve. The Family: A Proclamation to the World states that: "Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities."

Families are essential to God's plan, so we need to work hard to achieve the happiness needed to bring the Holy Ghost into our homes. No person or family is perfect, and jsut like our individual problems, each family faces different trials. Some face great financial debts, others the loss of a loved one, and some face illnesses within the family. It is not easy to see a loved one die or struggle; but we don't have to let that ruin our family relationships. Instead, let the trials you and your family face be a building block for your family. Use your hard times as times to get to know and love your family better.

Heavenly Father sent us here to Earth to be tested, and he wants us to come live with him again and become a spiritual family. We need our earthly family's help to do so. Each of us must pitch in and do our share of the work. The family is not complete if everyone but one or two family members pitches in. Everyone must try their hardest for a strong and happy family, because the family is so important to this church.

Take a rope, for instance. One of the strands that makes up the rope is very easy to break. But when you put all the strands together, it becomes a lot harder to break. Strong families are like strong ropes. Without our family's and others support, we could not possibly survive in this dangerous world. This world is full of so much profanity, pornography, and abuse that without good, strong families we would fall prey to the evils of the world. I am very grateful to my family for teaching me the good gospel principles. I know I will value this knowledge later on in my life.

We are all imperfect, but I, for one, will try to strengthen my family and live the gospel principles so that I can return to live with Heavenly Father and the rest of my Heavenly family.

A crazy day!

2008-02-18T16:46:00.000-08:00

My friend and I had fun today putting make-up all over ourselves and dressing up in some of Tadd's jerseys (sry Tadd....I don't think we got anything on them.....) It was quite fun and here's some pictures of us!

the little red man

2008-02-17T19:18:00.000-08:00

well, today we had the whole family over and the boys were playing legos in my room. Suddenly, Isaac comes out with red by his mouth and all over his arms.......he had discovered some red nail polish in my room and dumped it all over him and even on my carpet!! It took FOREVER to get it off him and we don't know how we're getting it off my carpet!! hopefully we'll be able to!!! (if I had a picture of Isaac, I'd put it on here, but sadly, we didn't take one of the little red man....) Oh, well, I shall never forget the sight of Isaac waddling out into the family room with that guilty look on his face!

hey can someone help me.........

2008-02-10T20:13:00.001-08:00

hey can someone help me set up links on my blog to other blogs? I can't figure out how to do that...........................

hey can someone help me.........

2008-02-10T20:13:00.000-08:00

hey can someone help me set up links on my blog to other blogs? I can't figure out how to do that...........................

Violence Parties........

2008-02-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

Well, a couple weeks ago my friend Brynna and I decided that we wanted to have a chocolate party/Valentine's Day party.....and the other day Jill called and I was distracted so instead of a Valentine's Party I told her we were having a Violence Party..............................and she won't let it go.......... =P (turn head sideways if you don't get what that is.......)

Anywho, my 'Violence Party' was quite fun we ate a LOT of chocolate and pulled quite a few people's hairs, got a few guns, shot a few cats......the whole works.............

Oh, and Tadd, name the date and I'll come down!!

My dream

2008-02-08T14:06:00.001-08:00

My dream is to go to France...........well, actually, anywhere and everywhere in Europe!! There's SO much history there and it's so beautiful!!!!

..................well, there's not much interesting things going on in my life right now................

oh and Josie, Jimmy's pretty nice, but if he's ever mean to you, you tell me, and I'll deal with him........(mwahahahahahah........)

it must be genetics or something......

2008-02-06T16:29:00.000-08:00

I have no clue how I did this but I think I got the best score in the class on my science test.....................how in the world..........................anyways, I got 100 which completely mystifies me because there were people who knew this stuff a lot more and plus my table partner never helps me on regular papers because he thinks I'm cheating.....so all in all, I have no clue how I got that score..........not that I'm complaining about it!!!

it must be genetics or something......

2008-02-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

for some weird, strange reason I got 100 on my science test! not that I'm complaining or anything!! but that's really strange..............hmmmmmmmmm........

science

2008-02-05T19:21:00.001-08:00

I have a science test tomorrow and I'm probably going to fail because
a) science is stupid (no offense science lovers....)
b) My teacher's evil
and c) science is stupid

I know that science is important and all (to find a cure for cancer and the common cold and other stuff) but I find it completely pointless. I mean, if I'm not going to be a scientist....why do I have to take the subject?!

hello all

2008-02-02T09:52:00.000-08:00

ok, well, I have NO clue who's going to read this but hello........

Um, on further news......I had a sleepover with Sammy Facer last night and it was pretty fun (except she went to sleep early and so I was bored for an hour until I fell asleep......)

um, my week's been pretty uneventful.........