My moments of 2006
1. My sixteenth birthday. I went to a friend’s lake house for the night with 4 of the best friends I have ever had. It was not a blowout party, but it was nice.
2. AP World Civilization test. I hated the class and worked myself to exhaustion, but I earn my college credit.
3. Spring break! Robin, my friend, and I went to my aunt and uncles in Georgia. It was a break from reality and didn’t last long enough.
4. I ran track for my third year, this was an awful disappointment because I did not reach my goal time. However, I still love to run, and I live for those few precious moments when the only thing I can think of is putting one foot in front of the next. I run for when all I hear is the rhythm of my heart beating in unison with the pounding of my feet against the earth.
5. Summer vacation. It began with my friends going to the Bahamas, I wasn’t unable to go. I was angry for the little reasoning my parents had for not allowing me the freedom I longed for. But I learned a lesson; I learned to not want what my friends have and that life won’t be over if you don’t get exactly what you desire.
6. While my friends went to the Bahamas I decided to make better use of my time so I visited my uncle Mark in Illinois. I awoke each morning at 4:30 and went to work with him. I suppose you could call him a lumber jack. We went to the woods and walked for hours looking for the right size trees. I had new boots on and got terrible blisters, but I didn’t complain for fear of being looked down upon. My uncle taught me how to use the large machinery. I had a wonderful time and it helped to occupy my thoughts of jealousy that threatened to make me feel self-pity.
7. While I was at my uncles I had box seats to a tractor pull, all I could say was wow, and this probably wasn't even heard over the roar of the engines. When I came home this became a fun story to tell. I also went frog catching at 10 30 pm, the town need frogs for a frog hopping competition (this is a small town). I loved every minutes of it.
8. I went to a Christian camp with my friends Katie and Andrea. It started terribly! We could not go in the woods alone, seemed that everyone was related, besides us, and we weren’t leaving the camp for any reason because they lost our transportation. It seemed a lost cause to have fun. But I did. I started just being myself and playing basketball and soon I had more fun then I thought I could ever have at such a place. Katie and I even played in a three on three basketball tournament with all the guys, we had one on our team, and we won. I was inspired by the messages and I could feel God around us.
9. The best day and a terrible day all in one, the day I got my license. I did not miss one question on the permit test, 100%. I drove everyday, driving runs in my family, you could say we are “car people”. So I didn’t have a choice but to pass my first driving test, or bear the disrespect and mockery for the rest of my life (my brothers both passed their tests the first time). I was going to have my mom take me, but something happened and my dad had to. Please do not misunderstand, I love my father, but he makes me nervous when I drive. Not because he is mean, but he notices mistakes and points them out more than once, and I wasn’t use to driving with him. So I almost did not take my test because of the build up of fear while driving over there. Even with nerves on end I pasted and my heart sang praises to God for his blessing.
10. I visited my friend, Matt, in Minnesota. That was the longest drive I've ever been on, but I went with my mom so it fun. My mom tends to make the best out of any situation, and God bless her for it!
11. Last but not least my summer vacation was ended with the exhilarating and thrilling trip to Cedar Point! I forced my non-roller coaster friend on to each giant coaster they had. The best part was that I was finally able to go on the tallest roller coaster in the world! At 402 feet tall it lords over all other rides. It flies at 120mph straight up and straight down in a spiral.
12. School again. Hard classes, annoying teachers, pretty much the same every year. I am taking AP US history, AP Biology, accel English III, accel algebra III, and Art III. Some might say I am insane for choosing these classes, and I completely agree with them.
13. There was a time when in the just two weeks out school had a fire cracker go off and a flood. The fire cracker forced the entire school to stand in the grass, because heaven forbid we are on concrete when there could be a fire, in the rain for 45 minutes. I was lucky to have a jacket, many did not. The other “mishap” that occurred was when some genius decided it would be fun to knock off the head to a fire sprinkler in the school. My class room sat right by where it was and the water was black and thick as it crept into the room. This nasty muck shot out of the ceiling and blast against the faded tiles on the second floor of our school. It smelled putrid. We also had to stand outside for about an hour, I missed my last block of class. Fun times.
14. I have finished a few more paintings. The Eye, the ocean, and Antietam. I have drawn countless pictures and discovered new medias, such as watercolors and pastels. I have been accepted into the Youth Salute Program, and will hopefully get into GSA. It has been a great year for my art.
15. One other thing that happened in 2006 was a car wreck. I have nearly forgotten it, but when I sit down a think about it I am still forced to silence by the thought of almost losing me brother. The car flipped off the road because his friend who was driving took the turn too quickly. I forgive the driver. This came as a rude awakening for my brother and for me. It reminded me that I must live everyday to its best, that I should be quick to forgive, and that I should always remember God is watching over me and will take care of me, even after death.
16. Then there was Thanksgiving, Christmas, and now. Now I am sitting here with my grandparents Keeling and my Aunt Teresa and Uncle Rod on New Years Eve. I am amazed they actually came, they haven’t visited in years. I am going to watch the ball drop with my four best friends.
This has been a wonderful year for my family. It has been a wonderful year for me.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Christmas Cookies
Christmas is losing its magic. I remember when I was a little girl and every Christmas my mom and I would make cookies from scratch. We had all the ingredients laid out on the counter, no "pre-mix" boxes. After throwing all this in we had the dough. We would roll out the dough and get out all of our cookie cutters. We had bells, stars, Christmas trees, and so many other shapes. We would carefully cut each one and reuse the in-between cuttings for more. Of course some of the cookie dough mysteriously disappeared. Sometimes when there wasn't enough cookie dough left for a whole pan of cookies we would make on big one, usually shaped like a gingerbread man.
While they were baking, I would help my mom clean up. My way of cleaning consisted of making more messes, but I had a fun time doing it. After long last the timer would go off and I knew they were done. Mom would check them first to see if they were ready to take out. Then there they sat, perfect stars, trees, and men-shaped cookies just begging me to eat them. Although I wanted one so badly I knew I should wait. Then came the agonizing time of letting them cool, because you can’t ice it while they’re hot. I never knew why we had to wait back then; I just accepted it as fact and moved on. This unquestioning acceptance is one of childhoods golden gifts.
This was the best part, the icing. First, we would get out the white icing and the different food coloring. We had red, green, blue, and yellow. Using these colors I made purple and orange. This is the messiest process in this cooking extravaganza. The icing goes everywhere, my hair, nose, and anything that was in a five-foot radius. I was an artist. A creator, if you will. As a young Picasso I had an eye for color; my trees would be purple and my stars green, abstract art. There were also Michelangelo realism moments when the men-shapes would soon resemble my bothers, at least in my imagination they did.
Now for the last touch; the sprinkles. There were red, pink, yellow, blue, green, purple and orange, every color I could dream of was there. I would dash some on this cookie and some on that one. I gave the men eyes and the trees ornaments. It was as if the heavens opened and the rain poured down as sprinkles. My friend once said, “I like sprinkles, they make me happy.” At the time I laughed at her, but I realize it is the truth, they make me happy too. I also remember silver little balls that my grandmother use to have on all of her cookies. I cannot remember what they were called I just remember my feeling of excitement every time I saw them. She doesn’t use them anymore though, so now they have become just a memory.
This year when we made cookies we got out the prepackaged cookie dough and sliced them on to the baking pan. They are round and plain, no stars or trees. I did get out the food coloring in an attempt to relive the good times. But it won’t be the same. I am not a young girl anymore; I am growing young lady who has no time for such nonsense. But I wish I did have time, I wish I could be a small child again. I wanted to write this memory to preserve it, so that I do not forget the magic Christmas holds.
Perhaps I am wrong about the magic of Christmas. I have probably become too caught up with my schoolwork. I stay up late into the night studying, writing papers, doing anything and everything it takes to get that A. I looked forward to this break, not to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, not to see my family, but for the selfish reason of not having the responsibility of schoolwork, even though it has followed me home. I was wrong. Christmas can’t lose its magic, people just forget about it and can’t feel it anymore. But now I can feel it. I can feel it in my family, I can smell it in the air, the magic is here and was always here waiting for me.
While they were baking, I would help my mom clean up. My way of cleaning consisted of making more messes, but I had a fun time doing it. After long last the timer would go off and I knew they were done. Mom would check them first to see if they were ready to take out. Then there they sat, perfect stars, trees, and men-shaped cookies just begging me to eat them. Although I wanted one so badly I knew I should wait. Then came the agonizing time of letting them cool, because you can’t ice it while they’re hot. I never knew why we had to wait back then; I just accepted it as fact and moved on. This unquestioning acceptance is one of childhoods golden gifts.
This was the best part, the icing. First, we would get out the white icing and the different food coloring. We had red, green, blue, and yellow. Using these colors I made purple and orange. This is the messiest process in this cooking extravaganza. The icing goes everywhere, my hair, nose, and anything that was in a five-foot radius. I was an artist. A creator, if you will. As a young Picasso I had an eye for color; my trees would be purple and my stars green, abstract art. There were also Michelangelo realism moments when the men-shapes would soon resemble my bothers, at least in my imagination they did.
Now for the last touch; the sprinkles. There were red, pink, yellow, blue, green, purple and orange, every color I could dream of was there. I would dash some on this cookie and some on that one. I gave the men eyes and the trees ornaments. It was as if the heavens opened and the rain poured down as sprinkles. My friend once said, “I like sprinkles, they make me happy.” At the time I laughed at her, but I realize it is the truth, they make me happy too. I also remember silver little balls that my grandmother use to have on all of her cookies. I cannot remember what they were called I just remember my feeling of excitement every time I saw them. She doesn’t use them anymore though, so now they have become just a memory.
This year when we made cookies we got out the prepackaged cookie dough and sliced them on to the baking pan. They are round and plain, no stars or trees. I did get out the food coloring in an attempt to relive the good times. But it won’t be the same. I am not a young girl anymore; I am growing young lady who has no time for such nonsense. But I wish I did have time, I wish I could be a small child again. I wanted to write this memory to preserve it, so that I do not forget the magic Christmas holds.
Perhaps I am wrong about the magic of Christmas. I have probably become too caught up with my schoolwork. I stay up late into the night studying, writing papers, doing anything and everything it takes to get that A. I looked forward to this break, not to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, not to see my family, but for the selfish reason of not having the responsibility of schoolwork, even though it has followed me home. I was wrong. Christmas can’t lose its magic, people just forget about it and can’t feel it anymore. But now I can feel it. I can feel it in my family, I can smell it in the air, the magic is here and was always here waiting for me.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
bad days
The SECOND day of school…
I started off the day with 3 and a half hours of sleep, not a good thing considering my dependency on at least 8 full hours a night. I went to bed at 1 am because I had unfinished papers due the next day and got up at 4:30am to finish them. These papers were terrible. They had to fit a certain criteria and were nothing but a bunch of busy work for summer vacation. Then I was rushed all morning, because these horrendous papers would not print. They were worth 400 points in my English III accelerated class!
I had ten minutes left. While my mom is trying to print out all three stories, all 28 pages, I am stuffing food in my mouth, literally. I was hungry too early the first day so I was stuffing myself in the 5 minutes I had left (I was not going to listen to my stomach in second block again!). If I had been entered in a food eating contest for 5 minutes I would have been victorious. My mom finally gets something to print. It just happens to be three stories! But it was three of the same story I left the house in a hurry, and with out all of my work.
The day before I had painted one hand with finger nail polish, and forgot about the other. On the way to school I paint my other hand, which made my brother angry, which in turn made me irritated. It didn’t look good at all, so I became a little upset over that.
I get to school and I cannot find my water. I run Cross Country and this was our first after school practice. The forecast for that day was HOT and we did mile repeats, so water is a must have! For those of you who do not understand mile repeats or cross country I will summarize it now. It is nonstop running for a long time. Mile repeats are fast running for a mile, and not just one, three. Plus you have to warm up for a mile, and why not throw in a cool down run too? It is hot, miserable, and I don’t like it, but that is really a story for anther time. I left my water somewhere between school and home, so no water for me, but that’s ok, I deal with it.
I go to my locker and I rush to my shuttle bus to head over to JCTC (a place the school transports AP biology students). Everything is going well, except the fact I cannot keep my mind on anything the teacher is saying. When I get back to school I have 7 minutes to upload my papers and print them off in the library, plus go the bathroom and locker. Let’s just say it is a good think I am a runner. The papers, at long last, are turned in so now it is time for lunch.
I was really looking forward to lunch because I needed food for some energy (remember that no sleep thing?). Plus, I had to eat well for cross country, or else I could easily pass out at practice from no sleep or water. I had it packed in a brown paper bag. I sat down at my table, but then I remember I needed to get my parking pass. I sat my stuff down by at friend and he watched it for me while I waited in line.
I stood in line 25 minutes the guy giving out passes had a mind the size of a peanut and makes the saying “slow and steady” sound fast. I waited there the whole lunch and right when there was just one person in front of me my friend comes over and gives me my stuff, because he has to go to class, lunch is over. He didn’t know that the brown paper bag was my lunch, which I decided I would eat in art class. It is still sitting on the table and right when I look over to see if it was still there the janitor picks it up and throws it away, thinking it was trash. I looked at him for a moment and I blamed him for all the misfortune in my life at that time. But then the anger drained out of my being and I was left will nothing but hunger, fatigue, and misery. I just wanted to sit down and cry until I fell asleep.
The rest of the day was like a dream, as if I could see what was happening, but didn’t know what was going on. Mile repeats pretty much felt like death itself was knocking on my door. It was the worst day of the school year, and it was only the second day. I could only imagine what the rest of it would be like.
. . . . . .
About a week later I was thinking about this day and I wondered how I could have survived and I realized the whole day I had prayed. I prayed for patience, strength, and faith. It is interesting how people ask for all this help from God, and then forget to thank him later. I didn’t need food or sleep because I had him beside me the whole time.
I started off the day with 3 and a half hours of sleep, not a good thing considering my dependency on at least 8 full hours a night. I went to bed at 1 am because I had unfinished papers due the next day and got up at 4:30am to finish them. These papers were terrible. They had to fit a certain criteria and were nothing but a bunch of busy work for summer vacation. Then I was rushed all morning, because these horrendous papers would not print. They were worth 400 points in my English III accelerated class!
I had ten minutes left. While my mom is trying to print out all three stories, all 28 pages, I am stuffing food in my mouth, literally. I was hungry too early the first day so I was stuffing myself in the 5 minutes I had left (I was not going to listen to my stomach in second block again!). If I had been entered in a food eating contest for 5 minutes I would have been victorious. My mom finally gets something to print. It just happens to be three stories! But it was three of the same story I left the house in a hurry, and with out all of my work.
The day before I had painted one hand with finger nail polish, and forgot about the other. On the way to school I paint my other hand, which made my brother angry, which in turn made me irritated. It didn’t look good at all, so I became a little upset over that.
I get to school and I cannot find my water. I run Cross Country and this was our first after school practice. The forecast for that day was HOT and we did mile repeats, so water is a must have! For those of you who do not understand mile repeats or cross country I will summarize it now. It is nonstop running for a long time. Mile repeats are fast running for a mile, and not just one, three. Plus you have to warm up for a mile, and why not throw in a cool down run too? It is hot, miserable, and I don’t like it, but that is really a story for anther time. I left my water somewhere between school and home, so no water for me, but that’s ok, I deal with it.
I go to my locker and I rush to my shuttle bus to head over to JCTC (a place the school transports AP biology students). Everything is going well, except the fact I cannot keep my mind on anything the teacher is saying. When I get back to school I have 7 minutes to upload my papers and print them off in the library, plus go the bathroom and locker. Let’s just say it is a good think I am a runner. The papers, at long last, are turned in so now it is time for lunch.
I was really looking forward to lunch because I needed food for some energy (remember that no sleep thing?). Plus, I had to eat well for cross country, or else I could easily pass out at practice from no sleep or water. I had it packed in a brown paper bag. I sat down at my table, but then I remember I needed to get my parking pass. I sat my stuff down by at friend and he watched it for me while I waited in line.
I stood in line 25 minutes the guy giving out passes had a mind the size of a peanut and makes the saying “slow and steady” sound fast. I waited there the whole lunch and right when there was just one person in front of me my friend comes over and gives me my stuff, because he has to go to class, lunch is over. He didn’t know that the brown paper bag was my lunch, which I decided I would eat in art class. It is still sitting on the table and right when I look over to see if it was still there the janitor picks it up and throws it away, thinking it was trash. I looked at him for a moment and I blamed him for all the misfortune in my life at that time. But then the anger drained out of my being and I was left will nothing but hunger, fatigue, and misery. I just wanted to sit down and cry until I fell asleep.
The rest of the day was like a dream, as if I could see what was happening, but didn’t know what was going on. Mile repeats pretty much felt like death itself was knocking on my door. It was the worst day of the school year, and it was only the second day. I could only imagine what the rest of it would be like.
. . . . . .
About a week later I was thinking about this day and I wondered how I could have survived and I realized the whole day I had prayed. I prayed for patience, strength, and faith. It is interesting how people ask for all this help from God, and then forget to thank him later. I didn’t need food or sleep because I had him beside me the whole time.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
My First Blog
I have never considered posting my own thoughts on a page that can be accessed by anyone. There are, of course, the Myspace and Facebook, but I never became interested in those as my friends have. However, I have an Uncle who has encouraged me to write my thoughts and experiences. I am not sure how this will change or help anyone, but it just might help me.
I have tried to keep journals throughout my life, but I only write in them for a few weeks before I completely forget about it. Hopefully, with a blog writing will not seem to be such a chore. This could be because I have grown up in a society focused on computers. I can type faster and more fluently than I could ever dream of doing with a pen.
School does not help with this dependency on computers due to the fact that none of our papers can be hand written. There are certain criteria’s that must be met from font to headings to numbering. It is all rather annoying, why can’t anything be hand written anymore?
This question is answered simply; the teachers can no longer read their students handwriting. I remember my great-grandmothers handwriting. It was lovely, better than any printer. She had classes distinctly for handwriting. They received grades for it! Image how many people would fail this calss in high school if this became a standard. Why isn't handwriting taught well at younger ages, instead of saying “good enough” just so little Billy’s feelings do not get hurt.
Now that I have gotten completely off topic, allow me to go back to my point. This blog will help me remember my ideas and dreams these last two years of my high school career. I want to preserve them so I do not forget them when I am caught in the whirlwind called college. I want to go back and see my changes and see if any of my old dreams have come true.
I have tried to keep journals throughout my life, but I only write in them for a few weeks before I completely forget about it. Hopefully, with a blog writing will not seem to be such a chore. This could be because I have grown up in a society focused on computers. I can type faster and more fluently than I could ever dream of doing with a pen.
School does not help with this dependency on computers due to the fact that none of our papers can be hand written. There are certain criteria’s that must be met from font to headings to numbering. It is all rather annoying, why can’t anything be hand written anymore?
This question is answered simply; the teachers can no longer read their students handwriting. I remember my great-grandmothers handwriting. It was lovely, better than any printer. She had classes distinctly for handwriting. They received grades for it! Image how many people would fail this calss in high school if this became a standard. Why isn't handwriting taught well at younger ages, instead of saying “good enough” just so little Billy’s feelings do not get hurt.
Now that I have gotten completely off topic, allow me to go back to my point. This blog will help me remember my ideas and dreams these last two years of my high school career. I want to preserve them so I do not forget them when I am caught in the whirlwind called college. I want to go back and see my changes and see if any of my old dreams have come true.
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