Rediscovering the Dark People

Well guys, I'd told you I would write it, and finally here it is! The sequel to Try to Remember. This is Andy's story after she moves. Read it and enjoy. I'm creating a collection of short stories in Creative Writing, and I might actually end up publishing them. So there will be more where this came from. Tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

It was summer and the little village of Polarous was filled with the movements of everyday life. In the market people bustled to and fro buying food or trading various things. Little kids ran down the streets as the bigger kids chased them. Everything was absolutely normal. The people of the village were able to forget about the Dark People and the prophecy that had yet to come true. For once they were able to live their lives like they had before Regis and his clan of savages had come to power. Their hero had deserted them, they were completely vulnerable, and yet they were happy, for now.

Andy groaned and rolled over, pulling her blanket with her, it had been a long time since she had dreamed about the Dark People of Polarous and it worried her slightly that she’d dreamt of it now. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep and she was desperate to keep them closed a little longer. The sun was bright and high in the sky, but it couldn’t possibly have been any later than eight or nine. The light and heat seemed to be magnified by the window in Andy’s room, and it created a box of miserably thick and heated air.

Sighing dramatically, Andy sat up. She opened her eyes momentarily, but shut them quickly as the light stunned her. Back in the dark Andy assessed her situation. Her mother was working today; it was Tuesday and it was two weeks into the summer break. Andy had the house to herself and she had finished all of her major work (mowing the lawn and cleaning her room) the day before. Andy had the whole day to herself and she needed to decide what to do with it.

There were numerous things Andy could do. She had meant to get started on her summer reading, but the sun was so warm and inviting that she knew she wouldn’t get anything done anyway. She could call her friends; there were plenty of them and there had to be somebody else with nothing to do. They could go to the mall or a public pool, or they could even rent a movie and hang out. They’d probably end up spending all of their money though, whatever they did, and where would that leave them for the rest of the summer?

‘Bad idea’ Andy thought. She lifted her hands to her face groggily and rubbed her eyes. After a moment she dared to open her eyes again. Slowly this time, her eyelids rose and she found that while the light was still too bright, it became more tolerable when taken in slowly. Andy looked around her room; to any outsider it would just look like an average teenaged girl’s bedroom, but to Andy it meant so much more than that. Andy grew up in this room. Sure, Andy and her mother had only moved into the house four years ago, but she made all of her important decisions there. She had decided it was time for her to grow up in this room.

Andy rolled off of her bed and landed on floor with a heavy ‘thunk’. She lay there for a while with her head turned toward her bed as her hands played with the soft, beige shag carpet on either side of her face.

As Andy lay on her floor she pictured the Oregon sunlight on days like these. Unlike the California sun, Oregon was always deceiving. Even on the brightest of summer days Oregon could be as cold as the Arctic. She had loved it there though; she had loved the forests, the rain, the beaches, and the mountains.

Eventually Andy managed to gather enough energy to pull herself up off of the floor. There was no way to tell how long she had been on the floor, but when she stood up and looked at her alarm clock it was almost eleven thirty. Her day was almost half over already and she hadn’t even left her bedroom.

There had been a time when Andy got up at six a.m. sharp every morning. She would get dressed and do her chores before eating breakfast, and then she would read or write until lunch. That had stopped three years ago; she had quit being so busy and productive about a year after she moved to California. That was when she grew up.

Andy dragged her feet across the floor toward the kitchen. Her stomach growled with ferocity of a lion hunting his prey. She had been so tired last night that she had fallen asleep while reading and never actually ate dinner.

“Hmm…” Andy sighed, opening the refrigerator and contemplating what to have for lunch. ‘When exactly was it,’ Andy thought. ‘That I decided it was time to grow up, time to stop playing my silly little games, and time to face the cold, hard truth?’ She couldn’t remember. One would think that a person would remember such and important moment, but she didn’t.

She knew she had been writing that day. ‘What was it that I was writing?’ Andy thought. Almost as if she was looking through a library catalogue, Andy sifted through her mind looking for the story that had changed the way she looked at life. ‘It didn’t have anything to do with the Dark People or Polarous.’ She thought, ‘So what could it have been?’

Then it was there, as clear as if she had just written the last word seconds ago. ‘It was the story of the girl, the one who was hit by a bus in New York. And the guy, the guy who tried to save her but wasn’t fast enough.’ That story tormented Andy’s mind even before she moved to California, and she had spent a lot of time on it. She hated the tragic ending even more now than she had when she wrote it. Those characters had been a part of her, she was connected to them. Celia and Eric had been the only people she had when she had moved to California.

The story had taken her completely by surprise, because it wasn’t fantasy. Almost everything Andy wrote was fantasy except for that story. As with sports there were rules to writing. A story had to be part of a genre and every genre had a set of rules all it’s own. The story about the girl who got hit by the bus did not follow the rules that every fantasy must follow. The characters, the emotions, the places, and the events were all so real that Andy almost believed the story to be a non-fiction.. In the end, when the girl died, Andy herself had the hardest time feeling alive again, and in that way the story had almost seemed like fantasy. It was magic, the way the characters got to her like a real person would was magic, or at least that’s what Andy had believed before she turned away from magic and fantasy. Magic wasn’t real. The stories were stupid things for people who couldn’t face the real world.

‘But what does that story have to do with anything?’ Andy thought, sliding a green, glass casserole dish out of the fridge along with a plastic bottle of ice tea. When Andy had finished that story and had written follow ups and backgrounds on some of the characters she felt like she had simply documented an event that had truly happened. It wasn’t long before she gave up on it though. She had grown up and thrown all her stories into a box that she now kept… Where?

“Does it even matter?” Andy asked herself. She had grabbed a plate out of the cupboard above the dishwasher and was now scooping some of the cheesy, gooey casserole out of the dish and onto the plate. “Who cares where that box is? It’s just full of lies created by a naïve little girl who couldn’t, and wouldn’t, accept that the world is not a place full of magic and happy endings.” It mattered though. Andy needed to know where that box was. She remembered the day she put the stories into the box, she remembered her rage and frustration, and she remembered how her mom had reacted to it all. Her mother thought it was a terribly sad thing that Andy would throw her stories away. Andy’s original plan for the box had been to let the garbage truck take it. Who cared if her stories were lost?

“They’re not real!” Andy cried. She was carrying a big cardboard box full of notebooks, papers, and drawing. She had been heading outside to throw the box away when her mother stopped her. She had seen Andy’s red, tear stained face and asked her what was wrong. “The stories aren’t real. They’re lies and they’re stupid, and I don’t want them anymore.” Andy was now yelling at her mother.

Her mother lifted a flap on the box and calmly looked inside. She knew Andy loved to write, and she was curious as to what had brought all this on. She loved Andy’s stories. They were always so full of wonder, magic, and adventure; they were the mind of her daughter, and she hated for Andy to give that up. She recognized that Andy used situations from her life to create these stories, but she had never seen any harm in it. “Andy, are you throwing all this away?” Her mother asked calmly. Andy just nodded curious as to why her mother was asking her about it. “These are your stories Andy. They’re wonderful. Why are you throwing them away?”

Andy almost didn’t know how to answer her mother’s question. “I wrote the stories to hide from the truth mom. I’m done hiding. I don’t want to be a stupid little girl anymore. I’m thirteen, and it’s about time I grew up.” She said looking up at her mother for the first time during the conversation.

“Andy, you don’t have to be a little girl to write your stories. It’s okay to hide sometimes.” Her mother had said beginning to look concerned. “You’re a great writer Andy. You can’t give up on something just because you think you’re too old for it. Andy you will never be too old for your writing.”

“I don’t want to write anymore, and I don’t want these stories anymore. I’m done writing mom.” Andy growled.

“Well, if you don’t want your stories lets find something better to do with them okay? If you don’t want them anymore I’ll keep them. I do love your writing Andy. I won’t give them to anyone else. I’ll just keep them for myself, would that be okay?”

Andy thought about it for a moment and decided that if her mother wanted the box full of lies then she could have them. Her mom could hide from the world all she wanted. Just because Andy was done hiding didn’t mean her mother had to stop too. She nodded at her mother signifying that it was ok for her to have the box.

“Alright. Now I’m going to go put this away.” She lifted the box that Andy had handed to her. “When I come back how about we talk about all this growing up stuff okay?” she smiled lightly and then left the room.

Andy frowned as she remembered the day. It had not been a pleasant one. She pulled her plate out of the microwave and went over to the table, grabbing a fork on the way. She sat eating and wondering about the box. Where had her mother put it? Did her mother still read the stories? Andy wished desperately that her mom hadn’t had to work today.

‘I wish I could read them. It’s been so long I almost don’t remember them anymore.’ Andy thought. It was weird that she wanted to read the stories. She hadn’t thought about them much in the last year, and now she needed them. ‘What had the stories been about?’ she asked herself silently. She remembered a passage from one of them.

Hundreds of years ago a seer had prophesized that there would be two children, a boy and a girl who would save the world from the terrors of the dark people. The girl would have fair blonde hair and eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean; the boy would have brown hair that rivaled that of the most beautiful horse and the eyes greener than any jewel ever discovered. They would meet on a carriage, and they would find that they had more in common than they could have ever dreamed. Both of them would be without a father. The girl’s was killed in the last war against the dark people, while the boy’s had joined the dark people during the last reign. Together they would travel and discover the wonders of the world, and then they would use their knowledge of the world to defeat the dark people. The seer had said it would happen, and so it did.

Andy had loved that story when she wrote it. It had been a story full of action, wonder, and love. The boy had been real. He had been her best friend in Oregon, her best friend ever. Griffin had been the boy in the story. His father had left them about two weeks before Andy moved to California, and after she found out about it she had written this story. It had been inspired by their similarities and their differences. Andy’s father had left her and her mother when she was seven. Andy had never known why, or what had happened to him, but she was sure that he had left for some noble reason. Her father had been better, more loving and kind, than Griffin’s father was.

All her stories mentioned something about either Griffin or her father. Most of them were about an amazing young hero who was taught by a brave knight who had saved many people during his own time. She wrote about Griffin and her father because they were the two men she thought she could trust. They were both good people. Griffin was surely doing wonderful things for people back in Oregon, and her father, wherever he was, left for a good cause and did good things for millions of people everyday. That’s what she had believed when she wrote the stories. She was hiding from the truth that her father was just like Griffin’s.

‘I need my stories’ Andy thought, suddenly desperate. She felt like she was having an attack. Her heart felt tight and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t; her eyes were dry and she couldn’t force the tears. She needed to call her mother and figure out where those stories were, but what would her mother think? After all, Andy was almost sixteen. A sixteen year old girl should not have to call her mother while she’s at work. Andy had told her mother a million times that she was grown up, but she wasn’t acting like it now.

To any outsider Andy would look very calm. She finished eating in what seemed to be a peaceful silence and then put her dishes in the sink. After rinsing her dishes and placing them in the dishwasher she walked down the hall and into her mother’s room. That was the great thing about Andy’s relationship with her mother. They didn’t hide anything. The whole house belonged to both of them, and they didn’t mind having the other in their territory. Andy sat on her mother’s bed and turned on the television trying to get the stories out of her head.

The dark people lived like rabid barbarians. It seemed to Cecilia that there was no way these people could be as bad as they were said to be in the legends. When watched from afar Cecilia could tell that they were the farthest things from intelligent and civilized humans. She could not believe she was risking her life for this fight. To die with no purpose was something Cecilia would not do. Especially if it was simply because an old woman with a dazed look on her face had said so. Cecilia would not die without reason. She would show the world that she was just as good as her father.

To Andy this passage had shown some of her doubt in her stories. It showed that things weren’t how they were said to be. It was while writing this passage that the doubt had slowly began to sink in. It had taken more than a year for it to finally break her.

Andy couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed to read her stories. She needed some of the false hope that she had back before she drowned in the pain of the cruel truth. The feeling was the same as it was back then. She had let it take away her stories before and now she was letting it take away her strength. She couldn’t live knowing that her father was just like Griffin’s. She didn’t want to believe that her father hadn’t loved her.

Holding back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, Andy reached for the phone on her mother’s nightstand. She sat up on the bed and dialed the number for her mother’s office. While the phone rang Andy played with blankets and sheets with her free hand. ‘Is she in a meeting today? I don’t remember her saying anything about a meeting. Maybe she just went out to lunch. I knew I should have called her cell, but then she would be worried. Should she be worried? Am I okay? I don’t feel okay.’

When there was a click as someone answered the phone Andy sighed with relief. “Wright Brother Publishing, Maryanne Peters speaking. How can I help you?”

“Mom?” Andy whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion and she was having a hard time speaking at all. She needed her stories.

“Andy, are you okay? You sound upset. What’s going on?” her mother was panicked. Any moment now she was going to say she was coming home. Andy couldn’t let her do that. She needed her stories and she needed to be alone.

“I’m fine.” Andy managed to whisper. “I was just wondering…” she was beginning to doubt whether this had been a good idea.

“What?” Maryanne asked. She was worried about her daughter. Andy had seemed so fragile lately. Something had been going on, and it seemed that Andy had finally broke under it all.

“Where are my stories?” It was so quiet Maryanne almost didn’t hear it. That’s what this was about. Andy had been thinking about her father. If only there was some way to tell her daughter what had happened with her father, if only she knew herself why he left.

Maryanne sighed. She had hoped that Andy would want her stories back, but she didn’t want her daughter to feel so hurt. “Where are you?”

“In your room. On your bed.” Andy answered.

“Look under my bed. They should be there. Are you okay Andy? Do you need me to come home?”

There it was. Andy had known it would happen. As much as she loved her mother she just needed to go through this alone. She needed to figure out what she wanted. “No, but mom… I can’t believe I don’t know this… I should have asked you before… What’s dad’s name?”

Maryanne didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell her. She didn’t know if Andy would be hurt by what she discovered; she didn’t know if she would be hurt by what Andy discovered. She had never tried looking for her husband, and he had never contacted her after he left. They were, in fact, still married. “His name is Marcellus Rex Peters.” There was a pause, and Maryanne guessed Andy was writing that down.

“How do you spell Marcellus?” Andy asked after a moment.

“M-a-r-c-e-l-l-u-s.”

“Thanks mom. I’ll let you get back to work now.” Andy sounded almost happy, and the sudden change in her emotions worried Maryanne.

“Okay baby. Be careful okay? I love you. I’ll be home at seven.”

“Alright. Love you too mom.” Andy smiled. When she hung up the phone she sighed. She had everything she needed now. ‘Marcellus’ Andy thought. It was a strong name, though she was sure he went by Marc. People didn’t call each other by names like Marcellus anymore.

Andy got up off of the bed and onto the floor. She looked underneath the bed and saw that there was nothing there, except a box. The box was the same one she had thrown her stories into almost three years ago. She pushed it out from under the bed to the other side and then went over to it. She didn’t know what she had expected, but she hadn’t expected the box to look exactly the same as it had three years ago.

Maybe she had expected the kind of thing you would see in a movie. The box would look old and worn almost as if it were decades old instead of just three years. Andy took a deep breath. She had been so desperate to have her stories just moments ago, and now she felt like she was afraid of them. She didn’t want to open the box. The pain these would cause was inevitable, but she had chosen her course of action and now she was going to move forward with it.

Carefully, as if it were a fragile piece of thin glass that would break when she touched it, Andy lifted the flaps on the box one at a time. Looking down into it she smiled slightly. There were about twenty or so notebooks in the box, as well as stapled bundles of paper, and a few lone papers with drawings and writing on them. These were her stories. Her whole childhood had been spent creating the work that was in this box. Andy looked for one notebook in particular and picked it up. It was a little blue hard covered notebook that was held shut by a black piece of ribbon glued to the inside of the back cover and wrapped around a quarter sized black button on the front. Andy remembered when she had decided that she needed a way to hold the notebook shut. It was about a week before she had started writing the story about the girl and the bus.

The notebook was about an inch thick and six inches long. She had carried this notebook with her everywhere when she lived in Oregon. It had been where she wrote all of her ideas, and it was the place where she had written the story of the girl and the bus. With trembling fingers Andy unwound the ribbon from around the button. She lifted the cover of the notebook and opened it carefully. The first page was titled The Dark People Part VII. She flipped past the pages covered in writing on both sides and in the margins until she came to a page titled The Clubhouse. She didn’t remember this story. She remembered writing it though. Griffin had gone to West Virginia to see his grandparents and Andy had been left with nothing to do for a week during the summer.

Andy had spent that week up in the tree house that they had built during her first summer in Oregon. She sat up there and wrote for a week and this story was what came out of it. It wasn’t very good. Her mother had even admitted it. It was just about a girl who built a clubhouse with her best friend. To a five year old girl it was magic, and so Andy had typed up a copy in a pretty font with pictures for Griffin’s little sister Amy when they got back. Andy smiled slightly and kept turning pages. The last twenty pages or so were titled Celia and the Doctor. This was the story about the girl who got hit by the bus.

Putting the notebook down, she grabbed another one from the box. This one looked almost the same as the last one, except it was purple and didn’t have a button or a ribbon. She remembered this notebook. She had written the first part of The Dark People in this notebook. As she flipped through the notebooks she saw the passages she had thought about earlier. She was surprised at how good her writing was; she had only been about eight or nine when she had began to write these stories.

Andy smiled. The stories were beginning to make her think. She didn’t have to leave them behind to be “grown up”. She could still write, and she could still believe her father was a good person without lying to herself. She didn’t know either way.

Maybe it was time to find out though.

* * * * * * * * *­ * * *

Finding someone online is not a hard thing to do. Andy knew this, and she was glad for it. Andy was sitting at the desk in her bedroom. She had brought the box of notebooks into the room and had set them on her bed. She was now waiting for her ancient computer to log on so she could open a web browser. Sitting on the desk next to her mouse was the piece of paper she had written her father’s name on.

Andy didn’t know what was going to come of this. She didn’t know if it was a waste of her time or if it was a good thing for her to do, but she was doing it. By the end of the day she would know where her father worked, possibly where he lived, what had happened to him, and maybe she’d even talk to him.

When she was completely logged onto the computer and she had a web browser open she was panicking. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for Andy to figure out what happened to her father. What if he really was just like Griffin’s father? How would she handle that? Would he want to talk to her mother? If he did would he hurt her? What if he didn’t believe that she was his daughter?

Taking one last deep breath Andy typed “Marcellus Rex Peters” into the search box of her homepage and waited for the page to load. When the page came up Andy was amazed at the number of results she had. The first one was something about a conference in New Hampshire last year. After looking at that she figured out that her father was a big business man for some company that made and sold cell phones, computers, and numerous other electronics.

The next link was the company’s webpage. It mentioned a few things about merchandising and their local stores and such, and Andy was just about to give up when she saw an address and phone number for their main office in New York. Andy jogged across the hall into her mother’s room and grabbed the phone of the bed. Closing her eyes as she walked back over to her own room she realized she was incredibly nervous.

Sitting back at her computer desk she lifted the phone with a trembling hand and dialed the number on the screen. As the phone began to ring she held it hard against her ear to keep her hand from shaking. Her heart was beating as fast as the fan in her computer was spinning and her throat was chalk dry. For a moment Andy thought about hanging up, but she didn’t. She was frozen and she couldn’t even move the phone away from her face. When a receptionist answered Andy had a hard time finding her voice.

“I was wondering if you had a Marcellus Peters working in your office.” Andy managed to say after a moment.

“Uh…” there was the sound of long, fake nails against a keyboard before Andy got an answer. “Yes we do. Mr. Peters just got back from a conference and is currently in a meeting. Would you like to leave a message?”

Andy sighed. She had been so close to talking to her father. It was all over now because he was in a meeting. She would never get the courage to do something like this again. “No.” she answered. ‘Would they let me stay on hold until he was out of the meeting?’ she wondered and decided to ask. “Is there any way I could just be put on hold until the meeting is over?” she was desperate now.

“Alright miss. What’s your name?” the receptionist asked.

“Andromeda Peters.” Andy spoke into the phone.

“Are you related to Mr. Peters?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, the meeting should be over any minute now. I’ll put you over to his office.”

“Thank you so much.” Andy’s voice was full of sincerity. The lady just chuckled before putting her on hold.

Andy was almost hyperventilating now. Any minute now she was going to get to talk to her father. She thought back to getting up earlier this morning. Had it really only been an hour ago? Andy wished she could talk to Griffin about all this, but it had been almost four years, and there was no way he thought about her anymore. She wanted to tell him about the only secret she’d ever kept from him, and she wanted to tell him how sorry she was that his father had left them.

Then she thought about the story of the girl and the doctor. Wouldn’t it be grand if that were Griffin and her? Of course, Griffin would save her. He would be a better doctor than the one in the story. They would meet again, and they would talk, and Andy would tell him about her father and about whatever was about to happen.

Suddenly the dull hold music stopped and the phone was answered. Andy swallowed hard as a man with a deep, kind voice answered the phone. “Marcellus Peters with Youngblood Electronics speaking.”

Andy suddenly couldn’t find her voice. She didn’t know what to say. This was her father she about to talk to and she had no idea how to tell him who she was. “Hello?” Marcellus said again.

Andy took a deep breath.

“Who is this?” Marcellus again. There was silence before he spoke again. “Andromeda Peters. Is this some sort of joke? Who are you and how do you know about her?” He was angry, and she suddenly remembered all the times he had scolded her when she did something wrong when she was little.

Andy took another deep breath and then decided what she would say.

“Who is this?” Marcellus demanded.

Andy’s voice shook and she didn’t sound like her normal self.

“Dad?”

I Miss You

So my blog yesterday has had me thinking about last year and this year and seventh grade and basically everything. Today I was sitting at lunch with my friends when all of the sudden I just really, really did not want to be there. I didn't want things to be different from last year, and I was finding it really sad that I had forgotten things and people that I promised myself I wouldn't.

Last year was hard for me. I spent a lot of time hanging out with people that I was trying to be friends with because there had been a time the year before that we were best friends and we did everything together. I hung out with people who were mean to me, and they were mean to me because I let them be. I didn't care that they were mean to me and that they ignored me as long as they let me hang out with them and as long as I felt I belonged there. I didn't though. I didn't belong with any of them, at least not until I started hanging out with Snow, Nina, and Double S.

Double S and Snow were in creative writing with me last year. At first we hated each other. We called each other names, shot down each other's ideas, and found every possible way to be to each other. I'm not sure when, but at some point that changed. We started talking and hanging out, and soon we were a group. Panduck, Snow, Double S, and I always sat together in Creative Writing. We talked and wrote things together. Snow didn't really like me though. I've known her forever because she lives not very far from me, and we've never really gotten along. Panduck really liked her though, and so I pretended to get along with her.

Double S is one of the most awesome people in the whole world. I can't tell you much I miss her right now. Last year we became really good friends, or at least I thought we did. We hung out together outside of school once. We went over to Snow's house and basically just kind of goofed off. It was fun, and I even began to like Snow more. After a while I stopped hanging out with my other "friends" and I began to eat lunch with Double S and I'd stop and talk to her between classes. We were really good friends.

And then there's Nina. Now it's obvious that I haven't put any of their real names on here, but Nina is really what we called her. I didn't ever know Nina really well, but she reminded me of my half sister. She was incredibly funny, and we became friends even faster than me and Double S did. I started to do everything with them. They were my pals and I loved them. I didn't know all of their friends, but I didn't care. I spent time with them. If they went to a dance I went with them. When the year was coming to an end I realized that I probably wouldn't ever hang out with them like that again. If only I had known how true that was.

Last summer I called Double S to talk to her because I hadn't talked to her and I was wondering if she could hang out anytime soon. She said she couldn't talk then, but she would call me back. She never did, and eventually I forgot all about her. Sure, I still thought about her from time to time, but I figured that she didn't want to talk to me, and she and I weren't as good of friends as I thought we were.

I'm not sure about the second part of that, but I know what she said about why she didn't call me. Double S said she got a new phone, and had lost my number. I believed her. Why not? She had given me anything to doubt.

This was when I went to go see the school musical last week. I saw Double S walk in and sit down and I dragged my friends with me so I could say hi to her (Now that is a whole other blog topic. Why would I need to make my friends come with me?). I screamed and hugged her and she hugged me, and for a moment it felt just like eighth grade. It was so great. I felt like we were still really good friends and that we still were going to be really good friends.

I left her to watch the musical with her friends, but every time I walked past her during intermission I hoped she'd stop me and try to talk to me. She didn't. She was too busy talking to her friends. I didn't do anything about it, but I did text her to tell her that I missed her.

Today during lunch I wanted it to be like it was a year ago. I wanted to be sitting with Double S and Nina. I wanted to be goofing off and laughing with my closest friends (or at least they were). I realize that this is how it's going to be next year for my eighth grade friends, or at least I hope they'll miss me. I hope that I'll talk to them more and that I'll be around more often to say hi to them and my teachers. I don't want to be the person who leaves for high school and is never heard from again. As awesome as Nina and Double S are I don't necessarily want to be like them. I don't want to forget my younger friends. They're just as great as the ones that are my age.

But yeah, mL. That's why I might have seemed angry, or sad, or whatever during lunch today. Just missing some old friends.

Sigh.

See the Difference?

This a picture taken of me during the fourth term of seventh grade.

This is my most recent picture of myself.

Not a whole lot has changed in the last two years. I've grown up a little, I've learned where and when it's ok to be silly, and when it's not. I have become a more intelligent person, and (I believe) a better person to be around. I've become a better writer, student, and friend. I've become more determined to do things, and I think I know where I want my life to go. Things change though, and so I know that I am not going to stick to the path I'm on now for my whole life.

I'm beginning to realize now that this is the end of junior high. I turned in my last AR contract today, and as soon as I finish To Kill A Mockingbird I will take my last AR test. We have 56 days until school is out, and I won't be there for my last day as a 9th grader. I'm ok with that though. It's taken me awhile, but I can honestly say that I am so stoked for nationals, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I'm sad that I'm going to miss my last day, but that just means I will have a different last day. My last day of classes will be my last day at Fairfield. The last week I will go to school for a grand total of two days, but you know what? I'm thinking those days are going to be some of the most memorable.

It is hard to think of what next year will be like. One of my strongest memories is that first day of seventh grade. I walked into my first period class (Keyboarding 1 with Bitner) after a ten minute struggle with my locker. I walked in and I saw that a lot (2 or 3) of my friends from my elementary school were in the class. I also saw that a girl I knew from Harry Potter Camp (I'm a nerd. Deal with it.) and her friend were there. I said hi, and in a nervous (yet excited) conversation about the day to come we decided that we were officially "keyboarding buddies". When that class ended we found out that the three of us were also in Beginning Orchestra together. I am sad to see that I don't really talk to one of those girls at all anymore, and although I talk to the other one we aren't really that great of friends anymore.

So all this makes me wonder. I'm going into high school with quite a few more friends than I had almost three years ago. My best friend in the whole world is taking almost all of the same classes as I am. I know we are going to have a great year, but by changing our school now, by going to a new place, in a new situation, etc. What am I going to lose? What friends are going to drift away next year? Who is going to find someone they get along with better? Will I be the one who goes in a new direction next year? I'm scared to tell you the truth. I love my friends more than anything, and I'm worried that if they split and go in a new direction I will be left to find my own way, and I'm afraid I'll get so lost that there will be no way back.

I'm excited though. In a way I'm looking forward to see who is going to find a new direction. I want to see the new people and the new places. I'm excited to see how much better block scheduling is. I can't wait to try all these new things.

Sure the familiarity will be gone, and I might sink for a while, but eventually I'll learn to float. I know I've planned a lot of things for next year. Two AP classes, two honors classes, debate, spanish, and hopefully Science Olympiad. It's a lot to handle, but I think I can do it. I think that as long as I have a few good friends (new or old) by my side I will be ok.

So here we go. Fourth term is here folks. We're finishing our last year as a Falcon. Already we're shaping into loyal and proud Lancers and Darts. We're so close to being finished with junior high. We need to make the most of the time we have left, and we need to enjoy every second of it.

Which is more important?

Now, I've already come to a decision on this, but I was just wondering what some other people thought.

I'm on the Science Olympiad team, and, while in past years it has been my life and I have loved it, I am just not having fun this year and if I would have realized this sooner I never would have even tried out.

So my major problem, or it was until I made up my mind, is that Nationals (which we always go to) are the last few days of school. If we end up going I'll miss my last few days of junior high.

To some people the choice would so easily be to go to Nationals in Washington DC. But I don't think that those people understand what the last three years have meant to me. Junior high was not going to be the best years of my life. In seventh grade I thought it was going to suck as much as elementary school, or at least at the beginning. But then I met my friends, and I joined the Science Olympiad team, and right away I found where I belonged at our school. It was easy, and I had a ton of friends. I had never really had that kind of thing before.

In elementary school I was the kid who didn't have a best friend and, even though I wasn't the bad type of kid, I hung out with the kids who got into trouble. I would spend some time hanging out with them, they would get mad at me, and then I would spend I couple weeks or months hanging out by myself. I spent a lot of my time reading back then. It was ok, I didn't mind, but I did want friends. It wasn't a big deal to me though. I had never had friends, and so I didn't know what the big deal about having a best friend was.

Now I can't see myself sitting in the commons or outside at lunch reading. I've tried every once and a while, but I have found great friends that I spend all of my time with, and I have my best friend. She's the coolest girl in the world, and I don't know what I'll do without her (she is only going to be living here until probably the end of our sophomore year).

This school has meant so much to me and I have no idea how horrible I'd feel if I weren't there on my last day. So I'm going to be there. No matter how much it makes Mrs. Nelson or Mr. Erickson disappointed in me. I will NOT miss my last days with my closest friends in the place where I became who I am.

I know people think that I am just too young to realize that DC will be a better experience, but I only get one shot at junior high, and I won't miss the last of it. I want to be there. I want to see the school's reaction to a yearbook that I put hours and hours of work into.

So what is your opinion? Do you think I should go to Nationals? Or do you agree that I shouldn't miss my last day of junior high?

I'm really curious to see if anyone agrees with me.

New Places, New Things

Is it just me, or is the fact that we are almost done with junior high slightly scary? I mean it seems like it wasn't that long ago that it was just summer and I was so glad the year was over and I had a few months to relax. Now we're choosing our classes for our first year in high school and we're hearing everywhere that what classes we choose now are going to be really important later. It is going to influence the rest of our lives.

We have just one more term left at our school and then we're split. We will no longer be Falcons. Half of us will be Darts and the other half will be Lancers. We've all known this would happen, but isn't the reality that it's happening so soon startling to anyone but me?

Yesterday I was staying after school to work on a project with mL and some eighth graders. When we were done I then had to wait for Izzi and Em to get done with play practice (they are doing stage crew). After that I was waiting outside for my mom to get there to pick me and my sisters up when Mr. T came out of the building to go home.

I said hello, he asked why I was still there. The same conversation we have every time it happens. Then he said something that made me laugh, and then it made me think. "When you guys leave you are going to have withdrawals from this school." or something along those lines, but I couldn't deny how true it is. I spend so much of my time at school that I don't know what I'll do when I'm no longer a student there. I know, I'm a nerd, but seriously? That place is like my second home. I never liked elementary school, and so I don't really remember it very well, but I could tell you some of the exact conversations I had on my first day at our school. I love it there. I've met some of the most amazing people, and I've become friends with some people I had almost forgotten about.

I don't know how much I'm going to like being a Lancer. I do know that I will miss being a Falcon so much, and that it is going to be so weird to walk through the doors of Layton High this fall and think that that is where I will be going to school for the next three years. It's going to be hard, and I know I'm going to hate it at least a little at first simply because it's different, but I know that in time I will get new friends there, and I'll find teachers that are just as wonderful as the one's I've had the last three years.

I can't help it though. I'm going to miss Fairfield. I can't tell you one thing that has happened there that I hated. I've loved every part of junior high.

I have friends that will be going to Davis next year, and I know that I won't ever talk to some of them again. Some people might say that that's just life, but these people have been so great, and I love them with all of my heart. I think it sucks that something as simple as going to a different school will be able to tear us apart, but I know it is probably going to happen.

The idea of high school is still exciting for me. I'm so excited to be in a new place with new people. I can't wait to experience something new.

So, even though I'm way excited for high school, I'm so sad that junior high is almost over. I've been dreading the last day of school all year, and, even though it's still do far away, it's closer than I realized. It's been a shock to me, and it has definitely given me something to think about. The year is almost over, and, for once, I don't want it to.

Drum Roll PLEASE!!!!!

Ok, so I am pretty much done with Yearbook for the year. Mrs. Barney has put me into creative writing, and I am so glad to be working on something for myself. My writing is something I've put aside all year because of the things I have going on and now I get to pick it back up and continue it.

So, since the Creative Writing class is working on short stories right now I've come up with a great idea.

Do you remember the story I posted a while ago? Try to Remember or something like that... I don't know if I changed the title on here or not, but I'm continuing it. This story is going to be about Andy's secrets...

YAY! I just came up with my title. Andy's Secrets!! I am so happy.

I can't tell you how happy I am now that I am working on something that is totally and completely my own. I've been wanting to for so long now. I just haven't had the time. Well now I don't really have a choice. I have to write this story because it goes on my grade.

My life is looking up people! :P

Life is Wonderful..... Kinda

People like me like to be envolved. They like to have to much to do, and they thrive on the stress of a busy life. I know that this isn't always the best thing to admit about yourself, but it's who I am. When I see something that looks like it has any potential to be fun I'll try to join it. This year I'm part of so many groups that I've been insanely busy.

The group that I am most involved in is Yearbook. I am the "Copy Editor" which basically means I am in charge of all of the writing that goes in the book, and I'm also in charge of making sure that everything looks good in the end. Don't hold that against me, though. I can change everything that the other people on the staff do. There just isn't enough time, but I promise that this year's yearbook will be better than years past. I've worked almost non-stop on the pages and I've skipped more lunches and (with teachers' permission) classes than I have all through Jr. High with other activities. It's really stressful at times, but I work pretty well under pressure and I love working with the rest of the staff.

I'm also part of Science Olympiad. I am really regretting that this year. I was on the team in both 8th and 7th grades and I really enjoyed it, but what I've found this year is that it's not as fun without the people I got used to working with that have moved on to high school. I'm not having fun with it and it's become more of a pain than it's worth. If state wasn't like 4 weeks away then I would be out by now, but no. I'm stuck for the long haul. Is it too horrible of me to say that I hope we lose state this year? I do not want to miss my last day at Fairfield, but that's another story for another time.

So even though I have a lot going on this year I'm still having fun. I'm enjoying everything I'm doing, but it has consequences. I don't have a lot of time to relax, and I don't always have my priorities straight. When I get so busy that I end up putting my home life aside I get into trouble.

Pass or Fail?

Well, we did another one of those timed essays in English today, and I thought (since I got done like ten minutes early) that I'd put mine up here. It got a five! Woot! Haha. Woot is a fun word!

Topic: Your principal is considering a new grading policy that replaces letter or number grades on report cards with pass or fail. What is your position concerning this issue? Write a letter to your principal stating your position and supporting it with convincing reasons. Be sure to explain your reasons in detail.

Essay:

Mr. Davis,

When you were in school did you strive to get the best possible score in every class? Did you feel good when you could see that you had gone from an A to and A+ or from a C to an A? Switching to a pass or fail grading system would take that drive away from students. The good students wouldn’t really be recognized for their achievements. The students who don’t do quite so well would only ever have to work hard enough to get to the percentage that would pass them, and they would look just as good as those who worked their very hardest. Switching to a pass or fail grading system would ultimately harm all the students in our school.

For some students grades are so important that it is almost all they think about. They look to get the highest A possible, and they strive for 4.0s. In my experience I know that getting good grades is really important. I can’t stand it when I have an A- because it’s the only thing holding me back from a 4.0. When students can see that people are recognizing their achievements they work harder. They like the attention, and they like to know people are proud of them. When students in our school can look up at the wall in the commons and see their picture because they got a 4.0 it makes them feel good, and it keeps them going through the next term.

Without having GPAs or grades students wouldn’t be recognized the way they are now for their classroom achievements. Sometimes that’s all it takes for a student to stop working in school. When they think that nobody is really going to care if they get the highest grade they just stop. What’s the motivation if nobody pays attention to anything other than if you passed or failed? Even the students who don’t get great grades would be affected by this change.

Some students don’t ever work for the classes they’re in and they don’t really care about whether they pass or fail a class. Logically though, if all you have to do to pass a class and look just as good as the best 4.0 student is raise the percentage even just a little bit, they’d do it. Some people would say this is good because at least they’d be passing, but how can it be good to encourage to only go as far as you need to in order to pass? These students who get lower grades would be hurting themselves, because by passing with the lowest score possible students hardly even need to learn the material for their classes.

Switching to a pass/fail grading system would hurt the students of our school. The good students with the good grades would not be recognized for their hard work, and they would lose, some, if not all of their motivation to go for the highest possible grade. The students with the bad grades would not actually have to learn anything in order to pass. So I ask you, Mr. Davis, to consider what you are doing to the students in your school before you take this action. You would be helping us all.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Madison Randquist

I thought I presented some good points there. :P I liked it. :P

WOOT! Hahaha.

Seven minutes left of English. I think I'll just keep writing until it's time to log off.....

Drama... My life is full of it. Joy.

I don't know what to talk about...

Oh well....

Feeling Good

Life Is Wonderful Lyrics
Jason Mraz
It takes a crane to build a crane
It takes two floors to make a story
It takes an egg to make a hen
It takes a hen to make an egg
There is no end to what I'm saying

It takes a thought to make a word
And it takes some words to make an action
And it takes some work to make it work
It takes some good to make it hurt
It takes some bad for satisfaction

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la

It takes a night to make it dawn
And it takes a day to make you yawn brother
And it takes some old to make you young
It takes some cold to know the sun
It takes the one to have the other

And it takes no time to fall in love
But it takes you years to know what love is
And it takes some fears to make you trust
It takes some tears to make it rust
It takes the dust to HAVE it polished

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la

It takes some silence to make sound
And it takes a loss before you found it
And it takes a road to go nowhere
It takes a toll to make you care
It takes a hole to MAKE a mountain

Ah la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la life is meaningful
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la life is meaningful
Ah la la la la la la life is full of
Ah la la la la la life is so full of love
Ah la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is meaningful
Ah la la la la la life is full of
Ah la la la la la life is so full of love



One of my favorite songs at the moment. You should listen to it if you get a chance.

So life is pretty good. There have been some really shitty moments lately, but it's ok; I've got some pretty awesome people around to help me get past them.

The Honors English party was fun, though it wasn't much of a party. I think only about six or seven of us went, and then two non-Honors English students came (one being my boyfriend, and the other being my little sister). Mostly we just sat around and talked.

Our topics were everything from music and books, to who (me and Izzy, or Panduck) had the most embarrassing stories about themselves. It was great. We stayed in Mr. T's room until he made us leave, and then we sat in the doorway waiting for our rides. I played my guitar while the others talked.

I'm definitely doing a lot better than I was before. Things between me and my mom are awesome, Science Olympiad isn't stressing me out that much, basically everything is wonderful. Except... My inspiration for writing is like nonexistent. It sucks. I wish I could write. I wish I had inspiration to write something that people would love, but I'm just so busy.

Hopefully soon I'll find some time for to just kick back and relax. That's when I get all my best ideas anyway.

"Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful"

Life is Good

Ok, what could be better than sitting at home with all of my family. We're all doing different things, but at the same time we are all hanging out together. Obviously I'm on the computer. My mom and some of my sisters are are building a puzzle. My step dad's making dinner, and J is watching cheer leading movies. *rolls eyes*

But we are all having lots of fun talking and listening to music. I'm totally redoing my iPod and I'm having so much fun going through my old music. The stuff I was into a couple years ago is so hilarious. I mean, stuff like Nick Carter and N*SYNC. Now, I am talking about like third, maybe fourth, grade here.

So holy crap. This is perfect. I'm loving it. Earlier this week I was feeling so down. I have been missing this side of me for a while and I am so glad to have it back. It's been a long time since I have just sat down and relaxed without thinking about something that would stress me out beyond all reason.

And guess what? I am one percent away from a 4.0. Isn't that so awesome? This is the first time I've gotten straight A's in a very long time. I am so proud of myself.

Anyway I got myself sidetracked and I think I'm going to go back to my music now.

Have a good long weekend everyone!

Bleh.

Ok so I just wrote this majorly long blog venting on how crappy my weekend was, but guess what? I can't post it. Because you know what would happen then? I'd get into trouble because Izzy would read it and then show it to my mom, and guess what? It's not worth being grounded for.

But whatever.... I am so sick of being around people it's not even funny. My friends I can handle, my teachers I can handle, but right now I am so sick of being around my sisters that I just want to go sit in my room all day.

Argh! I just want to go to sleep and not wake up for another week. I want to stop being so stressed about everything I have to get done, and I want people to stop telling me that because I'm a kid my stress is nothing to theirs.

Well you know what? To me it is. I'm stressed out because of all the things I'm trying to do right now and everything I need to do, and being told by my parents that they'd trade me does not help. It just makes me feel so much worse and all I want to do is scream

I hate it when adults compare our problems to theirs. We haven't dealt with their problems yet, and I don't pretend I know what it's like to be my parents, but to me my problems are just as important as theirs because I don't know what it's like to be an adult, and frankly I don't think I want to. Why is it that when I tell my parents I'm stressed out they don't care? They care about Izzy when she's stressed. Maybe I'm just the cause of my mom's stress and because of that she doesn't want to deal with me? I don't know.

I just can't even tell you how much it sucks to have someone tell you that what you care about doesn't matter. Because no matter if they have bigger problems than me, no matter if they don't think the things that are most important to me matter at all, no matter what their dealing with that makes my problems so stupid and insignificant, it doesn't help to be told that it doesn't matter.

Because it DOES matter. It matters to me. My problems are a big deal to me, and at least I don't tell you that your problems are nothing compared to mine. I don't say that what you care about doesn't matter. Why do you get to do that to me?

Oh, that's right, because you're an adult. Because you're an adult it doesn't matter what I think compared to what you think. What I say will never be as important as what you say. When I tell you that I'm stressed you'll always be able to tell me that my stress is nothing compare to yours and that you'd trade me any day.

It's one of my biggest pet peeves when adults shrug kids problems aside because they're aren't as important as theirs.

Argh! It just makes me so mad!

Book Reviews

Holy crap! Have you ever read a book and then just wanted it to go on and on and on forever? Do you ever wish that the ending had been so different, and yet it was such a great ending? Well I just finished an amazing book, and now I'm starting the companion to it, and all I want to do is just change the book into a happy story. :P

Stargirl. My mom got it for me for Christmas. At first it was so cool and fun, and then Leo tried to change her and she changed for him and it was sad because she wasn't herself anymore. Then she wins the oratorical contest and moves?!?!? I couldn't believe it. It was so sad!

Another book I read recently was called The Thirteenth Tale. It's all about this girl who gets a letter to write a biography on the most popular author of that time. She goes ahead and decides to do it, and along the way she learns all about her own story as well. The book is full of interesting characters and intense stories. All through the book I was coming up with different scenarios, and then something would happen to make me think that there was no way my idea could happen. Towards the end of the book one of my first and most impossible ideas happened. It was so awesome the way that the author kept you guessing through the entire story.

I've been reading some pretty awesome books lately, and I've even started Pride and Prejudice. The problem with that is that I have to be in the right mood to really enjoy the story, and with the other books I've been reading I haven't really been able to sit down and really enjoy the book. So I'm hoping I'll be able to get it done in time to take the AR for it this term for English, but who knows. :P

Happy (a little early) New Year!!!!!!!!!

So we leave behind 2007 and welcome 2008 with open arms.

Today my dad came up to see me and my sisters and take us out to lunch. We were talking about this year being over soon, and he asked if we had gotten our time capsules put together. We all laughed and we knew he was joking, but I can't help but think about it. I mean, if I had put together a time capsule what would have been in it? Well there are many things I might want to consider.

And yet I can't think of anything material. There are thoughts I might want, ideas that never became more than that, things I wanted to do that never turned into a real object. Stories I wrote, or even just thought of would also be there. People I've met, conversations I've had. There are so many things that I would want to remember that I can't even remember in detail now.

Maybe if it were possible I would just want to put in the general emotion from this year. Overall I believe I just spent a lot of time thinking. I didn't put a lot into action, and I definitely didn't read as much as I thought I would.

So here's my question. What would you have put into a time capsule for 2007? What are the things from this year that you want to remember for the rest of yours lives? Or maybe even things that you don't want to think about now that you want to remember later on in life? (There you go, I could think of a lot of those) Were there books you read, people you met, conversations you had, gifts you received, stories you wrote, or anything that you might want to remember? There are so many things, and I believe that over the next week I'm going to think about those things, I'll write them down, and a week into 2008 I will post my official time capsule for 2007. I challenge anyone who reads my blog to do the same.

Happy New Year Everyone!!!!
2008 is here!!!!
Lets hope it's as great as 2007 was!!!!

Goodbye Bonanza City

The show Kid Nation aired it's season finale tonight. I've never been as sad to see a show end. Who knows when the next season will start. The controversy behind it is making it so they cannot do another season within the United States.

Every Wednesday night for the last several weeks me and my family have sat down and watched Kid Nation together. By this weeks episode I felt almost as if I knew some of the kids that were shown regularly on the show. Sophia, Laurel, Anjay, Greg, Michael, Guylan, Taylor, Mallory Olivia... All those kids were people that I would love to meet, and even though I know I never will, I feel as if I have.

I can't begin to imagine how much it must suck to leave Bonanza City knowing that there is a chance that you will never see those people you came to know so well again. These kids were so amazing. They were able to build and maintain a community without a whole lot of help at all. They were able to create themselves a organized town. They are my heroes. Sophia, Greg, Laurel, and every other kid who was in Bonanza city.

I hope that CBS will find somewhere to have another Kid Nation, because just watching the show was awesome. Just imagine how it must have felt to be part of it.

Christmas Parties

It's that time of year again. The Holidays. It's December and all around signs that Christmas is coming are beginning to appear. I'm definitely feeling the christmas spirit, and I'm so excited for the holiday to arrive. But not all years have seemed as "Christmassy" as this year has. Last year I don't think I really ever got in the spirit of Christmas. I had fun with what I was doing and all, but I never really felt Christmas. Does that make sense?

Yesterday I went to my grandma's house for our anual Christmas party. I was so excited all day because it was the first time I had seen my dad in a couple weeks, and I hadn't seen my grandma and grandpa, my aunts and uncles, or my cousins since the summer. So when everyone began to arrive at my grandma's house I said hi to them, and I talked to them. I had a lot of fun.

I love my family. My aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my parents and sisters. They're all awesome. I don't know what I would do without them.

Every year my family on my dad's side gets together for our Christmas party. Each of us cousins has to get a gift for one of the others, which is always decided around Thanksgiving. At this party every year we celebrate mine and Izzy's birthday. The reason for this is that it's so hard to get our whole family together at the same time more than once a month.

This year's party was so amazing. I had so much fun, and yet it was probably one of the shortest there has ever been. Me, Izzy, and my cousin (who I am going to call the Narrator, a story that I will write about later) always try to find a place where we can hide from the little kids. This year we finally realized where the perfect place was. The library. In my grandparents basement there is this room that has gone through many changes over the years. A long, long time ago it was my half sister's (Wendy Bird) room, and before ( or after) that I believe there was someone else staying there, but a few (or maybe more than that) years ago my grandpa decided to turn it into a library.

So the Narrator, Izzy, and I all went in there to talk about what had gone on with our family since Izzy and I had last seen them. It was fun. I found out a lot more about what had been going on with them than I had ever really known before. It was definitely a lot of fun.

Then when we went upstairs to open presents and stuff I realized why we always try to get away from the little kids. Even though every year we all get a little bit older it doesn't change how loud my cousins are when we are all together. It was so chaotic that a lot of us didn't even really know what was going on, but I loved it anyway.

Later on my grandma got out the punch bowl, and all of us knew what that meant. Fraupe. It's this great drink which is basically Sprite and sherbet ice cream. It's something that we always have at the christmas party, and I don't think any of us know what one of the parties would be without it.

After everyone had settled down a little bit (a very little bit) we decided to try a new game. It's called Werewolves, and I don't really have time to explain it right now, but I will later. Anyway we played that and then it was time to go. We were all sad. Another year was past, next year we will all be older and it will all be different. I can't wait.

Her name is Breezy Bear

Aren't these two just the cutest puppies you've ever seen? The first one's name is Koda. He's a lot bigger now than he was when that picture was taken, but he's still just as cute. Koda is a two year old Shiba Inu that we (my family) got two years ago.

My mom has never liked the idea of having a dog simply because of the hair and the shedding. When I was little I had always wanted a dog but I never thought that I would actually ever get one. For christmas two years ago my little sisters each got a Nintendo DS. The game they got for it was called Nintendogs. Nintendogs is an adorable game where you can buy, train, and play with dogs. Each of my sisters got a different version of it. Eventually we all decided we wanted a dog because the ones on the game were so cute.

We weren't exactly sure what breed we wanted though. We came across the Shiba Inu's on the Nintendogs game. That's when we got Koda.

Since we got him my step dad has said we need to get a little girl Shiba for him to play with. I had thought my mom would never agree. Then (just half an hour ago) my parents said they had a christmas present for us to open early. We all went into the living room and picked up the box. My two littlest sisters opened it. Inside was the second picture above. Our new puppy. She's still too young, so we won't have her for another two weeks, but we're all so excited to bring her home. Her name right now is Holly. It's cute, but we've decided on something that fits our family, and her (hopefully) a lot better.

At first we decided Bri, and for about twenty minutes that was her name, but then my mom suggested Breezy. So there she is, our Breezy Bear. I'm so excited for the day we are going to get her (the 15th) I can't wait!

So that's our Breezy. We'll get her three days before my birthday, and it will be an awesome day for everyone. We're all curious as to how she will act. Koda is a crazy dog, he loves being under the couch, he hates water, but he loves snow. He isn't a very cuddly dog, but he loves to play. Hopefully Breezy will be a sweet puppy. Actually I know she will be.

So there's my new puppy, and her name is Breezy Bear.

friend (frěnd)
n.

1. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.
2. A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.
3. A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.
4. One who supports, sympathizes with, or patronizes a group, cause, or movement: friends of the clean air movement.
5. Friend A member of the Society of Friends; a Quaker.

tr.v. friend·ed, friend·ing, friends Archaic
To befriend.

Can any one person really define what a friend is? For some people a friend is someone who's at their side no matter what they do. For others a friend is a kind and sincere person that likes the same kind of things they do. Some people think their friends are simply the people that they are around. To me a friend is someone who will stick with me when my decisions are right, tell me when they're wrong, and help me when I'm stuck.

It's taken me a very long time to figure out what a friend is to me. When I was little a friend was simply someone who was liked and would let me follow them around. When I started Junior High a friend became someone who shared the same interests as me, was in some of my classes, and sat with me at lunch. Now I've come to realize it doesn't matter where your friends live, when/if you see them, or whether other people like them. What matters about a friend is that they like you, you don't keep unnecessarily secrets, it's not hard to have fun with them, and, no matter what bad decisions you make, as long as you're still a good person, a good friend will still be there for you.

My friends last year were not this type of person. They didn't/don't care about my feelings about things, they get angry at me for no reason, they'd betray me the second they got a better deal, and it was so hard to just be myself around them. Sadly these people were some of the nicest people I've ever met, but I can't be friends with someone who can't say they'll be my friend even if other people think I'm weird or stupid or whatever.

Now my friends are everything that I could ask for. Sure they don't like/do the things I do all of the time, and they aren't all one tight little group either. I have friends from every single clique you could think of outside of the SBO's and the Cheerleaders. They don't make fun of me for the groups I'm in, they don't make me chose between on or the other, they don't make fun of my other friends, and even though sometimes they aren't the most popular kids at school, they aren't the ones who are ruining their lives with drugs or alcohol.

Although it's taken me a long time to decide who my real friends are I think I've finally got it figured out. My real friends are those that would help me through any situation that they didn't have to get involved in to fix. They are the people I could tell anything and even though they may judge me for it the judging would not be false. They tell me when I need to change the way I'm doing things, and they don't worry about hurting me to badly when they need to.

My friends are some of the best people I know, and even though I've decided my old friends aren't my close friends I still love them.

Next year when we all split into two schools I'm lucky to say that almost all of my close friends and most of my old friends will be going to the same school as I am. I think that we'll be friends for at least a good portion of our lives. I don't know what I'd do without them now.

Inspiration? Or lack thereof?

So I've been sitting here reading other peoples blogs for about an hour now. I have no idea what to write and so I thought I'd get inspiration from someone else's blog. So far that hasn't worked very well. I don't really know what I should blog about today, but I'm sure within the next hour I'll come up with something decent.

Within Its Pages

If there is one thing I love most about books other than their stories is the smell. You know, the smell that comes from the pages of almost every book that exists? Something about that smell makes me feel. I mean there's nothing better than picking up a book you haven't even began reading, opening it, and just smelling the pages. It's like the smell holds a story of it's own.
The story of that smell differs for every single person. Mine tells the story of a thousand characters loved and hated; it tells of songs heard, pages read, questions asked, and knowledge gained. The story tells of young girls who are lost in the woods, of people running from the most unheard of dangers. The story reminds me of the stories that I read long ago that I used to love more than life itself; the stories that get lost in the corner of my mind and can only find their way back when I'm not thinking about it.
The smell reminds me of nights I spent reading in the front yard when I was young, and summers spent pondering what will happen to your favorite character by the end of the book. It's as if the story documents every book I've ever read and what happened in my life while reading those books. It's the story of my life. The smell is my story. The smell is my life.
I know this is probably one of the weirdest things for me to say, but I'm sure there is at least one other person in this class who honestly loves the smell of books as much as I do. The smell of the page of a book is one of the most precious smells in the world. Not one thing could replace the feeling that the smell gives me. All my life I'll be able to open a book, smell the pages, and remember stories and experiences that I haven't thought about in a long time.

So there you have it. My favorite thing in the world lies within the pages of almost any book you open. :)

The Most Random Ramblings Ever

It's finally here. The end of the first quarter of my last year at Fairfield Junior High. I don't know what I was really expectng it to be at first, but this was not it. I wasn't expecting to be this busy this year. I wasn't planning to be having so much fun that I hate going home everyday. I did not expect to be hanging out with a whole new group of people and almost never speaking to those people I have been friends with since my very first day at our beloved school. There is nothing more surprising than finding out that the people who you've been closest too for the longest time are not the people you really want to be around.

Everything is changing now. Everything I've known about being a student at Fairfield since before I even started going to school here has been changing. All my classes are harder, and I'm actually finding that I need help understanding things. This has never happened to me before. In the past I always understood what was going on in class.

My friends have been changing even more than my classes and expectations have. My best friend, who will be known as Panduck for this entry, who I met during HP summer camp before seventh grade isn't my best friends anymore. I'm sad to say that she's not really my friend at all. We talk to each other sometimes and I see her at lunch and everywhere else, but we don't hang out anymore, we don't write notes to each other, and the story we started writing over a year ago is now over. It's incomplete, but we're done writing it. The thing about the whole situation is that I don't mind. My friends now are people that I wish I'd been hanging out with all along. They don't fight as much, and they don't cause as much drama as my old friends did. Don't get me wrong I love all my friends. It's just so much easier to hang out with people who don't cause much drama.

As well as things that have been going on at home lately there are a lot of things going on at home. I've been spending a lot of time with my family on my mom's side lately. The Thomases are great people, but like any other family they have their issues. When your with them it's always a different experience. Their are always so many people at my grandmothers house. The house is never lonely, and its chaos is my favorite thing about going there.

My Grandpa and Grandma Thomases' house is the best place in the world to me. It's the only house that I've ever been in that almost always remains the same. Every christmas they put out their little ceramic village and the big lighted trees. When you go inside you almost always hear the chatter of people and you're always warmly welcomed. I always go straight to my grandma and hug her. There is not a single person that makes me as happy as my grandma does. I've been at least a foot taller than her for years now, and my little sister are almost reaching that mark as well. My grandpa is a very great man. His smile is so great that when I see it I can't help but smile too. There is nothing that I love more than being at my grandma's house.

Wow. I've really gotten off topic here. Haha.

Well since this blog has turned into more of a collection of a bunch of random thoughts I think I'll continue.

I had a friend when I lived in Salt Lake whose name was Jessica. I called her Jess, because Jessica seemed like more of a girly type name than Jess did. Jess was definitely a tom boy. The only one I had ever known back then. Jess' favorite thing in the world was playing soccer. I hated it but I played it with her anyway because I knew that it was something that she liked to do. Hers was a friendship I will never forget. Jess was a very confident and intimidating girl. She was always up to something, and half the time it was daring other kids to go into the "men's room" or the "ladies' room" which was what the teachers called their bathrooms which kids weren't allowed to go in. No one ever did except for a few, and usually those kids pretended they hadn't. Or so I heard.

I can't tell you how often I think about Jessica and what type of person she is now. Through-out the years I've seen a lot of my old friends from when I lived near Salt Lake, in Sandy. I've seen so many of them that it's not even funny, and when I do see them I love to see how different they are from what I remember. I haven't seen any of them in a couple of years now, and I wish I had. I like to think that they remember me as I remember them, but I don't think very many of them do. I think many of them would hate my guts now if we still knew each other, because as alike as we were then I'm sure we're all very different now. Even saying that I'd love to see some of them again.

Lately I've been thinking about a lot of different things as you can see by this very unorganized blog. I've been thinking about next year and what high school I'll go to. I have two possible options open right now. One says I go to Fremont High school out in Plain City and get car privileges along with Izzi. Another says I go to Layton High school and walk everyday. I'm not sure which school I want to go to yet, because both are really great. Both schools' art programs are decent from what I've heard, but I'm not interested in art. I've heard very little of anything else about either school, but I do know that Layton's orchestra is really small. I'm not sure if I'd like being part of a really small orchestra.

I've also been thinking about pets lately. My cousin had to sell her dog on Saturday and it tore her apart to do so. Both mine and her dog are great pets, and both of them are somewhat of a nuisance sometimes. The dogs' barks are both incredibly loud for their sizes. My cousins dog is large, and mine is small. Both are pretty loud and not like very much by neighbors. When my cousin had to sell her dog it made me incredibly sad because I thought about how I'd feel if I lost my dog, Koda. I don't know what my cousin will do without her dog. They've practically grown up together.

So there's been a lot on my mind lately and that's just a little bit of it. I've also been thinking about writing a children's book/story. I'm not sure if I will or not, but I've come up with some great ideas about story lines for it. I don't know. I've gotten a lot of ideas for things I can write and I've never really finished any of them.

Well I've spent enough time writing this now I'm going to go get working on this terms assignments.

Country Love For Lily

Wow, what a long weekend I’ve had. I can’t believe I don’t have to go to school in the morning. Nope. Tomorrow I get to sit around the house and relax, or at least that’s what I want to do. I am so tired right now. I’ve spent the last three days working on the benefit concert for my cousin Lily. The concert was yesterday, but today we had to go and clean everything up. It was stressful, and I am really worn out, but we did some great things for a great little girl and I believe that Lily and her family will be doing a little better after all of this.

I doubt anyone who reads this knows of a guy named Brenn Hill. He’s a country singer. He was the one who did the concert for my cousin and I have to say he is a great guy. His songs are amazing, though I think they’re a lot better in person because of the sound of his guitar. I’ve been listening to his songs all day, but it isn’t because they’re my favorite songs in the world or anything. The reason I keep listening to Brenn’s music is because it reminds me of the precious day I had yesterday. The best part of the whole thing was seeing me entire family get together to make it possible. People I haven’t seen in months were there, and the whole thing just made me wonder how the world could give a disease like Leukemia to a 3 year old little girl.

At the end of the concert, as Brenn was finishing his encore, Lily came up onto the stage and started walking around. I don’t think he even noticed she was there. Everyone started clapping and cheering and Lily started to bow. This made the crowd get louder and it was just so cute to see my cousin up on the stage bowing to an audience while Brenn smiled at the crowd. “One last song for Lily.” He said. Lily then ran to the other side of the stage to the basket of apples that was part of the décor. She picked one up and, with her head down, ran towards Brenn. She handed him the apple, went to get off the stage, and then decided to hug him.

The whole thing was so sweet I couldn’t believe she came up with it herself. Later we asked my two aunts, Lily’s mom and my mom’s oldest sister, if they had told her to do that. “No,” My aunt Missy (Lily’s mom) said. None of us could believe how cute it was that she came up with it on her own.

Last night was a night I will always remember for the rest of my life. Even though there were times I just wanted to throw things at people, times I felt like I wanted to scream, most of the night I felt something I had never really felt before. I don’t know for sure what it was. Something between love, amazement, joy and generosity. It’s difficult to explain. Lily has shown me that it doesn’t matter what kind of hardships you have to go through, there is no excuse not to be kind to people. Sometimes you get frustrated and get angry, but it’s the times that you show how kind and generous you can be that really count.

We all love you Lily girl. Stay strong. You are definitely a fighter. With all of us, your family, by your side you can do anything!

Good Intentions Bad Results

Ok, so right now I feel like throwing myself off of a building. Reason being? I just went through an hour long lecture about how much my essay sucked because of it's negativity. Then I sat through another twenty minutes of being told how I need to fix it, and now I need to re-write my second draft, get it checked, and then write my final draft.

I am never doing a paper on someone in my family again.

Someone remind me of this next time we are given an assignment on a person.

Thanks!

Now I'm going to go complete this essay (which I was excited about and am now thinking that it is no longer my work), and then I'm going to go up to my room and try to read at least fifty pages of Monte Cristo which is what I will have to do every night if I want to get the points for AR this term.

Damn, and today was supposed to be a really good day.

I'm an idiot for thinking that.

No day is a really good day in the house of the Turek's (my step dad's last name).

Edit (12-11-07)- Wow. I am a brat. One bad day and I say something like that. ^
Am I really that bad of a person? I didn't think so, but now I'm not so sure. Do I say things like that when I'm angry? I guess I really am like that. :(

The Magic Sisters

This is the beginning to a story I wrote the other day. I'll tell you about the inspiration for this story another time, but for now tell me what you think ok?

Once there were six young witches. They were all sisters and each of them had a special gift. Athena, named after the Greek goddess of war and wisdom, held the knowledge of the ages. She was the oldest, wisest, and the cleverest of the sisters. Athena had a temper, and everyone knew not to cross her, because when she was angry she destroyed everything in her path, and though she would be sorry for it later she didn’t seem to care who she hurt in her rage.

Next was Izabell. Izabell was known for her ability to blend in with mortals. Everything about her was overlooked by other witches. That is everything except her long curly blond hair. Her hair was envied by all, and because Izabell didn’t like the attention she got from it she often would do her hair in strange ways that she thought others wouldn’t like. Izabell had a quick temper, but she could easily manipulate any mortal she came across.

Izabell and Athena were twins. Their personalities were those of the sun and the moon. Izabell was an artist; creative and talented, though she hated to admit the true beauty of her creations. Athena was a scholar; constantly trying to learn and teach her sisters of the dangers of the world they lived in. Izabell and Athena had been best friends when they were young. Nothing and no one could break them apart, but eventually Athena realized that Izabell manipulated her as much as she did mortals. Athena dealt with it for a while before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Now Izabell and Athena can’t even be in the same room without fighting.

After the twins came Amelia. Although she was one of the older witches, Amelia was the very core of mortal innocence. She thrived on the hopes and dreams of everyone around her, and she almost always preferred ignorance over knowledge. Amelia was known for her smile. One glance at her and you couldn’t help but realize how truly beautiful she was. She denied it of course, but her long beautiful red hair, her green eyes, her long legs, and her graceful posture created one of the most beautiful witches any of the sisters had ever met. Amelia, though beautiful and very much a “girly girl” as mortals would call her, hated men. She teased them and was mean to them almost as if she was one of them. This caused a lot of trouble for the sisters, but they didn’t mind. One day Amelia would get past that.

The first of the three younger witches was Grace. Her name was an oxymoron in itself. Grace spillled everything she touched, and often even things she didn’t. Grace held the gift of surprise. The young girl didn’t live with, or even near, her sisters, and tended to pop in whenever she wished always surprising the others. The six sisters were only ever truly happy when they were all together. Grace took advantage of this, and even though Athena hated how she used her sisters they always anxiously awaited for Grace to return.

The youngest two witches were also twins. Kristen and Krista were about as alike as they could be. They had the gift of emotion. Every emotion the two young girls had was extreme, and sometimes fatal to mortals. They looked so alike that they both were assigned colors they could wear so that the others could tell them apart. Kristen and Krista loved confusing their siblings and so they would often switch just to make Athena angry, which would make Izabell angry and so on.

Together the six girls lived in a world of mystery. Light years away from earth they controlled the mortals of a different world. This world was like earth only because of the humans. There were no concrete buildings, streets, or man made bodies of water. Everything was created by nature for the most part, and most humans were fine with this. Until the warlock named Xero came along and told them of the mortals of earth. Xero told them all the wonders of the earthling’s buildings, technology, and clothing, and suddenly there was a huge group of people that wanted to use these new discoveries to change their world. Xero led these humans and started wars. The battles killed millions, and not only humans were harmed by the sudden revolt. The sisters knew their world was falling apart, but they were too young to do anything about it, and so they sat at the sidelines and watched as everything they had known slowly disappeared.

This is just the prologue. I don't really know what to call this yet, or whether or not I will even continue it. Give me your ideas, tell me whether or not it's any good, and in return I'll read your blogs. How about that?

Change

If there is one thing that makes me write more than anything else it's change. A lot of my stories focus on a change in my characters' lives, whether it be a big change or a small change, but I've never had a whole lot of change to write about in my own life. I am definitely afraid of change. I don't like things being different than they were before, and I absolutely hate seeing people I've come to know very well leave, and so usually when something changes I just quit. I get up and leave whatever it is that has changed.
Every year since I started Jr. High I've taken part in our school's MESA club. It was the place where I totally and completely let go. I'd be goofy and I'd be crazy, and no one seemed to mind. It was a blast, and one of the best experiences of my life. I thought for sure that my last year of Jr. High would be no different where MESA was concerned. I was wrong.
Within the first few weeks of school me and all my friends who were in MESA knew that this year was going to be different. The MESA "teachers" I guess is the only word I can think of, had always been the same two teachers I had known since I was in their classes in seventh grade. They are some of my favorite teachers in the school, and I couldn't imagine what MESA would be without them. At least, I couldn't imagine what it would be without either of them until Tuesday.
I missed the first MESA meeting this year, but everyone said it was fun, and everyone was mad at me for not showing up. I laughed it off, but I got enough courage to go to the next meeting even though I was afraid of how different it would be.
The reason MESA is so different this year is because one of the two teachers that have been in charge of it since I first came to join the club is no longer in charge. Instead the new Math teacher is. To many ninth graders at the school this new math teacher means nothing of consequence. They'll never be in any of her classes, and they'll never actually meet her at all, but I've known this teacher for years. She was Izzi's sixth grade teacher, and I've never had a tremendous liking for her. She's alright, but I've noticed that she's too strict, and she acts almost as if she doesn't like kids.
Then I think of MESA last year and the year before. There were so many things I did in that club, so many traditions, jokes, etc. that me and my friends came up with that we won't ever really get to do again.I won't get to throw things at my friends, and they can't throw things at me, and all in all it just won't be MESA to me. It'll be like another class, and I don't want that. I don't want MESA to make me miserable. I want the quality, the fun, of MESA back. I don't want us to have a club council, and there shouldn't be a strict list of rules, and you shouldn't have to keep good grades just to come to a meeting. I think that we should be able to come because we want to, we should be able to talk and walk around the room and hang out, because that's what MESA always was to me. But it isn't anymore.
I know I can't do anything about it, and I know that quitting because of this minor set back may show that I'm not as great of a person as I like to think, but I just can't do it. I fear that if I do decide to go to MESA every 2nd and 4th tuesday of the month then I will be taking the memories I've made over the last two years and covering them, hiding them, behind the memories of misery and boredom that I am sure I will face if I do MESA this year. I don't want that to happen, and so I'm not going to MESA this year. I know I'll miss it, but I won't be missing MESA really. I'll be missing the people and the things that we did in the past. That was not wholly MESA. MESA was just what brought those people together.
On top of MESA changing there's also Science Olympiad. I have been on the team two years in a row now, and last year I won a medal at Nationals, but I'm not sure if I'll get to do that this year. I want a fair and equal chance, and I'm just not sure I'm going to be given that. Yesterday there was a meeting for all those interested in trying out for the team, and during that meeting we were told what the requirements were and how we needed to fill out the forms, but we were also told that we wouldn't even be considered on the team unless we had someone who would be willing to coach one of the 26 events. I don't have that. I'm the only person really interested in science in my family, my family doesn't have a huge number of friends, and I don't know very many people outside of school.
The things I've done all through Jr. High are almost over for me. MESA's gone, I might not be able to do Science Olympiad, and then what do I have left? I have my friends, but I am not really the kind of person that hangs out with her friends every friday night. I have school, and I love school. I thrive on school, but that isn't enough. I need something fun. Something that catches my interests. I need a place where I have friends. I need something to stay completely and totally the same. I can't stand change.
I guess I just need to learn now that everything is going to change. This year will end, and I won't be in Junior High anymore. There will be no MESA for me, and only if I'm lucky will I be able to do Science Olympiad. My friends will change, and I will get new ones. Everything is going to change eventually. I just wish it wouldn't.

Decision

So I have come to a decision about my short story. I am definitely going to continue it, but to do so I need you all to just pretend the last part doesn't happen. You know, the part where the dream comes true, kinda. Well that's the part you're going to ignore. The dream is where it ends, and if it would help for me to do so I am probably going to re-post it, edit it, and take off the part that we are going to get rid of for the story.

I hope you guys all read it, because I have a general idea of how it's going to be, and I think it'll be good.