The End Is Here

So school starts in a week. It's time to get the dusty calculator and bookbag out for a new year. I've picked up my schedule and I've checked it with my friends' and we are all just excited that in a week we will get to see each other every day again. There are differences though. This year isn't just like we're used to. We're entering a brand new world and we all know it. High school is a territory so far unknown to us and we're ready to explore.

Haha. That was fun to write. But really, since registration on Thursday I've been talking to various people about school starting next week and it's interesting to see everyone's opinions about the upcoming school year. Some are scared that they're going to get lost. Others fear that the material is going to be to hard. Some are excited to get back into seeing friends everyday. There are even a few (like me) who just want to get back into the school work. Summer is great, but eventually I start to miss the thinking that I do during the school year. I miss the challenge of learning and testing and trying to keep grades up.

There was a time when I never would have admitted this. Back then I hung out with girls the size of twigs who didn't really like me because I was bigger than them. They never invited me to hang out with them and I never really understood why they put up with me at school in the first place. Probably because I was smart and could "help" them with their work.

Not anymore, though. Now I hang out with a group of girls (I don't have many (if any) guy friends) who are just as smart as me. They might not enjoy school as much as I do at times, but they aren't like most people who dread school just because that's what teenagers do. No, me and my friends are the kind of people who hang out at school long after the last bell rings just because we can. I don't know if we'll do that much (if at all) in the next few weeks, though. We don't know any of the teachers and we obviously aren't involved in any after school activities. There will be time to recreate those connections that we had at FFJH, but we'll probably want to get past the first few weeks of class first.

I am excited. High school is the beginning of so many things. I already have met new people and hopefully new friends. Block schedule is a new thing too and I think that it will actually be a lot better.

But anyway...

This will probably be my last blog for the summer but I know that I will blog again in the next week or so. I'm going to keep up this blog. It's one of my goals.

I hope everyone had a great summer and I hope that you'll all have a great first few days of school!

The Vitamin String Quartet

The Vitamin String Quartet Tribute is a series of string quartet tribute albums, released by Vitamin Records and performed by several different groups of musicians. These string quartet tributes are commonly referred to as "VSQ," or "Vitamin String Quartet" by fans. Albums generally focus on one band per record, and perform classical versions of that band's songs, generally note for note. They use a wide array of instruments but primarily use violins, violas, and cellos.

That is Wikipedia's definition of this awesome music which I have fallen in love with in the course of an hour. Haha. They are completely amazing. It makes me want to get my viola out and play. It's been so long since I have (all summer) and I wasn't planning on playing again for quite a while.

They do all kinds of stuff. Most of it is music that I already love. I think it is so awesome to see my favorite music go classical-ish? Haha.

So check them out. They are freaking awesome.

My Secret

Earlier today I posted a blog about a website called PostSecret.com. My mom and I both said that we often find ourselves making our own secret postcards in our heads. I can think of so many things that people don't know about me (and most of them are things I won't mention on this blog because of the people who read it). There are some of them that I wouldn't mind putting up here (I fear that if some of my friends knew everything about me and then viewed me beside one of my other friends (or sisters for that matter) they wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore) because I know that the people who read this will either not care (as most won't have anything to do with anyone who reads my blog) or they'll just deny it (whether or not it's true).

Tonight I am going to take my blog off of search engines. That way only people with the direct link to my blog can read it. The reason is because there are some people that just have very little to do with my life that I don't think I want reading this blog anymore. I am pretty sure that one of the people I am thinking of has only found my blog by search engines so far and has not actually saved the page so that they can come back to it.

But back to the point of this blog entry.

I wanted to post one of my secrets tonight. I've spent all day thinking about events that revolve around this secret and I would really like for someone to know why I've been upset all day (I don't know if anyone who has seen me today will actually read this, but whatever). This secret is something that I think about often and usually gets me very upset. It's very personal and it has caused me a lot of heartache.

I wrote a paper in my eighth grade Creative Writing class about my relationship with my dad. At the end of the paper I had written a letter to him that said that I was pretty positive I would never show him what I had written. When I got the paper back my teacher told me that it had made her cry and I got one of the highest scores in the class. I was extremely proud of the paper and I thought that the feeling I got from having someone else praise my writing was worth the pain that it caused to write it. A few months later I got up the nerve to show the paper to my dad. I emailed it to him as a father's day present and told him to read it. He did and then called me. I can't really remember what he said about it. I know that reading it had affected him but I don't know why.

I thought that showing my dad my thoughts and my pain from the past few years might make things better. Maybe he just didn't know how much I was hurting. Maybe he just didn't know how much he was hurting me. When he called me I was hopeful. He'd had to leave his office after reading the paper and that was when he had called. I thought that maybe it had made a difference. Maybe things were finally going to get better. Maybe they were going to be the way they used to be. I was hopeful that day. I was so happy. It made things even better that we were going to my dad's house for the weekend. It was to be the start of something good. My new relationship with my dad.

I don't know how I could have thought any of those things now. I'm over a year older and a year wiser. It's surprising just how much has happened in the last year. I won't go into detail but I will say that I discovered a lot about myself and the people around me.

Needless to say my paper didn't change anything. My dad had read how I felt. My deepest thoughts and unguarded emotions had been shown to him on paper. He just didn't care, whether it was purposely or not. Things didn't change at all. We didn't talk about it other than that one phone call. It was as if someone had completely erased his memory about it. I should have known enough about him by then to know that anything I said would not make any difference. He couldn't change. He still can't change.

Since then I have pretended that nothing is wrong. I don't talk to him much anymore. I never say much more than "nothing much", "yup", or "nope" to him anymore. He doesn't know me. I doubt he ever will. He knows what I look like and he knows what my interests were up to about the middle of eighth grade, but he'll never know how much the past year and a half has changed me. He'll never know what my true hopes and dreams are. And, though he may know that I'm hurt because of it all, he'll never know just how much I hurt inside. He'll never know how much I wish things were different.

When I showed my dad that paper I was hoping that things would go back to the way I thought they had been. What I didn't realize at the time was that things never were the way I saw them. It was inevitable that one day I would realize that, even though I was so happy with the way things had been with my dad, it hadn't really been a happy situation.

I don't tell people things like that anymore. I don't talk to people when I have problems with them. I try not to hope that something I might say will change things. That's my secret.

I can't say that writing this has eased the pain at all. I can't say what purpose writing this blog actually had, but it took up some time. Maybe it will help some people to know me a little better. Maybe not. Oh well. I just decided that I would write about one of my more meaningful secrets and here it is. Maybe someday I'll actually get up the nerve to make and send one of the secret postcards I have visualized in my head, maybe not. Maybe. . .

Maybe it doesn't matter.

PostSecret.Com

Some of the secrets are really horrible. Others are cute or sad. I find myself thinking of secrets I could send in more and more of the time. People send them in on homemade postcards. I have actually created one and would send it in if my mom and my sister didn't know about it too.

Personality Disorders and Nerd Type

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Low
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Low
Histrionic:	Moderate
Narcissistic:	Low
Avoidant:	Low
Dependent:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Low
-- Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Information --

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Science/Math Nerd (Absolute Insane Laughter as you pour toxic chemicals into a foaming tub of death!) Well, maybe you aren't this extreme, but you're in league with the crazy scientists/mathmeticians of today. Very few people have the talent of math and science is something takes a lot of brains as well. Thank whosever God you worship, or don't worship, so thank no deity whatsoever in your case, for you people! Most of us would have died off without your help.
Literature Nerd
Musician
Social Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Drama Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

A Summer Full of Change

Something Mr. Thompson said at the end of third term came to mind today. That day we were talking about how we were so close to being done with junior high. He said that from then on time was going to fly by. At the time I was thinking 'Well yeah. We've all heard that before. And I know it's true.' But it surprises me now just how fast things seem to be happening lately. It feels so strange to think that I am not a student at Fairfield anymore. I think of my last day there and I think how normal it seemed. It didn't feel like an end. I knew it was, but it didn't feel like it.

That day was different though. As I went through all of my classes for that final time, I had to hold back tears. All day I was thinking about how I might not see some of these people ever again. Realizing that some people that I had become friends with that year were going to different schools next year was hard. My really close friends will keep in contact with me, but the ones that weren't as close.... Well.... I don't know when, or if, I will see them again.

Needless to say, this summer has been a time of change in my life. It all started with Washington DC and the amazing experience I had there. I realized, while in that amazingly beautiful place, that I had no idea what I really want to do with my life. I had put all of my time and effort into Science Olympiad for three years and now I didn't know if I would really want to go into science at all. I love it. That much I'm sure about, but I don't know if I really want to be doing that stuff for the rest of my life. I also realized that I would love to live in DC. It is an unbelievable place and I fell in love with it while I was there.

I also started driving about three weeks ago. I took a Drivers Ed class out at Fremont High School. My grandma works there and my cousin was taking the class, so Izzy and I decided we would take it there too. We got our permits about a week into the class and we have been driving to the store and other places when our parents have to go somewhere. I am way nervous behind the wheel. When I'm thinking about driving I'm fine. I think I'm a pretty good driver so far. However, something happens when I turn the key and start moving. I am so afraid that I'll get into an accident that I can't relax. I know that once I have enough experience it will be a lot easier, but it's impossible for me to know how much experience I'll need to be able to feel comfortable driving.

Another thing that has gotten me to realize how fast things are changing is my older sister, The Wendy Bird (haha). Anyway, Wendy lives in Ohio. In past years she has come out here to visit my dad and we'd see her when we went to his house on the weekends, but my dad moved to California this year and so we didn't know what was going to happen. All summer we asked our dad to have her come out and stay with our grandma or her grandpa. It got to the point where I didn't think she'd come. We only have so much summer left and I had no idea what Wendy was going to be up to for the rest of the summer.

For the last week Wendy has been staying with her grandpa who lives down the street from us. It has been an awesome week. I've gotten to know my sister more and we've had the most amazing time ever. It's so weird to think that she is almost 18 though. I remember when we were little and she still lived here. There was a year when she lived with us and it was great. Back then we knew each other. We saw each other more than once a year. We talked to each other more than once every few months. I didn't have to wonder how life would be if she were around back then.

I wrote a blog at the beginning of the year about change. I said that I didn't like change and that I wished things wouldn't ever change. Another thing I've realized this summer is that I don't mind the way things are changing now. Sure, not all of the changes are good but I can live with it. Without some change life would be incredibly boring. People would stay the same and things would stay the same and nothing would ever be. . . Different. I like that I get to go to a new school come August 25. I like that I'm going to meet new people and have new teachers. I can't wait to see what high school will be like. I can't wait to see how this summer has changed my friends because I haven't really hung out with them at all. I can't wait to see how the changes of this summer will effect my life. I'm glad that things are changing.

Some things just can't be said.

Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but known you didn't have the courage to actually say the words? Have you sat alone reciting what you would say to yourself only finding that, when the opportunity arose, you were too scared to say what needed to be said? Then, a month or a year later, you think how things would have been different if the words had come out.

Until recently I kept almost everything I had ever written at the bottom of my closet, and on days when I was feeling particularly bored or upset I would look through all of the forgotten notes, letters, and stories. One thing that I found I had a lot of was letters that had never been sent. In these letters I would say everything that I had wanted to say to people and at the time of writing them I had every intent to send them. Things like 'I'm really mad at you. I can't believe you didn't tell me about....' or 'You don't really want to be happy do you? Or else you would have gotten away from....'. After reading these I would remember (and feel) the emotion behind the letter and I would always find myself wondering if it would even make a difference.

Just over a year ago I wrote a paper for my creative class on my relationship with my dad. The last piece of the paper was a letter to him that stated that I knew things weren't going to change and that I was just writing the letter for myself because I never actually planned on showing it to him. A couple months later I decided that by showing my dad the paper I might actually be helping him. I emailed it to him and told him to read it. He had known about the paper and he had known (or I thought he had known) that I never planned on showing it to him. About half an hour later he called me and told me that he had, had to leave his office because my paper had made him cry. I took this as a good sign that maybe things would get better. I hoped that I had finally managed to get my words to him in a way that I couldn't do normally.

Yesterday, I cleaned out my closet. I took out all of those notes, letters, and stories and threw them out. I decided that I wanted to start clean. I wanted to try and let go of all of those situations and teach myself in some way that nothing I could have said would have made a difference. I say this because my paper didn't make a difference at all in the situation with my dad. I pretended that I had gotten over it and it was forgotten.

Like any person, I have these dreams of how I wish things would change. I used to spend a lot of my time thinking about how these dreams might have been reality if I had ever gotten the courage to speak out. Now I'm trying to get passed that. I know that the things I thought wouldn't really have been able to change much. So I'm ok with all of that now.

There are still things I want to say. I still have feelings that I don't show because I don't know how too. The hard things are just that. I can't tell people my deepest thoughts and I don't think I'll ever be the kind of person that can.

The things that absolutely have to be said aren't often things that are said by me. I can't talk to people. It's something I want to work on, but I don't think I have to work on it by going through the hard things. I could start by trying to get the other things out. The things that aren't difficult at all. That's where I'm going to start. I still won't be able to make the other things known, but, for now, I'm ok with that.

Summer..... is grand.

So now that it's about two weeks into summer I'm finding it a lot easier to believe where I am in my life. I got my schedule for my first year at Layton High about a week ago because I got into the AVID program which should make me go from a 3.952 student to a 4.0 student. I know what classes I'm going to have when and I know what classes I will have with Izzi. It is way exciting and I can't wait for next year.

I've surprised myself by coming back to this blog already. I told myself that I was going to continue to write in it, but I've never really been one to commit to something like this. I think I mentioned at the beginning of the school year that I have had blogs before that I kept up with for a week or so before just forgetting about them and I had thought that, with the school year being over, this would become just like any of those. I am glad to see that, at least for now, I was wrong.

In the last two weeks a lot has happened. Along with being done with Junior High I have found a place that was so amazing. Washington D.C. was a beautiful place. Sure, it is more city than I would expect to love but there was just something about it that made me wish that I could stay there forever. Maybe it was the people I was with, maybe not. I tend to think not because a lot of the time I was there I was annoyed with more than one person. It might also have to do with my experiences there as a Science Olympian and if that is it then I am sure that I would still love it if, one day, I was to return.

Or maybe it was simply because I had one of the greatest moments of my life up on the stage at George Washington University. That, I'm sure, is one of the key factors.

Oh, did I not mention this last time?

I got second place in Trajectory. Second place in the nation!!! Can you believe that? I have never had a greater achievement in my life and I am sure that it will probably remain one of the greatest achievements in my life for the rest of my life.

Have you ever gotten an award in front of thousands and thousands of people (plus more watching via satellite and webcast)? Well I have to say that it is the best feeling in the world. Knowing that all of your work has come to something that great just makes you feel like it really meant something. Even if it was only for a junior high level competition, I think that what I did really did mean something. It wasn't a gold, no. But we lost because of a difference of .5 centimeters. I consider that as good as gold.

Along with having the time of my life in a place that I now love, I have realized that school isn't my only life. My family is amazing and, while I have always known this, I do fit in with them. I may not play video game and I am certainly not an artist, but they are my family. We all love to watch movies together. We play card games together. We go camping together. And when Izzi and I are getting along we (gasp) even help each other do our hair or come up with jokes that no one will ever understand. That is what I love about having a big family. There is always someone making jokes and almost always there is laughter.

I have also realized that even though mL, my best friend in the world, does get better grades than me I am just as good as her. I am as smart as her. I am as talented as her. I can be just as successful as her. I will be just as successful as her. Maybe I'll be able to do better because she is my friend. I know that I am doing better in school because of the influence of her and my other friends as well. I know that I would not being improving as much as I am without them.

Heh. I don't know if anyone even reads this now that it is summer. I am pretty sure that there are not many of us that are still blogging, but to any of you that still are (either reading or writing) thanks for a great year!!! And I'm sorry we never got around to that bowling party we wanted to do.

Beauty in the City and Heartbreak in the Mind

Wow. A lot has happened lately. So much in fact, that it is completely overwhelming, totally exciting, and heartbreakingly sad all at the same time. I cannot begin to explain how I have felt the last few days. Everything has seemed so unreal that it is taking a lot to get my mind around all of it. My life is changing. So many things are beginning and ending that I am sure I don't even recognize all of them.

The most recent event that has got me excited, overwhelmed, and sad was the National Science Olympiad tournament in Washington DC over the weekend. I saw things and experienced things that have changed how I think and where I want to go with my life. I found a place that is magical and amazing and so completely awesome that I wish I could still be there. The competition itself was not even as big a part of the experience as I had thought it would be. I mean, I am completely happy with the results of the competition (I'll write more about that later) , but the city of DC was so much more than the reason I was there. If that makes any sense.


The next thing that has got me feeling so. . . different, is that school is over. It is summer, and yet I feel like I should be getting ready to go to bed so that I can wake up at 6:30 AM tomorrow and get ready for school. It just feels so weird to think that I am not a student at FFJH anymore. Come August I will not be riding the bus to a school where I know all of the teachers and a lot of the students. Instead I will be walking to a school where I know some of the students and not a single teacher. It makes me incredibly sad to think that my time at FFJH is over and I am already finding that what Mr. T said about me experiencing withdrawals from the school is true. Haha.

Knowing that so many things are beginning and so many others are ending, I have decided that I am going to try to keep up with this blog. I want to record the things that mean a lot to me. The problems or the experiences that I want to remember, and I want people from the honors english class of 2007-2008 or future students or Mr. T to read about it. I want people to know what is going on with my life and I am going to try so hard to remember to write in here frequently.

Honors English is over. So is 9th grade. So is the National Science Olympiad Competition.

High school starts in August. I get my learners permit sometime this summer.

So much is happening now. It is really hard to wrap my mind around it.

Walk Two Moons to Kill a Mocking Bird

Walk Two Moons to Kill a Mocking Bird

Did you know that it is a sin to kill a mocking bird? Did you know not to judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins? Well neither did Salamanca ‘Sal’ Hiddle or Jean Louise ‘Scout’ Finch at the beginning of their stories. These two girls are very similar despite living in very different time periods. They’re curious, brave, caring, and both of them have lost their mothers. Sal and Scout probably would have gotten along very well, had their paths ever crossed.

To truly understand someone and their actions you have to know what they see, you have to take a step out of your own life and into theirs or “walk two moons in their moccasins”. This is a lesson that both Salamanca and Scout learn during the course of their stories. Salamanca learns that she was wrong about Mrs. Cadaver, the only survivor of the accident that Sal’s mother died in and the last person to ever talk to her. Scout learns that Arthur ‘Boo’ Radley was not someone to fear but instead was someone who cared for Jem and herself and watched out for them their whole lives.

To Kill a Mockingbird Page 278

Daylight . . . in my mind, the night faded. It was daytime and the neighborhood was busy. Miss Stephanie Crawford crossed the street to tell the latest to Miss Rachel. Miss Maudie bent over her azaleas. It was summertime, and two children scampered down the sidewalk toward a man approaching in the distance. The man waved, and the children raced each other to him.

It was still summertime, and the children came closer. A boy trudged down the sidewalk dragging a fishing pole behind him. A man stood waiting with his hands on his hips. Summertime, and his children played in the front yard with their friend, enacting a strange little drama of their own invention.

It was fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Dubose’s. The boy helped his sister to her feet, and they made their way home. Fall, and his children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive.

Winter, and his children shivered at the front gate, silhouetted against a blazing house. Winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog.

Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him.

Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.

While both lessons were difficult to learn and understand, they gave the girls a little bit of peace and they helped Sal and Scout grow up a little. Something that didn’t help with that so much is the girls’ crazy imaginations.

Both Salamanca and Scout have great imaginations. The things they came up with helped them create stories and jump to conclusions about people around them. To Scout Boo Radley was a crazy man who stabs his mother with scissors and is kept locked inside his home. To Salamanca Mrs. Cadaver is a murderer who killed her husband and buried him in her backyard. Eventually the two girls see that they were wrong to think these things about people before knowing much about them. Salamanca and Scout used their imaginations and their curiosity to create incredible stories about other people.

One of the bigger similarities between Salamanca and Scout is that they are both story tellers. Within the first ten pages of Walk Two Moons Salamanca is asked to tell a story and so she begins to tell the story of her friend Phoebe. Scout starts out her own tale by telling the story of her family and Maycomb. The most important story that either of them tells, though, is their own. They tell the story of how they grew up. That is a lot of what makes them so similar.

Throughout their stories Salamanca and Scout show that they are caring, curious, and imaginative girls. They tell the stories of themselves and the people around them as if they were right there in that time and they reflect on what they’ve learned from those experiences. Salamanca and Scout both grew up a little when they learned that killing a mockingbird is a sin and not to judge someone until you’ve walked two moons in their moccasins.

Hurry on up now!

I don't really know what to write about today, but I figure I'm way behind in discussion posts and just a bit behind on blogs, and so I better get going on them.

I guess one major thing that has been on my mind lately is the future. We have less than twenty days of junior high left. You would think that now things would begin to feel different than they have all year, or at least from the past two years, but nothing has really changed. Of course, CRTs are on the computers this year and that makes things different. The tests are not as stressful as they were before and they actually seem as easy as they should.

Other than that though there is not anything that feels any different than it has for me all through junior high. My classes are still the same, my friends and I still talk about the same things, and over all everything is just as it has been for the past two years.

I guess it would seem more real to me if things were beginning to change now. If I could feel things gradually becoming it different it would be easier to grasp how close we are to being finished with junior high. There are so many things that will be coming to a close in the next few weeks, and it is really hard to picture how things are going to be after I am done at Fairfield.

In my mind I picture my seventh grade orientation. I remember looking around the school and thinking about how big and scary it looked. I had been so excited for junior high back then, and I wasn't at all afraid of anything except being able to open my locker. I compare that day to the open house at Layton High a couple of weeks ago. It was a lot different than my seventh grade orientation. My mom dropped me, Carley, and my two little sisters off at the school and we went straight in to get started looking around our new school.

I saw my friends and we walked around looking at places together. We weren't guided by anyone as we were at the seventh grade orientation. It was weird. There were only some parents there. Not a ton. Most kids just came with their friends. I realized then that I really was afraid of getting lost in there next year, and I know that it is a realistic fear.

High school is going to be very, very different from junior high. I know that. I'm excited for it. I can't wait to have only four classes a day and I can't wait to take driver's ed and all of the other fun classes I'm going to take. I am so excited for high school. I just wish it felt more real than it currently does. I wish that things were already changing more, because then I'd be able to grasp that I only have a few more months until I am in high school.

Well, I guess I found something to write about. It is the same thing I've been writing about for a while now, but whatever. I guess I have other things I need to be doing so I'll try to write more later.

Darling

For the longest time (about two weeks now), I've had this feeling of dread and just plain unhappiness that I haven't been able to shake. When I feel like this I usually grab a book and that's all people see me doing until I can get it to go away. This hasn't happened to me in a long time, and I've never really found anything that brings it on. I just start to feel like something is wrong and that I don't want to be around people.

My friends and family have noticed that lately I separate myself from them and go off on my own whenever I can. I come home, do my chores, and go straight up to my room. During school I eat lunch and then go to the commons to read until the bell rings. In class I read before the bell rings because it keeps people from talking to me (and I am reading a good book, not amazing, but that's an entirely different topic). Today I found my way out of that. It surprised me what ended up doing it, but I was glad that it happened, so glad.

In seventh grade I didn't really have a whole lot of friends. I joined the Science Olympiad team and I joined MESA and that's basically where all of my friends came from. I am so glad that I ended up doing these things because I met some of the most amazing people that year.

Two of my very best friends that year were ninth graders. We met through Science Olympiad, specifically the Meteorology event because we practiced together. At first I didn't really know what to say to them, and I don't really know exactly how I started talking to them, but I do know that by the end of the year Lori and Becca were the coolest people I knew. We even had nicknames for each other. Haha. Granted, they weren't very original nicknames. To me the two of them were "the crazy 9th graders" and to them I was "the one and only crazy seventh grader". I told them this year that since I was now the "crazy 9th grader" that I would have to find a crazy 7th grader of my own. That hasn't happened, and I don't think it will.

I don't really talk to Lori and Becca much anymore. It's sad, but I've hardly spent any time with them since they left Fairfield. I still think about them all the time, and I wonder if I'm anything like them. I've always wanted to be like them. They are the greatest, nicest, and smartest people I've met and had a chance to be friends with. The things they did were things I wanted to do. I picked up the crazy things, like eating 3 dum dum suckers at a time, and I tried to pick up the good things they did.

I talk to Becca and Lori when I can, and I'm always interested in what is going on with them. This week I've talked to Lori a couple times, and I think that it was because of those conversations that I am feeling so awesome right now.

Have you ever seen someone that made such a difference in your life after not seeing them/talking to them in months? Well it's one of the greatest experiences ever. I was so glad to see Lori today, but I didn't think I was really going to talk to her. She's at the school sometimes for Falcon Academy, and although I see her she never really seems to have time to talk to me. It was so great to have her come into my seventh period and then come over to talk to me. We talked about possibly hanging out sometime and how busy we are and how I never talk to them anymore, but that wasn't the funnest part of the conversation.

Lori says I remind her of Becca. It makes me curious as to how I remind her of Becca, but she says I'm just like Becca was when she was in 9th grade. I doubt that. I'm not nearly as awesome as Becca is, but it definitely made me happy to hear that.

The funniest part of the whole thing was when Rosie came over and started talking to us. Lori said that she just think Rosie's little sister is so "darling" and it made me laugh so hard. Lori and Becca always said darling that year that we went to the same school, and it was so funny to me. They were the only people I had ever met who had called me, or anything, darling. To hear her say that just brought a flood of memories back. Days walking through the halls together or Science Olympiad practices.

So even though I don't really have any idea when I'm going to get the chance to see Lori and Becca or talk to them again it was so great to be able to see one of them. Just thinking about them is enough to make me happy. I miss them so much, but I'm hoping that we might get to see each other and hang out soon. Our lives are so busy, but they're only going to get busier.

So that's why I've gone from really kind of depressed to extremely happy in the last hour and a half. Life is pretty good. I'm loving the way my life is going and I love that I've had so many great opportunities.

Anyway... Enough of that. It's not like anyone reads this blog anyway...

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.