Assurance.

So, I know that National Novel Writing Month has started and so instead of writing this blog I should be writing my novel... Or you know... Sleeping. However, I was just having some thoughts that I really wanted to preserve. I thought there was no better place than here to do that.

Any person my age has a lot of big things going on right now. College applications are beginning to become number one priority, we're beginning to realize how difficult it will be to afford living the lives we are hoping to live and how impossible it is to afford the lives we dream to be living. We have heard so many times in the past that senior year is a time to have fun, but none of us have time for fun at the moment. How can a person have fun when there are so many life altering decisions being made right now?

With all of these big thing going on, I wouldn't be surprised if we're all feeling a little bit like we're falling behind. Maybe we don't feel like we're doing the best we can or that we are screwing up. I can tell you from personal experience that assurance otherwise can mean a lot to people of my age right now. This is an independence that many of us have not experienced before and we are all worried that we are going to screw up. In fact, we most definitely will screw up somehow. Some of us have already screwed up. Either way, it's nice to hear that we're doing a little bit better than we think we are.

Tonight the person whose opinion matters most to me when it comes to how well I am doing with my life reassured me that I am doing pretty well. I was shocked, to say the least. I feel like a chicken running around with its head chopped off (or is that a turkey? I can't remember.) I have no idea how to get everything that I need done and still be sane. I am so worried that I am going to make a mistake that will cost me for the rest of my life. I'm worried that I'm going to miss something crucial. I'm worried that I'm disappointing my friends and my family with how I prefer to spend my downtime by myself more and more often.

It's not that I don't love the people in my life, I do, so much. I just really value the time I have to just relax and not stress about everything right now. It feels so hypocritical to how I feel about the ever increasing number of things that I miss at home and with my friends, but I've come to the point where missing these things doesn't upset as much as it did. I feel like I am not getting anything done and that I am not doing things very well. Sometimes I just want to break down and cry. To hear that my mom thinks that I am doing very well is a very good thing. It really helps me to hear that.

I just thought that I would share that. Life my be overwhelming and I may feel that I am not succeeding with all that I am supposed to be doing in my life to this point, but I have people who believe in me and who believe that I am doing well. I don't think they will ever understand just how much that means to me.

NaNoWriMo, Centurion and College!

So I haven't written in about a month. Whoops. It's not that there has been a lot going on. I've been working and going to school. Of course, the last week has been crazy because of the end of the term, but other than that I have just been going about my normal schedule.

There are some really awesome things coming up in the next month, though. Some of them require a lot of attention and are going to be really stressful and others are merely for fun. Either way, November is going to be an incredibly busy month for me.

First of all, my college applications are all due by the first and my Sterling Scholar application is due this week. Soon I'll have to make all of these big decisions that may affect me for the rest of my life. I took the ACT yesterday. I'll probably get my scores in November as well. Senior year has been crazy, so far. Everything is happening so fast and I have no idea where all this time is going.

The second thing is that it is once again time for NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. The month every year when I delude myself into thinking that this year I will have the time and the creative ability to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. This year I'm going about the adventure differently. I've started planning my novel for once. I have some characters and a little bit of a plot. I am fully aware that with the time constraint, half of what I write will probably be crap. I understand that if I become too worried about the story being crap, there is no way that I will ever finish.

I have also found a friend who I will be talking with and encouraging throughout the month as he encourages me and we both kick each others' butts until we hit that 50,000 word mark. I was on the NaNoWriMo forums, looking for local people to do writeins, where everyone gets together somewhere and writes for several hours, and I found Friff14. He told me to send him an email and we could start planning something. I emailed him after looking at his profile and discovering that he was a year older than me. Then, when he told me his name in his response I realized that I very likely knew this guy. I asked him if he went to Layton High and once he said that he did we realized that we did, in fact, know each other.

The awesome thing about having someone who I know and who lives nearby participating as well is that I will have just a little bit more reason to keep writing. It will give me an extra boost that I definitely need in order to finish this thing after two years of trying and failing. My life isn't so dramatic as it has been in the past... However, my car freaked out at me as I was driving to work yesterday and is currently sitting in the Boondocks parking lot because there is no one here who can fix it until later today.

The last excited thing going on this month is the unveiling of the school newspaper website that I have been working on since Spring. It is located here. I can't wait to see what people think about it. I'm hoping that more people will read and care about it than they do our print paper. I really would like to have a successful newspaper for once.

That's all for now. I'm going to go work on my plot some more and enjoy the peace and quiet of the house prior to everyone being up and about.

Always Changing

Not quite three years ago I went on a trip to Washington DC for the National Science Olympiad competition. By the time I got home, not only was I absolutely sure that I wanted to go to George Washington University, I was pretty positive that I would be going there. At the time I was 15. I was the farthest from home I had ever been without my parents and I was high on life. Everything was just perfect. I had been... not at my best for a while before the trip and the sudden feeling of success made the whole trip one that I will never forget. Back then I was convinced about many things that I no longer think are true.

It hasn't even been three years. Yet, I am a completely different person from that girl who came home from DC with a silver medal and a dream to be a college student at a large university in probably one of the busiest places in the country. Back then I kept myself in the small cage that had been created by my experiences the two years prior. I only allowed myself to get so far from where I knew I already succeeded and I was so convinced that I was on the track I wanted to be on. What a way to be, right?

Something happened that summer. I don't know what it is, except that the basic idea is that I grew up. By the time school started I was already beginning to cling to the walls of that cage a little bit. I disliked my Chemistry class and my math class was boring. It was odd, but Newspaper was becoming my favorite part of my schedule. I had always been good at English, but never before had it been the subject I looked forward to more than anything else (Mrs. Money's Algebra 2 class was tied with Mr. T's English class in 9th grade, I was a nerd, I know.) Wheels began turning in my mind and the one thing I had always thought that I would never want to do, was something I was beginning to think may be pretty cool.

That was just the beginning. I went through a phase where I was absolutely certain I wanted to go to SUU and major in Journalism. Journalism faded slowly to the possibility of English and eventually USU came into the mix as well. Then I took AP Psychology and was enchanted by the workings of the human mind. I realized that not only was it something that intrigued me, but it was something I was good at. Since I had realized that I didn't really understand math and science, I had struggled to find that. To me, my ability to write essays does not really amount to a real world skill. Understanding people, now that is something that could get me into a good career. I spent some time being certain that I wanted to go into Psychology.

Now, two years later, I have changed even more. It is the critical period in my high school career and I am split in so many directions. My internship with Mr. T is enlightening in that I think I really could be successful at teaching. I could like it, too. On top of all that, Westminster has been added to the list of colleges that I am considering. It is expensive, I know, but it is a good college and is located close enough to home that I could keep my job and not have to pay living costs. It's made my choosing a college that much more difficult. The thing is, I'm not that worried about it. I will end up at a college where I feel I will be successful. Eventually I will choose the major that I think I will enjoy most.

For now, my biggest concern is the application process. I have to make sure that I can get into the colleges that I want to apply to and I need to start applying for scholarships. I also need to make sure that I take the time to enjoy and appreciate the opportunities I am being given as a senior. I learned my lesson in 9th grade when I spent so much time worrying about things that proved to be so insignificant. I forgot to enjoy what I had then and there. I don't regret it because I learned something from it.

Anyway, this rant actually did come from somewhere. Tomorrow is my high school's college day. The seniors get to skip two class periods to go see presentations from three different colleges. I'm glad that my top three college choices will all be there. I don't know how much help it will be, but I plan to see what they have to say and hopefully be able to make some decisions from there. Then on Saturday I will be going down to Westminster to their senior open house. There's a lot of big things going on right now. It's absolutely crazy that we're already at midterm. This school year is going by so much faster than I had expected it to.

The Return

It was odd to be back here. Stepping off of the train and looking around the station he remembered the day he left. He could see the bench - which was actually no longer there - where he had left his luggage by accident all those years ago. He imagined the air, heavy with moisture from the rain, that contrasted so much with the warm, bright light that floated in from the windows now.

A decade had passed since he left this place. In that time he had traveled the world. He had been through many jobs before finally discovering one he could settle at. He had met new people and made new friends. He had forgotten and he had forgiven as was his intention when he boarded the train that took him away.

Maybe forgotten wasn't the right word. As he stood, looking around, noting the foreign familiarity of the room, he knew he did not forget. He moved on. He had found a new way to live, but his past hadn't left him. He knew that now.

The sudden appearance of her soft face and dark hair (which was shorter now, he thought) was shocking an expected all at the same time. She had not forgotten either. The look in her eyes as their gazes met proved that to him.

He was shocked by how different she looked. It was as if her sophistication and obvious maturity made her taller, somehow. It made him wonder if they could fix things now. They had both grown up... But that was the point, wasn't it?

As her train arrived and she climbed aboard, giving him one last, familiar smile, he knew that this was their destiny. They had influenced each others' lives as much as they were ever meant to.

He looked forward to the street as he left the station, feeling a kind of relief he hadn't felt in ten years.

The Other Side of the story

Why can't I move? Why can't I force myself from this spot? What is the point of standing here, staring at this train? It's not even the same train that he left on, and yet, I can't leave. I feel like maybe if I stand here long enough he will come back.

We all made our mistakes, but, though I know mine were the worst, shouldn't he be able to forgive me as well? I forgave him I forgot about all the lies, all the hurtful things he said. Why have I not been forgiven? He left me here all by myself without a single clue to where he was going.

A train. Tht's all I knew. He had taken his things and boarded a train. We weren't speaking to each other, I know, but he left. I never expected him to leave. I guess I should have tried to talk to him. Instead of months of silence there could have been words. I know that now. We could have fixed this. He didn't have to leave.

I have been a stone for so long. Maybe that is why he left. I had no remorse. I showed no sorrow for the events that tore us apart. I was cold and distant toward everyone. That didn't do any good. He left on a train and now I am here watching other trains go by. Trying to hold myself together. Trying to prevent the breakdown I know is just under the surface.

I didn't realize before, but without him I am completely alone.

The Platform

     "The world moved on."*
     The words came from a book he remembered reading long ago. Back then, he had thought it sounded cool but put no further thought to it than that.
     Now the words came to him from some dark and unused corner of his mind as he stood on the edge of the platform. His world had certainly moved on. Gone were the days of camaraderie and laughter. Somewhere between all of the words he had said and those he had always wanted, but never could actually say his world, and the separate worlds of all those around him, had moved on.
     He supposed that it must be time to move on as well. Forgive and forget was the phrase that came to his mind. Looking back, he knew that his past would always be a part of him, but maybe, just this once, he could move on without bringing the bitterness with him.
     Sounds of the approaching train reached his ears as he took a deep breath. It really was time to move on, he though, no denying it now.
     When the train came to a stop the man moved toward it, ready to board. He sat watching the platform as the train began to move. He never realized that he had left his luggage behind.


*Credit for this phrase actually goes to The Gunslinger by Stephen King.

Letter to a Season

Dear Summer,
     Though I am sad to see you go, I must admit that I am glad for the return of Fall. I am not saying that Fall is better than you.Don't feel betrayed. I will wait longingly for you once again come winter.
     There is just something about the cool air and the morning light that is better in Fall. I know, I never see your morning light, but you see, Fall gives me reason to.
     Fall colors also make me happy. The turning of the leaves from green to red is a sight quite unlike any other. Your colors are the blue of refreshing waters and the beige of sandy beaches. Don't be upset, I lovey our colors, too. I will be glad to return to them eventually.
     Summer, my time with you has been wonderful. I would not trade being forced awake by the late morning sunshine for anything. I love the warm nights spent in the backyard barbecuing as much as any person.
     I'm sorry, though. It's time for a change. I need to move on with my life and I think Fall is the most reasonable way to do so.

Regretfully,

Madi

Water Bottle

It is the first week of a new school year and, though it may no longer be summer to us, the temperature tries to tell us otherwise. It does not help that we are all stuck in classrooms where the air is not fresh and hallways filled with our classmates.

In this setting, my water bottle is my ally. The hot classrooms and crowded hallways leave me parched without it. Just the crack of the seal breaking as I open it leaves me feeling a little cooler and at moments when, without it, I would be fighting the desire to run out of class to the nearest drinking fountain, it saves me from the torture.

Without my water bottle I would not be nearly as successful in my classes. The heat and my thirst would leave me constantly distracted. My work would become jumbled and incoherrent and I would be nothing more than a new senior, deserate to return to the ever fading days of summer.

My water bottle allows me to make the transition between summer and school with the least amount of pain possible.

Name

My first name, Catherine, seems to be a sophisticated name.Right away, Queen Catherine comes to mind. That is not me, though. I am not royalty and I am far from queenly sophistication. Madi fits me much better. It is a nickname taken from Madison, a name once more associated with men and I think even that fits me. I have been a tom boy my whole life.
I used to be Madie. You wouldn't think that an 'e' would make much of a difference, but it did to me. Changing Madie to Madi gave me power over myself, even though Madi is not a powerful name. It is simple and logical, like myself. Madi is much more fitting than Catherine or Madison, but I have been called by other names that have also fit me well. To my mom I am sometimes Mac and to my youngest sisters I am often Kat. These names fit me when I am a daughter or an older sister, but when I am a friend or a student or when I am just me, Madi works just fine.

Coming Full Circle

About a week and a half from now I will be starting an internship with the very teacher who first had me start this blog three years ago. I am so excited for this experience not only because I will love being back in his classroom on a regular basis and I will love learning from him once again, but because I hope that it really gives me some insight into whether or not I really want to pursue becoming an English teacher.

In my life I have dreamed of becoming many things. The first that I can remember is a firefighter. After that  aerospace engineer, geologist, English teacher, journalist, and clinical psychologist all come to mind. That list (minus the firefighter) is just from junior high to the present and only includes the ones that I seriously considered as something I might like. There have been times when other, less realistic, ideas have come to mind. For example, I have always wanted to be a novelist. I have sometimes thought that being a foreign correspondent would be amazing. However, I don't believe that I could truly be successful at either one of those careers.

Last year I discovered that I have a true passion for Psychology. I also happened to hate my English class last year. Even though I was successful in AP Language, I did not like what I was learning (or lack thereof) and I found that I would much rather be in my AP Psychology class. This year I have a teacher (for AP Literature and Creative Writing) that I am sure that I will love. However, there are no more psychology related classes at my school for me to take. I don't know if it will be possible for me to get a side by side comparison of my two favorite subjects while in high school.

So the purpose of my internship with Mr. T is to see if being an English teacher is a career that I want to seriously consider. The other career option that I have in my mind is a clinical psychologist. I would really love the classes required to become either, I think. The real question lies in which work would satisfy me most or make me the happiest. I am going to see if I can get another internship next semester with a clinical psychologist and maybe narrow my career (or at least college course) a little bit. I don't know how successful this will be (for all I know, I will decide that I would not be successful in either career) but I think that it is going to be well worth my time.

Even if I decide that I don't want to be an English teacher, I am sure that my experience as Mr. T's intern will be a great one for me. No matter what I end up doing in college or in my life, English will always be a passion of mine. It has been since I was in elementary school.

I can't wait to begin my internship. I can't wait to be back in the halls of Fairfield on a regular basis (I know, I'm a nerd.) I can't wait to see where this takes me, how working with Mr. T will, once again, change the course of my plans and dreams. I think it is going to awesome.

The Ups and Downs of Growing Up

Since I wrote last, nearly 3 weeks ago, a lot has happened in my life. I am working 2 jobs, I have finally managed to get my van (temporarily) registered, and I have done a lot of thinking. The last one is not really that unusual. I do a lot of thinking on a daily basis. The subject matter isn't really that unusual either.

Change.

It's a topic that have written about so many times on this blog. It makes sense. I started this blog when I was 14, almost 15. That is a major time for change in any person's life. Now, I'm almost 18. The change that has occurred in my life in the last 3 years is unbelievable in some ways. I don't think I could have ever imagined it when I was 14. I probably could not have even imagined the things that would happen before the end of that year.

Now I am being faced with so many HUGE changes. Some of them are proving to be really, really good. I love the feeling I get from making my own money and paying for my own car. The feeling that I can do these things myself, that I have reached that level of independence is amazing. It's a feeling that I was able to feel very briefly last year before I totaled my car, though I don't believe that feeling was as strong as the feeling I have now. I've had to work hard to get to where I am now. I have gained a knowledge of the real world and of real life that I didn't have last summer.

I love that I can tell the difference between how grown up I thought I was last year and how I am growing up now. It's like comparing the feeling had in elementary school when you finally reached 6th grade and the feeling my friends and I discuss now as we realize that, holy cow, we're graduating this year. How did that happen? How did I reach this point?

Sometimes I still feel like a 6th grader. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by it all and am left feeling small and not quite ready for all of this. It's like the feeling I had when I walked into Fairfield for the first time. I had said over and over again that I was not at all afraid of moving on to junior high, but at that moment, as I looked around the commons for the first time, I felt small and overwhelmed. I suddenly worried that I would never fit in, that I would get bad grades and that I wouldn't be able to handle it all. My confidence came back before that night was over, but periodically throughout 7th grade it returned.

I think that is just how I adjust to big changes in my life. Moving on to high school was not as bad because by then I knew myself more and was incredibly confident that my friends and I would survive our sophomore year. I was luckier in junior high than I was in elementary school. It gave me a sense of control over my life that made the transition into high school a breeze. I realized that it really wasn't that big of a move.

The changes that are happening and will happen in the next year, however, feel very big to me. I find that I am back to feeling small and overwhelmed sometimes. I worry that, with all of these big things going on, I'm going to miss something big and I'll find myself struggling to find a new path to go down. I find myself worrying that I am going to get lost again, like I did last summer. Those are the moments when I find myself thinking about the more difficult parts of my new-found independence.

There are moments when I realize that there is some part of all of these changes that I don't like so much. That happened to me before I started writing this blog. Lately, because of the work I have been doing to earn money for my van, I have had to miss out on time with my sisters and my mom. Today they all went to Salt Lake to help my mom with her work while I was working at Boondocks. I know that this doesn't sound very exciting, but I miss doing things and going places with them. When everyone else was done with dinner I found myself sitting at the table, holding my glass of milk and thinking 'This is going to happen more and more often from now on.' It's the part of growing up that I think I am going to like the least.

I guess I never realized in the past when I was so anxious to get to this point in my life that independence meant doing more things on my own and doing less things with my family. It kind of seems like a 'duh', huh?

My cousin, Jack, who I have been babysitting 4 days a week loves pirates, especially Captain Hook. My first week watching him I watched Peter Pan at least twice. I guess there are some parts of living in Neverland that I wouldn't mind. I mean, the Lost Boys spend all of their time together. I think my sisters and I should become the Lost Girls. I don't think that they would agree with me that we should hang out together constantly. I just miss them, I guess.

Now, just because I put the bad parts of growing up at the end of this blog does not mean that I am not happy with my life right now. In fact, I am happier with my life as it is at this moment than I have been in the past year. I love that I am working and that I am going to have money. I absolutely love that I can get to and from work and basically anywhere else I have to go without having to ask someone for a ride. I love that this is my last year of high school and I am excited for all of the college preparation I get to do this year.

Life is good. It really is, but I wouldn't mind escaping to Neverland for just a little while.

Music is LIFE

While browsing the internet last night, I somehow came across Avril Lavigne website. I don't really remember how I came to it, just that I did. Avril Lavigne was a singer that I absolutely loved when I was in elementary school and junior high. I remember when her album, Under My Skin, came out, I was so excited. Sometime during those years Avril got married and faded from the music scene. Like most people I knew, I slowly stopped listening to her music and hoping for a new song. Then, in March, I went to see Alice in Wonderland and realized that the song at the beginning of the credits had a very distinct Avril sound to it. I downloaded it and found that I really liked the song. Since then, I have found myself hoping that she will put out a new album. However, I don't really think this is going to happen.

Anyway, last night I found myself watching music videos on her webpage. Then I found myself downloading all of her old songs that I used to love. I now have over 20 Avril Lavigne songs in my iTunes that I probably won't be listening to all that often. It's good music to have, though, when I'm in the mood for it. I think it was that thought that then led me over to Taylor Swift's webpage. In general I have not really been a Taylor Swift fan. There was one summer two or three years ago when all of my sisters and I listened to Taylor Swift constantly, but, compared to years and years of 'rocking out' to Avril Lavigne, one summer of obsession of Taylor does not really make me a fan. Yet, last night I downloaded 30 Taylor Swift songs that will probably not have many play counts on them when I get around to updating my iPod again. 

Then, this morning, I opened my iTunes to listen to some music while I was waiting for my cousin, Jack, to get here for the day for me to babysit him. I turned on some Imogen Heap. Weird, huh? I haven't really been into Imogen Heap in years. My older sister, Wendy, introduced me to her a long time ago, but I was never really hooked on her. Imogen Heap songs are weird and cool. They always make me think of things that happened in junior high, though, that I really don't care to think about. So it was weird that I actually found myself wanting to listen to her music this morning.

All of this got me thinking about how music can make you feel. I think music manipulates emotions in a way that nothing else in the world really can. Not only does a song hold its own emotions that, if really good, can find their own way into a listener, but people put their own emotions into the music that they listen to. I don't often listen to Imogen Heap, not because I don't like the emotion or the music itself, but because I don't like what I have come to associate it with. I associate my own experiences and emotions with all of the music that I listen to. Switchfoot makes me think of when I was a seventh grader, fresh into junior high. I like listening to that music sometimes because I like the emotions that I have come to associate it with. Though I doubt many other people feel the same way as I do when they listen to Learning to Breathe.

Avril Lavigne and Taylor Swift have come to be associated with times spent with my sisters. Here are two artists that all of us have really liked and we have liked them at the same time. That doesn't happen very often anymore (mostly because I can't stand a lot of the music that the others listen to.) These songs have very good feelings and memories attached to them. It doesn't matter that Skater Boy is not really supposed to be a silly song. It still reminds me of the day that my sisters and I took a radio outside and tried to create a dance on roller skates to it. Picture to Burn is supposed to be a song filled with anger, but that doesn't stop me from feeling exhilarated and completely content when I hear it. The song reminds me of tubing at Pineview with two of my little sisters, screaming at the top of our lungs.

The emotions attached to the songs are the reasons that I have come to download them again. I like that when I listen to them I can be transported back in time. If I close my eyes I can be the ten year old girl skating around her front yard, singing Skater boy as loud as she can. By listening to Switchfoot I can feel the excitement of a time when every experience was new. 

Music, to me, is my life, literally. There are songs from all parts of my life that have all kinds of memories and emotions associated with them. It's what happens when you listen to music as much as I do. I wouldn't change that, though. I love that weird, almost deja vu, feeling that comes with listening to a song that you haven't listened to in a while. 

I guess that is just why I love music.

52 weeks. 260 lists. 1 year of gratitude.

I want to introduce a project that I started with my sisters yesterday. A Year of Gratitude is a blog that I created yesterday, on which four of my sisters and I will be writing at least once a week until June 24, 2011. I was talking to my mom yesterday about how my sisters and I are growing apart. It makes sense. We are all a very different stages of our life right now. Abby and Linzie are in junior high, working with the challenges that Carley and I faced four years ago. Emily, while only a year younger than Carley and I, is facing very different challenges than the ones we are facing as we are heading into our senior year of high school. It's not like when we were little and we all walked to school together, not like when we all hung out with the same group of neighborhood kids and found the most entertainment in making up games with each other (which we still do, just not as often.) It makes sense that we don't spend as much time talking and hanging out with each other (though, since it is summer, we are spending most of our time together at the moment) as we did when our age differences seemed so much smaller.

So my mom suggested that we start this project. It is a blog that serves as a place for us to list or show what we find ourselves thinking we are grateful for. The challenging part of it is that we have to write one of these lists once a week. Each of us has to post something on that blog every week for a year. It'll probably feel very similar to how having to write here at least once a week in 9th grade felt. I would spend all week brainstorming topics and then when I finally sat down to write I could never remember any of them and would usually end up ranting about whatever I had on my mind at that very moment. I usually wrote those posts at the last minute or while I was in the computer lab for a class (usually Mr. T's) and not doing the work I was supposed to be doing.

This blog is going to force all of us to pay more attention to what is going on around us in our lives. It is going to make us look for the things that make us feel happy or lucky every day. It is also going to inspire the creativity that I know each of my sisters has so much of. I'm more excited about reading and seeing what they are going to have to say every week than I am about what I am going to be putting together. It's going to be a fun thing that all of us are going to be doing together. I can just hear the comments that are going to be going around every week. "Have you posted your list yet?" "No, I have no idea what to do." or "Yeah, I posted it last night. You should go look at it." 

I posted the first list yesterday and it is probably the easiest list that I will post all year. I am already thinking about what I am going to write next week, though. Most of my week is already planned out and so I know the things that I am excited about and that I will be grateful for. However, I know there will probably be a lot of things that are going to take me by surprise. So we'll see what happens.

The other day I posted this on Facebook: I just thought I would inform you all that Wendy Randquist, Carley Randquist, Emily Nicole Randquist, Ashley Turek, Linzie Randquist and Abby Randquist (in order of age) are the most amazing girls, the best sisters and THE best friends that any girl could ask for. I ♥ you guys. I guess that in itself could be a post of what I am grateful for. My sisters are sometimes the only thing that keeps me sane and are at other times the very things pushing me toward insanity. I am so grateful for them, though.

There are 52 weeks in a year. Each week there will be at least 5 lists added to our blog. That means that by the end of the year we should have at least 260 lists of things that we are grateful for. Pretty cool, huh? I think it will be. Our plan, once we finish, is to use a website like this to publish a hardback copy of the blog for each of us. They do that, now. Isn't that awesome? I think it will probably be the coolest book I own once we finish it. I'm excited. There are so many big things that are going to happen in the next 52 weeks and that blog is going to be a record of sorts of all of that.

My Purpose

As of tonight I have written 145 entries in my personal journal that I began this past Christmas. In the past six months I have written more in the journal than I have in 3 years of writing this blog. I like that. While this blog will be here for people to read for years to come, my journal will be mine alone to keep and share as I please for the rest of my life. It is my thoughts and hopes and dreams as I go through (almost) each day. They are my perspective on life at any given time. It is a version of me, a picture of myself, frozen in time.

I love the privacy that my journal holds. I feel no reason to hold myself back in my comments there. The purpose of it is not to inform anyone of anything. It is 1) to let myself express my uncensored thoughts on anything, anytime and 2) to give me something concrete to show how I have changed as time goes by. Just tonight I looked back on a few of the entries I wrote six months ago and I can tell how much I have changed by then. Just think how much that change will be years from now, and I will have a way to measure it. I will be able to look back on my thoughts at a specific moment in time and think 'Wow. I have grown up since then. I am so glad that I am where I am today.' When I have those moments, I will write them down. I will write them down for myself. Uncensored. A method of remembering myself as I once was.

Kara might say that I should try to live more in the present. She says that I spend too much time in my past and my future. I agree. I do spend more time than I should worrying about where I will be years from now or brooding over decisions that I made long ago. Sometimes I need to pull myself out of my thoughts and just live. There are other times, though, when looking back at how I once was helps me to keep moving forward. I look back on things I said or did and I realize then that I can not make the same mistakes again. Or I see that there is a purpose to the path that I am on. These moments help me keep moving forward when other things are telling me to stop. These things tell me that it would be so much easier to remain stagnant in my life. There would be no problem to stay as I am, to stand and watch as others pass me by. See, now? These moments of reflection are my motivation. They are my reason in times of doubt.

That is why I write in my journal every night and why I only write here every so often. I am a naturally born writer. Just ask anyone in my family, it's in my genes. What I have realized though, is that my purpose in writing doesn't always have to be to impress or entertain an audience. My writing has just as much meaning, often more, when I am writing purely for myself. I can be selfish in my writing without hurting those around me. I can transcribe my own thoughts without any intention of sharing them with anyone else and still have them mean something. My words are just as valuable in my journal, read by only me, as they are on this blog where anyone can access them.

The End is Here

It is the first day of the last week of my second to last year of high school. I am in my second period class, Newspaper Editors, and I am simply sitting here waiting for the bell to ring so that I can go to psychology. It is interesting to think that this time next year I will be mere days from graduating high school. We have all come so far since I started writing this blog two and half years ago. None of us are in the same places anymore (whether that be physically, mentally, or both.) This thought came to me while I was looking at the 'feedjit' I have in the sidebar of my blog. There was an entry there that said San Antonio, Texas and I couldn't help but smile.

I knew instantly that there is really only one person that would read my blog in San Antonio. mL, who was my best friend when she lived in Utah, moved there about a year ago. We talk sometimes and are possibly planning a trip for me to visit her in August, but for the most part we now live completely separate lives. There was a time, two years ago, when I would go to her house for an afternoon and end up leaving two days later. We had inside jokes coming out our ears and we were making plans for summer and for high school.

The other day I was listening to a song that I love in the car. As I was listening (and singing along) I realized that it had originally came out when I was in junior high. It was tied to that time for me. I was suddenly thinking of my friends from that time and what I was doing. It made me think of the day, almost four years ago, that I spent with Manda and Tanoya. We walked around as we looked through our yearbooks and eventually ended up at Barnes Park for a barbecue their family was having. I have not seen Tanoya in over two years. I have not spent a day with Manda in at least one year, probably longer than that.

Two years from now I will be finished with my first year of college. So much will change between now and then. Kara and I have talked about what we are going to do then, but neither of us really have any idea. It is impossible to plan two years ahead. I could be going to Utah State and I could be studying psychology but I could also be going to any other university or no university. I have no idea what is going to happen and at this point I shouldn't be worried about it. There is no way that I can know or even plan for what will happen to me in two years. I just have to live my life in the present.

It is the first day of the last week of my second to last year of high school. I am in my second period class, Newspaper Editors, and I am simply sitting here waiting for the bell to ring so that I can go to psychology. In ten minutes I will head upstairs to my next class and at noon I will come downstairs and get back on this computer. Tonight I will go to the yearbook stomp and tomorrow I will go to school. That is really as far ahead as I need to plan, for now.

Getting Closer

School ends in two weeks.

Wait. School ends in two weeks.

That means that I have a lot of writing to do.

See, I have never liked the very impersonal way that most people sign yearbooks. It is inevitable, of course, when someone you don't really know very well asks you to sign theirs, but when you are signing a book that belongs to a friend you should put more into it than 'H.A.G.S.' or 'you're awesome'. The whole purpose of having people sign your yearbook is so that you can look through it years later and remember them.

My solution to this dilemma is that I write letters to my closest friends for them to keep with their yearbooks. This started in 9th grade when I promised all of my friends that I would write them a novel in their yearbooks. Not very many people actually got novel length signing that year because I was in Washington DC on the last day of school, but I did write pretty lengthy posts in my Science Olympiad friends' yearbooks.

Last year, I decided that, instead of taking so much time on yearbook signing day to write a more meaningful note to my friends, I would type the letters up before hand and put them in an envelope that they could keep with their yearbooks. It was a good idea, but I started it too late and only got a letter done for my closest friend.

This year, I have at least six letters that I need to write. I have already started the one that is probably going to be the longest and most complicated of them all, but I really need to get to work on the others. I really only have 9 or 10 days at the most to get them done.

Summer is almost here and I will be in Hawaii in two weeks and five days!

The World Moved On

Tonight I set out to write my dad an email to ask for help in creating a website for my school newspaper. After I wrote the email I sent him a text to inform him of it and almost asked him to call me to talk about the project when he could.

It got me thinking.

When my dad moved to California two years ago I was not aware how much our communication would change. He is a computer programmer and so we have always been very knowledgeable about the technology that was out there and have utilized it. However, as my dad is no longer within a 45 minute drive from my house, we no longer communicate as we did when he lived in Salt Lake.

Years ago most of my communication with my dad occurred either through the phone or in person. Seeing as we only see each other 3 or 4 times a year, I don't really talk to my dad in person much. However, I do talk to him through email, text, twitter, facebook, and the occasional  video chat.

It's odd, isn't it? How much communication has changed.

On a slightly different note, the title of this post comes from Stephen King's Dark Tower series. I have recently started the second series of this tale and have loved it so far. I particularly love every time he talks about how the world has moved on and how things were before the world moved on. I just thought that I would share that with you.

Still a year away...

About 2 and a half years ago Mr. T gave us an Honors English discussion question about a blog that he wrote on homework. My response was very honest. During the first two years of junior high I was always afraid to do anything that I was not supposed to be doing during class (besides reading) because I was worried that I would get into trouble. However, when 9th grade started I was getting past that fear. I started checking my email and various other websites I was using whenever we were in the computer lab. When Honors English started I began spending all computer lab time reading peoples' posts and blogs. I never did homework at home either. I still don't for the most part.

There is one sentence in that post that particularly interests me. I was talking about how I never got homework in my favorite class, science, but I got homework in all of my other classes. What I found weird was that I can not at all think now how science could possibly be my favorite subject. I think, in reality, that the last time that I enjoyed science was in Mrs. Nelson's class in 8th grade. By the time I got into 9th grade I think that I just had not realized yet that I was enjoying english a lot more than I had ever enjoyed science.

Now, I am not quite sure what my favorite subject is or will be come next year. I still love english, but my english class this year has been almost unbearable. I do not really like that teacher and we have not really done anything that came close to being as interesting as reading The Pigman, Stargirl, or Great Expectations was in 9th grade. Maybe that is because the function of my english class this year was to teach me about rhetorical devices, but still, is there not any way that my teacher could have made it more interesting? There has to be.

Really, my favorite class this year has been AP Psychology. Since I was a baby I have loved watching people. I learned how to turn on the tv by watching my relatives use the remote. The subject just clicks in my mind more than anything else has. As I am learning new things about people and the way they interact with each other I am finding that I can apply everything I learn to the real world. It just seems to be the most practical thing I have ever learned. I can use it in any situation.

Does that mean that I love psychology more than I love english? I do not think so. I still love to read and write and learn about writing. I just do not like to spend my time in a class where all we do is listen to the teacher debate life with his favorite student. I can not stand to sit in a class where I could be learning something to better my writing and do busy work. It is just so ridiculous.

If I were to be put in a science classroom now, not only would I probably not understand what was going on, but I would be bored out of my mind. It is not who I am anymore. The person I am now is not nearly as defined as the person I was in junior high. I do not fit into a category as I did back then. I love it. I am more of a person than I was back then. I have interests that are more diverse and I have opinions that are informed and refined. I am not definite. I do not even always know who I am. In junior high I determined my friends and my future off of the group that I seemed to be. I was not an individual. Part of that, I think, was that I was afraid of being rejected by my peers. That is not so much the case anymore. I am alright with whoever decides to accept me. I am not worried about not fitting in.

I think that is one of the reasons that I have become so bored with high school. I am done with the groups that form by default. I no longer want to impress the people that I once thought of as my friends. If they do not like me for who I am, if they do not want to know be better, then so be it. I am completely alright with that. I just want to move on.

I am ready for the rest of my life to begin.

Life

There are only four weeks of school left. I have only four weeks left of my junior year in high school. There were points during this year when I was sure that I would not ever see the end. This has probably been the most monotonous school year ever. Not even halfway through the year I was so ready to be on to something new. Now I'm almost to the end and the beginning that I'm approaching is pretty unknown right now. I like it.

I am also actually looking forward to school next year. This year isn't even over yet and I want to be a senior. The reason: even though there is not Psychology class for me to take next year, the classes I have on my schedule seem more promising than the ones I am taking this year ever did. Not only are we going to have a newspaper staff that actually wants to write, but the other editors on the staff actually like me and I them (minus one who happens to have very low power because he is going to be a Junior.)

Other than that... Well, I guess I have summer to look forward to. That means getting a job and relearning how to drive (I haven't driven in months and I am actually pretty nervous to get back on the road.) I am determined to spend more time reading and writing this summer. I don't know what I did last summer. I guess I spent most of it talking to and hanging out with someone who hardly acknowledges my existence these days. Well, I am not making that mistake again this summer. Or ever, hopefully. This summer is all about my family and my true friends. I am done wasting my time.

I am very happy with my life, lately. I know that I was really weird for a while, but I've gotten myself out of that now. I'm out of the rut that had me hating my life and pushing away the people in my life that really matter. I know who and what are important and I have re focused my priorities. In fact, I think this is the best I have been in years and I plan on keeping it that way.

P.S. Thanks for letting me hijack your laptop, Emily.

Vira's Beginning

So, I said that I was going to post more of my story. Here it is. I'm not if I like it yet, but I'm still working on getting to where it will merge with the plot that I came up with in Moab. It's coming together slowly but surely. Let me know what you think.

“Virginia, darling?” Her mother was calling her from the kitchen, as she did every morning. “Virginia, come to breakfast. Your father made French toast.”

In her bedroom, Virginia sighed. French toast was their Monday breakfast, Tuesday breakfast was blueberry pancakes, Wednesday was apple cinnamon oatmeal and so on. There was not a single morning that was unpredictable in the Atley household. In fact, Virginia’s mother prided herself on how precise and structured their life was. The way they acted suggested that they were not the average, middle class family that they actually were but instead some privileged, rich, high society family with the obligations to create such a strict agenda. As it was, Virginia’s family did not have any obligations. They hardly had any friends and they were not involved in the community. Still, Virginia woke every morning knowing exactly what her day held in store.

Looking in the mirror, she frowned at her appearance. It was not that she was dressed by her mother, exactly, but that she was so used to her parents’ constant influence on her life that she felt odd wearing anything that her mother had not approved. Virginia looked her age, wore styles that were popular amongst her peers, but she always felt that it wasn’t really her (not that she would know what was really her if it was staring her in the face.) She looked completely average. She had plain, flat brown hair and wore very little make up to cover her plain features. There were plenty of girls at school who looked just like her.

Speaking of school, it was now nearly seven o’clock and if she didn’t get to her breakfast soon she would have to wait until lunch to eat. Virginia pushed her hair behind her ears and grabbed her book bag (a very common, yet stylish shoulder bag) before heading down the hall to the kitchen. Her parents, as well as her younger sister, Maia, were already sitting at the breakfast table. Virginia stopped at the end of the hall and observed them for a moment. They each seemed so wrapped up in their morning routine.

Mark Atley was a business man of some form. His own family was not really sure what exactly he did, other than that it allowed him to work regular hours and required a lot of paper work. He was about six feet tall and was of average build. His brown hair and blue eyes made him unlikely to be picked out in a crowd. Overall, Mark was an average man. This morning, like every morning before, Mark was eating his breakfast while pouring over the latest news via his iPhone. Virginia wanted to laugh at how modernly clichéd her father was. She could just imagine a newspaper in his hands instead of the small device that seemed to contain her father’s world. In her imagination he would turn to her and smile with perfectly straight, bleach white teeth. “Good morning dearest daughter,” Mark would say. “Did you sleep well?” In reality, Mark continued to stare at his iPhone.

At the other end of the table, Mira Atley was looking as pristine as any housewife would dream to. She was a pretty thing. Her blond hair and green eyes were unique to anyone Virginia had ever known. She was slim and just short enough that, with heels, she was just under five foot seven. When Mira was around friends or other company she was often the prettiest person around. When she was around her family she often looked as dull as Mark. Virginia thought that the routine of their lives must have become boring after 18 years, especially when Mira had once been a cheerleader and was apparently the life of every party. Virginia could not imagine her mother as anything but they orderly woman sitting at the table, slowly and delicately eating her toast. She almost laughed at the contrast between her mother and herself, but didn’t.

It was then that Virginia realized that Maia was staring at her. It was odd how the two sisters seemed to look as different as their mother and father. She had always thought that her dark hair and green eyes could never compete with Maia’s blond hair blue eyed look. If Maia had been looking to compete, that is. Virginia never understood her sister. Maia seemed to be completely content with living under the rules set by their parents. Virginia wondered if she came off that way herself. She dressed the way her parents approved of, as Maia did. She made friends with the girls her mother liked, as Maia always had.

Maybe it was that, unlike Virginia, Maia did seem to be the modern teenager. She listened to music, but nothing of the rock or pop variety. Maia preferred Mozart and Bach to Taylor Swift and Coldplay. She read a lot more than most 15 year olds did. She also didn’t have nearly as many friends as the other girls her age had and she seemed completely fine with that. Virginia often wanted to get into her head. There had to be something more to her sister than this robot girl she appeared to be. She wondered if Maia perhaps felt as trapped in her life as Virginia felt in her own. Maia smiled at her before looking back to her breakfast and reading what was no doubt another novel by Jane Austen or one of the Bronte sisters.

“Morning,” Virginia said as she set her bag down by her chair and sat down. In front of her was a plate of French toast smothered in maple syrup and powdered sugar. It looked good. She knew it would taste good. That was the one thing about her family’s routine, there was never anything really unexpected in her life.

“Now, Virginia, you really need to keep to your schedule. You are more late for breakfast every day. We’re all worried about you,” Mira looked honestly concerned.

Virginia wanted to laugh. She had never been on time for breakfast. The others all sat down to eat at promptly 7:30. They ate slowly as they went about their individual tasks. Virginia would show up about 15 minutes before Mark would drive them to school and her mother would tell her that she needed to get back to her schedule and that they were all worried about her. “I’m sorry, mom. I’ll get up earlier tomorrow.” Virginia would reply. Mira would nod before finishing her breakfast and moving on to clean the kitchen.

It seemed absurd. Her mother did not realize that Virginia’s morning schedule had been different from the rest of the family’s for four years now. She had been in middle school when she had decided that it would not do her any harm to sleep in later and spend only 15 minutes rather than 45 on her breakfast. It had been the one move of independence she had made in her 17 years of life. Well, whoever she was, at least she knew that she liked to sleep in late and preferred to eat without doing other things at the same time. Again, Virginia wondered if Maia was as confused about her identity as she was.

~~~~~~~~~

As Mark announced that it was about time to head off for the day, Mira pulled Virginia aside. This was something odd. This was not part of her meticulous mother’s routine. Virginia was not sure what to expect of the following conversation. It was a first for her and possibly even a first for the Atley household.

“Virginia, I wanted to talk to you away from Maia and your father. I really have been worried about you, darling. You seem to be a little out of control. Mrs. Kreely has even commented that you grade in Chemistry is slipping. This is not like you, dear…” Virginia would have spoken, but sensed that her mother had more to say. “I know that you were heartbroken when David broke up with you, but Virginia, you are so much stronger than that. You can pull out of this, I know you can. I’m here for you. That’s what mothers are for. You need to talk to me.”

David. She should have known.

Virginia’s first and only boyfriend at this point in her life had been a senior name David Pavlo. They had met in their Biology class the year before and were fast friends. When the homecoming dance had come around in October, no one was surprised that David had asked her to go with him. After the dance David had asked her out again and again and again. Soon they were inseparable. For a time Virginia had even considered herself in love with him.

David’s love for Virginia ended at the start of the final term. For a month he avoided her calls and blamed all of their cancelled dates on student groups or soccer practice. They still walked through the halls together. They still talked to each other constantly when they were together, but he had stopped seeking her out. They only were together when she went looking for him. That’s when Virginia had decided that she couldn’t be part of their relationship any longer. It was too difficult to keep what they had going when only one person was even trying. She was unhappy. It was the beginning of all of her unhappiness, really. David had made her realize that she was no longer happy with her life. Then she had broken up with him.

Virginia had not realized that the rumors that had been going around school about how David had broken up with her because he realized that he did not want to be more than just friends with her had gotten all the way to her mother’s ears. When Mira had asked Virginia why David was no longer around, Virginia had merely said that they were no longer together, that they had decided that their relationship was not what they had wanted. She had given her mother no clue as to who had broken up with whom.

She sighed but did not bother to correct Mira. Her mother could think whatever she wanted about David Pavlo. “Mom, I’m not upset about David. I swear. School has just been difficult lately because it is the end of the year and I am just so ready for it to be summer. I promise that I will try harder.”

Mira did not look convinced, but Mark was calling for Virginia from the garage. “Alright,” she sounded weary. “Just know that you can talk to me, Virginia. I love you and I want you to be happy.” Virginia smiled. “Now, hurry up, your father is waiting. Have a good day!” Virginia turned away, rolling her eyes. She had never understood how her mother was able to change moods so quickly. Virginia thought all of it was rather disingenuous.

“Gin, if we’re late I’m going to blame you.” Maia complained. Maia had never been late for school without having planned it in advance. Virginia’s new yearning for a little bit of disorder caused her to wish for a traffic accident or some other delay that would cause them to be late for class. Though, simply making Maia late for class didn’t seem like enough chaos for her.

“Maia, you are such a drama queen. You are still going to be the first one to class, I’m sure. You aren’t going to lose your gold star, so stop whining.” Maia glared back at her from the front seat. It was no secret in their family that Maia and Virginia did not get along well at all. It seemed to be the one crack in her mother’s perfect dream. It didn’t even seem to be much to Mira. Her daughters could barely stand to be in the same room, but they followed the routine and they knew how to create the image of a perfect family. That, after all, was what was important.

“Girls, can’t you just pretend that you like each other?” Mark said from the driver’s seat.

So, yeah... I don't know. This part is just supposed to show her family and how she lives a little bit. I've still got more of that to write before I start into the actual plot. We'll see what happens.