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.

Why I Write

(A picture of me from 2006)
Have you ever written something and then months or years later come back to it and read it to find that, not only do you not remember it, but that it doesn't actually seem like it is something that you wrote? You read and you think 'Wow. These are some really good ideas. If only I could remember having them.'

Take, for instance, my first post on the Honors English board discussing the definition of a classic novel:

To me a classic has to be something that could be read over and over again. Something someone could still be surprised about even after they've read it five or six times. A classic has to be something that makes you think about what's going on, and possibly compare things that are going on in the book to those things that are going on in your life, or in the lives of those around you. I think The Count of Monte Cristo does this. So far it has made me wonder about a lot of things. I love it when a book gets me thinking about the time era it was written in, and I think that's part of the definition of a classic. I don't think Harry Potter could really fit into that though, mostly because it doesn't really make you think about what was going on in the world when it was written. Sure I think that people will still be reading the Harry Potter books years and years from now, but I don't think it will ever be considered a classic along with the Twilight series and Eragon. I think the definition of a classic would be a book that inspires someone to think about different issues, or things involving the book, and also one that is know worldwide and is passed through generations- that is my definition of a classic.

While looking at some stories people I know have posted on the internet I came across this quote:

"A classic is classic not because it conforms to certain structural rules, or fits certain definitions (of which its author had quite probably never heard). It is classic because of a certain eternal and irrepressible freshness." -Edith Wharton

I found that I really liked how Edith Wharton (though I don't know who that is) described the definition of a classic. You can't say a book is a classic because of this and that. A book is a classic because for some reason, whatever it may be, it remains timeless. People read it and enjoy it just as much no matter how many years it's been since it was written.

(A picture of me from 2008)

Even though the writing isn't really great, the thoughts and ideas behind this post are something that I really like. I also really like and agree with the quote that I used. However, I don't at all remember looking for or finding the quote. I don't remember what spurred me to write what I did. My second post from that class, discussing what makes a good book, is even better:

The best book I've ever read would definitely have to be the Talisman by Stephen King. The reason it was such a good book was because by the end of the book I felt as if I was right there with the main character. It took me a long time to read it, not because it's a really long book, it is, but because I started to read it when I was about ten. I read the first chapter or so, and then I didn't think about it for another year. I read the first chapter again, but I still wasn't interested in it. Then my mom downloaded the audiobook version of it the year I started seventh grade. I put it on my ipod and listened to the first chapter remembering how different I was when I started the book years before.

The reason this book was so great is because I really got into the story, the characters, the sounds, the smells, the sights. It was as if I was in the story, and that's why I loved it. There was a great deal of action, and it felt as if the story went on for decades. That's what a good book is to me. A great story that makes you feel almost like you're really there. Like the characters are your best friends, or your worst enemies, or the weirdest strangers you've ever seen. Sometimes you get so worried about what's going to happen that your not sure if you can finish it, but you have too. You can't put the book down.

It can't be a story that you read once and is really good, but then you go to read it again and its boring. For it to really be a genuinely great book you have to be able to read it time and time again without ever getting bored. You have to be able to feel the same things again and again when you read it, it has to feel as if you're going to a familiar place when you pick it up again. The story has to make you feel as if you are going home. That is what I think makes a good book.

I really loved reading this post again. Not only did I agree with what I said and still find it like I was reading it for the first time, but it reminded me of how much I loved reading The Talisman and, in fact, made me want to read the book again.

I guess that's just one reason why I love to write. I love that I can look back at the things I wrote, whether they are fiction or not, and just imagine how I was back then. I love that it gives me a fresh view on myself. I love that my thoughts and ideas are preserved in the things I write because even if I still know what my thoughts on certain things used to be, there is no way for my mind to preserve the words I would have used to express my thoughts. It's like, in everything I write I save myself, who I am at the moment that I am writing.

(A picture of me from February, 2010)
That is the purpose of this blog. It is me; the different versions of me that have evolved over the last three years. My ideas have changed and I have changed so much in that time. My purposes for writing have even changed somewhat. The one thing that has stayed the same, though, is that I do write. That will always be the case.

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."

Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith

"Don't get it right, just get it written."

James Thurber

Revising Something Old

Almost 4 years ago I met a girl who would come to shape my early teens. She was the first really close friend I ever had. For about 2 and a half years she and I were always together. We were always doing things together. I spent every weekend I could over at her house. That girl's name is Morgan. She and I are not close now, but I attribute a lot of who I am now to her influence. She was my best friend during a critical time in my life.

Morgan and I were both very into books and writing. I still am. I am pretty sure that she still is as well. When we were in 8th grade we decided that we wanted to write something together. We were also very silly girls when we were together. We had these imaginary "boyfriends" that we referred to constantly in our daily conversations. These characters, Alex and Aaron, became the star players in a story that was the first real quality thing I wrote (I know parts of it were pretty horrible, Morgan, but you have to admit that our overall plot line (which would have created a trilogy, had we finished it) as well as our characters were pretty great.) I thought the story was pretty original. It wasn't the most original thing I have ever written, but it was pretty good.

Ever since Morgan and I stopped writing the story in 9th grade (we had somewhere between 50 and 70 pages) I have wanted to finish it. Eventually that want changed. I now want simply to use the main idea behind it. It needs new characters (our main characters were pretty much unrealistic) and I think some of the plot definitely needs to be reworked, but I like the idea that we started. Throughout the years, I have tried and tried to write a story similar to it and yet better. Thus far, I have not succeeded.

I feel that it is time to change that.

My family and I went to Moab last week over spring break. We were camping by Slick Rock trail and there was this rock just behind the tent that my sisters and I shared that was absolutely perfect for sitting and contemplating the universe. One evening I came back to camp after a day of 4 wheeling I sat on that rock. As I sat there this universe came to present itself to me. Along with it came a cast of characters and their cultures. It was not as if I was merely thinking them up. I sat on that rock and looked out toward the setting sun on the horizon and these things just came to me of their own accord. I had not been thinking about writing a novel at the time. It has always been a dream of mine, but I recently decided that I was going about it for the wrong reasons, I wanted to have finished the act. I no longer wanted to create a novel for the simple act of telling the story I had to tell. I had told myself that if I was ever going to write the novel in my head I would have to wait for it to present itself to me. I could not keep hunting for it as I had been.

So now I have it. I have the characters and I have the setting. I know parts of the story, but not all of it. As I continue to write the lives of my characters the rest of it will come to me as this part has so far. I have not ever written a story by this method. I believe that is why the only stories that I have ever finished in the past were short ones. I am going to finish this one.

One last thing before I go: This is my 100th blog post! I'm kinda disappointed that it took me 3 years to get to 100, but it is still awesome!

So, happy 1ooth blog!

Link to My Past

Social networking websites are taking over the world. Now days most people have an account on myspace or Twitter or Facebook. It's uncommon for a person to not be involved in some form of online socialization. I find it interesting and a lot of the time I wonder just what the point is of having all of these half interactions with people online, but today I can honestly say that I really am glad, truly glad, that I use Facebook.

The reason for this is that, today I started talking to someone who I have not seen in seven years. In all of that time I have always wondered what has happened to him. I have always been curious about whether or not we would ever see each other again and what we would say to each other if we ever did get the chance. If I lived in a time or a place where Facebook had not been invented or was not accessible I would have never gotten the chance to talk to him again and I would always be left with the curiosity of what had happened to him since we were both 10 years old.

Dalton is the son of an ex-girlfriend of my dad's. To me, though, he was more than that. I don't think I ever interacted with his mom much, but during the time that our parents were together I spent every single weekend hanging out with Dalton and his older brother, Brayden. We did all kinds of things: mini golfing, going to Lagoon, playing in my Grandma's basement, swimming, bowling, etc. Name something a bunch of kids may have done with their father during the weekend and I bet we did it. There were less computers back then. I'm not talking about in the world (although that is certainly true,) I'm talking about in my life. Those days were filled with games and activities. We spent a ton of money basically every weekend, but I think we could have just as easily entertained ourselves without it.

Anyway, when my dad and Dalton's mom split up I don't think I fully realized that I would most likely never see them again. I remember one weekend after the fact when Dalton called and asked if we were going to do anything that weekend. Until this week that was the last I had heard of him. Then I found him on Facebook.

I'm glad that I am getting the chance to talk with Dalton. I no longer have to live with the curiosity of what has happened to him in the past seven years. I am happy to talk to him and see not only how he has been but what has happened to him and what he has been up to. Seven years ago we knew each other as well as any 10 year old knew another 10 year old. We were good friends. Now we are complete strangers who merely share a past. Well, I'm glad to have that link to my past.

:D

The Beginning of Something Big

So, I sat down at my laptop about ten minutes ago, determined to write something. This is what I came up with:

Do you know what it feels like to be watched by everyone you know? Have you ever felt like you had to do something, like you had to be a certain kind of person because it was expected of you? A lot of people would just chalk that up to peer pressure, but I am talking about more than that. I am not asking if you have ever felt pressured into doing something wrong. I’m asking if you know what it feels like to not know who you are because all your life you’ve followed the expectations of others.

Yes?

No?

Well, I do. For the first fifteen years of my life I only did what I was supposed to. My friends were people who I thought my parents would approve of. I took classes that would lead me toward the career they wanted for me. I only liked guys who I believe my father would like. My clothes and my bedroom constantly mimicked the tastes of my mother.

Then, one day, I asked myself a question: Who am I? When I could not even come up with an answer, I decided that it was time to change. I would no longer be the result of my family’s expectations. That was the day everything changed.

My name is Virginia Marie Atley and this is my story.

I'm not sure how much I like it yet, but I'm thinking that it is a prologue to a story that I sort of started about a month ago and am now going to try to actually do something with. The whole reason I started this piece today is that I was thinking about nicknames for the name Virginia (ever the Harry Potter fanatic, I was contemplating whether or not I liked the name Virginia or Ginevra better for Ginny,) and I thought of one that I have never really heard before but instantly loved: Vira (pronounced veer-a.)

Then I began thinking of the rest of the name and for some reason I came up with Virginia (Vira) Marie Atley. I instantly knew that this is the name that I should have been using with that character that I created about a month ago. I like it. Vira Atley just has a very nice ring to me.

On top of all of that, I was looking through some folders on my laptop today and I realized that I really don't write at all anymore. There are tons of files no bigger than 50-5000 words on my computer that demonstrate how much I loved to write when I was younger. My new goal is to accumulate more of these partially written files, because, even if I'm not finishing what I am writing, I am thinking about it. I am using my imagination when I am writing and I am enjoying the stories, characters, places, etc. that I am creating. It makes me happy.

< rant >

Last year I totaled a car that was supposed to go to my little sister as soon as my car was complete (my step dad was working on a Celica for me.) I was driving it because I had a summer class and a job and I really needed to be transported to all of those places by myself.

It's been almost a year since the accident now and I feel like I haven't done anything. All of that stress has been weighing on me and I don't think anybody realizes how much I stress about it. They joke about it and I know that it is probably ridiculous for me to still be this upset about it all but I can't help it. This is how I feel.

I feel as if for the last year I have not moved forward at all. In fact, I feel as if I have been moving backward. Almost a year ago I had just gotten hired at Lagoon. I was working on getting my driver license. I was moving forward, growing up. It was good. All through Junior High I had had to rely on my mom to take me everywhere I needed to go and I was suddenly feeling the freedom that was coming. Last June, not only did I gain that freedom but I quickly managed to lose it.

Sometimes I feel as if I am not making any progress in my life. I have all of these things that I need to do: get a job, register the van, get insurance. I tried all last summer to get a job. I tried again in October. Now that's it is time to try again I am realizing that I have more or less stood still since June. I have not done anything important. I have not done anything to rectify the events of last summer. I have gone to school. I have come home. School is the only productive thing I have been doing.

I just hate the way this whole thing makes me feel. I don't know what it is about the last few weeks, but it's like I'm dealing with it all over again. I think about the accident more and more frequently. I dream about it. I think I've imagined every other possible scenario that would have gotten me and that car home safely that day. The words that I said, the phone call to my mom, plays over and over in my mind sometimes. When I'm in a car there are moments when I have to close my eyes because of the irrational fear that I feel.

I feel stressed and I feel guilty. I feel irresponsible. I feel like I just need to find a job so that I can get my van registered and finally be able to say that I have fixed the incredible mistake that I made last June.

I know I need to get over it. I know I need to move on with my life.

I just don't know if I can until I get this mess sorted out. I need to fix this.

I just need this to be over.

< / rant >

A New Journey, A New Me

I was just looking at my blog to see what it looks like with the school internet censuring it (I gotta say, it looks pretty plain) and I noticed that since January this blog now spans four years. In reality, it's only about two and a half years, but since I started in fall of 2007 and it is now 2010, my blog archive shows writing in four different years.

I found this pretty impressive.

I know my blog posts have become very sporadic and not very interesting but I am choosing to see that as a good thing. When I started this blog I wrote things that I wanted other people to hear but did not really have anyone to tell. Back then, I wasn't so good with actually having conversations to. Part of the reason for that is that I didn't really have that many people to talk to when I was in 9th grade. Back then I believed that my friends and family weren't really interested in anything that I had to say. Or that they wouldn't want to hear me say it.

So I've decided that I am taking the lack of activity on this blog and making it a positive thing. Maybe I don't write much anymore and maybe I haven't gotten many comments in the last year but maybe that's just a sign that I have taken control of my life and my relationships and moved them outside of this virtual world that exists inside of my laptop.

There's more to that than blogging. I used to be an active member on a lot of websites. Facebook and Myspace (as well as Fanfiction.net and various other websites and forums) took up all of my time back then. I had friends from all over the country that I would get online to talk to and I would talk to them for hours. I didn't have many close friends outside of that and I didn't really talk to my family. I accused people of not knowing who I am. In reality, however, I think I was absolutely clueless about who I was.

I definitely do not have that all figured out now. I think I have a lot better idea, though. That is what is important. I have decided who I want to be. I have made connections with really great people and I have found outlets in the real world to let out my frustrations and to share my happiness. I don't know what I want to do with my life yet but I know that I am who I want to be. Like anyone, there are things that I wish were different... Or... Not so much wish, but I know that I could and will change them and that I will be a better person for it. I'm not as lost as I was in 9th grade.

About two weeks ago, Kara and I were sitting in my driveway. She was dropping me off from this luau thing I went to with her and, as usual, we were talking. Kara and I talk about anything and everything. She knows what I think and sometimes we are brutally honest with each other... Not often, because there isn't much to be brutally honest about, but it's happened a time or two. That night we were talking about some big things. There was music from her cd player (I loved Merv, but I am so glad that we can listen to music in Hercules!) in the background and when Friends Forever by Vitamin C came on she explained to me that she had made the cd for her sisters when they were graduating high school and starting college.

We listened to the song in silence for a moment and then we began talking about how this song will apply to us next year. It's all about kids graduating high school and how they may not see or speak to each other again and while listening to it I had a sudden realization. After next year I probably won't see a lot of these people that I talk to at school again. We will maybe talk a little through Facebook or other such things right after school but after a little while we will just stop talking to each other.

In junior high I used to talk to my friends about how we probably wouldn't still be friends once we got out of school (I know, what kind of 7th grader says that? I lacked some social skills,) and lately I have been talking about how much I can't wait to get out of high school and start college. Not once in all of that did I ever really realize the full extent of never seeing/talking to those people again.

It hit me while listening to that song with Kara.

Another thing that song made me think about was how different being an 8th grader almost into the last year of junior high is to being an 11th grader almost into their last year of high school. In 8th grade everyone was not nearly as focused on getting out of junior high. Back then, a year still seemed to be a long time, each week of school was daunting and the days seemed to drag on and on. Now my friends and I are getting ready to go into our senior year of high school and it seems that is a huge topic on our minds. Kara and I talk about it a lot. I think about it all the time. A year doesn't seem as long as it did three years ago. Now I get to the end of the week and I wonder where all the time went; I get to the end of the day and I feel like I just woke up.

This difference between now and then is so insane to me. Everything is different. And in so many ways now is better. There are some things about then that I would really like back, though. It seemed that it was so easy to maintain relationships with my friends. We were all in the same place and we were all going in very similar directions. Now we are all getting to forks in the road and we are beginning to split up. It's becoming harder and harder to keep up those relationships with those of my friends who are no longer going in the same direction as me. Most of my friends are no longer going in the same direction as me. We're all going different places now because we all have different goals for our lives.

It just seems unreal to me that I will lose all of these people in my daily life when I graduate. I can't imagine how things would be without them. Yet, I know that, right this second, there are people out there who are on paths that will eventually merge with mine. They don't know me yet and I don't know them. Some of them will be mere acquaintances but there are also people out there right now who will be my the best friends I will ever have.

So, I'm being optimistic today.

I may not write in blog much anymore but it is a good thing because now I have people that I actually talk to about what is going on in my head (the only bad thing about not blogging much anymore is that I haven't really been writing about what I have been reading.)

In the next year and a half, it is inevitable that I will stop talking to some of my friends. We will reach the point in our journey where our paths are completely different. However, there are people out there in the world right this moment who, though we are on different paths at the moment, will become my greatest friends and who I will form the strongest relationships with.

I like who I am and I am content with the path I am on. I know that there will be many changes both to my identity and my journey in the next few years and the rest of my life. I accept that.

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

~Anatole France

So, I was using the ever amusing stumbleupon.com when I came across this video:

It starts off in the Himalayas and heads out of Earth's atmosphere and into space. If you have the time, I would really suggest watching it. It blew my mind. To look at the very farthest thing in space that we can see, that we know about, and view it as the same size as a picture of our planet, makes me think. Then try to picture the relative size of an atom or an electron from that.

We are all such a small part of the universe. There are so many bigger things out there; stars and galaxies, maybe there are even other universes. I don't think that any living person will ever know exactly how small of a factor we are in the grand scale of things.

It's all just so BIG!

(And yes, I did just remind myself of Bill Nye the Science Guy)

*Que theme song*