Advice from a Dog

I think that there is some good advice to be heeded from a dog I never met: "Learn the difference between can and can't. See, my uncle had a dog named Jasper at his house in Lexington. Every so often, my dad would go visit his brother and he loved to tease the dog. So my dad would get Jasper all ralled up and then say, "Nope, you can't go," and that dog would go ballistic. He would race up and down their hallways and in every room in the house. Now, my dog does the same thing when we get to playing with her except there's one major difference: my dog is a 10 pound Bichon Frise, and Jasper was a standard poodle. He didn't care what was in his way, he would knock it off and sometimes break it or completely push over furniture. After a minute or so of my uncle screaming, "SCOTT! Make it stop!" my dad would finally concede and tell the dog, "Okay you can go." To a human mind, that would make perfect sense, but this dog didn't get it. So that would start him on his rampage again running through the house. Of course, my uncle still blames my father for driving the dog crazy, and my dad happily takes all of the credit.

Some bad ideas

Okay so at first I didn't that I would have enough to blog about, but then I got to reading everyone else's so I decided to give it a shot.

Top 15 Worst Ideas

1. Running along side a moving golf cart, trying to force your sister to give you a turn. My little brother got ran over and had to get staples in his head.
2. Putting ketchup in the microwave for 99:99. Same little brother by the way.
3. Allowing your brother to stay at your birthday party because one of two things happens: a) he annoys them and you so badly it's miserable, or b) he steals your friends :(.
4. Not telling your mom that you have a boyfriend, and then having her find out from someone else's mom. Not too fun.
5. Joke about being short and using the word "midget".....in front of one.
6. Talking back to your mom. It doesn't matter if you're right because you're never right.
7. Bouncing checks not one, not two, but three times. For some reason, daddy gets very angry (for the record, I didn't do this).
8. Putting lotion on your feet and then walking on hardwood floor.
9. Dusting the hardwood floor with Pledge and then walking over that place with socks.
10. White carpet. 100% a bad idea.
11. Pulling something off a shelf that isn't screwed in. It all comes crashing down on top of you and the wood shelf could scrap your body.
12. When you are eight years old, playing jump seesaw with boys that are thirteen. When they jump on the board, you are flung into the air and break your arm.
13. Wearing a white t-shirt on a rainy day.
14. Trying to freak out your friends by skating towards them really fast and then realizing that you don't know how to stop on ice.
15. Presenting a poster that promotes the Constitution to your class, and saying that "all people are equal, except for black people because no one cares about them anyways." This moment is made even better when your African American principal is sitting in on the class.

These ideas, as previously mentioned, are not the best in the world. Note to self, don't do them. :)

Just a Pet Peeve

So I'm not sure if this bothers anyone else, but I absolutely hate it when people don't know how to use apostrophes. So here's a quick little lesson. Apostrophes are used to either show possession or to take the place of a letter or letters. For instance, the words "do not" are combined to make the contraction "don't". As you can see, the apostrophe takes the place of the letter "o" in "not".

Now let's continue from there to my actual pet peeve. Many people like to abbreviate the year to the final two digits in the number. First off, there is nothing wrong with that, not if it's done correctly. If I was to say, "I'm so excited for the year 10'!" then I would be like almost every person out there who doesn't know how to use these correctly. In this position, what is the apostrophe taking the place of? Nothing. Because, see, it's SUPPOSED TO BE the 20 that's in FRONT of the 10 in the year 2010. But for some reason, people put it behind and mess it all up. I just want to walk over to the computer or take a pen if it's on paper, and cross out the old one, and put it where it's supposed to go.

I know that like nobody cares about this but me, but I just saw it and wanted to vent somewhere. So thanks Blogger for allowing me vent my feelings in a constructive manner. lol

One of those days

Have you ever had one of those days? You know, the ones that feel like you're on an emotional rollercoaster all day? Well, today was just that. I got in the shower at 6:15 this morning and proceeded to get myself ready for school. My parents have this rule that I need to leave the house by 7:30 in order to get everyone to school on time and not speed. Despite this, I usually leave my house around 7:40 because it just takes a while for my brain to comprehend that time. At 7:15 my younger brother storms in my room demanding that I hurry and get in the car in a mere five minutes. Well that was nigh impossible since I hadn't put my make-up on or chosen the clothes for the day. Five minutes later he storms into my bathroom and yells at me to hurry and get ready; to this I simply replied, "If you don't get out of this room right now, I'm going to go slower and force you to be late." Of course he got mad. When we were a few miles from school he starts the conversation up again in this really irritated voice. I argue for a few minutes until we're both too annoyed to speak.

After that dreadful episode, I walked into biology, where I once again realized that I wasn't allowed to use my backpack and continue my 5 month long tradition. Though slightly aggravated, I tried to learn the topic for the day. It was at this point that I discovered that I actually understood what he was talking about and could follow along and interject intelligent comments along the way as well. Pretty good experience.

On to APUSH, one of the world's worst classes. I love history, but the teacher loves to lecture and that makes it difficult for a visual student. Our quiz was not too difficult and I only missed one so I was pretty proud of myself. Overall, it was an okay period.

Next was orchestra, one of my favorite classes. We didn't do much exept learn about scales and play a few. After that, she dismissed us into our project groups. Since I wasn't in that class for the first semester, I didn't have a project. Luckily, another cello dropped out of the class so I just took his place. It was great how it all worked out, but then I took alook at the composition. The key was difficult as well as the rhythms. By difficult I mean that I couldn't sight it well, that I would have to spend a few hours alone with the piece and a metronome to be sure to get the correct rhythms and fingerings. After I continued to complain to my classmate who composed the piece, he told me that I should just quit if I thought it was so hard. Slightly offended, I grabbed my things and stormed out of the room.

Thinking back, I probably shouldn't have gotten so mad, but I did. My day was a rollercoaster and so were my emotions. Oh well, maybe the rest of the day will go better.

Best Friend Long Gone

The week before my first day of middle school, I met my best friend. Of course, I didn't know it at the time, but it happened none the less. Though we did have a few things in common, being the tallest girls in sixth grade, basketball, and the same classes, it was mainly our differences that drew us to each other. She was everything I wasn't: bold, witty, and able to stand up for herself. Every day, we could survive lunch and school because we helped to balance the other's personality. For instance, when something would irritate her, I would always try to calm her down and let her know that the situation wasn't a big deal. But then she would help to me stand up for myself and not allow people to run over me. Because of her, my middle school experience was pretty great because who wants to mess with a 5'8" no nonsense girl?

So needless to say, one of the the most traumatic things that's ever happened to me was the day I found out that my best friend was moving. No, she didn't choose to leave me alone (her step-dad was offered a really good job out of town), but I still felt like someone had just yanked the rug of my life out from under me, and I had no idea how to proceed. Walking the halls of eighth grade seemed impossible without my best friend. I'd always known that I'd had many friends, but they were more like acquaintances. But, somehow, we both made it through 8th grade and the transition from middle school to high school.

Now, we both have our own lives in different states. Her with her friends, schoolwork, and stories, and me with mine. But, the best part is that at New Year's, she has this party with her friends and I get to go down and see her. This year was a total blast because I got to meet more of her friends that she talls me about. They're all really nice and welcomed us into their homes even though we were perfect strangers. We've promised to come see them more than once a year now, too :).

When we go down, it's funny to see how in some ways we're still exactly the way they were in seventh grade, and others, we almost seem to different to be friends, but we still are. If I need some encouraging, or a pep talk on how to be myself, she's always the first one I call. And I'm always there for her when she needs to talk about some problems. All in all, it makes me happy to know that we can still count on each other after all this time.

Earlyphobia

One morning at 7-freaking-20, I was pulling into the school parking lot. Now some, like my brother feel that this is an appropriate time to arrive for school. Although school doesn't start until 8 15, getting there an hour early seems to be a good idea. Every morning he tries to persuade me that he really ought to get there before the bell rings and that I'm the crazy one for not wanting to. He chides me for leaving the house at the latest possible minute, and consistently gets angry with me.

But I honestly don't see the benefits of arriving to school early. There's so much time wasted just sitting there being bored and it's awful. I don't particularly enjoy being at school and smelling the stench of awaiting homework. And, I'm partially allergic to mornings so I'm not in the greatest of moods when I do finally make an appearance. I would just rather spend that extra hour or so sleeping or making sure that I have all my stuff together and ready for the day. Or, heaven forbid, that I get to eat breakfast BEFORE I leave the house.

In all actuality, this really isn't my fault. For my entire life, I've been late, so I guess I'm just used to it, and enjoy it. I dont have to sit there and wait for everything to start because it starts when I arrive. But the reason that he wants to be there is that he has a girlfriend and just has to get there to talk to her. For an hour, I don't really understand why he's got to be there that early but whatever.

Maybe he's the one who's weird. Everyone else in the population of the high school loves to get there at 8 13. I hope I have him converted to late time soon. I don't know how much more of this early stuff I can take. ;)

The Best Get Together

I don't really have a favorite Christmas decoration. They're cool and everything, but to me, that doesn't make or break my Christmas. I love the get togethers and parties that happen up until the actual day. Hanging out with friends and family as well as my church family really makes this holiday so amazing for me.

So, instead of doing a favorite decoration, I'll do a favorite event. Every year, the Sunday before Christmas my church has this Christmas program. Anyone is allowed to do whatever they want, as long as they are serious and it pertains to Christmas. For as long as I can remember, I've been in this program either singing or doing a drama with my youth group. The exhilaration of being on stage in front of practically every person I know is almost overwhelming. Hundreds of eyes watch me as a complete this move or sing that note, and sometimes, it can be more than a a little difficult to continue under such scrutiny. But every time I'm on that stage, I realize that I'm not performing so that everyone will say how good I am, but how good God is by blessing me with the talent as well as the confidence to perform. Then, I shoo all the butterflies out of my stomach and continue to dance like never before. Once the final beat of the song is played, I look out into the crowd and see the entire congregation on their feet shouting praises to God. I feel honored that I could be one chosen to usher in His presence and happily join in.

But, no matter how much I love actually performing myself, there is one part of the program that holds a special place in my heart. See, my pastor is like my second dad/granddad. When I was young, both of my grandfathers lived at least five hours out of town, so there was no "grandparent-ly spoiling" for my family. But, we did have our pastors, and they acted as step-in grandparents though they're little more than 10 years older than my parents. Anyways, every year, after every other act is finished, he will walk up with his microphone as if he's going to dismiss, but then this beat gets started. To the unexperienced ear, it sounds exactly like "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," but it's not; in reality, it is "Jesus Christ is Coming Again." Using the same tune, he changes the words to make a more "religious" per say meaning to the song. Ever since I was a little(r) girl, I have loved listening to that song and can't wait until the 364 are over so I can hear it again. I'm not sure if he knows how important that song is to me, but one year he forgot to sing it, and I got mad. He hasn't forgotten since :)

Here's the words
You'd better watch out, you'd better not lie, you'd better not pout I'm telling you why, Jesus Christ is coming again.
He sees you when you're cheating, He knows when you're a fake, He knows if you're beneath his blood so be saved for goodness sake
Oh, you'd better watch out, you'd better not lie, you'd better get right or be left behind,
Jesus is coming again, Jesus is coming again, Jesus Christ is coming again!

Santa's Not Real?

Well, that was never a shock to me. If anything, I was the poor little kid who happened to blab that they didn't believe in Santa and start a huge argument about how they were wrong.

My life wasn't too awful knowing that there wasn't a Santa Claus. The toughest times were Christmastime at school. We were given assignments like "Write a letter to Santa telling him what you want for Christmas" or "Color this picture of Santa and leave it by the milk and cookies on Christmas Eve." These attempts of bringing cheer and the remembrance of Santa to the room worked quite the opposite. Instead of feeling happy that on Christmas Day I would have presents from a strange man in a red suit who knew if I was naughty or nice, I felt sad that I would have to tell my teacher that I didn't believe. And that was no simple task. My parents had always strongly cautioned my siblings and I to never ever say that Santa wasn't real, only to say that we "didn't believe." Because of this, I always made sure that I tried to whisper it to my teacher so that no one else would know. But someone always managed to hear me and declare it to the class, "Kiersten doesn't believe in Santa Claus?!" That would start a whole new round of teasing and a hundred questions on why I didn't believe. All I could reply while not flat out saying that he wasn't real was, "I just don't believe in Santa...No I don't get any presents from him...Yes I do get presents from my family, just none from Santa...No I'm not mad at my parents." I'm happy that I never told anyone that Santa wasn't real, because once everyone started to figure it out, Christmas seemed to lose its charm and no one got really excited anymore.

But honestly, besides the occasional teasing because I didn't believe, my life was never the worse because I didn't believe. I knew my parents loved me and they would buy me the most amazing surprises and that I would never be disappointed. And I'm kind of happy that I never believed because that means that my parents never lied to me and would never lie to me about anything ever. That was really important to them too because both had really bad experiences with finding out about Santa. And now, their relationships with their families aren't the best. So, maybe this means that before you lie about the little things, you should think about how it could effect the bigger things.

My Middle School Friends

Right now, I´m sitting here at Burns Middle School hanging with a group of kids that are ages 12 to 14. Let me just say that they must be on something because these kids are so hyper and have so many ideas that it just completely blows my mind. Like, they're always screaming or telling you this really random but funny story that happened to them while they were in class. For instance, today, this little boy came in and was telling me all about how his teacher ripped him off on his grade and gave him a 65 when it was supposed to be a 90. Then, he went into this long spiel(sp?) about how this teacher was awful and how no one liked him and how the rumor was that everyone was trying to get him fired.

But besides that, they're pretty cool kiddies. They're so little and cute you just wanna give them this big ole hug. They always seem to think you are the coolest person alive because you're in high school and you have a laptop. But with the laptop come all the little nosy students. They're all like, "OOH! You have a laptop...Whatcha doin?...Can I see?" A little annoying at times, but very cute.

They also can't really play their instruments that well yet either. They're still in that stage where everything is hard and they just don't want to work hard enough to play all the good stuff. But that's okay, they'll get there. All I know is that it feels so cool to be able to sight read their stuff on the violin when I play cello! And I can transpose the base clef into treble so I can play the cello part on the violin. Oh yeah, I am soooooo awesome!

Anyways, I promised the kids at the middle school that I would blog about them and I hope this suffices. Love you cuties :)

Metal Forks

So I have a question: what is wrong with allowing mature teenagers to use metal utensils when they consume their midday meal? Honestly, why do we always have to use plastic forks, spoons, and knives (what a joke)? I mean, it's one thing to eat outdoors at a picnic complete with plastic silverware, but in the cafeteria? I guess it just goes along with the theme of FAKE! The food is fake and therefore we need fake forks? The only problem with this hole free philosophy is that the food is so fake that you can't cut it. The fork breaks before your food does. And that, I have to say, is completely depressing. And if you are of a cleanlier nature and avoid touching food at all costs, then you are toast. It is completely impossible to cut any of the food into bite size pieces that will fit in your mouth without spilling crumby stuff all over yourself.

And why, you may ask, do these horrible people not let us have metal things with which to cut our food like normal human beings? *Drum roll please* Because, we will use them as weapons. Yeah. Okay, well I can kind of see where they get this idea, because when fights break out in the cafeteria and girls will use their nails and pull out hair, it may not be a good idea to have a pile of metal forks just screaming, "Use me to stab her!" But honestly, because a few people are immature I am forced to use my hands to split food or risk breaking the thing? I don't like the idea at all.

But you see, that's not even the worst part. The ultimate gut puncher is that in elementary school, WE WERE ALLOWED TO HAVE METAL FORKS! Isn't that great? When you are six years old and can barely write your name, you are still allowed more privileges than a seventeen year old? Come on. That is insane.