Mysteries of Nightfall.

It's going to be another late night. Another long day bleeding into the darkness. Dreary eyes and heavy thoughts all rushing. I'll grip my mattress and try to relax. But the feeling never stops. I'm in a constant free fall of dreams and emotion.
This sweet sixteen is tired. She's not distraught. She's deprived.

It's hard to find your pillow in a sea of black. The darkness that sucks everything into this one tight spot where your exhausted mind can't seem to want to make you put your arms out and search. Where your body is just so afraid of the unknown out in the corner but you know eventually you'll have to gather the strength to reach out and start to grab.
And the funny thing is - I'm actually talking about sleeping here. There is no background meaning behind all of this. I mean, I suppose you could actually take it like that. But I'm not meaning to weave things around in these words tonight.

I've come down with a seirous syndrome of nothing but tossing and turning all night. My thoughts and dreams have melted together into this sticky mess that's so wonderful, yet so troublesome. My eyes are wide open most nights. Closing them takes a great deal of effort. But eventually my body submits, and my mind lolls, and I'm shut off for the night. My breathing turns into a natural metronome of soft, slow beats. It shakes and sways. My hands quiver for something to hold. Something to grab to and belong to as I sleep through the night. Because being in bed alone never really made me happy. Not even the little dog at the edge of the sheets could comfort me. My arms wrapped around my pillows are what force me to sleep.

And again, I'm alone.
Well. That's a lie. My sister has decided to plant herself on my bedroom floor and sleep. A long and hard slumber. Which dissapoints me. Because I want to talk so badly because I've got a serious mouth to run, and only the wall next to me.

That's what I need. Something that'll shake my bones and make me stretch.

And then my thoughts start again. And I'm forced to stay awake again.
I'd much rather see these things in my dreams. Memories and beliefs are so much more
solid in dreams. To me they are at least.

I need to go to bed. I'm exhausted to say the least.
Every part of my body.
But tomorrow I'll be up and ready.

And then I hear the best thing ever.
A dial tone from a phone. On my floor.
Gabby's up after all :]

Free At Last, Free At Last.

I'd finish that epic quote, but I'm feeling it's not needed.
Thank goodness I'm free.
Well. Sort of.

The winter break is speeding by at an alarming rate, and really, I don't mind. All of this snow, and being cooped up inside, all this sleeping in, and all this working? Well...it was nice for the first few days. But the monotony of things is starting to get to me. I'm off all week, and I can't visit anyone before the new year except for a select few.
I do admit, I did get myself into a lot of trouble. Quite a sticky mess if you ask me. Not good at all. But I'm recovering from it. I'm slowly but surely building my reputation around here again.
But this snow keeps falling, and the air keeps freezing, and my mind is idle. I could care less about the homework, care less about everything really. I've got a car payment made, I've got things to wrap, people to see, a new year to welcome in. I'm so tired. And I've been using my days to sleep. A lot. I'm no longer in this depressive state. More of just a tired, 'I'm done' sort of place. I'm ready to make people happy again. But I wish I could be happy at the same time.
I mean, believe me. Oh goodness, am I happy. Very happy with so many things.
But this break was nothing of what I expected. I suppose the first couple of days was everything I wanted. Christmas was great too. I love spending that day with my family. I love spending days here. But this break just wasn't what I wanted.
Without the ability to blog or force myself to do homework [most of it being online], I've felt kind of empty. I've felt disconnected. I've spent my days sleeping in, taking scalding hot showers, and staring into the gray horizon as I watch the rain turn to ice. I've been clicking my tongue, chewing my cheek, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I've become a temporary insomiac, wandering the house with my sister in the early hours of the morning, talking over apple juice and the dull light of an itouch. Being lulled to sleep by the likes of Bob Seger and Norah Jones because their music can soothe my savage feelings of stiff anticipation and boredom.

I never knew that when I lit that torch last Wednesday, I would be burning up the rest of my break. That I would be throwing my plans into the fire. Searing every last thread of it all.
It made me feel so sick inside.
And now that I've thrown out some apologies, and gotten responses back, I'm feeling a little better about myself. I'm patching up and trying to repair. Trying to become what I once was. But I've hurt a lot of people, and I've drug many through this mess. I hate that. But I'm going back to the way it was.

I even got my hair cut today. I'm back to looking...somewhat clean :]

I'm so lost, but so found. I'm settling back in to reality.
The winter break is pretty much over.

But the freeze has only begun.

It's unbelieveable. I can't seem to find the words. The subtle reminders. The pen and the paper. It all comes together so perfectly. Who knew it would come to this? Who knew this would happen? Who knew it would end up this way, so crazy. I'm about to get all cliche..so I'll stop while I'm at it. All I can say..is that I think I've finally found the candle in that dark room. I'm no longer looking through the window. I've stepped inside.

The Short and Sweet.

I'm excited to say that in about an hour and six minutes, school will be over for the winter break.

This past week has been, to say the least, amazing. It's really hard to describe. I'm usually never speechless. But right now, I kind of am.

Besides, I'm sitting at the CTE center, typing my blog in floral design class. I'm finally getting the opportunity to write a blog on a mac computer. It truly is the little things that make me very happy. I wish other people could see that.

I really should be doing my final exam project.....

I believe that this winter break will definitely be one to remember. I don't know why. I just have a feeling. I have a feeling Christmas is going to be spectacular. That New Years is just going to be downright amazing. That all the projects I have to finish are going to suck. A lot.

But no matter. I'm looking foreword to that cold, dark morning. The inability to sleep that night. That soft buzz that resonates through my mattress; a text message that simply says "three-six-cupcake". Long runs in the afternoon. Long meals all day long. The cold air rushing through my throat and into my lungs. That grainy gray smoke that billows from my mouth. I'm anticipating so much...

I think things are finally settling down.

I think things are also just beginning to arise.

Why Do Today..

what you really should of done about a week ago?

I am probably the ultimate procrastinator. As of right now I am celebrating the recent defeat of my AP English project. It is due tomorrow. And I totally just busted that thing out. And my reward for a good night full of work?
An even better night of sleep. If my head ever makes it to the pillow, that is.

Four days of school left and we are on Christmas break. It seems like just yesterday I was dreading preparing for my first day of junior year in that locker room rather than driving home after practice and going back to bed. I can't believe this first semester has sort of flown by. It's incredible. It's a little frightening as well. But I'm excited anyway. There's that little kind of satisfaction you get from drifting into the unknown. Teetering with the things you've never experienced. I guess school is good for something.

As of right now I am in a state of content. I am torn on the inside, however. There are a few things going on in my life that are making me really stop and think sometimes. Nothing life or death though. Nothing that needs intervention. No, no. Teenage thoughts that just sit in my mind, like birds on a wire - they just stop and stare.

I suppose I'll have more inspiration to write tomorrow. Maybe? Maybe not. Nobody knows quite yet.

All I know is that I'm very ready for the holidays to begin. I'm ready to be with my family. Be with my friends. Exchange the gifts, smiles, and do what we do every Christmas week. And then off to New Years Eve. Something that I also look foreword to. Something that stays in constant mystery. Constant anticipation. Something I expect, this year, will be the best out of all my last hours of the year to date.

Hit Me Twice.

This year, there will be no grumbling in the car, teeth gritted, eyes watering as they watch the orange-yellow glow of the highway lights pass by. There will be no three million-bagillion calorie breakfast of glorious gas station Cup O' Noodles and Hagen Daas ice cream bars from the freezer. No watching the elite take off with wide eyes, no searching for my previous teachers or coaches, or even my father at the start and finish line of the race.
No. There will only be me. In the corner of this pitch black master bedroom. Keeping a heavy eye on this little girl who's having a little problem keeping her stomach in the right place.

This sweetheart just needs to go back to bed.

No. I went to bed last night at a late half past midnight. I just woke up about half an hour ago. That's about four hours of sleep I suppose. Give or take. I was having half conscious dreams last night that were keeping me awake. Probably that Taco Bell my mom bought me for my howling body last night to ease my hunger to rest. Our little one didn't even finish her order of one soft taco. She started feeling sick last night.

So today, instead of attending the well anticipated White Rock Marathon, I will be sitting in my sweatpants and t-shirt, make dry toast, and wait to hear the low and constant snore of a child that can only find peace through sleep. What a strange day for her to become ill. I can only wonder if this is penance from God, and this is my sort of service that I must carry out in order to fulfill my path to forgiveness. And besides. I've got a lot of homework that needs to be done. So maybe this isn't just penance. Maybe this is the way God is helping me get my life back in order. I always say that things will 99% of the time work out. The other 1% is for those who chose to make it go wrong.

I'm so tired. But wow, could I not sleep last night. Maybe it was the excitement for marathon day. Maybe it really all was my dreams. Maybe it was Forthmeal. Who knows? But this girl isn't getting any more sleep today. This girl is going to sit on this floor and play watchdog for the next six or so hours.

So. Good luck Coach Womble. Good luck Ms. Merrill. Good luck Coach Boysen [if you still run this race?!]. Good luck daddy. May you all hit your paces. And may the force, and direction of the winds [you better pray for anything but coach's so called 'toilet bowl' type], be with you all. I'll still be watching. No longer out in the cold, watching from beautiful Victory Park. But from behind the ultimate window of bits and pieces, behind glass and tube. Straight through the camera, and hopefully to you.

Hit Me Once.

In all my sixteen, almost seventeen years of existence, I've come to find out that talking face to face is one million, three billion, two fillion times better than any other type of communication out there. Trying to understand someone while not having any eye contact, or not being able to observe the way they move really makes it hard.
Things on some sides have been getting better. Slowly. The relationship between my mother and I is climbing back on track. I hope it stays that way. I'm opening my eyes to all these new things, and trying to see them as a benefit to me. But in other ways, things are starting to crawl up my neck. A wretched, cold grip is lacing it's fingers around my neck. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to get all of this done. How to solve a few problems. How to reconnect with the people I'm losing. How to straighten up my priorities. How to exactly find this missing part of myself that I've just discovered may or may not be missing.
And then. I'm locked in that dark room again. Just for a moment. Except this time, it doesn't feel like I'm actually in the room now. I feel as though I'm staring through a cracked and dirty window. Because being at a loss for words really hurts. When you feel like you have nothing to contribute when you feel as though it's needed, it's painful to watch your words fall down like broken glass and shatter on the floor below. I'm standing there, watching this flood of emotion - and all the while I'm trying to find these things to say, and my mind wants to make my hands reach out and catch those cascading thoughts and things before they disappear into oblivion.
But I am me. And I can never save my thoughts from ultimate destruction. Once I get pushed off my thought train, there is no hope.
But there is hope. There always is for other things.

In other news, I watched the documentary Running the Sahara tonight. Amazing film. I feel like I need to do something great with my life. And I'm debating on the Army or not. But I'm not quite bold enough. But if not, running something like that would be great. Now, I don't think I could run all the way across the Sahara desert like those three men did, but I'm positive that if I set my mind to it, I could be running ultras and trail races in my adult life. I hope that, when I grow up, the people I remember running with most, will still be running too. And I hope that one day, we'll all get together, and run something together again. I pray that I'll keep my runner's spirit at heart. I think without it I'd be kind of lost.

And now I guess it's about that time. I'll try to fall into a deep, body numbing sleep, like I've been needing for the past few days. I'm going to try and dream up something again tonight. See if life has any new strange or unusual messages for me again. But I guess there's only one true way to find that out.
And staying up all night, blogging, won't help me reach that goal at all.

A Number of Holes, Some Big, Some Small.

What is there to say about a day like today?

Truthfully, I never planned for that to rhyme. But it seems to definitely fit the events of this December's day.

As with any other day, it didn't start out very normal. Running in temperatures a little over twenty degrees really makes your insides freeze. I have truthfully never felt my face and neck become so stiff that it's painful to move my head. I've never felt wind so cold and strong that it made me want to throw up. But I've never had so much fun in the cold. Standing under the shower after a numbing practice is excruciatingly painful. And when you can't feel your thighs rubbing against each other as you walk around in your towel...it kind of worries you!
The day didn't stop there. Being the only girl in your shop class [not to mention the only one working on a major project] really has it's perks. Not only do you get a lot of leeway when it comes to showing up for second period even LATER-you seem to get all of the attention. Which, I will admit, I hate most of the time. But when it comes to showing off my boyish skills, I'm happy to put on a show.
The rest of the day consisted of a lot of talking. While algebra never really seems to be any fun, my AP language class is awesome. Especially when we're doing something I really enjoy [writing thesis statements] in speed dating form, it's the best. But what tops it all off would have to be the fact that my English teacher doesn't send me to the office, or go off at me when my previous English teacher calls her to explain why I was gone for the whole last quarter of the class period. The fact that I didn't get in trouble was great. And the conversation held in that classroom? Anything but ordinary for me. But interesting. Kind of eye-opening.

I'm having problems at home. And all I can say towards that, from both my teacher's, father's, and my own perspective, is that I'm doing exactly what every teenager has to do. I'm going through an unruly, ugly stage. And truth be told, I hate it so much. I would much rather be able to bypass this phase and just get straight to the next. I want to be 'perfect' again. I want to be just another daughter.
I guess I'll have to wait for that.

For the record, this is all a little overwhelming for me. I mean, hm. It's hard to say I'm used to all of this. I'm a little frightened because I don't know what's ahead. I'm unsure. I'm new to all of this. But that doesn't mean that I'm willing to accept the challenge. I didn't know this would ever happen to me. But there is one thing I am for certain:

I am positive I can solve this mystery.

Back to the Beginning.

Is it already that time again? Have I already come full circle in these blogs, back to one of the very first subjects that inspired me to even make something completely new? Something totally separate from the little box that sat on my MySpace profile page?

Why yes. I believe it is.

Now, Running Club officially started last Monday. However, today was the very first Tree Farm run I had the opportunity of participating in since season ended [because of my stupid absences last week I didn't get to run the first one]. So many things have changed since my very first run on that concrete trail. The talk of the infamous "tree farm run" intrigued me. It intimidated me. But needless to say, it was love at first run. The sharp chill in my lungs. The rhythmic tapping of running shoes. The occasional word or two. I remember keeping my mouth shut and talking to myself in my mind. I was slight acquaintances with all of these "strangers" but I knew I was not yet worthy of their company. I thought I would have to make my way up the ladder just as I did freshman year with the sprinters: gain respect, do the dirty work, pay your dues.
But as time went by, I slowly found out that this was not true. I discovered this group of people who I could relate to. People that understood me. People I understood.
Thus, my nasty break up with volleyball.
And the start of my glorious relationship with cross country. [May the point be made that my relationship with this dastardly sport began in middle school. But high school is SO much more different.]

This year, I'm still remembering the darkness. I'm remembering the glorious cold and wind, though this year I'm embracing it with shorts and sweatshirt. I'm slowly stripping off to senior season. Pure greatness. I reach that ominous trail and smile through the smoke dripping through my teeth. The trees still carry the burden of that beautiful bend in their scruffy spines. The morning dew still smells just as sweet. And the sounds will never go away. The slow hum of the bugs and birds will stay in constant play. My relationship with the streets of Kelmscot and Grady will stay consistent. I do assume that by the end of my senior year, however, Kelmscot and I will put aside our differences and there will no longer be yelling. Just smiling and laughing. This year there was no stitch. There was no being "done".
There was pure, uninterrupted, joyful, amazing, spectacular running.
And in the end, I walk behind and realize something.

Through only a few months. Through a season or two. Through all these hours, all these miles, all these words, kicks and punches. I realize. That I have their respect. That I am actually one of them now. That where once I stood a complete new kid, I now stand just another face on the team.

On the outside I was just being me. Talking obnoxiously loud and laughing with everyone else. But inside, I couldn't stop smiling.

I'm so honored. So proud. How did it ever come to this?
That I'm finally where I need to be.

Chasing Pirates.

It's been a long, restless Saturday. But the warm glow of this artificial Christmas candle in my bedroom window provides some sort of comfort as I try to relax. I waltz and meander around my small square of room before settling down. Grabbing my pills like a pair of dice and shake them in my palms as if I'm hoping for some sort of win. Blinking into the flickering fluorescent bulbs over my bathroom mirror.
It's been one of those days again. Not bad or good. Just sort of there. I drove around a lot. I set up the Christmas tree. Finally bought my AP book. The hours just sort of passed by. I remember laying there in the downstairs chair, listening to my parents talk in the kitchen, and just letting myself fall asleep. Allowing myself to fall into this deep napping state of cold and peace. Waking up and eating marshmallows because my teeth hurt.
My other three wisdom teeth are about to come in.
What's strange is that I keep glancing over my shoulder at this fake candle. It's in a perfect freeze-frame state where the flame is fat and the plastic wax is dripping evenly. It emits this soft yellow-orange glow that lights up my bed in bright morning colors. It reminds me of winter. It makes me tired.
It's another one of those days. A multi-emotional day of how I can't really describe how I feel. Days like this that make me feel bad because I want to be able to write but I think I have some blockage. I need to be inspired. I need to go outside, take a stroll in the grass, littered with fallen leaves and evidence of winter's calling. I need to just be in the sun, in the trees, above the ground.
I think winter has just made me tired. I feel like I'm not going anywhere with anything. It's a strange feeling. I don't trust it.

Good Times, Cold Days

I feel like I'm cheating on you, Mister Blogger. Tonight I received an e-mail from my AP Language teacher, requesting that we all read an article and reply to it on the related forum, as well as comment on someone else's post. Needless to say I was as giddy as could be, finally being able to do something for homework I was actually INTERESTED in! I got to blog for homework! Score! And what's even better is my forum post actually got a response. Oh the excitement.

When my mother woke me up yesterday morning, I had no idea the kind of hell I was about to face out on the roads. With no working heat, old tires, and fogged up windows I drove street to street, dropping off both sisters on opposite sides of McDermott. While I most enjoy the snow, I was afraid every time I had to lean over the dashboard, while driving, and wipe the window off so I could barely see. I didn't want to go to school. I wanted to stay home. I wanted to crawl back into bed and avoid the day.
But this snow was not bad. No, actually, I saw it as a sign of hope. I was amazed when I looked outside and no longer heard or saw rain, but the freezing, white clumps of ice. Tiny and frail. Melting instantly as they hit the ground. Accumulating only on cars and rooftops. I am one who loves to blow smoke rings from my mouth and hear the crunch of ice under my feet. So when I finally got through it all and got fitted for my letterman jacket [can you believe it?! the day has come!], I walked outside with two of my friends through the parking lot. We packed and balled tiny snow missiles, and for a few minutes we weren't at school. We were playing in someones front yard. We were running around, smiling and stuffing snow in each other's faces. To see two seniors and a junior ducking between cars and scavenging for ice patches would have to be something hilarious to see. For five minutes I forgot I was at the school. I forgot I had to go and actually learn. For five minutes I was laughing and playing just like it used to be.
But I assure you. If there was a snow day tomorrow, I'd be doing that ALL day.

I'm cold and weak. I miss going to practice. I have to miss practice this week. I'm not happy about that. But I'm dealing with it. I've grown restless in the winter weather and that's not normal. Yet everything should be getting easier? Hm. It makes me think sometimes. The craziness and all.
Alright. Bed sounds good right about now. It's time to sleep. Time to finally dream again.
Time to get lost in my thoughts and be inspired by dark and drowsiness. Time to get lost in myself.

This Is It.

I hate school so much. Lets just say that. I mean, don't get me wrong. Education is vital to our success when we all grow up. And going to school is great for your social health. But all I really go to school for is to run and see my friends. Other than that, I just want to graduate. Is that weird?

This morning made me jump inside a little. The morning chill reminded me that it's almost winter, and that track season would be starting soon. I knew I missed cross country. Granted, today was probably the easiest workout of my lift. But nothing compares to a morning of one hour full of jogging, talking, and laughing. It was greatly missed. And thankfully, it's back. Yes, practice will become hellish again and I'll feel like throwing up after track workouts. But nothing could ever make me want to quit or skip practice.
Unless I was sick. Or moving away.

Bored in healthscience, I decided to make my yearly fortune teller for the year. I'm quite proud of what I created during second period with all the limited resources I had. The outside looks horrible, like usual, but the inside is amazing. I themed each fate, sketched a little scenery for the spaces, and even got a [500] days of summer reference in there. Quite a success if you ask me.

If you haven't noticed quite yet, it's the little things that make me happiest. Give me some pipe cleaners, or some sort of shiny foil and it'll make my day.

Finishing my day with one of my most favorite movies, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, really just helps me sleep with a smile on my face. If only life was really like that. If you could find your musical soulmate. Or something of the sort. Spend one crazy night together, searching for your favorite band, minus losing your drunk best friend in New York. But then again, that would just make things a little more interesting now wouldn't it?
But at the very end, when the two heroes of the story make their way to the subway after skipping the show, Norah doesn't get on the escalator.
Nick, confused, asks whats wrong.
Norah asks if he's disappointed that they missed "it". [the show. right?]
But Nick only shakes his head and says "we didn't miss it. this is it."

I hate being a writer sometimes. I hate being a sucker for words.
Because there are times I wish I could of said that.
And I know there are going to be a lot more times this year that I'll say it.
Where I'll be with the people I love. And realize.
That whatever we're doing. Wherever we are.
This.
Is.
It.

Three Hundred and Sixty Five [excluding leaps]

One year. One whole year.
Minus a day.

Jacob and I lasted three hundred and sixty four days. We hung on until today, where we stood, together. But apart.

On the twenty-ninth of November in 2008 I stood on my doorstep, completely confused. Receiving a random request over text message to come outside from him was strange to me. Something that ended up to be the start of something that would change who I was. And it's so crazy how different that night is from tonight.
Because a year ago tonight we went to see a movie. Go ice skate. Have an extremely awkward first kiss.

But tonight did not end horribly. No, it was not the most hellish of any break up there ever was. This was so mutual. So calm. We sat in my car [a 99' Jeep Grand Cherokee these days!] and, after his opportunity to examine the new interior and things, started discussing why, when, and how this all happened. Why I was the bad guy. Why he was not so innocent himself. Why things were said behind people's backs and how it was all because of shock. And misery. How we could of fixed it, but how logical and smart it was to do what we were doing tonight.
After all of this, we're still friends. We've come to terms with the fact that our relationship will never be the same. That we'll now see each other as brother and sister. That we'll still care. That the rumors will start flowing soon, so we'd better just change our status tonight on facebook.

Things like that. It was simple. It was okay. We're both okay.
Now to deal with those who aren't so happy about it.

Other than that, I have to say that Thanksgiving this year was a blast. I look foreword to break every school year. I love spending the whole week with my family. Talking about stuff. Eating a ton of food. Laughing. Shopping. The whole thing. Every day was amazing. From time of arrival, to dog eating the first turkey that was thawing on the floor, to time of departure. I love my family with all my heart. I hate to watch them leave.

Tomorrow will be no different. I'll wake up and be exactly who I am right now. I will not wallow in sadness, or be on an extreme high. I will simply get up and do what I do best.
Be the same person I've been for the last sixteen years of my life.
The crazy, out of control, spastic, yet silently mellow and laughable - me.

From Top to Bottom.

I'm going to be completely honest and say that this will most likely be my last blog post until the end of break. Or close to it. With my family coming to town, buying a new car, and working Black Friday, I just don't see where I'll have the time to settle down and write. Which makes me uneasy, but I can live without my little blogger for a few days.

Thanksgiving. Hm. I think of one thing. Food.
I have to say that after all the football, a short glimpse of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and the waiting, turkey on Thanksgiving is phenomenal. It just doesn't taste the same unless it's Thanksgiving day. Call me weird, but I just think that. I can't avoid just piling my plate high with some meat and potatoes, stuffing, casserole, family sauce [cranberry sauce for you losers out there who don't have an awesome name like 'family sauce' to call it] and everything else. The five different kinds of pies. The six different kinds of cookies. There is such a warm, jubilant feeling when the whole family is down here for the holiday.

I'm so happy I don't have to work again until Friday. Granted, Friday is Black Friday, but that's fine. I get to spend time with my family. That's the awesome part.

I guess attached with the idea of writing a Thanksgiving post I should write something I'm thankful for. Truth be told though, I'm thankful for a lot of things. So many things, that I suppose I should organize them into a list. So here we go.
I'm thankful for:

1. Family - Sometimes it gets tough, but I would never stop loving anyone in my family. Ever!
2. Friends - I don't have a lot, as a matter of fact I only have about two close ones. But they are what help me pick up through the day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
3. Health/Home/Happiness/Freedom - In general, I'm just thankful to be alive and well. Grateful for my freedom and for democracy. And living under a roof :]

Looks like a short list, I know. However, I believe life should be simple. If you have life and love I believe you are ship-shape. Then there isn't anything you can't get through. There are so many things that have happened in the past or recently that I am very thankful for. But listing events and stuff like that would just be silly, now wouldn't it?

So, for whoever is reading this, a happy thanksgiving to you all! Enjoy your holiday, love your food and family, and remember to be thankful for something this season. No matter what it is, just make sure you're thankful for something!

The next time you hear from me, I'll be griping. Because I'll be so full from turkey. And so sad that break will be almost over...

When There Is Nothing To Say.

"It sure is."

I look at her in disbelief. She can't be serious. But with a big smile on her face, I'm almost certain that Teresa isn't lying to me.
103.7 Lite Fm is ALREADY PLAYING CHRISTMAS MUSIC!

There is no way to describe the feeling this radio station gives me every year about this time. I get even more mellow and giggly when the holidays are around the corner. As it the nights grow frosty, I fall into bed and doze off to the sounds of Nat King Cole and Dean Martin with foggy glasses and a hot cup of tea. It's my absolute favorite way to fall asleep.

In the next couple of days, my family will be here for Thanksgiving. It'll be interesting to see how much my work schedule will allow me to spend time with everyone. There will be a lot of shopping. Laughing. Eating. Everything that vacations are to us. My cousins and I will go around town. Teresa will come over and we'll have that "jam-out" we've been talking about for so long. It's been forever since we both have strummed our guitars and sang together. The days will be warm and loud and full of whatever comes our way. Everything will be perfect.

And before the day is over, we'll also remember the car hunting done today. How my dream of having a pickup truck is becoming a reality. I'm thrilled to say I'm about to be the lucky driver of whatever we can find. We have one in mind, but I asked for one more day of looking before we decide on one. It's weird to make adult decisions like this. To go to car dealerships and test drive things and actually think about getting a car that I want! How weird.
But how weird that I'll have a car payment from now till the end of my junior year in college, huh?
Greatness.

With silver bells in my ears and a stupid grin on my face I'm bobbing to the beat of whatever song is on the radio. By the end of the season I'll have every word to most of these songs
memorized again. And I'll probably have longer posts to write. More meaningful things to say.

I'll probably have a better post tomorrow.
This is quite disappointing...haha.

Eyes Open.

In this room there is no light. There is no sound but the soft hum of the fan and clicking of keyboard type. The occasional jingle of tags as the dog scoots around the bed for comfort. There is nothing to see but a girl, wide awake. Tired eyes, wandering mind, and the laptop light that spills over the pillows and on to this person who can't seem to sleep.

Which would be me.

As exhausted as I can be at the end of the day, I have too much on my mind to allow my body to come to rest. iTunes surely helps with this issue, providing me with the mellow sound of steel guitar and drippy acoustics to lull me to sleep. However, most of the time this isn't even enough to soothe my thoughts till they surrender. That's where this blog comes in. But half of my mind belongs on here. Half of it doesn't. It's the way things go.

Rolled over, growling to myself, I close my eyes and see what could just be a blender of memories and mindset. I really should be focusing on the important, easy things that could lead my head to the pillow. I stay in the upright position though, staring straight to the ceiling. I take a deep breath and wriggle into some kind of position. I flop over. Say my prayers. Roll. Close those eyes.
And I don't even dream.

It's frustrating to sleep when you have dreams you can't remember. Or absolutely no dreams at all. It's hard to jolt awake very early in the morning, slathered in a cold sweat, teeth chattering, eyes blurry. It gets boring very fast trying to find something to do when you can't sleep. You want to listen to music, but that's too loud. You want to read, but that requires light. You want to talk to anyone, but it's much too late. As much as the night is wonderful, it comes with so many complications.

I'm thrilled to inform you though, that tonight shall not be such hard times. I am drunk off of friday night lights and open road. As soon as this is finished, I shall dive into a world of slumber and stillness. I will dream of nothing. But I will sleep so well. Surrounded by the moonlight and the cold of my room.

Football, by the way, played great tonight. What a way to end the game, winning by two point conversion. It's so fulfilling to drop everything and jump the gates to storm the field. You feel so free and amazed. All on this high from this sudden burst of school spirit. You can't help but breathe in the cold air and thrust those letters into the air. Rock to the alma mater and close those eyes again. Realize where you are. Dream while you still can.

So that girl who was laying in her room is still laying there, typing away on her computer. The blue and gold stripes of her hockey jersey are reflecting off of the keyboard as she finishes type. Her hair sticking straight up, eyes in a daze. She's done for the night. She's tired. She's done.
Anticipating break. Anticipating sleep. Anticipating everything that could happen this week.
Waiting for it all. Wondering about things.
Patience paying off for what might be in the end.

The Possible Frost.

I want to run away for a little while. My legs need to run, my eyes need to wander, my breaths need to be taken deeply. I'm thinking I need to go camping. Lay out in nature and feel the air rush over me. Climb the trees and listen to the rustle of the breeze. Stare up at the stars; the kind that look like tiny holes punched in the sky, illuminated fiber optic strings that dangle from the atmosphere above.

I need to be at peace.

Not to say that I'm in a mess right now. Really? I'm a mess all of the time. But there's a storm of everything going on inside right now. It's hard to live when you have these clusters of ideas that just will not leave. Some are issues, others problems, ideas, and emotions. I think being outside would help me clear everything out. Mentally clean myself up.

I will admit it. There was a night. Last week. The night of the crash. I collapsed on the floor. I crumpled into this pure mass of flesh and bone, withering under the weight of all I had been keeping in my mind. In my heart. And I was very afraid. And in the pitch darkness, illuminated by the single beam of light by my iHome, the tears began to fall. I choked into the phone words that didn't want to leave my mouth. I felt so cold on my bedroom floor. And for the first time I cried to someone over the phone. And it meant everything to me just to be able to do that.

Because I don't cry in front of my friends.
Not even on the phone.

But this whole thing isn't negative, or alluding to the fact that I'm depressed or anything. Oh no! I'm actually quite content for the time being. There have definitely been some things happening lately, some bad, others horrible, that have caused me to add to my nightly prayers. But other than that, life has being going very well. Things and people are improving. Certain situations are getting better. Others are staying the same. I'm ecstatic about some things. I'm loathsome about others. My junior year is getting back up, dusting itself off, and beginning again at a slight crawl. I'm getting helped along, and in turn I'm helping others. We're all in this long chain of arms around shoulders, supporting each other towards this unseen goal.
And we're very happy to do it.

I expect to feel that chill again. To have that seismic quake in my bones, feel that chatter in my teeth. Gleaming eyes into the gray abyss. I want to feel nature's smoke billow from my breath.

It's time...
For turkey :]

Here Comes Goodbye.

The way time moves so quickly..it baffles me. I remember so much that warm morning in June, awkwardly walking into my first cross country practice and sitting down on the turf. Explaining to coach that I would have to leave early for job training. Running that summer's first figure eights.

It all seems like yesterday.

The decision to join the cross country team would have to of been the best decision I've ever made in high school. Never have I felt so welcome. So "loved" in a sense.
These kids are my family. I feel so blessed to have been able to of spent every Monday through Friday with these teammates of mine. All the yawning. All the sweat. All the sun, wind, and rain. The jokes and the sorrow. The pain and the fear. The laughing and the smiles.
I wouldn't trade any of the memories for anything.

I'm so grateful to have been able to find a group of people who actually understand me, and who I don't mind spending my Saturday mornings-afternoons-evenings with. It's nice to know there's a group of people I can go back to, and there will be absolutely no drama, no yelling, no tears. Just good conversation. Good laughs. Amazing hours spent sometimes doing absolutely nothing. I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather run Tree Farm with than these girls and guys.

Guys,

It's been an incredible past six months. Every moment has been amazing, every practice and meet have been great. Some people don't understand the feeling of being a runner, and I think we are so lucky to be able to not only run, but to find a family. To almost be forced together every morning. But we're willing to spend that time with each other.
We are the fighters at school. We are the underdogs. Those who go unnoticed.
The silent assassins.
Boys: you went out with a bang. Shot heard round' the world. Or at least the state of Texas. Especially for you seniors. You definitely made your mark. It doesn't mean anything, but the amount of pride I have for what you guys have done is immense. Great season. Heroes.
And of course, my girls. My how things have been amazing. So many things to say. From the locker room talks, to workouts, and everything in between. I don't hesitate to say that I've never felt so welcome as I have to what we crazy kids have committed to. I'm so proud to be your team mate. I'm so lucky to have you all as friends. We had a good run. Amazing season. No matter the outcome. I'm so happy to have been there.
Finally.

In the months ahead, I anticipate the track season. I can't wait to begin running again. To feel all that pain on the track. To shower before school. To be proud to be called "insane" again.
And seniors. I can't even begin to explain how much I'm going to miss you all. Nothing is going to be the same. I'm nervous about next year to see how we captains carry out the season.
The last pieces of the charter puzzle are leaving. The new legacies begin.

In the end, it's been amazing. Incredible. So hard to explain. And this is only me. I've only been running for one season. I've come too late. Sure, I've run track too, but it does not equate to the feeling I've gotten from spending all this time with the cross country team.
The recruitment started freshman year. I barely knew anyone.
My sophomore year I tried it out. Running club shook me up. Got me excited.
And I made a decision.
Something I never knew that would change my high school experience.
Forever.

That Old Open Road

It's extremely hard to describe how these past days have been. So full of pride and very emotional moments. From the highest of highs to the great depths of the lows, everything has just been an experience. And it's hard to start at one exact place.
So I guess I'll just start from yesterday.

My idea of a road trip is simple: friends who don't mind spending more than an hour together in the car, driving somewhere, talking and dancing, smiling and laughing the whole way. And that is exactly how yesterday's drive went. Sitting in the truck from 4:30 to 9:30pm, the four of us sat in that truck and talked. We texted the masses. I don't even know how many "that's what she said" jokes were made. We made videos. We took pictures. The insanity just goes on and on.
Watching the sun dip low beyond the horizon, the sky fade to black, and the stars shine so bright. Then stop for dinner, eat our fries and make remarks to each other. "Things aren't going to go so well tonight, m'dear" I say with a wink. We can't help but laugh hysterically in the bathroom. I look like I'm walking through the wardrobe to Narnia. Hard to explain, but it made so much sense! We shook the cab with techno beats and ate our puppy chow and Cap'n Crunch out of the box. Figured out our coach's last name spelled backwards is "Yehaek" [pronounced Yea-hawk].
And we get to the hotel, where we dump our bags, and get to the room. We mean to make our signs, honest, but we plug the iPod in instead and start dancing and filming. And the dancing was so hilarious, I haven't laughed that hard in forever. We even intercepted a friend from the hotel across the parking lot. We ran around and "partied" like we would. Took showers in shifts, and made a few more dirty comments before laying down to bed. I learned a few things before I went to sleep.
1) I can take more than one pill at a time without choking.
and
2) We have some serious enchilada lovers on our team.
Next thing I know, I'm waking up at six-thirty, grumbling and turning off the Blackberry that's buzzing next to my head. Waking up at seven-thirty, and being thoroughly disturbed as my bed mate rolls over, taking away all the heat that was on my body. I was very sad.
And after a breakfast of Texas-shaped waffles and hot coffee, we were off to the event of the day: the cross country meet. The state meet. The everything meet.

I was baffled by the size. There were tons of runners. An amazing amount of teams. Everything looked so official, from the starting gates, to the full color racing bibs and concession stands. And being ignored by the team and coaches tells you that this is serious.
Not that this didn't happen at the regional meet either. But it was for the best.
But the feeling was incredible.
You're standing at this chute. This starting area for the runners. Packed shoulder to shoulder, watching the occasional jog out, stretch, prayer. Your hands are sweating, and you're not even the one running. You catch the eye of one of your team mates out there. No smile. You give a look of belief. A look of strength. Because this takes a lot of courage. Fear will not be tolerated.
Arms out, hands up, gun shot. The boys take off and so do we. Sprinting this way and that, I've taken the job of fighting for our camera to get the good spot amongst crowds of people. They look dead, and tired. But it's only mile one, and that's the worst mile. And we split the group and my teammates and I head up this hill, steep and menacing. Sraddling the concrete barrier that separates this steepness from the thin trail on top. The crunch of the soft gravel below every one's spikes is in rhythm. The grit and dust rises, making a strange yellow haze. Then, sprinting to the finish, we get there just in time to watch our first boy....our second....our third....and the list goes on and on. No kick. No passion in the expressions. Just. Pure. Pain.
They look horrific. They look zombie-esque. They just don't look right. The way our best runner is flopping over like a limp noodle makes your stomach churn.

But then you get that call.

And in that strange, blazing November heat, you hear something like a miracle. You hear the news in advance.
You hear their place.
You hear what these boys have done.
You hear they placed third.

And again, in that strange, blazing November heat, I felt like passing out. I was in a daze. I was so purely amazed at these seven boys that did so much to get here. That fought and spent hours. The blood, sweat, and tears that have all been put into this.
All to add up to this state performance.
To watch these Redhawks fly. To see the true colors of red, silver, and black never run. They never bleed. They stand bold and true. And I'm so proud to be a part of something that has truly changed my life.
These boys are my brothers. Whether they like it or not.
And I get so stupid just thinking about it.
Because it's amazing.

Lunch, and the ride home would have to be a different story. We had so much fun. The talking, the eating, the almost falling asleep, but waking up very quickly. I'm even talking to some people I met on the highway. What a long story. But it's quite humorous.

You can't help but be so much closer to the people you travel with. We didn't want to go home. We wanted state weekend to last forever. We wanted to relive the moments over and over again.
But reality says we must wait another year. Reality says that we all have families to go back to.
Alex says the whole team should go camping soon.
Everyone agreed.

I'm so exhausted. I need some coffee in the morning. I need to sleep.
It seems that I've learned so many things this weekend.
And tomorrow brings a whole day more of possibilities.

Crash.

It all happened so fast.
But I can remember everything that went on in those few seconds before. The few moments after. Something that doesn't happen everyday to everyone. Just a select few.
Today was my day.

Going northbound towards the city I had no thoughts in my mind whatsoever other than the prospect of a new dress for the weekend and the conversation currently being held with the passenger. That girl. My sissy.
I can faintly remember that face I saw out of the corner of my eye. My hands gripped the wheel and I prayed, pedal to the floor, hoping those breaks would come through. I had no time to think. She yelled. I'm almost positive I said something obscene before it happened. The car lurched. Lights passed. The color left my face. And we collided.

The feeling of hitting something so solid. There was a shockwave of tension from the seat belt throughout my whole body. Head jerked foreword, and hands never left the wheel. My heart rate climbed to the sky. After shock settled in, I began to panic. First thought: I'm still alive. Second: Is she okay? I turned to see a just as shocked as I was girl in the passenger seat, knees to her chest, arms out wide. Teresa was perfectly okay. Just in shock. So was I. Thank God.
Third thought: I can't believe we just got in an accident.
Then. I thought license and registration.
After hasty words and extremely shaky hands, I sifted through my wallet and glove box. I got out to assess the damage. The red and blue appeared. One big Suburban with flashing lights my father would later go on to describe as "a rave lookin thing". Her mother arrived. My parents did too. They guy I hit was unprepared and, because it was his fault, was probably pretty mad.
Teresa and I leaned against the car and joked with my parents, trying to throw off these feelings of shock and sickness.
We didn't tow my car. My dad drove it home. It's in bad shape. But nothing we can't fix.
No new dress for me. And I didn't care.
As the truck pulled into the garage, I could only try and breathe. I got out of the car, and Teresa fell into my arms. "I'm so sorry," was all I could say. She said it wasn't my fault. And truthfully, it really wasn't. He was in the wrong. He's the one who got the ticket.
But what if those airbags had gone off? What if we hadn't of been okay?
I couldn't live with that.
So thank God for the fact that we're alright.

I'm so uneasy tonight because of so many things. Not just because of my first accident.
If I fall asleep it will be by amazing grace. There is no consoling me tonight. I'm too tired and crazed to be thinking. But after coffee with sissy in the morning, I'll walk into school tomorrow with my same face. I will not be weak. I will take every moment and take breaths every second I get. I'll apologize to those who need it. I'll pack and plan. And tomorrow evening I'll set out on the road with the girls. And I'll sit in the backseat of that pickup truck. I'll relax.
And the world will keep turning.

thank you so much. just. thank you.

The Perfection of Certian Things.

NyQuil really does some funny things to you. I'm restless and thoughtful. It really puts me in this medicinal high of numbness and warmth. It burns all the way down, and sizzles in the pit of your stomach. I've never gone to sleep so fast. It helps some nights.

Lately, things have been getting a little harder. Every day brings on it's new challenges, and I swear I've never dealt with so many things at once. It prevents me from sleeping a lot of nights. It makes me want to renew that addiction to that NyQuil and drink it every night until I sink into my bed and stay oblivious to the world around me. But that's not good for anything. That's weakness. It shows nothing.
I really believe that this trip to Round Rock this weekend is coming at such a perfect time. I think that getting away, even just for a night, and spending it with some of my favorite people, will really make thinking easier. Being able to just look out of a window that isn't mine, watching the world from a different place. I've always loved that.
However, home can never be beat.
I feel like something is really different. Like these autumn winds of change are bringing more than their crisp colors and cooler weather. Something isn't the same. And I really don't know how to feel about it. It's almost strange to me that there is this empty feeling. I have no idea what to think. It's a little frightening.
I don't know if I'm ready quite yet.
The mind and heart are so confused and tangled in a big mess of feeling, I have no idea what to do for either of them. It's really frustrating.

And I'm thoroughly convinced that God has brought us together for a certain purpose. That of which I am not sure of right now. But all of these similarities... and all of the circumstances..they all just fit so perfectly. Wouldn't you agree?

In other news: the District V LDE competition was tonight. My PR girls and I placed second overall, and will be competing in the Area LDE competition on the 21st. Ladies, you have no idea how proud I am to be a part of our group. We did great tonight!
To wear the blue and gold. That corduroy jacket with my name etched on the front. I thought it wouldn't feel this way, but I'm actually proud to wear official dress. To be a part of something that no one would expect you to be. The awkwardness of black tights and high heels. The random comments from the crowd about the way you look. It's nice. And I'm proud.

I'm just about to fall asleep to Rascal Flatts. The songs that make me want to cry the most are the songs that put me to sleep the best. I don't know why. I guess when I look up at the stars, I see memories. And I see the secrets I've kept up there forever. And I do nothing but smile. Remember who I've become. And can't wait to see what will happen in the future.

Warm Milk and The Moon.

I so want to be in bed right now.

I'm so burnt out from homework, and from this weekend. I'm feeling so sick. I'm stuck in the corner of my room, watery eyes and bleary vision. I want to go to bed so badly. But I can't.

I guess I shouldn't really be writing. But I could really care less. I suppose when you love something, like writing, so much, you just can't stop from doing it. I'm so addicted to these words and these feelings of ticking keys under the tips of my fingers. So used to being able to say things that are just so difficult to vocalize. Such a passion.

Well, while I have time, I may as well address the situation of Saturday. I feel like I didn't adequately tell the tale of the grandest feat I probably have ever witnessed before me in the world of something I was involved in, sports wise. These boys, these crazy, wonderful, magnificent, and so many other kinds of adjectives that are used to describe pure greatness began this race with passion. I could see it in their somewhat distant faces. From far down the starting chute, I could feel this reverb of faith from so many different teams. But the shockwave that was Liberty seemed to hit the deepest. Regionals was a fight. I've never seen such thick competition since the NikeTeamNationals last year. But the way our boys came out to play...it was a show. I've never yelled so hard. I haven't felt my face get that hot with rising blood since summer. To feel all my muscles tense and my teeth gnash as I'm telling these boys to haul everything they have to the finish. Witnessing such power and strength at the finish line was one of the most powerful things to see all season.
And with a first place win, I have to say that none of it was wasted.
It was a pride and joy thing. It was the daybreak through the clouds.
It was the prospect of state looming in the distance.

There's this eerily hypnotic, magnetic pull towards my bed. I feel like crawling in. I feel like setting my laptop down and bundling up in this scraggly, unmade pile of sheets and comforter that hasn't been made all day. Still messy from last night's, no doubt, full of action sleep session.

What can I say, I move when I sleep. I don't think my dog minds. He moves a lot too.
Thankfully I haven't discovered him sleeping in my pillow again.
That's always fun to wake up to.

My eyes are rolling. It's a wonder I'm typing so fluidly still. Thank goodness for spell check.

There is one thing I want right now. [well. other than to go to bed.]
I want to see the stars. I want to sleep under that blanket of stars. To be suffocated by the night sky that is what I remember from the late days at Lake Powell.
I want to be sleeping on the roof of the houseboat, soft water rocking the edges of the boat, lapping on the edges of the canyon rocks, the steady hum of the crickets and animals about. To see so little black. So much glowing silver and white. See that one shooting star. The ones that look like fire in the sky. So amazing.

Okay, I'm rambling now. I need to sleep.
I suppose I'll force myself to go to bed. Even though I still have work to do.
Tomorrow will just have to be a stressful day.
But as long as I'm surrounded by the people I love, doing the things I love,
well. Then I suppose everything will be just fine.

Dirty Little Secret.

Three glorious Saturdays. No idea how much pride and joy is flowing through my veins right now. My eyes went teary from the moment I saw our coach jump around like the kid she is inside. It was amazing just to see our team come together and be amazing like that. Our boys blasted that competition. I'm still a little speechless.
My thoughts on a road trip with these girls were really confirmed today. I believe that if we were to be on the road together, for over fifty miles, most definitely we would get either lost, robbed, or killed. But that's said in a lighthearted tone.
But we're going to state. And that's the best kind of road trip there is.
For now.
But these past few Saturdays spent with some of my favorite people have been spectacular. So many stories, so many memories made with these kids. And I'm so thankful to be a part of it.
I have to say that if we all do go to Austin together, things will never be the same. We are, I believe, by far the tightest knit program in all of Liberty's athletics teams. And a road trip for us, especially with the seniors we have, would probably just be the pinnacle of the season.
If I am ever bold enough as to write my own life story into a small book of interesting stories, then I'm sure I will have chapters to tell. A lot of it will be little frivolous twists and tales that no one would ever know. But some would be very meaningful.
Maybe they would be a poem or something. I don't know. The prose is still undecided.
Wait. Whoa. So am I now planning to write an autobiography?
Certainly not. Oh no. I make myself laugh.
The things I have discovered, been told, told others. I've had my thoughts in a whirlwind, grasping so many concepts in one sitting. But guess what? I absolutely love doing that. Finding out things about others. And telling people about myself. Growing and changing. Chauffeuring next year's seniors down the road to graduation, while we ourselves are becoming tomorrow's departed. It's amazing. And a little frightening.

Apart from that, my weekend has been far from bland. And with the new regional champions, we also have our district triumphants. Lil' sis, you've done amazing. District champions. I can only imagine what you guys will do as freshmen.

And as one last word, I have to say, that life would never be the same without people in a car.
Just sayin'.

These Lights Are Killing Me.

There's a blatant glare shining off of the screen of the television sitting next to me on the only AV cart available that night at the high school. I'm awkwardly standing between two other girls, clutching my paintbrush and script. I lick my lips of dryness, the fluorescent lights searing into my glasses lenses.
"Ready...Go."
As I go on to begin our spiel, saying something about how Webster defines the word "innovation" as a new idea, novelty, blah blah blah, I space out. My thoughts wander. My tunnel vision broadens and my world opens up. I take a breath.
And I see.
Really, there was no revelation in my mind. I was really just thinking of things other than our FFA public relations practice. I was thinking about recent things. About growing up. About changing.
I think about the vanilla cupcake coffee from quiktrip I had this morning for breakfast. Thinking about all the talking, all the listening, all the smiles, laughs, and one five minute segment of slight tears. How every second, even though some of them have been sad, or stressful, I have loved.
And now I'm thinking that this is the most random, unneeded post I have ever written.
No use pressing the backspace button now.
Despite the troubles I'm going through, I'm so thrilled about how my junior year has developed. I'm so amazed at how cross country made my year amazing. How the people I've met, the friends I've made, and the relationships I've developed have just meant so much to me.
It's truly too early for this kind of a post in the school year.
But it's flowing, so I'm not going to try and stop it.
I'm happy. For the most part.

Hooray for Friday. I'll be going to quiktrip again. This time getting two coffees. This time, I'll show up late to first period. With full permission by my first period teacher.
This time, I won't look like a mess [even though I was perfectly okay with it].
I'll spend time with my best friends. And maybe try to stay awake in class.
My junior year has progressed, so far, into something I would of never thought it would be.
Awkward, amazing, and very stressful.
And I'd never have it any other way.

15 Bottles of the Dark Type.

I'm impressed with this collection of beer bottles I've acquired from my father over the past few months. Call me strange, but I love the look of them. They're all just as interesting as the liquid inside of them. Some bitter. Others wonderfully sweet.
I really hope I brew my own some day.
But that's besides today's point.

It's been better. Most days are just relaxing and boring beyond belief when it comes to school work. Now, really, I could of fallen back in my chair during AP Language, and I swear Physics will be the death of me. Today was just stressful. Today, I needed time. To think. What I really wanted to do was take a good walk along Tree Farm with whoever would want to join for a quick thought discussion. I was ready for a good talk.
But school does not offer such pleasantries.
And that lunch date didn't exactly go as planned. But that's perfectly alright. Because I'm showing up tomorrow morning for late breakfast. And all three of us are going to discuss life in the current tense.
Exactly what I need. I love talking to these two people.
I'm having a hard time getting used to this. I've never had someone help me before. Through troubles. I'm so used to being the backboard to someones adventures. So ready to brace a fall.
And now I have to be equal with the person I'm "walking" with. Because we're both experiencing issues. And we're both providing backup.

It's a new feeling. Why does fall always seem to get to me? Something always changes in the autumn months. I guess this is it.
But it's a wonderful thing.

I've decided to show up to school tomorrow in an honest mess. Or looking like one at least.
And believe me when I say, that I'll like it that way.



and by the way. I just checked it out. and I can't link with you because it's a different website than this. but oh wow. child, you amaze me :] very proud to be your friend.

The Passing Time.

I'm looking in the mirror, and what I see hasn't changed one bit. I see the same, somewhat matured and awkward looking thing I've been looking at for a few years now. It's just gotten a little thinner since freshman year.
And she says I'm different.
I state my case, saying that junior year has really just been one stressful cluster of events, which she describes as "real life". Really though, if I'm the short, hard to talk to teenager she says I am, then I must not be looking at myself the right way.
I guess I'm having perspective issues.
But that aside, I have other things on my mind. I'm trying to pick my guitar back up and play through the dusty November evenings when there's no homework to do. I'm reconnecting. I'm in constant contact with a few people. Okay. More like two. But that's a lot for me.
This feeling of sitting in the middle of an iced over pond is strange to me. It's slick and dangerous all around me. I've somehow managed to get myself right into the center of all this problematic area. Oh, how weird it feels.
I'm feeling detached to some people, and very near others. It's another strange, spacious feeling.

Please. Please don't give up. You're making progress. Your world won't end. I promise you I'll be there till you need me no more. Be persistent. I will never let you fall back. Ever.

I wish I had something fun to write about. But I don't. I'll probably have something to write about tomorrow though.
I'm assuming this lunchtime date I have an invitation to tomorrow should be quite splendid.

This Is Halloween.

Still lost.
After all of this time. I find myself caught in that same room I did in January. Only this time, it's with another friend of mine. I sit across from her and listen to her stories. I hear her voice crack. I see the strain in her motions.
I know that this hurts.
And witnessing that hurts me too. A lot.
Because, unlike before, we're actually in person. Face to face. Just. Talking.
It took all I had not press my face against the window and breathe hot air onto the window. Not because I have short attention, but because I needed a way to think. Breathing just seems like a good method of choice.
So bad. So bad, I wanted to help her. And I don't know if I did or not. She says I did, and I believe her, but I don't know how much it did help. And I just hope that she's doing alright.
One week. That's all. One week. And it's been a crazy week full of texts and conversations and spending whole Saturdays together. It's been just that.
And by fate we were brought together at probably the best time. We're very similar people. But we're also different. It clicks though.
It's very dark. Halloween night dark. Hands on her face, she rubs her forehead and thinks. I want to tell her it's going to be okay. And I do. And I very much so want everything to work out. And truth be told, I really believe it will be. I think that things will work out.
I really believe in her.
Because this kid's a fighter. She pushes the limits. She's confident much more beyond her wildest thoughts. She's so much more than she realizes. So much more.
I just want one little candle in this obscurity. One little flickering wick that will help show the way.
One day, there will be.
That day will be soon.

"Life is never easy. Life is never perfect. It's not what life is to us. It's not worth blaming. It's all about how we handle it. The challenges we're faced with. And how we destroy those barriers that lead to something more than ourselves."
- January Post, 2009

I'm talking directly to you now. And believe me when I say that I believe. I really do. And I think you know I do. Take this slow and don't worry. You can do this. I know you can. Don't ever give up on this. I'll be there when you need me, be away when you don't.

This halloween was definately one for the books; probably the best halloween of my life.
Not going to lie.
It's late. I'm going to shut my journal and look out the window.
Wonder whether or not my car has been vandalized again...
and watch the full moon shine with all of it's brightness outside.
Halloween. One day of the year where you don't have to be who you always are.
But then again. That's every day.

The Five for Five Combo.

So today, after a few hours of sleep, some empanadas, and an escapade to ikea under my Sunday belt, I shall write a new post, hopefully more sane than last night's. I can only hope so. Because I was a bit out of it last night. I was very tired.
But in this morning's light, I was a little bleary-eyed, but I had my wits about me. For a good twenty minutes I chose to lay in bed and stare at my ceiling. I grabbed my laptop and hummed to myself as I thought about what I had seen that night. My dreams. I slunk downstairs for a hot cup of tea and carried it up to my room where I got back in bed. Where I thought some more.
My mind began to work. I sipped and checked my e-mail, and wondered. My thoughts were, at this point, in a whirlwind. And I had only been up for half an hour.
As the storm inside cleared, I found myself wondering about life stories again. I remembered when I was younger, middle school age, writing on my MySpace page about how you never really knew anyone until you listened to what they had to say, or that everybody's life story was worth knowing. And I've, throughout the years, further validated this by experiencing it first hand. I have met so many new people since those small days at Clark. I've learned, especially this year, how important it is to simply talk with the people you know and love. How important it is to lend an ear to the things that don't get heard the most. And not only listen well, but speak of yourself also. Tell your experiences. Express the way you feel about things. Develop your opinions and morals into what you want them to be. What you feel is right. Because we're all becoming adults. Some of us a little faster than others. But we all arrive there at some point.
Anywho. To get to my point, I believe that trust and loyalty are key to all things in life. Believe me when I say that actually listening to somebody and saying things back gets a lot done.
Amazing amounts done.

So, I'm off to the church. Off to accompany my youngest sister to her first reconciliation class. Going to sit and learn with her. Going to try and not fall asleep.
I remember that day. Sitting in the gym with my mom during my first class. Gripping my very first rosary, staring into the infinate space that was wherever we were. And I could of never imagined then where I would be today.
It's been so long since then. I can't believe that it's my turn to teach her.
It's a little frightening, because I'm not the best of teachers.
But this is one challenge I'm more than willing to take.

Pancakes, Nighthawk, and The Never Ending Mudhole

It's hard not to say that today had to have been one of the best Saturdays of my school year so far. I mean, when you get to spend the whole day with people you spend...well, almost every day with, it never really gets old. There's always some new thing that goes on.
When we arrived at Myers this morning, I just felt disaster in my bones. There was a quake of some sort of horrific hill training throughout my body. But I was very pleasantly surprised. Running the course today was probably one of the most fun things ever. I love feeling like some sort of land-surveyer, trekking this way and that, examining every little thing on the path that we've decided to take. Although, today our trail was actually marked. We were checking out the specs for any last minute notes. Districts are in a few days. I'm not quite ready. But then again, I am. It makes absolutely no sense. But you get the gist.
Shoes. Socks. Sweatpants. All soaked, saturated, and soiled. I cannot describe the nasty feeling of gushing water and mud from the meshing on your running shoe uppers. Almost everywhere on that map should of been circled, squgglied, or marked. That mud was everywhere. That sucking, clicking kind of mud. The kind that eats your shoes. The kind I'm sure would growl at you if it wasn't inanimate. [Does that not sound frightening all of the sudden?]
But it's what we live for. Another reason why my five year love affair with running has caused me to fall so heavily for it; I just can't get away from the way it makes me feel.
Ihop, oh dear God, Ihop. It's one resturant we all can agree on. New York Cheesecake pancakes, crispy hash browns, and Tabasco covered scrambled eggs. How does that not sound delectible? We failed at taking some pictures, and stealing hats, and seperating tickets on the check. But remember, reader, who I'm writing about. The Liberty Cross Country program. We're a little crazy. But any other way, and it would be no fun.
I also had the opportunity of riding around in Danielle's [name sounds familiar, don't it?] Jeep all morning long. And I have to say we'd make a hilarious pair of road-tripping kids if we ever had to. Just imagine two jittery, frazzled girls with a map and a shifty trying to make it to some sort of destination. That would be us. Oh, the hilarity.
But I digress.
We made a short stop to the nearest toysrus to pickup a Raggedy Ann doll for one of Danielle's friends before making it in one piece to the Satrio manor, where we made some pretty amazing district tees. My name: Nighthawk. Amazing, thank you. I know. I love it.
No, but in all seriousness, those t-shirts were awesome! And we had a great time making them. Semi-losing Bevo [the dog], watching football, nicknames, pizza, and prefering it on the floor.
Let me also note that the last sentence just read pretty much sums up our season. Insanely entertaining, amazing, and a little crazy.

Now, let me explain, that it is now one-eleven am on Sunday morning. I'm feeling crazed and tired, so this post may make no sense at all. I may just be running my mouth about the day's events. But, isn't that what this blogging thing is all about? It's the Godzilla form of Twitter, only more like narritive style for me.
By the way...I don't use Twitter.
I do not tweet ;]
But for those who do. Keep tweet'n on.
Wow. I'm so tired, I went on a tangent about Twitter.
I'm going to bed now. Going to dream about the possibilities of what my life could truly mean. I've already found my purpose, so now I must dream about whatever could happen. And from what I've seen lately, life can only go up from here.
Not that it's not amazing already.
Because I don't think I'd have this living any other way.
But we'll save that for another post.

Goodnight everyone,
I'm falling asleep in a bundle of blankets and George Strait.

dim the lights.

I'm climbing that hill again. That steep, epic hill towards this final state of content. Something I usually achieve around December. It's this place where I can't really describe the feeling. It's this constant free fall feeling that never seems to go away. This feeling of invincibility that makes my thoughts float endlessly through the November sky.
I say November because that's when this normally starts. But this year, it's earlier. This year- it's different.
Lately I've been caught on my laptop in dark spaces of the house. I seem to blend in, as if I'm wearing some drywall for camouflage, sitting with my headphones and whatever else seems to follow me that day. The rain and gray air have contributed to my placid and relaxed feelings. Growing more reminiscent each and every day, much earlier than usually intended. And everything seems to jog my memory, from the cologne in a jacket sleeve, to the music on a forgotten playlist. A sudden text from a friend you hadn't seen in months. Talking about missing you and everyone else back home. It makes you wonder. Even finding things out about people you thought you knew. Things that make you even closer than what you may have initially thought you'd end up being.
I guess that brings up another point. I've recently been introduced to another feeling of life: detachment. No, friends, I'm not going dark on you. I've just felt so busy, and having a car really gives you so much more opportunity to be away from the people you know and love. When I unlock the door to my house I realize that I'm alone. I've never experienced this. I've always been surrounded by people. And now I've found solitude some days after school. Time to stretch my thoughts up and out. Time to ponder what I shouldn't be thinking about. Things that make me think a little too much. Things that make me so nervous, I require a short glass of chocolate milk and animal crackers.
Because these things have become my comfort food when the light in the kitchen turns yellow. When it gets much too late on a Saturday night. When there's a thick soundtrack of snoring and a variety of other house-sounds in the background. When I can sit and sigh and stare. And then go back to sleep.
So far, things are going smoothly. Not all as planned. But very smoothly. I guess when you start getting older, and realizing that you'll be leaving soon, you start to notice the little things you took for granted and passed over before. And I'm stumbling over these things, good and bad, that I'm being told are growing me up and opening my eyes to an adult world that I once misunderstood.
I'll be quiet and robotic until November rolls around. I have bouts of laughter and smiling, angst and defeat. That's for now. But when those skies grow wispy, jackets out and eyes above, I'll crack the biggest smile and take the deepest breath of the purest air I wait forever to fill my lungs. The dusty winter air that bleeds back into the atmosphere as thin rings of smoke.
Until then, I'll be racing to December's light.

Blog About Me.

That's all she says. She's really quite strange. This I have deduced from fourteen years of the kid.
Her room smells a bit like that onyx nail polish she's applying for the second time to her left hand. And...she just coughed all over that hand...there's also a slight odor of used matches and hairspray that lingers in the air. And after I type that, I start hoping that she doesn't use the two in unison for her own personal fun.
I'm so oblivious to what she does in this room after 10:30pm. You wouldn't even know. I get off the phone around eleven and there's still yellow light spilt on the floor in front of her closed bedroom door like forgotten milk on the kitchen counter.
I want to say that she's just like me, that we're two of the same. But that would be an honest lie. Because we aren't. We're both outgoing. Both unnecessarily loud. Somewhat vicious. But she's a different make, this one. I seem to float around at school, calmly taking in my surroundings and absorbing my current state of the union. I just flow from one thing to the next.
But when you're fourteen. Wow. When I was fourteen, well, I can't say I was much different. I will say, with good confidence, that maturity has certainly made it's way towards me. Mentally, that is.
If you ask the cross country team, they will tell you how insane I really am. But that's beside the point.
She moves in her own way, that's for sure, but she's so in tune to the social scene I swear she's got this all planned out. Brave enough to rock the thickest high tops that I could never wear, even though I would love to (converse and I make a great pair), mean yet tough enough to bear the scars of what girls really are today. Solid as a brick house. She will knock you down. And she will like it. And when she catches me dancing, because this happens a lot, she has the nerve to stand and shake her head, or dance with me for a second before returning to that head shaking state.
Not the smartest choices sometimes. But she makes passionate ones.
Now I get the sudden urge to dance to my Animal Collective album playing on MY NEW LAPTOP SPEAKER. What?! We'll save that for another day children.
A report/webcam bananza-fandango-fantabulaza on the next post.

My first sister has been with me for almost fourteen years now. By the simple name of Gabby. From water-winggys to footy pajamas and applejacks, to the Rockies and back, and every single mile in between.
I'm crazy to enjoy it.
But every day I can't think of anything else more entertaining than coming home to a sister who collapses on the floor for no absolute reason.

Here's to you, you Vicks sniffing, creeper fool.
I wouldn't have it any other way.

Hi, My Name's Autumn.

I've resisted the urge to write something like this for awhile now. But the music I'm listening to [regina spektor] and the current time [12:27 as of right now] I suppose would be the cause of this post.
So Friday night, after going all over the place in my little black car, like practice, cate orientation, and l&l's to eat mahi mahi by myself, I wanted to curl up on the couch and dissapear for a little while. I was tired. But I had plans. Plans that turned out to be good.
Actually. They were great.
I love the Angelika for two reasons:
1) Because of where it's located. I mean, COME ON. The Shops at Legacy are gorgeous. Who doesn't love that place, huh? I didn't take my freshman year homecoming pictures there for no reason. And the stores, resturants, and houses are fantastic. Completely amazing.
and
2) The fuzzy seats. And the high glass windows on the outside. OH! And all the films they show. Some of the stuff you can't catch at StonebriarAMC. Hm. And the price of a student ticket too. I haven't shelled out less than nine bucks a ticket since I was probably, like, eight.
So maybe that was more than two. But that doesn't matter. The thing is, I love the Shops at Legacy. It holds first to my heart, Watters Crossing taking second. downtowns of Plano and McKinney, and Dallas's arts district taking the following places.
But I digress.
Jacob and I arrived there just in time to catch some dinner before we saw our movie. I had never been into Sal's Pizzaria. I've always eaten in Potbelly, Fireside Pies, or The Counter [now Meatheads. Ugh.]. But Sal's was amazing. We sat there with great pizza and the smell of Sunday spaghetti wafting overhead. I think I'm a creepy Italian...I smell my mother's/grandmother's cooking and I want to die of happiness. Food just makes me crazy. I don't know why.
And with two minutes to spare we make it into the theater for [500]days of summer. Settling into our plush seats, we're laughing just like everyone else at the opening narration at the bottom of the screen: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially you Jenny Beckman.
Bitch.
The movie was hilarious. My sister, who aparently saw it last night, didn't think it was. Probably because she didn't like the ending. Oh well. But it was a great movie. I laughed so hard I cried. But that happens a lot.
I think I have a problem.
Oh well.
At the end of the movie we all went down the west parking lot exit which spit us right out onto the main strip. There was this cover band playing in the darkness, trees and apartment balconies illuminated with the glow of white Christmas lights. We stood and watched. And just like in the movie, where Summer grabs Tom's hand in Ikea, Jacob grabs mine. And without even looking, I'm smiling all over. Laughing inside, because we've been together for almost nine months now and holding hands still makes me happy.
Again, I think I have a problem.
But just standing there, listening to the music with him and all the people around us, made my whole day even better. And we left the band and their fans out on the street, ran hand-in-hand up the parking garage stairs and over to his truck where we sat and talked. And I figured out that I really have made an impression on him, because he has the exact same gum as I do. Solstice 5 Gum. Go figure. But that probably makes no difference in our relationship. Hm. I just find it interesting.
So maybe this wasn't the blog I've been thinking about. The one I try to avoid all the time. Oh, it'll come up again sometime I suppose.
I'm almost dissapointed it didn't go there..haha.
Sunday. Hooray. Another day. Sleeping day. Carwashing day. Guitar and tea day. Sketching day. Lazy day. Fo'shizle.

And that's what happens when you work late.
You start talking like your coworkers. Saying stuff like fo'shizle.
Wow. That's nice.

For the last time, I think I have a "problem". But what's new?

Impossible is Nothing.

"You'll recover at the crest of the hill," she says over the shaky breathing of 23 teenagers, "this route is very reminiscent of the district course." I keep eye contact with my coach. Hers are hidden behind obsidian Oakleys. Mine are burning with dripping sweat. Most of us nod in understanding. It's another wonderful morning. Another wonderful cross country practice. And there is no sarcasm in those last statements. This misery is my life-my enjoyment. I was so high off the endorphins. But so tired like everyone else. Who doesn't love Regis though?
Regis is the team hill, by the way.
We sprint off on another set, pushing our mental limits like usual. My mind is opening up after a few minutes fighting it's plea for closing. I keep telling myself that Regis isn't mean. He really isn't..he's just a steep fella, that's all. But when you hear the encouragement from everyone else, your team mates and your coaches, you can't help but run faster. I pick up my knees and together my girls and I divide and conquer that hill with the fury of...well, determined high school athletes. We're victorious, boys and girls both, and triumphantly jog towards the football field for some circuits.
By the way, burpees are a great way of bruising your stomach, did you know that? I didn't. When your legs feel like jell-o after hill training, they kind of fail you on that kind of stuff. It's pretty hilarious.
After cool down laps around the volleyball two-a-day-ers who are running line fartliks behind a spitting, hoarsely screaming coach, we shuffle towards the main campus building. Past the gyms. Into the hall where the trophy cabinets are. And we're tired and smelly and wet and nasty. Legs covered in grass and mud. Perfumed with the morning scent of mowed grass and athletic ability. Once again the coaches group us around and explain that we'll be moving our trophies and plaques to the new trophy cabinet.
And we soon remember the significance of every single piece of hardware we're holding. I pick up the JV girl's 4x4 relay district champion plaque from my freshman year. I was on that team..and I remember winning. Every second of it. And I see my 800m plaque from that same year. More memories. I'm hearing other people talk about what the other trophies and awards were for. People ask me about mine. I ask about theirs. It's an ongoing cycle of remembrance.
Back at the trophy case coach explained what it would take to have us go to state. Varsity girls need to be under a twelve minute, thirty second two mile in order to break regionals. I'm at a fifteen-ten. At the time, state seemed like the last thing on my mind.
Walking towards the field house my friend Danielle asks me something I won't forget this season.
"Do you think you can do it?" She asks.
"Do what?" I wonder.
"Break regionals with a twelve."
"I'm not on varsity."
"You are. Believe me, you are." I shake my head. She's crazy I think. But she looks serious.
"I'll believe it when the uniform is in my hands." And then, she looks me in the eyes, still walking.
"I really think you can do it," she says, with all the seriousness in the world, "I think you're going to do things you don't expect right now. Something tells me something is going to happen." I ponder and nod. I don't know what to say. I never thought I could.
But now I believe I can. Sort of.
If I end up being on the varsity, and if what coach says is right. And if what Danielle says is true-then doing great may not be a dream after all.

Maybe it's something someone like me can do after all.
Maybe average is what we need to break the mould.

The Man Who Can't Be Moved.

I squirm, and ah squirm.
Squirm, squirm, squirm...

I just got the sudden urge to type that. I wonder why. Probably because I was dancing in my office chair to one most lovely song by The Script. Then again, you can't really call my dancing, dancing. So maybe that's why I thought of squirming. Because when I move to the beat, it' looks more like painful, jerky squirming. Interesting.
But today isn't a day for flailing to music. Today is a day of celebration. I'm letting myself write without subject. It feels like I've got this disease. This sickness that crams all these ideas and words into my head. Not so much like a writer's block, more like a writer's traffic jam? All these things want to make it on to paper, but you can only go one at a time, you know? So I guess this right here is the proverbial HOV lane to my thoughts.
Something in the air today. I felt it this morning at practice, running up at the track. The trees swayed a different way. The darkness wasn't moving. The wind whistled a little different. How is it that one little thing can make such a difference in the way you see things? I guess when you feel this way you tend to take on a different perspective of the world around you. Something is growing. Starting to take on a different meaning. The end of June burned up every bit of doubt I had. Almost all the worry and bad dreaming I had taken on after lengthy days of thought. One day changed everything. Several days, now that I think about it, have changed many things. November means so much more to me. And the wind and dead grass that come with it. The frost that sets on the trees and shingles. And those last breaths. Those last few breaths, letting our air rise up into the sky. Carrying promises.
Life has sure become more and more amazing. I couldn't be happier. Hopefully it lasts. I don't think I could live without it lasting.
And here it comes, congestion of SH-Alex. The highways and byways of my mind are so cluttered with thoughts, I'm afraid if I keep typing I'll start talking in circles. Off to laying on the kitchen tile again. Wondering about the future.

And what I'll have for lunch.

Taking Back Summer.

There was a time when things were simple. Where weekdays we woke up early and got dressed. We brushed our teeth and mom combed our hair so that it hung down past our waists. Down lamp lit neighborhood roads we'd drive and arrive at the same small, pink bricked house with the little mushroom-y tree out front. Three sleepy little girls emerged from the blue suburban and entered into the warm home of a second family.

Deranged family. But family nonetheless.

As mom drove away, off to work, the baby was taken to go finish her sleep while my sister and I would hurry off to one of the back bedrooms where our friends were. Obviously, we were playing Mario Kart64 in pitch darkness. It was a morning ritual I'll never forget. We'd sit on the futon and gaze into the tv and watch in wonder. There were only two controllers, so patience paid off here. But breakfast was always mandatory, and turning off the Nintendo was always hard. But we did it.
Another morning event I'll never forget: breakfast. Eggo waffles piled high, oatmeal packets left for mixing, toast and cereal. My favorites included snowy waffles, and brown sugar with apple cinnamon oatmeal on rainy days. It was always still dark out when we'd eat. Mrs. Alice made sure that we had a good breakfast and that we ate sometime after we'd get to her house. Lunch was a must as well.
The days were full of adventures and frizzy headed little girls, growing and learning, making small mistakes and paying for them how we should, many days at the pool, and hours spent outside. How summer was meant to be spent. I can still remember swimming, and eating, and exploring. Playing in the garage and the "forbidden" game of Worry. Extreme games of hide and seek, discovering a love for music, and the strange hole in the hallway wall [a joint effort of Sam and I]. Oh! And the bad weather days, where the weather got real bad...that was no good. Because I was a chicken [still am], and my friend Lauren freaked out easy as well. Storms did not scare me, but when the lights went out BAM! I was gone.

This is only a small part of what our summer break was like together.

It was a time of growing up. We were the best of friends. Memories that will never be forgotten. Still having those "Oh, guys remember when..." moments. It's stuff I'll have a hard time forgetting. Probably something I won't ever want to forget. It is, however, a time we will never be able to move back to. Days that will not happen again. Though, nothing ever ends really. Our summer days live on in that same back bedroom we played our Mario in. The little wonders of our vacation together will be, for now, remembered through a little collage on the wall - a small window to what we were like back then.