When the tide is low and rushing of the waves dies down,
When all is still and I am left quietly to ponder,
I might sit still and in silence alone
I may dream of my future and wonder
Will I always return to the ways of the sea?
With its constant lull yet relentless change
Will it always seem to call to me?
So steady and yet so unpredictable
So calm but never resting
Always seeking new voyages
And rushing about to every distant land
Aching for the thrill of a new adventure
I look back on the past its seen
It seems to sing to me like a symphony
So many different parts all put together in one

From birdseed, butterfly nets, hibiscus, kimonos, siamese, and cancer,
Citrus, pepper, apples, grapefruit and figs, Saturday morning doughntus and groceries,
The riding helmet and whip, mickey mouse and vinegar, dalmatians, swimming and cheerleading,
Charlie, Jack and Jimmy, the forest and the ditch at the bottom of the hill
Dove handsoap, the toy closet under the stairs, piano basket,
Kool-aid concoctions, morning runs with dad, oatmeal versus pancakes,
Cornflakes, chex mix and homemade bread, soccer practice,
orange shoes and the smell of window paint,
Rocking chair, typhoons and rocks in the rain
The little plants that close till the next morning when you touch them
Windsocks, bug bottles, dolphins and Ranger Rick
Austronauts, bike traffic lessons, be strong like a Marine,
Mellow your jello and kindness comes first
4-H and goat milk, holiday turkeys and the concrete pond
Stolen mailbox and phonebook in the wall
Star Trek, silkworms and the exercise room,
Computer typing class and counselor visits
Goodbye on a motorcycle and no Simpsons allowed
Long commute and unhappy reunions, work trips to faraway places,
Divorce and child support, custody hearings and more court papers
Baby brother and dragon vases, trolls and the magic flute,
Broccoli instead of chicken, way too much salt, loud alarm clock,
Falling out of bed, plastic bedsheets and the big bookshelf
Cats, cockroaches and hummingbirds
Chore charts and homeschooling, work before play,
Too much cinnamon sugar, clean the litterbox, solitaire,
Pulling weeds and raking leaves, first snow,
Reactive attachment disorder, ADD, lazy and slow,
WIC and the bishop's storehouse, christmas on the doorstep,
Three a.m. paper route, training wheels, french horn,
Mascara in art class, busy halls, first crush and moving truck again,
New red overalls, perm and an older sister,
He looks like an elf and late babysitting
Two bedroom apartment, rice milk, vegetarian,
Prezels, frozen yogurt, keyboard, and ice skating
Valentine's day drawing contest and baby formula
Loading the dishwasher explaining Randy to dad
Wierd boy with a smelly, bouncy egg for science project
Explaining bubbles, barbies and Notre Dame,
A pocket knife, heels, and the springtime dress,
Bubblegum on the carpet, stuck in the door frame,
Wintergreen mints with speckles and toast with jam
A bite out of the wax apple and too much cheese and candy
Grape flavored dinatap and dramamine
Logan temple, trampoline, Raine, and lame lock on the back door
sprinklers and athids, biting lady bugs and work and the glory
basement mushrooms, ant infestation and hobo city in chalk
Goodbye Hershey, hello Dusty, Equinox, Amway and Mary Kay
rollerblading with too much protective wear,
another wedding ring and asking me permission
B.C. and A.D., Pokemon cards and nylons,
Fishing and roadtrips, camping and eating weeds, nails in the stump
Casinos, bright lights, ironing board and disliking new ward
Another new start, more house hunting and dreaming of this place
Passing out flyers, adopting a park,
food storage and big white wheat buckets
Beautiful boy two doors down but I'm too shy to say hi
Spanish and track, new spikes and obsession with running that won't go away
Cross country meets, Rancho San Rafael, air balloon races,
Hot August nights and babysitting, marching band
My best friend's dad and my mom,
rides to seminary and giving away a book of mormon
the super stars and finding my place
Chemistry C and elfish notes in class
Power jam, 7-11 slurpees, ice and tape
Red head jokes and jealous girls, constant competition,
Rejected rose, jolly ranchers in science, talk radio
pepperspray and watching the twin towers come down
A baptism and a marriage, so no state competition
Migraines, water, mormon crickets and beef stew.
First date, car on ebay, Burger King and new house
The twins and lipsinc, tap dance and jail in the middle of the night
Three new, minus two, sharing the neighbor's house, a boyfriend or two
Adopt-a-Bear, hermit crabs with painted shells,
Moving out on my own, another new job, Napoleon Dynamite
Autism, self sufficiency, tutoring, homeless and silent movie
Real friut popsicles and hot chocolate, Weezer and artsy shops downtown
Dancing pizza and T-team fun in the dorms, community college and new car,
Boyfriend that lasts longer than two weeks and seems so right,
Brazil, outdoor ice rink, football games and four wheeling
Christmas tree hunting and the tree room, earrings and our song,
Big blue hoodie, new apartment, Rascal and Trinket, basketball in the park
Institute dances and friends getting married, trip to Cali, pink board shorts
Visiting Fernley, getting pulled over, the Matrix and Cleanflix
Long prayers, clutch goes out and life takes a big turn.
Tennessee and humidity, mission papers and spanish,
Country music and different rules and lifestyle, oh so proper,
daycare and a sense of ever waiting
year and a half of milanesa, cumbia, el viento sonda, la difunta correa,
la sequia, el colectivo, himnos y tantas oraciones
companions and p days, alfajores and polenta, obedience service and love
suddenly I'm home again, back to the west, new school, new friends, new life,
boyfriend off and on again, Zupas, MTC, mentoring, and the temple
motorcycles, fast cars, drums and planes,
Saturday hikes, bike rides, swim lessons, violin lessons, running and pranks
Hospital visits, art days, singing at the old folks homes
Duck pond, art museum, concerts, efy, languages
Walking musical, saturday yard work, homemade tomato soup and yard sales
Weather change, itching for a change, new apartment and good bye to friends and boyfriend
Unfriendly girls in church, FHE and ward prayer hesitance, continued job hunt
At last new job comes through, family seems to work out better,
Things might finally be going right, other things just don't make any sense.
But then, thus is life, the list will only continue to grow over the years.
La vie est belle

Oh the beauty of flying.  The flight attendants give the same usual safety instructions and those aboard politely ignore.  The children holler, the fat man beside you snores loudly and hogs the armrest the entire way there.  Generally the trip is boring and uneventful.  Sometimes you can manage to get a little shuteye depending on your seat and your neighbor, otherwise the boredom can lead you flipping through the magazine from the pocket in front of you and maybe even attempting one of those rediculous crossword puzzles or a quaint little game of sodoku.  A window seat is preferable for two reasons; one, the view, and two, ... well, the view.  An aisle seat reassures you of people climbing over a couple times to use the bathroom, those walking down the aisle may kindly bump into you, and drinks and trash will most assuredly be passed over you couple times, plus there's not a thing to rest your head on.  The middle seat is even worse, seeing as you will be stuck between two strangers, and generally that's just what they are, strange.  They could be children you end up helping to tend, or people with bad hygiene blocking off the fresh air on either side of you, or, as in the case of a young lady last weekend flying home for the Christmas break, it could be a grouchy old couple that don't want to sit together but do, however, want to fight over you.

On this most lovely trip I ever so carefully chose a window seat, as usual, and promptly began napping; seeing as my neighbor was a boring business man unwilling to strike up conversation, and seeing as I wasn't all that interested in talking either, I found a little nap to be in my favor.  Across the aisle from me sat a young lady perhaps about my age who unfortunately could find no aisle or window seat, and found herself seated between this elderly couple, the man being somewhat gruff in manner, bent over and white haired.  The woman I could not see from my angle.  They talked over her throughout the trip and passed things back and forth over her, even argued around her but when she offered to let them sit together they declined.  Perhaps halfway through my nap I was awakened by the elderly man yelling and, looking up, I found that two flight attendants, and man and woman, both stood answering to the elderly gentleman's concerns.  He got out of his seat and seemed to have some complaint about it.  The man flight attendant reassured him, but upon finding the aged man noncompliant, the attendant himself took the gentleman's seat to prove the safety of it.  He buckled himself in, and then began to throw himself forward and backward as would a small child unwilling to be strapped in.  The entire seat seemed to move with his thrashing, creating quite a scene, but the buckle held true.  The elderly man was not satisfied.  He continued grumbling and twisting his seatbelt and tying it into knots.  The woman attendant brought him an extension of the seat belt in hopes that he would acquiesce and sit calm the rest of the flight.  He hollered at her that he wished to know their names, claiming that they were an awful crew, but the poor young lady beside him, having had quite enough, also asked the woman's name asserting, "I think you are a wonderful crew, and this man is simply DILUSIONAL!"  She told him how unkind and rude he was being and various times asked him to stop.  Several surrounding passengers also offered him their seats but all offers were denied. 

It was a long, and rather amusing trip, and my nap was completely disrupted.  Besides all that, there was an odd old woman seated behind me hacking up loogies the whole way and from the sounds of her conversation with the man with her, I think age had robbed her of her sanity.  She would yell in a loud, hoarse voice, "what is that?!" the quiet, calm reply beside her, "those are clouds dear, we're in an airplane."  She somehow managed to shove her foot between the wall and my seat, so that I could not rest my arm on the rest, nor my head on the wall without leaning on it, so it was rather odd and akward, but I didn't feel comfortable asking her to remove it. 

On my connecting flight I sat beside a young girl who had recently joined the Navy.  She came aboard in full uniform, and the large man in the aisle seat offered her the seat between us.  Despite being rather swallowed up in my book, I couldn't help but follow their conversation, and it, too, amused me.  He asked her what branch she was in, "the Navy", she replied, and how did she like it?  After a brief pause, she answered rather dramatically, "it's not fun at all!"  "oh." said the man, and he seemed unsure what to say next.  After a moment or two, he humbly, almost grovelling, said, "thankyou so much for what you do for our country."  At this point, the melancholy man and girl with an air of 'oh wo is me' nearly nauseated me!  Being, myself, a Marine Corps brat, I have a strong sense of patriotism and a natural love for the military, and on many occasions have debated whether or not to join myself.  I would find it an honor, an adventure, and quite an experience!  What's more, the military takes care of you, there are plenty of benefits and they often put you through school or help pay off loans.  They get you in shape physically, teach you discipline and leadership and much more.  I could scarcely believe this man was honoring some dumb girl who hadn't even been through training yet, truly hasn't done anything heroic for our country, and is only in the Navy, as she later confessed, because all she wanted was to go to sea.... SO heroic and honor-worthy!  Such a show of patriotism and love of country!  She explained how strict it was and how the army boot camp was across the street, so they had to "set an example".  My eye!  She could do a better job setting an example on the plane!  We common citizens seem to have a glowing image in our head of people in uniforms saving our lives, wearing halos, if you will, and we forget that they, too, are human and they don't all save lives. 

Anyway, off my soapbox.  Her air of drama filled our row to a sickening level, so I ignored them and got swallowed up even more in my book of Les Miserable... Jean Valjean was just getting arrested at the bedside of Cossette who lay dying, and it was quite a climactic moment.  Past and petty crimes were calling for justice, the very law breaking down the door, but present changes of morals and strict angelic goodness and virtue, charity and goodwill were simultaneously screaming for mercy.  Justice was winning the battle and despite Jean Valjean's life being completely changed for good, he was, nonetheless, being sent back to the gallows for life.  The city would lose its good mayor, and thus it's prosperity as well, Cossette and Fantine would both probably die, and the story would come to a miserable end... but alas, what is this?  I'm abruptly called out of my story, the man two seats down handing me a paper.  "What is it?" I ask.  To get a drink.  My first thought was, doesn't he know drinks are complementary?  Until it occurred to me that he was offering me a coupon for alcoholic drinks, which, seeing as I don't drink, I graciously declined but thanked him for his kindness.  What a strange flight!  Truly!  To go from the cranky old man with seatbelt issues and the crazy lady with her foot in my side, to Jean Valjean, the Navy and alcohol coupons!  Aren't you so glad for modern technology allowing us to travel side by side such diverse people?  It's a wonderful thing!

Sometimes I wonder if I set myself up for failure.  Perhaps I subconsciously attract those who will walk all over me or just eventually fade away.  That, or I guess it could be that everone does that.  Perhaps no one really cares for anyone else unless they need something, in which case, once the need is filled the "friend" is then discarded like an old sock, nothing left to perpetuate a relationship. 
Is there, then, any such thing as love?  ...Or is love only a pretty word to cover up selfishishness, conditionalism and lustful desires?  I generally tend towards the belief that the few who truly do love, dish it out to all as though ladlefuls of soup, eventually discovering that all have eaten it, leaving the disher alone and with naught but a hard, cold, empty pot, and an empty stomach.  They then learn to only dish to friends and family, hoping to avoid being hurtfully taken advantage of.  However, at times even friends and family can be the farthest from warm and considerate.  In this case, slowly but surely, all will be plagued at some point with pots full of cold, stale soup that each is afraid to share, so all slowly die of lonliness and starvation if not by food poisoning. 
Is there such a thing as love, or is it yet another foolish fairytale told only to lie to small, bright-eyed children who dream of a world holding in store for them a marvelous future, but who are destined only to get lost in the crowds busily wandering the dull, gloomy streets?  Those with enough reason and logic, or maybe just enough experience to rule out hope, might one day find themselves cruelly swearing off all and any allegiance, companionship and relationship, becoming instead invested and enamored with work... seeing as it is a more trustworthy and rewarding connection, thereby working themselves into the grave, depending on none other than themselves.

How, then, do we cure the world of food poisoning?  Is there any such thing as love? 

When I'm worried

And I can't sleep

I count my blessing instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

When my bankroll
Is getting small

I think of when

I had none at all

And I fall asleep

Counting my blessings

I think about a nursery

And I picture curly heads

And one by one I count them

As they slumber,

In their beds

If you're worried,

And you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep

Counting your blessings

-Rosemary Clooney

Too many nights I can't sleep.  Maybe I worry, but I think I just overanalyze my day, my friends, my family, my work, my school, my problems, my ideas, my goals and dreams, and then I have nights like this when I don't want to go to sleep because I'm too busy thinking.  It could just be that I know I don't have to get up early, but I get thinking about good things, too, like the people I love, like people I miss, and people I care about but might not ever see again.  I wonder where they are, where life has carried them.  I wonder where different choices would have carried me.  And after I think about the past I dream of the future.  I think of possible jobs, if I'll like them or not, wonder if I'll keep doing the same things much longer.  But then I wonder about things I can learn and study, places I can go and visit, new things I can do, new adventures I can go on.  What if I went rockclimbing or rafting down the grand canyon?  Or what if I went on a week long backpacking trip?  Where could I go to ride an elephant?  I wonder if they smell funny?  But then I wonder even so far as to future family, who and when will I marry?  How many kids will I have?  Will they be curly headed blondes?  Will they love to do the things I did when I was little?  Will they be sweet or stubborn?  Then I wonder what my house will be like, what pets we'll have, where I'll live, where my brothers and sisters will go, what they'll study.  It's amazing to think just how different everything could be in a few years.  So much has changed since high school, or even in this past year.  One never knows!  So I fall asleep counting my blessings.  I'm so happy to be where I am, know all I do, and have so many fantastic opportunities.  And sometimes the most beautiful thing it the world is looking out the window and seeing the sun shining down making even the gloomier days bright and clear!

I'm restless.  Day turns to night, the sun sets behind the great, white powdered mountains.  The green fades to gray, the leaves all slip away.  Days shorten, the cold nights are steadily longer.  I fight to maintain my summer mood, still yearn to see the sun rise each day, only wishing it would last longer.  My life is ever changing, yet still at a stand-still.  Fighting these road blocks and trying to ignore the ambulence lights going off in my head. 
Where's the sun?  They seem to think they can compensate for the bad weather by stringing up bright shining lights, and true, they do lighten the mood and cause excitement, but they don't warm my face when I look at them, they don't bring back the green, the Saturday hikes, nor the free feeling of flying down the road on two wheels, or hearing my feet pounding out the miles in the community races.  Funny how everyone else is finally waking up, speeding along in life, while I've come to confused stop, but why? 

Something's not right.  I can't seem to move and I don't know where I am.  I try to express myself but the faces around me are strange and don't comprehend my slurred words, incohesively pouring out.  Where am I?  What happened?  Did I do this or what is it that happened?  Why the commotion?  I'd love to help, but I think I'm the one they're trying to figure out.  Was it the snowy roads?  A drunk driver?  Was I texting again?  I can't seem to remember.  Where's my....?  But then who was with me?  Not family, not friend, was there someone even along the way?  I'm always so careful to follow the lines, be considerate of other drivers, follow the lights and signs, follow detours and traffic laws even when they seem trivial, so would could possibly have landed me here at such a dead end destination?  I must have missed something somewhere along the way, I guess there's only so much retrospection until you come to the point where it doesn't matter, you are where you are and can only wonder, what next?  Will I somehow always be inhibited for this, or will I move on from it only wiser and more experienced?  What am I to do to move on from here?  Perhaps I did nothing wrong, and this is merely the course my life must take, but what if I did?  Won't someone tell me?  Or was it someone else?  Did I get hit?  Or was it a mere turn of nature against me?

Where is the sun?  I can't seem to see, and I'm blindly groping about for the right way to turn, trying to determine my route or even recall where it was I wanted to go.  I seem to have no one to guide me.  They all offer opinions, "go left", "go right", "no, turn another 45 degrees", "actually go the opposite direction".  Do I even know who you are?  Where are you directing me?  Who am I to go to?  Is there anyone I can fully trust to find my way, especially when I don't recall my destination?  So I cover my ears, and stand still, trying to recall some glimpse of a memory to hold to despite the ambulence lights again going off in my head.  I can't trust the dark world yelling about me, not one inch of it, and I haven't any experience to go off of, but perhaps if I can simply make decisions and stand by them, at least I'll arrive somewhere, right?  I only hope it's a good place, where night doesn't prevail, where I can see the green again and feel the warmth of the sun  on my face.

With all the changes that life exacts from a person, one wonders who he or she truly is.  It seems that we are pushed to bend and mold to so many situations and different people, so many styles to live a life.  I have changed so many times, and tried to maintain an "open mind" to everyone's particular ways.  I keep assuming they need to have the freedom to live their own way, set their own standards of morals and beliefs, determine their own direction, and be the sole creators of their stories. 

I have seen the strict life of giving your utmost to living as near perfect as possible, and I've seen the lives of slack driven by violence, drugs, poverty and professed "fun".  I've not been that far on the spectrum, yet I have seen my own morals and values slide up and down the scale depending on whom I try to adapt to.  Being friends with some requires accumulation of their own ideas on how life ought to be faced.  Funny thing is that you get to a point where you can see, understand, and even almost agree with every aspect of others' perspectives, even if they're completely against what you've always believed.  I may not take on those beliefs, but I can see where they come from, understand why it is so, and therefore cease to oppose it.
So then the question arises, what is it that I believe?  Putting aside my ability to understand all other options, what do I chose to accept as my belief system, my moral scale, and my way of life?  What things will I not do even if I can comprehend the logic (or lack thereof) behind it?

When a chameleon changes colors for every background, trying to blend in to every situation, does it lose it's own true color?  Does it forget what color it was born or merely choose to be a different one?  If someone were to wear a mask long enough, would they become the face imprinted on that mask?  Would they inherit the charateristics of the personality portrayed?  If you constantly try to please people and do things their way, think or even live their ways, do you become something different than what you are, and if so, is it better or worse that where you started?  Would the painted face be happier blending in, or showing it's true self despite standing out?

What is it about little kids that changes us?  They seem to come into life with such a sweetness and innocence that can't be described.  They bring a light with them, adventure, simplicity, and an ability to love without reservation.  They do the silliest things and find delight in random and plain things.  They aren't yet tainted by pain, revenge, time and schedules, lost opportunities, regret, forgotten dreams and the evils in the world.  To them the world is a gigantic jungle gym of games and amazing options.  They are full of ideas about how it could be and hopes and dreams to be fulfilled.  They can be repetitive to the point of insanity, loud and occasionally obnoxious, rude and incessantly inquiring. Nonetheless, we generally put up with all their quirks understanding that they have no idea how annoyed we become and that they aren't purposely pushing our buttons.  Sometimes they ask big questions or make such important comments and then you suddenly realize the wisdom of a child.  

Sometimes on the streets, in the stores, in the busiest places you might see the old and hardened faces of those who've been pushed to the end of their ropes, but then a little one might pass them by, or stop to say something that brightens their eyes and softens the face, and brings a smile.  I think God needed to send the world the miracle of children to brighten our lives and remind us of the simple and optimistic side of life.  He wants to give us untainted eyes to glance through from time to time, and a chance to refresh our hopes and dreams.  What better way to ease the burdens of the world but to give us little burdens that help lighten the load? 

Sometimes it is found sitting precariously in the middle of the road, only to infuriate passing drivers.  You carefully wrap it up just to be torn open in a flash of paper and color. You could find refuge in one from the rain.  You may have to slice it open or somehow yank staples out of it.  You generally see more on your birthday and at Christmas, or if you order something new it might end up in one on your doorstep.  You could eat a picnic on or in one, or if it's strong enough you could sit on it.  It may be your pet's favorite plaything.  It could be the stage for a puppet show.  It may hold your dirtly laundry.  You can fold the flaps in or stack things on top to keep it shut.  You can flatten it and slide down a snowy hill on it.  You can turn it into a rocketship, a mask, a wagon, a costume.  You carefully store away your belongings in it to move or keep safe. It can be full of bubble wrap or colorful packing peanuts.  You find the electric outlet in it. It can carry a new computer monitor, or junk you'd like to donate.  If a man loves a woman he might give her one. You gather fruit in it and load it onto trucks. You get new shoes in it. It can be of cardboard, paper, wood, plastic, leather, metal, concrete. It is used in businesses, schools, homes, stores.  You can carry pets in it.  You can bury things and people in it.  It can be any color.  It can have stripes or polka-dots, or it could even be transparent.  It can have a bow or string, stickers or paint, letters or arrows, decorative wrappings or nothing.  It can be plain or fancy, contain something beautifully wonderful, or horendously distasteful, something very sentimental or then again, nothing at all.  It can be bigger than your refrigerator, or small as your fingernail.  But in some ways, at least, it is always the same.  A box will always have a top and bottom, four sides and eight pointy corners.  It can always contain something and is a very curious, yet simple thing.

She seems to think the world belongs to her and will happily put what she wants directly into her hands. She expects you to kneel before her carefully and lovingly, and devoutly allow her to crush your fingers into the dirt. Despite being young and naive, she believes to tower above those older and wiser than her just because she's experienced some of the rougher sides of life. So she's been hurt! Who hasn't cried? Who hasn't had their heart torn out and shredded before their eyes? We all belong to the same world that sometimes crushes our biggest dreams and turns our heroes and hopes into lies and empty fantasies. Perhaps she simply hasn't yet come to that realization and therefore is prisoner to her heartache and anger. Rather than despise her rotten spectacle of almighty dominion and power, what would happen if I simply tried to understand where she's coming from and exercise sympathy? Would patience and love accomplish anything or would she only continue to stample down everyone close to her? How does one help others to see what they are doing wrong in a kindly and decent manner? "Teaching them a lesson" rarely accomplishes the desired result, therefore, what does it take? Even with children it always takes something different to form a correct behavior. Some people simply need example, others need discipline, others need lecture, some need love and attention, some need to simply keep busy and have lots of activity to distract from bad behavior. But it can be so much easier to retaliate in anger.

clown: a comic performer who wears outlandish costume and entertains in exaggerated or rediculous fashion.

When we think of clowns we might picture the circus, a bright red nose, big feet, juggling, mismatched clothing, a large smile painted in vibrant colors and silly tricks. Clowns are generally meant to entertain the public, to make people laugh and stare in awe. They often do tricks or act like fools to catch your attention. What good is a clown if he blends in to the crowd, wears boring clothing, or isn't well equipped with red balls, tricks and jokes? Why is the clown expected to humiliate himself in attempt to keep us laughing? Who is this guy anyway? Does anyone recognize him under all that face paint and the goofy wig? I wonder what he really thinks and feels. I can't tell if he is truly smiling under the large, fake, paint-cracked grin. Surely he is only doing his job. Do you think he even enjoys it? Do you think he is laughing or is he sick of all his old tricks?

We may not see clowns on an everyday basis, but I see people everywhere who have adopted many similar traits and abilities. We may not be expected to act like fools or juggle in parks, but we succumb to many social and cultural expectations despite what we may truly desire to do or be. Perhaps our face paint isn't white and red, but instead we cover our flaws and paste on a smile when really we aren't happy. We may not wear a wig, but we can paint our hair any color we wish and cut it to any form the most modern magazines suggest. We don't generally dress in oversized overalls or plaid shirts with mismatched buttons and frilly collars, but we keep up with all the movie stars and famous singers and will happily put on whatever hideous apparel they say is "in". We form ourselves to the demands of society, acting like everyone wants us to, and putting our own hopes and dreams on the backburner to first fulfill the popular demands that encumber us.

What would the world be like if we weren't afraid of not "fitting in"? What if it were ok to dress as we like without adjusting our fashions to those of others? Should we all wear the same hairstyles and use the same customs? To what degree can we practice individuality without suffering the scorn of modern fashion? Why be something you don't necessarily want to be, or why act a certain way only to fit in? Can we still befriend those of differing customs and get along just fine? Where do we draw the line?

In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. -author unknown

There is nothing in life like a sister... or even better, two! They are the people who best understand you, your past, what you like and loathe, and who you really are. No matter how much they can irritate you, you know they are always there for you and always will be. We are especially interesting sisters.
Hannah is my complete opposite and was once my arch-enemy, yet now we are best friends and have since found that we have a lot more in common than we thought. She's the one I teased about martians leaving a little surprise on the sink one night, the one who I've fought with more than anyone else on the planet, and who can infuriate me more than maniac driving and dumb boys, yet who can make me feel more at home and happy than any other soul alive. She's the one who fought with me in front of the bishop to my greatest humiliation, the one who laughs at my utterly blond rediculousness, remembers me getting gum stuck all over my hands and face in the back of dad's car one day, the one who fights with me over what to name the truck and who's it is, the one who loves to leave the library with towering stacks of fantastic books giggling over who might see us and think we're book nerds, well, we are! She loves to go with me to antique shops and look at the old books and piano music with aging pages that smell of old dreams come true and young girls' hopes. Who better to count with? I love her with my whole soul and laugh at the many many times I was sure we'd never talk again and that we'd always share a perfect hatred for each other.
Kelsey, on the other hand, is more like me. In a lot of ways she resembles me, not only in looks, but also in personality. While Hannah is a crazy social butterfly and a crazy flirt, Kelsey is more quiet and reserved. While Hannah wants to excel in drama, music and singing, is a beautiful actress and loves poetry, Kelsey wants to save all the dogs and birds, be a marine biologist and gets pretty near perfect grades. She loves many of the things that I do, such as animals, drawing, painting, playing in the band, marching band, going running, being outdoors and active, etc. She's also the world's sweetest person. She's a great peacemaker. When Hannah and I fought, Kelsey tried to calm us down and help us understand eachother. She's the silly one who flops out of bed in the night, crawls across the floor, flips on the light and climbs back in fast asleep, leaving me on the top bunk to try to figure out why there's suddenly a burst of light and no desire to leave the warm covers and kill it. She goes running with me and listens to funny music like jazz and other odd stuff I've never heard. She could probably save the world with her big heart and loves to volunteer at the animal shelter. She's more patient than you'd think is possible and is quite the little lady.
You know life is good when you have two of your favorite people in the world to tell your secrets, your problems, your sad stories, and your good news. I can't wait til Christmas to visit them!

Hiking!!!

So! I went hiking up Alpine yesterday. It was incredible! The waterfall was beautiful and the weather was terrific as well. Somehow way up there everything else seems so small and insignificant and all your worries and concerns sort of fade away into the distance along with the city and traffic lights. What more can one ask for?

Crazy Life

Life is so full of strange and bizarre experiences. Some are full of delight and leave you glowing with a sense of freedom whereas others bring you down so low you just don't know how to recover. There are so many things to navigate if you wish to accomplish your dreams and goals. I seem to be doing well with life, but there's always something important to worry about. I suppose that's part of the great adventure of living. It would be nothing but boring if it never rained, if the pot holes never appeared in our paths, if our families were nothing but perfect, if all our greatest wishes were automatically granted and all our dreams suddenly made reality without the struggle that brings them to life. I guess all you can really do is grin when the rain starts falling and just jump right in with both feet and enjoy it to the fullest.