This post could be read as one eats a stew.

Waiting for your
call I'm sick, call I'm angry,
call I'm desperate for your voice
Listening to the song we used to sing
In the car, do you remember, butterfly?
Early summer, it's playing on repeat
Just like when we would meet

Back when I was nine, I thought the Olympics were the bombshizdizzle, just cuz. When I was thirteen, it was the grandest sporting event I'd ever seen, full of strength and precision and races decided by the gods of time. Now, at the age of seventeen, I have found a new reason to appreciate their return: the plethora of muscular, handsome, all-around freaking attractive men. I can't handle myself when the US male gymnastics team comes on, what with Jake Dalton's Twilight vampiric face and Sam Mikulak's perfect hair. And then there's the swimmers. Good heavens, please shield my eyes when the divers' clear and countable abs or the glorious lord of all attractive Olympians Ryan Lochte, with his magnetic blue eyes and his brilliant smile and his chest and arms and hair, come on the screen, or I'll be a dead, infatuated woman.

I like band, a lot.

My mother said I have to become an adult. That's not actually what she said at all, but it seems kind of implied with half the stuff my parents tell me these days. Graduation is May 30th. I would tell you how many days that is, but I am far too lazy. Let's get real.

I remembered something very dear and important (though it appears to not be very dear and important seeing as I forgot about it til now) that pertains especially and only to the month of July. I'll be making a phone call or two tomorrow... You know who you are (you probably don't); you have been warned.

And I'm tired of being all alone
And this solitary moment
Makes me want to come back home

Mother Bird

This is ridiculous.

He is an adult. Nineteen and a half years old. Bipolar, but plenty smart enough. And he just has to go and get involved with a girl who just turned sixteen. Except it's not just any girl who just turned sixteen, it's her. The girl he tried to escape, the girl who who he couldn't stand, who abused herself and lost his respect, who hurt him, who cussed him out to my face multiple times. The girl he claimed to hate and swore he would never talk to again. According to sources aka I had to hear it from somebody else, he hung out with her and was a total idiot and now she's getting all vulnerable and I'm sitting here not giving a damn about her and wanting to beat him like the terrible person I am.

It's like I'm his parent; he never wants to talk to me under normal circumstances, but when's there's a problem, he comes running to me looking for magical solutions I'll whip out in the form of an email to a teacher or soccer coach or ex-girlfriend. Naturally, he wouldn't tell me about something like this, but being his mom, I found out about it somehow, and I am so frustrated. I try so hard to help him, to be there for him, to chase away the suicidal thoughts and welcome any positive ideas he has. I can see all the potential he has and all I've done to inspire and contribute to that greatness, and then he just goes back to his old habits, feelings, girls. And I know that nothing will come out of this and he will feel so sad and angry and hurt and he. Will come. To me.

I just want him to be happy. Can't he see that? But almost as much as I want him to be happy, I want happiness for myself. It is so hard to watch him engage in douchebaggery and idiotic and quite possibly behavior and to continue to have feelings of unconditional love. Many of his recent actions create an image of himself that paints over the fond memories of him, of us.

What am I to do? I need to support him, I always have had to, have wanted to. But what happens when his self-destructive behaviors start destroying me?

/end rant

"All you do is take, and I have nothing to give right now."

/end movie quote I watched today that matches up with and/or continues the rant

/real end rant

Forever Alone

I'm probably not going to be a very good parent. No self-pitying here, just a probably correct assumption. A resignation, if you will.

Though that would require me having a man, let alone a husband. We all know that's certainly not looking likely to happen anytime in the next decade, AT LEAST. Definite self-pitying here. Everyone's already got a ladyfriend in their life. My single relationship status: it's like a preexisting condition that brings me grief from insurance companies.

And there goes all the confidence I acquired after watching a video that told me it's okay to not always be in a relationship, even to not be in one at all, especially as teenagers. I was so set on finding meaning in my life from friendships and mental/physical?/spiritual growth and defining myself, not with a man, but with the things I do.

Now I just want to sit in a corner and glare at everyone who's going on dates and holding hands and calling each other and maybe just being in love. That'll show them (what a freak I really could be).

An Open Letter to Heather

Dear Heather,

Once upon a time today you offered me a square of duct tape, and I was overjoyed, to say the least. I probably scared any younger children that might have been watching, what with all the happy exclamations, sincerely sincere hug, and the tears that almost fell from my eyes. I thought it might be slightly helpful if I explained my happiness.

Once upon a time in eighth grade, I was a professional weirdo. I wore five colors of eyeshadow a day and refused to sit in chairs at desks in my English and Yearbook classes. I also wore post it notes on my sleeve. I would place a post it note on my sleeve and just walk around all day, as if wearing a pair of earrings or tennis shoes with laces. Soon, my friends began to donate post its that read "It's her thang!" and other embarrassingly middle school phrases to adorn my arms with. Emblazoned with paper that was inked upon with love, I felt I could take on the world.

The second element enters a year and a half later during the Summer of Love. I had been dating the dear Micaiah for a month or two when the guard put together a car wash to raise money. One of the rotations at the car wash was stand on the street corner, wave posters and a banner flag from our upcoming field show, and call out to people to try to bring in customers that weren't members of our families. I took a turn out on the corner with my not-so-secret secret boyfriend, and we had a blast dancing and singing and gasping when little kids in cars glared at us on that street corner. Suddenly, we discovered a square of fluorescent green duct tape on the light pole. We stared at it, wondering who had any use of putting a small purposeless piece of duct tape on a random pole, until Micaiah peeled it off. He gently stuck it near my heart (still in a nonviolating spot) and smiled. He then hugged me on that corner in broad daylight, nestling his chin in my neck as I held a 15 foot flag in one hand. I nervously asked why he hugged me in public and he answered, "I can hug my girlfriend in public, can't I? After all, I am kind of a bit in love with her." We spent the rest of the day spraying each other with hoses and styling my hair into a foamy mohawk and eating imaginary Mexican food. The green duct tape a post it note replacement for a day and then set up shop on a lamp I decorated with Beatles stickers, filled with fake flowers and beads instead of a light bulb, and painted quotes and the names we picked for our "someday future" children painted with nail polish. I still have the tape to this day.

Wow, I'm sure you wanted to know all that just to figure out why my eyes watered with such a simple and even mundane gift.

The great part is that you actually didn't need to know any of that to know that I was happy. You not knowing the story at the time did not take away any of my enjoyment. You don't have the same memories I do, but you do have the ability to make me smile. I've been missing Austin so dearly, but you made it clear that I do have friends here. There are again people in my life who will present me with office supplies and odd ideas. I know for certain that there are people who don't think I'm too weird for them.

The polka dotted duct tape is now on my bathroom mirror, and I honestly don't feel quite so alone.

On Death Threats and Religion

There has been a lot of controversy surrounding a YouTuber named Laci Green lately due to videos she made in the past where she used derogatory terms and voiced very strong opinions denouncing the Mormon and Islamic religions. People have discovered these videos recently and demanded an apology. She readily agreed, apologized, and took down some a particularly negative video. Despite her efforts to apologize, she has been receiving death threats and has had her address put out on the Internet where those offenders can see it. She has had to leave all social networking and basically go into hiding, and these attackers are applauding the fact that they have caused her to fear for her life.

This whole situation is wrong on so many levels. First of all, it is okay for people to have their own opinions. I am a Mormon and have a fairly good relationship with its teachings and members. I also realize that many people have had negative experiences with the church or have personal beliefs that clash so strongly with its teachings. That is okay. I would love for everyone to be a Mormon and be happy and kind to each other and root out all evil in the world. But honestly, I would be perfectly fine if everyone were Muslim or Catholic or atheist and were happy and kind to each other and striving to root out all evil in the world. Better yet, we could all have our own religion or lack thereof, have our own belief system, and just be good human beings to everyone, regardless of who they are or what they think. People can say and think and feel what they want, and I have no right to take that away from them.

Secondly, it is never okay to threaten someone with death. They may feel personally victimized by Laci, but that shame and pain they feel can and should be dealt with otherwise. I think those first people who asked for an apology were appropriate in their course of action. They let Laci know that they felt hurt by her statements, and she not only apologized, but also took down one of the offending videos. It should have ended their. Killing is wrong, no what matter what. I don't know of any organization, religion, or group of people today that says it is okay to threaten those you don't agree with or even hate with death. Maybe I'm just a naive little girl in saying that, but it life is a fundamental human right. And to think that these people would celebrate the fact that they have made this girl fear for her life makes it all the more devastating.

I watched a great video on this event done by a gay Catholic man. He commented on how he felt victimized by the aforementioned religions on the basis of his homosexuality, but stressed the importance of separating people from the religion, citing his Mormon friend to be one of the kindest people he knows who has shown him nothing but love. I am so glad that there are people out there who may disagree with groups and organizations, but show love to and appreciate those members that show them love and respect no matter what. I am also grateful to those members that give people these positive opportunities and experiences.

I believe the inverse is also the same. We must not only separate the people from the religion, but the religion from the people. I have met and encountered many Christians of all denominations who are racist, homophobic, prejudiced, and judgmental. But the Mormon religion is one of acceptance, forgiveness, and love. True, it does not allow or approve of homosexuality, but I have been a member my whole life and I have never been told to shun, hate, or kill anyone who follows its practices. My parents, teachers, and church officials have never taught me that one of my best friends must die or burn in hell simply because he is gay. To say that all Mormons hate the LGBT community because of the church's position on the issue is just as wrong as saying the religion hates the LGBT community because of some members' actions.

Nobody is perfect, and yet, nobody can seem to fully internalize that fact.

Basically people have their opinions, and it is not okay to attack individuals or entire groups. If there is an issue, we should discuss it like the human beings we are and not disdain, threaten, or hurt each other. I hope everyone, including myself, would realize this as soon as possible and put more love, respect, and understanding into action.

Peanut Butter

I feel sick. Probably because I ate eggs at 6:30, doughnuts at 1, and a hulk of a peanut butter sandwich at 8. I licked the knife after I put on the peanut butter and realized how hungry I actually was, so I repeatedly knifed the peanut butter and ate at least half of my recommended daily amount of fat. I tried strawberry jam instead of the usual grape, and the bread was so white and fluffy, I just couldn't help devouring it like a madman. As a consequence, I now feel like crap.

Tonight has definitely been an "I miss Texas" night, probably thanks to my skyping with Preethi and text conversation with Micaiah last night. I hung up my Westwood colorguard warm ups while organizing my room and spent an eternity remembering all the songs we sang and dirty jokes we "accidentally" made and all the hugs and injuries and bus rides and stretches and food and laughter and kisses and glitter and tickle fights and tears and pain and love and joy.

Then I found my key of happiness and thought about my first and bestest friends, Abby and Chloe and Sophia, and all the classes we shared and our lunch table that no one could take away or break apart and all the conversations we had on tables and under trees and atop bunk beds that made us laugh and cry and feel like we had figured this crazy world out once and for all.

That got me onto facebook, where I scanned pictures of the hilarious and lovable Becca from freshman year and my gingers in ASL and the band kids that were such a huge part of my life. I knew these people. I went to school with some of them for four years, and the rest came with the band family package. I saw them as if they were only small children when I knew them that have grown to become young adults, beautiful and confident and dating each other and ready to take on the world.

It's just not the same here.

Not Antisocial

I am proud of myself. I went to the weekly "Prayer in the Park" where my ward has a prayer and spiritual thought every Sunday evening. Usually, I just take a nap or pretend I'm sick when it comes around. Not only did I go, I actually talked to four people, three of which I planned to meet with tomorrow to finish putting together a baby shower for one of our leaders. My mother tried to get me to stay and talk to the "teenfolk," as she put it, but I had already used up my quota of talking to people in the ward for that day. She said that my sister and I were being antisocial and I had to correct her: I am not antisocial. I am an introvert. She said I was a very social person with people I knew (to which I mentally answered with an eloquent "duh"). I could have forced my way into conversations about a school I don't attend full of people I don't know with girls who seem adequately nice, albeit a bit strange and girly and apparently devoid of any nerdy qualities.

That, or I could go home and sit down with a cup of tea to read Catch-22. Quite frankly, I am enjoying this latter option a whole lot more.

The Great Gatsby

Despite it's flowery language and menagerie of fantastical characters and settings, Gatsby is an extremely relatable book. The great titular man and the people around him can easily be compared to teenagers, Americans, and humanity in general today.

Wow, don't I sound ready to write a crappy AP test essay.

But seriously, this book is so cool for the way it shows people trying to achieve their dreams. The two main groups of people are shown with Gatsby on one side and Daisy and Tom on the other. Gatsby seems to have a nobler dream, that of obtaining Daisy at last, than the Buchanans, who are happy with their riches and gilded relationship. However, Gatsby dies having spent years throwing parties in hopes she would come in a house he bought to be near her and believing that she would leave Tom once they were reunited in vain. Daisy and Tom don't seem to love each other, living in a tolerable coexistence, tdisappearing out of the blue. Yet they are the ones who live. Gatsby dies with nothing, having sought after a love that he believed to be attainable, but had been lost since he left for the war.

People say that those who seek after riches are silly and shallow. But is holding on to an unachievable, albeit "noble", dream just as silly? What if someone is determined to go to a certain college and they apply year after year only to be rejected every time and never go anywhere else in the meantime? Or if an adult decides they want to be part of the US Olympic gymnastics team and begins to train for the first time in their mid twenties? No matter how dedicated they are to practicing, it's impossible to have the level of experience needed for such a position. No matter how much Gatsby or I or countless others love someone from our past, that does not guarantee that they will return our undying affection. We should never give up on all other possibilities because of our devotion to a lost cause, and yet we can't seem to escape the green light at the end of the dock.

And then there's Nick. I think many of us feel like Nick, floating around in hopes of finding a good job or true love or a cheap house. We know what we want, eventually, but put little effort into actually obtaining anything in the present. And then, we end up laying on the beach at night and wanting to return home as we become fed up with all the phonies and injustice around us. We see ourselves as above the monotonous crowds of people we encounter daily, while we ignore the fact that we cared little about the Jordan Bakers in our lives and become angry and in love when they leave. We are lost, and we wander around searching for a landmark that erodes away from neglect once we find it.

Perhaps that's what makes it such an enduring book. We can read about fictional characters in a time period we'll never experience and still feel so connected because we see ourselves buried in between the pages. The prose is gorgeous and inspiring, but I can especially appreciate a book that makes me look not only at the printed ink and paper, but also at myself.

The Day For Me

It started out lamely.

I woke up at 6 in the morning, rushed to the bathroom, and hopped back into bed, expecting to reawaken between 8:39 and 9:17. I might as well have expected a leprechaun to sing me a lullaby since I did not fall asleep again. Correction: two and a half hours later, I crashed on the edge of Abram's bed that's shaped like a racecar. Slept for about an hour and awoke to find myself a babysitter. Watched some SNL, folded laundry, searched for jobs on the internet, made fun of 80s music videos with Isaac to hide the fact that we were terrified and disturbed by them. The unordinary and unsatisfying usual.

Then it got so very much worse.

A pipe in our backyard burst. This led to much of the basement. I had to try to save all the electronics, boxes of papers, and board games from the office, the instruments in Isaac's room, and the laundry piles in the laundry room. We soon ran out towels and watched as the office filled with an inch of water full of dirt, dead bugs, and ink from fallen markers and printer cartridges. My mom was at a doctor appointment, and my dad was in Texas. Both of them were calling back and forth on the two phones, and everyone was yelling trying to figure it out. After almost two hours, I was able to shower all the nasty water I had slipped in off of me and wait for my ride to band that got me there late. Poor Caitlin was about to collapse.

It ended quite nicely.

Band practice made me so much happier. I felt so good conducting the brass since I am so close to having the whole opener memorized. They got a talking to about their mistakes, but I gave a little pep talk and they responded positively. I was just able to feed off of their energy. Caitlin released us with the "Eyes: With Pride" call, which is just the coolest. All through the night, I snacked on the dinner dear Sabrina had bought for me. I just love band.

It's Good To Be Back

Going to the Drum Major Academy in Indiana was one of the greatest things I've ever been able to do. It was honestly one of the best weeks of my life, and I am so grateful to all the people who made it the best experience I could ever imagine. I would love to post more on the subject, but it's been empirically proven I can literally talk about that week for at least an hour; I'll spare you.

But as much as I wish I could go back to Indiana and relive and reexperience that week, I am so glad to be home. Mostly because of the fact that it's back to marching band time. Last week was a nonstop band week, and this week certainly feels like one.

I am so very tired right now. 'm having dreams that are influencing what I type and saw.