I'll write more when I have time but for now, two wonderful quotes....








"You were born and original. Don't die a copy." -John Mason




"When I am president, I am going to make sure all the homeless people have a house. They won't even have to pay for it. And I'll give them a car too. They need something to go in the garage." -Victoria, age 8 (one of my former dance students)




True dat.

Quite a few of you have been asking about or offering to help with the dance studio crisis right now. Firstly, I thank you all for your on-going support, and your constant concern. Most of you were also aware that my life consisted of school, sports, and dance, and that I spent an average of three hours a night (four nights a week) at the dance studio, both teaching and taking classes, and doing administrative work (i.e. ordering costumes, writing tuition receipts, etc). So as to not have to continuously re-tell what happened, I am going to post it once, and hopefully that will suffice for most of you, and if not, I will gladly provide further info, but I also don't want any of you to think this is an evocation of sympathy, but I am hoping that you can further understand what has happened in the last week.

On Monday night, I went to the studio, as usual, to teach the beginning level hiphop class, as I always do. I found it odd that the studio was dark and locked, because there are two classes before mine. [I forgot my key that day.] Thinking my teacher was late, and the other classes had maybe been cancelled (can we say naive?) I decided to wait around for a few minutes. Well, the students in my class started showing up....and still no teacher. (the class was supposed to begin at 7pm, and it was going on 7:15 by this time). I tried the director's cell phone three times, but could not even get her voice mail to pick up. That's odd, I thought. Calling her house, I began to worry when I still got no answer nor a voicemail. I apologized to the parents and told them that I didn't know (nor understand) what was going on. We all left, determined to figure this out.

The next day, I told Coach Jones that I couldn't go to the basketball game because I would need to go unlock the studio and teach ALL the classes, just in case the director didn't show up again. I was beginning to wonder if I would need to file a missing person's report, and was very concerned, because the director always took running the studio very seriously and I couldn't imagine that she would let us down like this. I got to the studio a little before five Tuesday night, and already parents were showing up, two of whom had been there the night before. Again, the studio was eerily dark, and of course locked. But AH HA! I had a key! I put the key up to the dead bolt, only to find that it didn't fit--- at all. After fultily spending forty five seconds trying to force the key to fit, I decided I was going crazy and must have the wrong key.... (again, can we say naive?). The parents and I all stood around talking about what in the world could be going on, while the six kids ran around, using up the energy they had conserved for dance class. I tried her cell phone number five more times, and her home number. Still nothing, but I did get a voice mail message on her cell. I left an urgent message, begging her to call me. Suddenly, the lady who works next door came out. "Excuse me," she said politely. "Are y'all here for the dance class?" she asked in her southern drawl. We all nodded, eager yet nervous to hear what she had to say. "Well, um... the landlord came here and changed the locks. We don't know why, but he did. I don't have any other information for you. I'm sorry." As she turned around, we all looked at each other in utter disbelief. Our studio? What's happened? Where's the money? What happens now? What do we tell these five and six year olds? Well, I won't lie, the tears started falling. All the time and energy, sweat, money, devotion I poured into this studio, my studio for the last four years was gone. Gone. I swallowed hard in order to hold it together for the kids, who were now crowding around. Scout, a five-year-old, whose mom is a good friend of ours, came over to me, "Miss Lindsay, does Ms. Ali (the director) have the flu? Is that why she's not here?" I smiled and nodded, "Yeah, Scout, something like that." She told me to tell Ms. Ali that she hoped she felt better, and ran off to play with her friends. The parents and I all exchanged numbers, hoping that one of us would find something out, and this way we could all call each other. As each family drifted away, I was overcome with emptiness, but I couldn't figure out why. You'll find another passion, I told myself. Or you can find another studio. Don't worry. I waited the remaining fifteen minutes until my friends and co-workers (ages 16 and 17) showed up. When they saw the look on my face, they grew concerned. I explained what we knew. They knew nothing more than we did. Hugging, we said our goodbyes, and left. [The Thursday before, the aforementioned friends and I had left the studio, with these final words from Ms. Ali "Have a great weekend. I'll see you on Monday."]

On Thursday, I got a call from the lady who directed the studio last year. She said that Ms. Ali had not paid the rent since July, and that she, Ms. Cathy, had been footing the bill in order that the studio not go up in smoke. "She owes me more than $12, 000," she told me. "You guys aren't going to get refunds, because every dollar you put into dance, be it tuition, costume fees, recital fees, competition fees, whatever, was pocketed by Ms. Ali." WHAT!?!?!? Ok, breathe. I told myself. "I'm sorry that your money's down the drain, Lindsay," she said. I wanted to cry, and tell her it isn't about the money. It never had been. It was about dancing, and loving every second of it. It was about inspiring in my students the same love that I have had for dance since I was three. It was about helping them (and myself) believe in themselves (and myself), enough that they thought their dreams could come true. It was about the adrenaline rush you get when you're at recital or at competitions. It was about the hope that we would make the national-finals this year in the Applause competition. It was about me thinking that my "purpose" in life was dance.....but it wasn't about money. And now, it wasn't about anything. There wasn't anything left.

But I was wrong. There was something left. There were the memories. The memories of throwing our props at each other off-stage and getting yelled at. The memories of turning off all but one of the lights in the studio and doing our lyrical dance ("when you know who you love") in the dark, just for effect. The memories of painting the studio walls and each other at the same time. Subway and Gatorade dinners at 8:00 at night. Driving home with my friends after class and blarring the music from Maria's (the eldest) car, with the windows down. Memories of laughing so hard we couldn't dance, of messing up on stage, of goofing off in class just to peeve the teachers, of traveling all over the state to compete, of sitting in nine square foot dressing rooms for six hours and throwing our clothes at each other during competitions, of hugs after performances, of the time a little girl peed on stage, of curtain calls when the curtains wouldn't close, of the sound system going out in first act of the recital and one of the teachers holding a microphone up to a boombox for the next four hours, of sleeping at each others house and curling each other's hair, of learning to properly apply four colors of eye shadow so they all showed, and of standing on stage at the end, holding hands and bowing while the audience clapped and clapped and cheered. That's what dance was about. That's why four years of hard work was more than worth it. That's why I plan to dance again, just not yet.

Well that was a long long post. Sorry for the length, but I hope this not only explains what happened, but also tells you that you can't look back on something and regret doing it, or look back and resent people or happenings just because it didn't work out. Oh, and something I learned: Bad stuff is NEVER God punishing you. (that's what I thought, but here is what my youth leader said to that: "God never punishes you - sometimes, he allows negative things to happen toyou to test you and your faith in him, like what he let happen to Job, but we have to remember to stand strong in him and know he is in control") There's something to be learned from everything, but I know one thing, I don't want to look back on this in two months and regret putting time and energy into dance, nor do I want to still be angry with Ms. Ali. We all have clay feet. I'm just happy that i got the experience and I have the memories. Remember:

"Live like Heaven is on Earth; love like you've never been hurt; sing like nobody's listening and dance like nobody's watching." (yeah I know it has NOTHING to do with my entire post but I like the saying, so there. hehehe)

PS- If I get brave enough, I might (and the operative word there is might) dance at open mic night.... if this is a terrible idea, please let me know. Definitely don't want to make a fool of myself. ;)

Read this. (yes, I am on my poetry kick....) Enjoy!



Little Things in Life

Author Unknown

Too often we don't realize
what we have until it is gone;
Too often we wait too late to say
"I'm sorry - I was wrong"

Sometimes it seems we hurt the ones
we hold dearest to our hearts;
And we allow foolish things
to tear our lives apart

Far too many times we let
unimportant things into our minds;
And then it's usually too late
to see what made us blind

So be sure that you let people know
how much they mean to you;
Take that time to say the words
before your time is through

Be sure that you appreciate
everything you've got
And be thankful for the little things
in life that mean a lot



Here's another:

LITTLE THINGS
Author Unknown


Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.


Thus the little minutes,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
of eternity.

Right now, though, the majority of my stress level is a result of registration for classes for next year. So far my schedule looks like this:


[7th Period: Science Olympiad]
AP Biology
AP US History
AP English III
Adv. Pre Calculus
Spanish IV
20th Century Topics


The stress comes from wanting to pick classes that will look good on my college application, but also classes that I will enjoy. I would love to take drama, for example, but an A in drama compared to an A in AP Bio on an application looks not as wonderful. So I feel like I should take more "academic" courses instead of taking an elective like drama or art or something. Oh well. I have to go watch a special on Clay now. Later.

Hmmmm. . .what to say? My life is made up of little nothings, all strung together. Well, not really, but there isn't much to talk about. Working hard in school and dance right now, and those are consuming my time. Dance is definitely the better of the two!!! (*grin*)

Right now in dance I am working on quite a few different dances.
The theme for our recital is "A Night On Broadway!" Should be fun. C'mon out and see us! (somewhere in May).


Adv. Jazz ---- Song "Hooray For Love"
Adv. Tap ---- Song (the jazzed up version of) "Fever"
Adv. Hip hop---- a mix of songs, one of which is by Outkast
Int. Clogging ---- the Swedish version of "Cotton Eyed Joe" (yeah, same music, but the words just sound like a jumble of syllables)
Production ---- an 8-minute mix of songs from Chicago, including "Both Reached for the Gun," "All that Jazz," "Mr. Cellaphane," "Cell-Block Tango."
Adv. Lyrical ---- "When You Know Who You Love" (the sweetest song ever!)
Gymnastics/Jazz Duet ---- "I Can't Wait to be King" from The Lion King (the Broadway Kids' version!!!)
My Solo---- song is unknown yet, but I am open to suggestions. I have thought about two songs from A Chorus Line, including "One [Singular Sensation]" and "I Hope I Get It," which is the opening song. I have also looked at doing something from Westside Story, or possibly just a song I find that I like. It would either be Lyrical or Jazz.

I wanted to share a poem with y'all that I came across in eighth grade. It had a profound effect on me, and I hope that you can see why. Enjoy.



Pretty Good
There once was a pretty good student,
Who sat in a pretty good class,
And was taught by a pretty good teacher,
Who always let pretty good pass.

He wasn't terrific at reading,
He wasn't a whiz-bang at math,
But for him education was leading
Straight down a pretty good path.

He didn't find school too exciting,
but he wanted to do pretty well,
And he did have some trouble with writing,
And nobody had taught him to spell.

When doing arithmetic problems,
Pretty good was regarded as fine,
five and five needn't add up to be ten,
A pretty good answer was nine.

The pretty good class that he sat in,
Was part of a pretty good school,
And the student was not an exception,
On the contrary , he was the rule.

The pretty good school that he went to,
Was there in a pretty good town,
And nobody there seemed to notice,
He could not tell a verb from a noun.

The pretty good student in fact was
Part of a pretty good mob,
And the first time he knew what he lacked was,
When he looked for a pretty good job.

It was then when he sought a position,
He discovered that life could be tough,
And he soon had a sneaky suspicion,
Pretty good may not be good enough.

The pretty good town in our story,
Was part of a pretty good state,
Which had pretty good aspirations,
And prayed for a pretty good fate.

There once was a pretty good nation,
Pretty proud of the greatness it had,
Which learned much too late, if you want to be great
Pretty good, is in fact, pretty bad.

I haven't posted in a while, so I will attempt to catch everyone up on the oh-so-thrilling events of my life. First, I will tell you all about the AP Env. Sci UN conference we had in APES. Well, each student was given a role to play (of an actual person) and they had to stay in character while we put on a "population conference". Basically we were supposed to come up with a United Nations Treaty to help control the world's rapid population expansion. It would have been a lot more fun if I had even half-way agreed with my character on any of a number of issues. I had Paul Ehrlich, who believes that the U.S. should put luxury taxes on diapers, cribs, bottles, and all other baby necessities. While I understand where he is coming from (developed nation's populations use about 80% of the world's resources, while the developing nations use the other twenty, even though the population is much higher in developing nations.), I do not believe that this is a reasonable solution. He would like to give cash to any couple who goes five years without having a child (yeah, invasion of privacy. . .), and to any man who voluntarily is sterilized. He would like to FORCE (yes, force) the sterilization of any man in India who has more than three children. And again, while this is understandable in the mindset behind it, I believe that we must first help India to grow economically so that it does not rely on the production of crops to feed its people. That is one reason people in India typically have so many children--- to help farm. The last idea he had was the most unreasonable and radical of all, and it made me want to scream at him. Anyways, he wants to forbid privately funded organizations and government sponosored groups from providing aid and food to famine-stricken countries. Riiiiiggghhhht. We'll just all sit back and let them die of malnutrition while we sit over here gourging on Filet Mignon, garlic mashed potatoes and cheesecake. Them, they don't matter. Yeah, so it was extremely, (extremely, extremely, extremely) hard to debate in favor of ideas you don't agree with on even a marginal level.


Then, Coach Jones informed me that I did not meet the eligibility requirements to run track this spring. Why? Because I was absent from school for 21 days last semester. The thing is, you can only be absent for 12 days in order to be eligible to participate in a sport. Well, you see, if I had been out smoking pot for 11 straight days, and then came back to school and barely sqeaked out a 2.0 GPA, I would be allowed to run track. But when I am sick, running a fever of 103, adn going to the doctor 3 times a week (yes, she stopped charging us, and was so concerned about my condition that she asked that I come in N-C -- no-charge-- at least three times a week so she could continue to run tests), and sleeping 20 out of 24 hours each day, and miss 20 school days as a result, I am not allowed to run track. Hmmmm. . .the bureaucracy is getting the best of us. ;)
It's life. Take the good with the bad, and count your blessings. (2x for each blessing!!!) I got to manage the bball team, and I have a lot of other opportunities ahead. It's not my last year of HS, so I have a plethora of opportunties that lay in waiting, JUST FOR ME!

More later. Time for school. Have a great week everyone. :)

"Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God IS love." -1 John 4:7-8

I have realized a very unfortunate thing. I am apt to take for granted the people/things closest to me, who love me the most, and who/which hold the most value of everything in my life. I think often I look to the outside world for support and acceptance (i.e. sports, activities, etc), when, in actuality, the love I need is from family and friends. I think I focus way too much on the tangible aspects of life, when it is the intangible things that give my life's its deepest significance. I realized this after listening to a song by Lonestar. It is called "My Front Porch Looking In."


Oh yeah
Yeah oh yeah

The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes
Now I look at my front porch and this panoramic view
I can sit and watch the fields fill up
With rays of glowing sun
Or watch the moon lay on the fences
Like that's where it was hung
My blessings are in front of me
It's not about the land
I'll never beat the view
From my front porch looking in

There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
And the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in, yeah

I've traveled here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air
Brushed by the hand of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get back home
To the one he made for me
It's anywhere I'll ever go and everywhere I've been
Nothing takes my breath away
Like my front porch looking in

There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in

I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out

There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most

Oh, the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
Yeah
Oh, there's a carrot top who can barely walk
(From my front porch looking in)
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong, yeah
And the most beautiful girl
(Beautiful girl
From my front porch looking in)
Holding both of them
Oh, yeah


I won't sit and analyze the song for you, because it is fairly self-explanatory, but it truly made me realize that the richest blessings are far too often the ones we don't realize the value of. So, to all of my friends and family, who read this, thank you for loving me and being there for me. :)

Great day today! Lady Phoenix Basketball team went to the Women's UNC v. Clemson game (UNC won--- BOOO! >GO DUKE!). Funny stories, and inside jokes like: "Cherry tomatoes", "nose" and such.

Anyway, right outside the gym, there were slips to enter a contest. Well, Chandler came up with the idea of putting Coach Jones's name into the box as many times as possible. So Rachel B., Rachel M., Chandler and I stood at the table, hogging all the slips, and entering Coach at least fifty times. Of course, Coach had no idea that we were up to this, and we had NO IDEA what we were entering her for. (hehehe!!!) At one point, she came over, and as we covered up what we were writing, she said "Are you guys entering to win tickets or something?" We all nodded. ;) It took forever to fill out all the cards because they wanted TONS of info, like address (how are we supposed to know? We used RCHS's), and her phone number (we used her cell number), and her age (hahaha. . .we made one up.... the UNC people think Coach Jones is 25!!!! ;)....thanks to us!), and her email address (@raleighcharterhs.org, which is a really really looonnng address to write, when you are doing "speed ballots!"). It was fun, though, and well worth it.

So, with about eight minutes left in the first half, they come on the loud speaker, and say "Will Wendy Jones and [insert name of the other winner here] please come down the the sponsor's table now? You have won the drawing." Coach looks completely bewildered. We all know she is thinking (because it's team day, and we all got in free, without tickets or ID of any kind) How did they get my name? and what drawing are they talking about? We just giggle and tell her to hurry up and go over to the table. Well, she does. And finds out that during half time, she has to shoot on the court. She must shoot a layup (which wins her a pizza), and then a free-throw (which wins her a Dicks Sporting Goods $10 gift card), and then a three-pointer (which gets her Chick-fil-A for a year), and then a half court shot (which gets her an American Airlines ticket). She only has, however, thirty seconds to complete all four shots. Well, she is in a dress shirt, and some kind of "non-sneaker" shoes, and goes out there, with us cheering at the top of our lungs, and misses her first layup (which is the thing she is always yelling at us to get "right", so you can bet we won't let her live it down.). In thirty seconds, she misses a layup, makes a layup, misses a free throw, makes a free throw, and misses two three pointers. All in all, she did well, and she won the gift card and the free pizza.

Alright, now I can tell the "icing story." We went to Lauren's house to celebrate her seventeenth birthday. Well, of course there was cake. And Jessi likes icing, so Rachel M. gives Jessi her icing. Now Jessi has a pile of icing sky high on her plate. Of course she doesn't eat it all, and after we have all finished and are sitting around chatting, Jess decides it would be funny to put the icing to use, so to speak. I was talking to someone, and Jess puts icing on Rachel M's face, and then suddenly turns to me and smears it all over my cheek. Thinking she has put water on my cheek (hey, it was cold, and slippery), I use the shoulder part of my shirt to wipe off the "water." Now, not only is there blue icing on my shirt, but there is icing ALL OVER the left side of my face. I go inside to get a napkin, and Coach Jones goes "Lindsay, what have I told you about fighting with inanimate objects? You know they always beat you!" I had to laugh.

It was a really really fun day. Too bad we have to go back to having boring practice tomorrow. hehe. [Don't tell Coach J I said that!!!]

I got this via email, and thought it was worth sharing with those of you whose email addresses I do not have. I hope it touches you.

To realize
The value of a sister
Ask someone
Who doesn't have one.

To realize
The value of ten years:
Ask a newly
Divorced couple.

To realize
The value of four years:
Ask a graduate.

To realize
The value of one year:
Ask a student who
Has failed a final exam.

To realize
The value of nine months:
Ask a mother who gave birth to a still born.

To realize
The value of one month:
Ask a mother
who has given birth to
A premature baby.

To realize
The value of one week:
Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize
The value of one hour:
Ask the lovers who are waiting to Meet.

To realize
The value of one minute:
Ask a person
Who has missed the train, bus or plane.

To realize
The value of one-second:
Ask a person
Who has survived an accident...

To! realize
The value of one millisecond:
Ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics

Time waits for no one.

Treasure every moment you have.
You will treasure it even more when
you can share it with someone special.

To realize the value of a friend:
Lose one.


This is where I should say something profound, but I think that would ruin your personal responses to it, so I will just leave you with one word: LIVE. Have a good new year. 2004!!!

" 'Strangers,' the Blue Man said,, 'are just family you have yet to come to know.' " The Five People You Meet In Heaven


The Five People You Meet In Heaven by Mitch Albom is a book I am 63 pages into, and it is amazing. I highly highly highly recomend it. It is about how you touch and affect the lives of people, and you never realize it. Maybe you smiled to someone in the hallway at school, and it pulled them back from that cliff, at the last second, and this book shows you what an impact you have on other people's lives, and never know it. It makes you take a step back and understand that everyone's life is another string in the intricate web of life. Minus one string, all other strings could not remain woven together. If you are looking for a good read, this is a great one. Makes you realize what a huge role you play in a world that is full of people, often making us feel like nothings in a sea of lives. Very good.


PS-this doesn't mean you shouldn't go out and try to make the world a better place, it just shows that when you feel your life is worhtless and you have had no impact on the lives around you, even the smallest souls that creep silently, unnoticed into your life, you're wrong!

So, today is my sixteenth birthday. Last night, my sister was sleeping over at a friend's house. Then they called me, and said that Brodie from G105 said that if they slept outside the studio all night, then they could meet Clay Aiken. And they thought that woudl be an awesome Birthday present for me, so they called me. So my sister's friends, her mom, my sister, and I all slept out on the brick walkway outside of the G105 studio. We got there about 10pm last night, and finally drifted off to sleep about. . .oh I don't know. . . 1 or 2 am. Then, after rising at 4am due to the freezing temperatures, and windy conditions, we sang clay songs at the top of our lungs as we froze in line (1st in line) outside the studios. It was cold, but it wouldn't have been so bad if all the radio employees weren't walking in and out every five seconds with doughnuts and coffee.
About 11:30, Brodie and Blair from G105 came out and hung out with us for a while. Brodie is rather short. hehe. He had his girlfriend with him, who is quite a bit taller than he is, and is a total ditz. But they talked to us, about everything from Clay to Justin Timberlake, to Survivor, to colleges. It was interesting, to say the least. They are super nice, though.
So, about 5:15am, other Clay-niacs, started showing up. Meanwhile, news cameras were constantly coming around and talking to us. They always made me show them my sign, which said, "I'm Sweet 16 Today, Sing For Me!" Altogether, there were like 12 of us outside waiting for Clay. THe other people, however, had NOT lost feeling in their toes, nose, and fingers, and they had gotten tons of sleep the night before! So we waited, and waited and waited, listening to a portable radio, to the conversations between Bob, Clay, Erica, Brodie, and one other girl, but her name escapes me at the moment. Then Brodie came down, and being the awesome guy that he is, he distracted the other Clay fans, so that the four of us could go around the building and get one on one time with Clay. I got to go up to Clay, and Denise's (my sister's friend's) mom told him that it was my sixteenth birthday, so he hugged me, took a picture with his arms around me, and sung to me. It was really really special to meet someone so famous, who would take those five minutes out of his day to sing to ME! And then NBC 17 was trying to interview me, and I couldn't talk. I was like jumping up and down and screaming, "Clay Aiken sung to me, and Clay Aiken hugged me." It was really special. [If I can figure out how to post pics, I will put his and mine up here ;)]
For someone so famous, and who went multi-platinum, he is really really grounded. He is so down to earth. If I didn't know he was famous, I wouldn't have guessed in a million years. He still acts like the well-mannered, southern boy he is. He thanked us about 10 times for just coming out and another 15 for talking to him. I was like "WOW!" It was really really special. There are a lot of people who don't get this opportunity, and I feel really lucky that I got to. I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season! Enjoy.
Funny quotes from the Clay-experience:

"Not in the picture; not in the picture; not in the picture, even though I have on my cute Britney Spears pants; not in the picture." -Brodie's gf

"Oh my gosh. He just touched my sweatshirt. I am never going to wash this ever again. Clay touched it. Clay. Clay Clay, touched it." - Me. hehehe

"Wait, you mean I am supposed to be able to feel my toes?" Denise

"Maybe if we do the Charleston and the Harlem shake, Clay will come down adn talk to us." my sister

"It not Crazy. It's CLAY-ZY!" -Denise

"OCD is NOT Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's Obsessive CLAY Disorder!" -Me, telling some reporter what Denise's sign meant.

"Brodie, you should sing for Lindsay, it's now officially 12:01, so it's her birthday." -Denise's mom

"Oh, he won't sing cause he sucks!" -Denise

"Good morning Crazy A**es." -Bob

~Lins

Threat rating: Low. You are annoying, but too much
of a softy tree hugger to pose any threat to
the mighty machine of Republican progress. And
the FBI know where you live.


What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I have to put this on here. I got the idea from Melissa's Blog, so all credit must be give to Melissa for this incredibly amusing site.

Quotes from class:


"This is FUN with a captial N!" -John W. in Adv. Alg II

"Listen to what I mean and not what I say." -Amy I. in Adv. Alg II

"The plumber is unclogging her life." Someone in Eng.

"I can't spin on my head." Kevin W. after I told him that I could spin on my head

"You know you prance when you run, right?" Cati B. after watching me at the bball game

"You should break dance and spin on your head at Open Mic Night! You would have to wear gangsta clothing, though, and you could even shave your head!!" -Kevin W.

"your my crazy monkey and that so kosherly rox my soxs." Mickella R.

"This is atomic time," Mr. Myer, holding up his phone, as he desperately tried to convince us that we still had three minutes until class ended.
"But here we go by Humble time, and Dr. Humble doesn't care about atomic crap."- Someone in my eng. class

"The best years of your life" are so quickly transforming into the years from hell. Your peers are watching your every move, listening to every word eminating from your mouth, judging how you dress, and who you are. The adults are pressuring you to do this, and be that, as they scrutinize every move you make.

You're caught between pleasing your peers, living up to the expectations of the adults around you, and trying to stay true to yourself.

It is one of the most emotionally draining and psychologically tormenting periods that people ever have to endure. Colleges are closely examining everything about you, teachers are constantly on your back to be better, peers are telling you to shrug it all off. Meanwhile, you spend hours completing tedious assignments and studying until all hours of the morning for tests, and your extra curricular activities take up all your other time. The sleep deficiency is beginning to break you down. But remember. . . THESE ARE THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE!

Yes, now that my tyraid is over, I must say that despite these constant ups and downs, I am finding myself more and more involved in school clubs and sports, and also more engaged in my studies. Everything is becoming more and more interesting. I never thought I would care about alien species, or covalent bonds, and I definitely never expected to think twice about the political problems in Argentina. Oh, and meningitis, that's one of those things I never thought about until class. I never second guessed any of the word choices of Voltaire or Victor Hugo, but I am beginning to see that there is soooo much more to life that thinking about the crappy situation we endure during our teenage years. And it truly does freak me out when I find myself surfing the web, looking for further information on the uneven distribution of food throughout the world's populations. But there is some pleasure in all of this, which definitely helps counter the constant criticism and scrutiny we put up with from everyone around us.

The choice truly is yours to make. These can really be the best years of your life, or they can be the years from hell.

Disclaimer: a few days ago, I wrote that the original prom theme this year was The Thirties. Melissa, a member of the prom committee, informed me that this was incorrect info. So, I withdraw that statement, I heard that from a teacher (coughcoughmr.grundencough) and from quite a few seniors, but still, I was the one who published it. So to Melissa, and all the other people on the prom committee, I apologize for publishing my misinformation.

WOO-HOO! I was offered the opportunity to be manager of the basketball team. You see, I was absent the two weeks leading up to tryouts, the week of tryouts, and the week after tryouts, but I talked to the coach and she said that she would love it if I served as manager. This is definitely not as great as being on the team truly, but it is definitely the next best thing. (Oh, yes, Cati Barham, I AM NOT NOT NOT NOT "hopeless when it comes to basketball." SO THERE! j/k)

There is nothing new to report, but I have returned to school. I was out for roughly 20 days, (though my APES teacher, Mr. Boyer thought I was only out for 2 ----hmmmm. . . you figure that one out!) and I have SOOOOO much work to do! Lol. But they are really taking time to help me get caught up. Oh how I love my school.

I have a storybook due in AP Env. Sci. on Monday, and just got told that I was expected to do the assignment on Thursday, the day after I returned to school. Needless to say, if you know how to make figures pop up on a page, or other cool tangible aspects I can include in my "wetland story" then please please tell me how to do it. I also thought it might be cool to do a book that is HUGE. I mean like half-a-piece-of-posterboard huge, or I could do a regular size book. What do yall think??? I need to go study for chemisty.

The paradox of our time in history is that
we have taller buildings but shorter tempers,
wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more, but have less,
we buy more, but enjoy less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families,
more conveniences, but less time.
We have more degrees but less sense,
more knowledge, but less judgment,
more experts, yet more problems,
more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much,
spend too recklessly, laugh too little,
drive too fast, get too angry,
stay up too late, get up too tired,
read too little, watch TV too much,
and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We've added years to life not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor.
We conquered outer space but not inner space.
We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice.
We write more, but learn less.
We plan more, but accomplish less.
We've learned to rush, but not to wait.
We build more computers to hold more information,
to produce more copies than ever,
but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion,
big men and small character,
steep profits and shallow relationships.
These are the days of two incomes but more divorce,
fancier houses, but broken homes.
These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers,
throwaway morality, one night stands,
and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

Hmmm. . .time for a change. I think I will change this world we are living in!!!!

"Gonna change the world, gonna make it right, gonna get down on my knees tonight.
Gonna change it all, gonna find a way, gonna start to CHANGE THE WORLD today.
When something is wrong, only we can turn it around. So give me your hand, my brother
and walk together, 'cause we've got a mountain to climb!" -S CLUB 7

From the Cosby Show:
[Pam and Charmaigne, who is Pam's friend are studying for an American History Test]

Charmaigne: What are the three branches of government and what are their roles?

Pam: The legislative branch, and they make the laws. The judicial branch, and they interpret the laws, and the executive branch, and they-

Charlamaigne: break the laws.


OH HOW TRUE!