THINK GASOLINE PRICES ARE HIGH? (we bought gas today for $1.70 per gallon...)

Compare the following with the cost of Gasoline. Do your own math.


Diet Snapple 16 oz costs $1.29 - that's $10.32 per gallon

Lipton Ice Tea 16 oz costs $1.19 - that's $9.52 per gallon

Gatorade 20 oz costs $1.59 - that's $10.17 per gallon

Ocean Spray 16 oz costs $1.25 - that's $10.00 per gallon

Brake Fluid 12 oz costs $3.15 - that's $33.60 per gallon

Vick's Nyquil 6 oz costs $8.35 - that's $178.13 per gallon

Pepto Bismol 4 oz costs $3.85 - that's $123.20 per gallon

White-Out 7 oz costs $1.39 - that's $25.42 per gallon

Scope 1.5 oz costs $.99 - that's $84.48 per gallon

And this is the REAL KICKER . . .

Evian water 9 oz costs $1.49 - that's $21.19 per gallon.

$21.19 for WATER - and the buyers don't even know the source. So, the next time
you're at the pump, be glad your car doesn't run on water, Scope, White-Out, or,
God forbid, Pepto Bismal or Nyquil.

Here are the lyrics to a really cool song, that I absolutely LOVE!

It's by Gordon Lightfoot and it's called "The Pony Man"

When it's midnight on the meadow
And the cats are in the shed
And the river tells a story
At the window by my bed
If you listen very closely
Be as quiet as you can
In the yard you'll hear him
It is the pony man
We're always there to greet him
When he tumbles into town
He leads a string of ponies
Some are white and some are brown
And they never seem to kick or bite
They only want to play
And they live on candy apples
Instead of oats and hay

And when we're all assembled
He gives a soft command
And we climb aboard our ponies
As in a row they stand
Then down the road we gallop
And across the fields we fly
And soon we all go sailing off
Into the midnight sky

And as we gaily rock along
Beside a ripplin' sea
There's Tom 'n Dick 'n Sally
And Mary Joe and me
And the pony man is leading
Cause he's travelled here before
And he gives a whoop and a holler
At Mr. Moon's front door

And as we stop to rest a while
Where the soda river glides
Up to the slip comes a pirate ship
To take us for a ride
And the pony man's the captain
And the children are the crew
And we go in search of treasure
And laugh the whole night through

And when the hold is filled with gold
And the sails begin to strain
And the deck's piled high with apple pie
We head for port again
And down the whirling starcase
So swift our ponies fly
And we're safely in our beds again
When the sunbeams kiss the sky

When it's midnight on the meadow
And the cats are in the shed
And the river tells a story
At the window by my bed
If you listen very closely
Be as quiet as you can
In the yard you'll hear him
It is the pony man

I will post more later about my weekend and about Metamorphosis with church, but I will leave you with one quote from the weekend.

"I'm a yankee, and I don't understand why people in the South say all o' y'all. Doesn't y'all cover it? I mean, doesn't y'all mean you all?"

OUR response: "One person is You, Two people is Y'all, and three or more is All O' Y'all!"

I, being the klutz that I am, was running around outside the church Saturday night, and as I went from the sidewalk to the parkinglot, I missed the curb, and fell full-force, forward onto the speed bump, and slid about two feet down it before grinding to a halt. So two purple/bluish/greenish/blackish knees and a scraped elbow and hand later, I have decided not to play near speed bumps ever again! :)

I feel like I should write something substantial on my blog, since all the other blogs I read are about something worthwhile..... Hmmmm.....
Alright, well I guess I will comment on this story.

To begin, this guy robbed, raped and killed a young mother, and left her baby alone. How do I feel about this (all mental problems, addictions and life tragedies aside...)? That was a haneous thing to do, and I believe he should be punished. Now, I do not believe in the death penalty, but this guy deserves at least life. Because of him, two parents no longer have a daughter, siblings are missing their sister and a little boy, age three, is motherless. All because this guy decided to end her life long before her time.

Ok, second, I want to comment on the portrayal the defense council is making of this man. He was abused as a child; he has a low IQ and "severe mental disorders"; and he is/was addicted to cocaine and alcohol. Okay, while I don't want to sound naiive, being an abused child does not give you the right to take your anger/hurt out on some innocent woman. This may sound mean, and cruel, but I don't care how hard your life is, or how much you suffered. That's what therapy is for. You can't just up and kill someone because you were abused as a child...that is only perpetuating the vicious cycle.... Look at Dave Pelzer. I'm not saying that every abused child will turn out that way, but killing someone doesn't take away the anger.
Now, about the mental problems and low IQ. We have seen before in our state that convicted felons are pardoned and do not receive the death penalty because of their IQ. While I do not know enough about the human mind, and this man's IQ and intelligence level in particular, I want to say that I think this could keep him out of the death chamber, but hopefully not out of prison, or out of an institution. If we let him go free, with little or no consequence, what's to stop him from killing someone else? Furthermore, I would like to say that this man beat this woman to death with a thirty-pound tire rim...Okay, no offense, but no matter how low your IQ is, (assuming you are capable of normal daily functions independently), you would HAVE to know what you were doing to beat someone to death with a thirty pound tire rim...I mean, it would clearly be repeated blows, and with clear intent. (I say murder one)
Now onto the alcohol and cocaine addictions. Two words: Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous. While I am sure that seeking treatment is hard, and takes a lot of emotional and mental courage, I also have heard success stories. No one is perfect, but could you please tell me why we would excuse someone of murder because they were addicted to cocaine and alcohol. Please tell me that our justice system has not sunken so low as to excuse haneous crimes on the basis of addictions....

Ok, I'm done. Please disagree if you are so compelled. I'll try to write more substantial and intelligent things in my blog from now on--- No promises though!!

So, I am going to tell you all about my adventures in babysitting land. A not-so-new thing for me, as I have been doing it for four years, but when the job exceeds 10 hours (17 total), it becomes an entirely different world. I arrive a little before scheduled ETA, at 7:54am, with the plan being that the parents could have an entire day off without the kids. And when I say an ENTIRE day, I mean, ENTIRE!!! (8am-1am, yes my friends 17 looonnnggg hours of an unexperienced phenomena that some like to call parenthood.) By the grace of some divine force, I had only two children to watch for that long seventeen hours, Catherine Grace (dubbed Gracie), age 2 1/2, and Lily age 8 months.

Breakfast: about 8:15, the parents had gone, (to where for 17 hours, I can not imagine, but whatever), and I fixed Gracie some Froot Loops for Breakfast. Then I gave Lily her bottle, which she happily fed herself. (Yes, my friends, two weeks ago when I last watched these children, Lily couldn't grasp the bottle on her own, and now she can, an amazing feat, to be sure!)
Then I put Lily in her bouncer and let her watch Baby Einstein. Oh the joys of stimulating young minds early!!! Gracie and I read Chicka Chicka Boom Boom at least ten times. Repition never gets old with two year olds! Gracie then watched the Barney movie called "You Can Be Anything", and Lily and I played on her play mat/baby gym. Lily never cries, except when she has the hiccups for more than 10 minutes at a time, or when you use the nose cleaner to get the gunk out of her nose because she has a cold. Around about 10am, Gracie wanted a snack, and Lily was ready for another bottle, but this time Lily and I ran into a feeding problem. She was having trouble not choking on the milk every time she swallowed. I remembered how her mother had fed her once Lily came home from the hospital. (Lily was born three months premature, and spent the first eight weeks of her life at Wake Med in the NICU.) Using a boppy and the football hold, Lily and I successfully got her fed!!! Then I decided it was high-time to clean up the kitchen. Putting in another movie for Gracie, I then put Lily in her swing, and proceeded to clean the kitchen. Lily and Gracie and I then played Super Baby, a game I made up for Lily's enjoyment. You put her in your lap, facing outwards, and then start saying in a very dramatic voice:
"Super Baby, Strange baby from another planet who came to earth with Powers and Abilities, far beyond those of mortal babies, Super Baby. Who can Change dirty diapers, bend diaper pins in her bare hands, and who disguised as Lily, mild-mannered baby who lives in a house, fights a never ending battle for TRUTH, JUSTICE and THE BABY WAY. Super baby."
While doing this you make appropriate motions with Lily's hands and such. She absolutely thought this was a great game. Come to think of it, so did Gracie. Gracie kept telling me to do it agian, and again and again. After what was the twentieth time, both Lily and I were tiring of this game....which is no surprise....
Let's finish up the day quickly, even though it was a loonnnggg day. Both girls had some lunch, Lily isn't on solid foods yet...but she likes these Gerber cookies, which she sucks on and makes a HUGE mess.....Then Gracie went upstairs and took a nap in her bed, and Lily fell asleep in her swing. They got up, and we watched Baby Van Gogh together, adn then played on the play mat some more. Lily had another bottle, using the wondrous techniques on the Coppy, and Gracie had Spaghetti O's and cut-up apple for dinner. It was still light outside so we walked about a block up the street, Gracie in her motorized Barbie car, and Lily in the stroller. But as the sun began to set, it got cool, and so we headed back inside. Gracie had an accident, standing right next to the potty, but alas alack I suppose that is child-rearing for you. Lily, of course, lay of the baby mat three feet away from me, as I scrubbed the floor. Needless to say, she made these giggling/gargling sounds that had to have been laughter as she watched me cleaning up. She fell asleep in my arms, with little protest after a bottle and a half more. I gently put her in her crib, praying she wouldn't wake up again, (not because I don't love her to death, but because she was tired and fighting sleep wasn't doing anyone any good) and turned on her humidifier. Gracie went to bed soonafter, and I cleaned up the toys and the kitchen and checked on both a few times before their parents arrived back at the house at 1am. A long night but it definitely opened my eyes to the world of parenthood. I am pretty happy being a teenager right now.....

Hmmm, I think I will rant about the National Spanish exam for a few....

Well, let's start by saying my attention span on a scale of 1-10 (10 being the highest) is a 3 or 4. But that is irrelevant until you understand the layout of the test. So there is a listening section, which I don't mind, mostly because we do them in class and they are usually not too difficult. So there are three parts to the listening section:
Part 1: You hear (13) questions read, one at a time, and there are four choices for answers for each question. The question is only read once (everytime we do something similar in class, they ALWAYS read the question twice), and you have twenty seconds to find an answer. So, you must figure out what the question is asking, as it is in spanish, and then translate the answers in your head and fill in the circle. You have thirteen total.

Part 2: You hear a conversation between two native-Spanish speakers that lasts about 30-45 seconds. Then you are asked a question in Spanish and given four possible choices. Paying attention during the conversation and processing it at hte same time is very very difficult. Then you have twenty seconds to figure out the answer. Both the conversation and teh question are only read once. You have about nine of these.

Part 3: A lot like part 2, except you have a passage instead of a conversation. Teh passage is usually something random like the economics of Chile, or something. The same process still applies. It is read once, followed by a question, read once, and four answers written on paper.

So after you have suffered through an intense listening section, with no breaks, you have the written part of the test, which is basically a series of paragraphs that you read and fill in the blanks with the best answer choice. Not too hard, except that you sometimes have to figure out which of the eight or so tenses you know they want....

Oh well, it's over now!!! Hooray.

I might post more about the grades later.....

Well, let's see. I have not posted anything substantial in quite some time. I have been running around, insanely busy, with my cheer/tumble/dance class, school projects and tests, and a whole lot of other stuff. Craziness only perpetuates craziness with me. The busier I am, the more hyper I get, and thus the more frustrated I am apt to become. Oh well.

On to the dance class. I feel guilty saying I like it because my committment was to A'La Dance Magic, but I truly enjoy it. We are doing a combination of hip-hop, jazz and cheer moves, which we will compete three times. Once in Washington DC, and twice in local NC. I am excited about actually getting the opportunity to perform!!! **BIG BIG smile**

Job-- well, I have applied at five places, and am working on more applications as we speak. Some places I can't really see myself working, but a job doesn't have to be something you completely enjoy, especially if it is a part-time job. I have applied at Subway (my 2nd choice), Kidworks, Little Gym (my first choice), Morrisville Parks and Rec (yeah, I know...my mom's idea), and at Brother's Cleaners.

School-- School is crazy busy as always, and it seems the work never ever ends. We had a Kyoto Treaty Conference in APES, where I was the United States Rep. Well, the U.S. dropped out in real life and all the other countries are really ticked about it, so they were like throwing insults out about how the U.S. is selfish, and such..... It was quite humorous actually. Chemistry is always lots of fun, but I have decided something: Mr. Grunden is really, really really smart---- not in a bad way, but he just has all this knowledge about, well, everything. Lol. Spanish is probably one of my favorite classes right now, even if I am the only sophomore in my class.....I am writing two articles for the school paper for the April Fool's issue. One is "Survivor At RCHS" in which we make up a story about the teachers being on Survivor. We haven't decided who will win yet. The other article is a "Teacher Cookoff" We are going to invite all staff to cook/prepare either a dessert or an entre, and then students pay to sample the food. There will be prizes for best, worst, ugliest, oddest, etc dish. The students can also enter a raffle. It should be fun. So far, Dr. Humble, Mr. Grant, Mr. Grunden, Ms. Greenwalt, Ms. Talley, Ms. Scicinska, Mr. Slattery, Coach Jones, Mr. Stapleton, and Dr. Busonik have agreed to cook something, but I can't tell you who's cooking what!!!!! ;) So bug your teachers to enter, and come on down, and taste the food!!!! (All profits go to The Flame, the school newspaper)

In other news---- the school, our school, MY school was vandalized by two RCHS students. I cannot fully understand what pushed them to do so, but maybe it is not for me to understand. I am angry and also hurt, mostly because I didn't think something to this extent happened at RCHS. Enloe, maybe. RCHS, no.

It's time for school now. I will post more later. Today is the National Spanish Exam. Very nervous.... In order to get extra credit, you have to score above your class average. I don't think I can do that.... it's easy for people who understand the material and just don't turn in their homework and thus have a C or D, but Mr. Slattery was like "For those of you who have an A, it'll be much harder to get credit." Gee, sounds like a fun day to me.

Babysitting this weekend... 8am-1am. (I wonder why people want babysitters for soooo long!)

Here's one of the bestest country songs ever!


"Cowboy's like us, sure do have fun,
racin' the wind; chasin' the sun.
Take the long way around back to square one
Today we're just outlaws, out on the run;
There'll be no regrets, no worries and such,
Cowboys like us...."

I got this on email. Very cute, but oh so true! hehehe. Just goes to show that dogs are a million times better than cats!!! (yeah, Jenna, Finney, Max, Mysti, and Deacon), but those of you who read this, don't mention my dog preference to my cats (Hope, Casey and Ginger would absolutely hate me forever....) *wink*
Dog's diary:
8am-Oh Boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9am-Oh Boy! A car ride! My favorite
10am-Oh Boy! A walk! My favorite!
11am-Oh Boy! A car ride! My favorite!
Noon-Oh Boy! The kids! My favorite!
1pm-Oh Boy! The yard! My favorite!
3pm-Oh Boy! The kids! My favorite!
4pm-Oh Boy! Dog food! My favorite!
5pm-Oh Boy! Mom! My favorite!
7pm-Oh Boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
9pm-Oh Boy! Sleeping in master's bed! My favorite!

Cat's diary:
Day 183 of my captivity...
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant.

Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded-must try this at the top of the stairs.

In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair-must try this on their bed.

Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was. This did not work according to plan.

Last night there was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the entire event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn more about what this is, and how to use it to my advantage.

I am convinced the other captives are flunkies, or more likely snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The
bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, for now his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time...

Time is my friend, I can wait, I will repay them all.

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