Easy Feelings

I've begun to realize that no matter how much I change myself or adjust my feelings I'm always going to have an effect on someone else.
My feelings are not really mine to own.
They are every one's because everyone and everything affects them.
I can tell myself that it wont hurt me or that I can push the feeling down, but it will always be back, knocking on the door of my mind like a girl scout selling cookies.
I've also begun to realize how strong and overpowering a single emotion can be.
We humans are not as strong as we think.  Our feelings and emotions can bring us down as easily as a bomb or gunshot.
These emotions that control us are surprisingly easy to bend and twist to our needs.
A memory or song can pull up so many old stale feelings.
A song can be linked with a memory which can be linked with a feeling, and hearing that song can pull up those memories and drown you in them again.
Feelings need to be kept careful watch on, I think, or else they might end up dragging us around on a leash, instead of the other way around.

Poetry--A New Escape

Hey Everyone,
So I know it's been awhile.  Trust me, I know.  But at least you know that since I'm not here, talking to y'all, I'm at least doing my homework!!
So my next dozen posts or so are going to be either
1) Poetry I love
2)Original poetry
or  3) me yammering on about different types of poetry and how fabulous it is.
Right now in school I'm taking a two hour daily poetry class, and it has shown me how awesome this underrated, under-appreciated art is.
So I'll be posting more often, and I hope you enjoy the poetry!!

Give-Thanksing

     Thanksgiving is one of the oldest commonly practiced holidays and can be traced back to the Mesopotamian harvest festival, Akitu.  In North America it can be traced back to the Protestant Reformation.  In Canada the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1578 by an explorer named Martin Frobisher.  He held his Thanksgiving in gratitude for surviving the long journey, not for the harvest.  In England, before 1536 there were 92 church holidays and 52 Sundays that people were required to go to church or take off work.  They often had to pay for expensive celebrations on these holidays with money they didn't have.  However, in 1536, during the reign of Henry VII, there was an English Reformation and the holidays were reduced to 27, but some puritans got rid of all of them, including Christmas and Easter.  With the holidays gone, the English set up days of fasting and days of feasting to please or repay God.
     Many different cultures and religions combined to get us where we are today, and we are still growing and evolving as a culture.  No matter what you believe in, Thanksgiving is a day to remind us of how much we have.  It is a day to get together with the people you love and feast on delicious food and fulfilling conversation.  It is a day to thank each other for being in our lives.  I hope all of you have a wonderful day full of feasting and comfort and happiness.     Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Lazy Dayz

It's kind of ridiculous how much of my happiness is based on school.  The best days are the ones I have no homework.  I count down the days until breaks and weekends and drag myself out of bed on Mondays.  But this week, for Thanksgiving, I have the whole week off!!!
I keep remembering this at random parts of my day and I get happy all over again. 
And because of this whole open week ahead of me, today, instead of doing my homework and stressing about tomorrow, I got to sleep in and go surfing.
And so, at 2:30 in the afternoon on Novemeber 24, I was floating on my surfboard in the Pacific Ocean and appreciating just how good I have it.
I may not have the new iPhone or a laptop or the newest clothes, but everything I have is of extreme value to me, and the less I have the more I love those things.
Moving to Cali has taught me to take less value in material things and more value in memories and relationships. 
I know that when I grow up I want to be very mobile and able to leave at any second.  i want to be able to travel around without toting around a bunch of empty reminders of memories gone by.  I would love to just have a box of pictures i could take out and look at instead of having physical souveniers.     
But the problem with that is I'm not a big fan of taking pictures. :)

Sickening Cliches

I hate how, no matter how hard I try, everything I do has already been done by someone else.  Everything I feel has already been felt and everything I say has probably already been said.  I feel like such a repeat of everything before me.  What can I do that is truly unique?  What can I do that I'm the first person to do?  Is there anything left in the whole entire world that hasn't been done, made, or discovered?
        How can I truly be my own person?  Is there anything? Anything at all? 
        Lets make an example.
        Feelings.
        Whenever I tell someone I'm having a bad day they either say:
1)  "Teen angst, bro, it sucks."
2) "That time of month huh?"
3) "You want to talk about it?"
4) They say nothing, and only look at me like I need to get it together.
I just need someone who says,
"I feel you.  Here, beat me up if you need to."
That would honestly be amazing.
Cause if someone tells me I can beat them up, it's like they're giving me permission to do something, which I hate even more, so I'll beat them up even harder.
And then, I realize, after they are good and bruised, that my anger was a combination of all four of the above things and I am, in fact, just another angst-y teenager that wants to just talk about it and eat chocolate and watch chick flicks.
That fact makes me question my feelings.  Are they legit? Am I actually upset for any good reason? (Is there such a thing?)
Or are my feelings just the usual symptoms prescribed with each dosage of life?
I wish I had been warned of these annoying symptoms when I signed up for this whole deal.


 

636, 174, 28

I've changed my mind.  The greatest distance is not time.  It's the 1,957 miles from Costa Mesa, CA, to Viroqua WI.  On google maps they told me it would take 636 hours to walk that.  174 hours to bike it.  28 hours to drive.  That's not that much.  If I could drive and go without sleep or food or bathrooms for that long I could be in Viroqua by 9:30 tomorrow night.  It's mean to myself to think about that.  And it's ridiculous that today, of all days, I'm thinking about this.  I had a really good day today.  Today at school was a great day.  We finished chemistry so we have no homework and I was in a really good mood and everything was funny.  I've been really good about this for a while now.  I haven't been sad at all.  For some reason I came home and my happiness turned into anger which turned into tears which now has me sitting here in front of a computer screen writing to no one.  I have no one new to talk about this with.  If I was this sad in Viroqua I would go in the woods or go to La Maison.  But here the woods are unfamiliar and don't have my things.  There's no stream.  There's no sunshine tree.  There's no one I can talk to about this here, besides my family and it's different because I've already talked to them about it enough.  Everyone here has been at this school their whole life.  They don't know what it's like to leave your most favorite place in the world, a peaceful little town full of memories and stories in the Midwest, and be dropped down in the middle of a city full of trash and harsh edges and the newest and fastest and best.  I mean seriously people, why do you care so much about who has the new iPhone??  seriously.
If anyone out there is reading this, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry you had your time wasted by my rant.  I have these moods sometimes.  By tomorrow, when I'm surfing before school, I'll be thinking how ridiculous I was to write all this junk.  But it's what I'm feeling right now so I have to write about t or it'll only get worse.  Thank you to anyone who cares enough to read it.    
I just spell-checked this and it said "Viroqua" is not a word.  The words I thought when I read this are not nice so I won't put them here.

Where the airplanes equal the stars.

I survived the first week of school, believe it or not. The first two days involved a three mile uphill hike.  I'm not even exaggerating when I say it was straight up.  It literally was straight uphill.  We arrived to our campsite exhausted and practically dying from heat stroke.  There was not a single tree in sight, But somehow we managed to find a bit of scrub to lay under.  It really wasn't that bad of a hike, it was just the combination of the heat and our packs that made it so bad.  The next day for breakfast we had cliff bars and apples and made our way back down the mountain.
The view from atop our mountain was amazing.  You have no idea.  We were above everything,  to the left the city lights, to the right, the city lights, straight out in front of us, the ocean, and Catalina Island.  Above us, the endless and vast stars. The sea went on and on, and on one of our breaks up the hill, one of my friends said, "I know this sounds really stupid, but the ocean is really big."
The next day, when we reached the bottom, we all went to the ocean and fell into the waves.  After laying there and swimming for a couple hours, we all shouldered our packs once again and made our way up the beach to the Shake Shack.  There we all got hamburgers and malts and appreciated civilization and ice cream.
Once the trip was over, I went home and slept for hours, waking up very sore but thinking maybe it's not so bad here after all.

First day of school-Peace out!

Grace is studying hard at home.

Excited for homeschooling!

Long Days, Short Week

Last night the air smelled like salt.  Like salt, with a hint of nostalgia.
Yesterday we brought my friend Zoe back to the airport.  She is the one who made the Good Life music video with me.
She came here from Viroqua last Saturday and left yesterday.  She was here for a whole week.  Before she came when this was all still planing I thought a week would be plenty, that I would be able to say good-bye to her after seven whole days.
But the week went very fast, and as she said, "Long days, short week."  Which pretty much summed it up perfectly.
We filled up our days easily; I taught her to surf and she got a tan line.  We went to the Hollywood Walk of Fame and took pictures of everything and anything.
We watched the sunset from the Huntington Beach pier and took more pictures.
And when Saturday came she packed up her things and got on a plane and went home.  And mostly I was jealous because she gets to go back to Viroqua and I don't.   Because she is going to be starting school with my friends.
I gave her a list of their names so she could say hi to them for me, hopefully the message gets delivered.
I'm sure it will.
But when she got on her plane and called me four and a half hours later to say that she had landed I realized how close Viroqua really is, I could just get on a plane and be there.
But in two days I will be starting school here, going on a camping trip with all these people I don't know but will be my friends for a year, maybe more.
And when I think those words I feel equal parts nervousness and excitement.  Because when I was back in Viroqua I was always wishing for an adventure, for change or something new. And here I've got it.  
So look out, Waldorf School of Orange County.
Here I come.

Life and Life-like Symptoms

I never feel like I'm busy until I look back a week or two.  Because I fill up my spare moments with reading and surfing and laying in the sun utterly content, time feels slower.  But things re always happening, and there has been no shortage of that for me.
On Monday, our beloved dog Copper left us to frolic in the eternal meadow filled with millions of slow rabbits.
On Tuesday, we got some terrible news.
My cousin, Jeff, had been fighting cancer for a year.  He was better for a little while, but then it got worse again.  Then they found three brain tumors and he had to stop fighting.  He fought long and hard, but it had taken his toll.  He joined Copper and my Grandmother and Arrow and was at peace at last.
In 5 days one of my best friends is coming to visit for a week!  I am so excited to see her, to show someone everything that is ours here.
Today I have a sports physical at 3pm so I can play volleyball and soccer and do track. In 15 days (15 days!) school starts, where has the summer gone?  It seems like only a couple of weeks ago my friends and I were running out of school into the late-may sunshine, and celebrating the fact that we are no longer freshman.  Then the new juniors came out and said, "Speak only when spoken to, sophomores."
I have homework to finish before school even starts and school supplies to buy.
What amazes me the most about all of this is it's not much to brag about, but it's life.  And everyone has a story, a journey they're on and a day that their time is just up.
All these people and things dying around me scared me a little bit.  I was reminded how short and precious life is, how fragile, and at any given moment it could break.  I was afraid that I might die, that I could die any day and have regrets.  So I've stopped.  Having regrets.  And I've realized that this is not my time to die, so I'll be okay.
So I better start enjoying life.

Fresh Mornings

     This whole summer has been a constant battle between my body and my mind.  I want to get up and run, to get into shape, to be healthier than I am.  But then the other side of my brain kicks in, and I dismiss the thought of running with a lazy wave of my hand.   Then the next day I wake up with the nagging thought of running again, but yet again I dismiss the thought.
Finally, today, I got up and did it.  I got up and got dressed and went running.  I've went a couple of times before this, but my record of running is scattered throughout the summer like a fallen deck of cards.
     But this morning made up for that.
     The city is at its best in the morning.
     After the night has swept through and cleared it of its haze and grime and dirt.  Everything is fresher, and I could actually smell pine as I ran past houses of all types.  I passed several people driving to work, but mostly the world was still sleeping.  Or at least our little neighborhood was.  Out on the main road I could hear cars zooming back and forth as always.  Those cars never stop. If I live to see a day of  silent roads in Southern California, I will wonder why I'm still alive.
I ran past perfectly groomed gardens and wilting lawns.  I ran past yards filled with toys and a forgotten teddy bear.  I ran past house after house after house until they all blurred together into one streak of beige.
     When I came to our street I pushed myself to a sprint and arrived, panting, at our door.
I pulled out my iPod to see how far I had gone, thinking it must have been a ways.  At least the panting in my lungs seemed to think so.
     But, what? I had only gone 1.54 miles? How could this be?
     So I promptly did push-ups and sit-ups and wall sits and burpees until my muscles burned, and then I felt better about only running a mile and a half.

The Love of a Dog

She was always there.
Always listening.
Never telling.
She was the best secret keeper in the world, because who could she tell?  No one would understand her.
But I did.
I spoke to her through the connection we shared, through pats on the head and treats given.
Slowly but surely her age caught up with her, slowly but surely it began to show. She couldn't walk on one of her front legs. She hobbled around like the old lady she was, but then she got better. We gave her two pills a day and she could walk again, even run. We loaded her up in the car and took her to California with us, and she loved the warmth. She would lay in the sun for hours on end not move a muscle. When she got up it was because she wanted a treat, or for us to pet her. But then the age struck again, and if we had known it was cancer when we were back in Wisconsin we could have left her there, at least buried her on our farm.  Bury her next to our cats and bunnies and birds. But we didn't find that out until last night. Last night at 11:40 pm we decided it was time. Time for her to go to a place where pain is impossible, where age matters not and sunshine is eternal.
The vet came in and told us that what he was putting in her leg became famous because of Michael Jackson, and then she was sleeping. Her eyes closed slowly and her breathing slowed. I had to get out of that sterile white room. That hospital grave.
We payed the vet 500 dollars to take our beloved dog from us, to take her and put her out of her pain and burn her body. It doesn't seem fair. Who will I whisper all my secrets to? Who will I take with me to travel the world?
It is said that people or animals do not leave us until they have taught us something.
She has taught me so much.
I guess it is time for her to rest.

This Is What Boredom Looks Like

So, today me and Grace were laying in our room thinking of what to do.
We were surrounded by scattered Lego's and half-built sculptures.  So we decided to take apart all the little Lego people and put them back together all mixed up.  A few days before this Grace had built an awesome Lego building consisting of two buildings connected by a bridge and ascended by a fabulous winding staircase.  As I admired this earlier today I held the figure entitled "sad clown".  I placed him on the first step and made his little leg point up, like he was on the way to the top.  When I saw how grand he looked, standing there in all his melancholy glory, I knew I simply had to capture it somehow.  And this is how we did it.

By the way it looks much more impressive with full volume and full screen! And it's only 44 seconds so you're not wasting any time by watching it!!

Sad Eyes

She's changed, I'm sure of it.
Or maybe it's a process, maybe it's not over.  Maybe she is changing, and this will end soon.
I can hope.
Ever since the wooden house and the house in the tree with the crooked windows faded out of our back window, the light has been fading.
It didn't happen right away, I think, but soon after.
There was at least two weeks of excitement, of happy disbelief.
But then, Sir Sadness came.  I'm not even sure he deserves that knightly title.
Sadness came. He was slow to find us but he always does and always will.  He crept in on silent feet in the darkest hour of the night, the one that comes right before dawn. But here, with the city lights it is hard to find a dark hour, so he had to be extra careful, extra sneaky.  He crept into the house and into our dreams, infiltrating slowly at first.  Those of us with strong enough minds were able to will him away, but that just left more of him for her.
He invaded her mind quickly, efficiently, leaving barely any room for her light. She began to look at us like strangers, and when she asked, "Can I go play Legos?" it came out like she was asking a random passerby the time.  This simple question used to be filled with love, with joy and childhood innocence.  Her eyes would be filled with the ideas already forming, with the magic of bringing things alive with plastic bricks.  But they seem to have slowly lost that, and when she looks at me now I see Sadness hiding there, behind her lovely green eyes, not her at all.
So I have been trying to pull her back, keep her from drowning, keep Sadness from completely overcoming her.
And little by little I see her coming back to me, and when I see her smile, her smile, not Sadness', I feel myself smiling too.

Surf's Up!

The ocean draws people like light draws moths on a sweet, sticky, southern night..  Especially when there is something like THE US OPEN OF SURFING GOING ON.
Yes, that's right.  Today I went to the quarter finals and finals of junior surfing.  These kids were the best of the best. They were SO good. I would have put a video up here but I forgot my camera. ;)
There were so many people at the beach. It was almost like I was actually in the sea, because of the current I was fighting.  There were all kinds there, and most of them were half naked. I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, but it's true.  It seems like the more skin showing, the better around here. A lot of the people I saw had "Free Hugs" written across there midriffs in lipstick or eyeliner.
The air was filled with dust, which from afar looked like a dark cloud of smog, but once I got into it I realized it was only half smog, and the rest was sand-dust kicked up into the air by the ever flowing crowd.
It was better once we got down to the water's edge,  the air was cleaner and the surf washing up onto the sand was nicely refreshing. We got there just as the final heat of the junior women's was wrapping up, and we watched as the two girls fought for the waves.  We stood in the three-foot-area of sand that we claimed as our own for two hours, watching the people ride and dance and play on the waves.
I have to say the coolest event was probably the junior men's long boarding.  You can do so many more cool tricks when you are londg boarding.  There's a lot you can do on short boards, but these guys were dancing back and forth on their boards. There's this trick called "hang ten" which has now also become quite the phrase in Cali, but it's where, when you're riding the wave, you walk all the way out to the front end of your board and hang all ten toes over the edge. And these guys would walk out to the front of their board, shuffle back, and forth, back, and forth.  They looked like they were dancing on the waves.
Eventually, all the standing in the sun and watching the wave-riders caused our stomachs to grumble, so we made our way up the boardwalk to Wahoo's Fish Tacos. THE best taco I've had, in, a long time. Well, The waves are calling.  Have a good night everyone!

Awesome Opossum

Today me and my mom were peacefully making lunch, when Grace came in the backdoor.  She walked past us into the living room, took one look, turned back and came into the kitchen again.
"Mama, I don't want to scare you or anything," she said with no expression on her face, "But there's a baby opossum in our living room."
"What?? Where?? Go get your father!"
"Ok," she responded cheerfully.
So my dad came in and we made a blockade and propped the door open so that the only way it could go was out the door.  (Apparently the opossum was under our chair)
We put pictures and boxes against the chair and then my dad pushed all over underneath the chair.  We waited in much suspense for a little baby opossum to come scurrying out, and finally it ran out and out the door.  Grace and I chased it around the house and into the garden where it ran under a log.  I didn't see very much of it, but I saw enough to see how very adorable it was!
Finally something exciting happened!

Who could be scared of these little guys??

Lost in Translation

Something happened today that made me appreciate my small town that much more.
My mom and sister and I were peacefully unpacking a box in our garage when a commotion started up in the street.
A white van had stopped in the middle of our road and another car was behind it.  It seemed like the white van was waiting for the other car to pass it but that car was waiting for the white van to move.  Finally the white van moved and the other car pulled up into it's spot.  Once it was parked the driver got out of the car and started yelling at the driver of the white van obnoxiously loud, and the driver of the van started yelling back. "Learn how to drive!!" the car driver yelled, repeatedly.  The van driver was yelling back and I couldn't understand what they were saying. This went on for about 6 or 7 minutes, the continuous yelling, and then they both got into their cars, slammed the doors and drove off.
It was terrible how loud they were yelling, and the argument was finished with one person yelling, "Get out of our neighborhood!"
Now, if this had happened in our little town back in Wisconsin, it would have been so differently.  It would have went more like this...
The two cars pull up, the person in front engrossed in a phone call.
The car behind beeps politely, and the person in front waves and moves out of the way.
Once the car in front stops, the person behind the wheel steps out and hangs up her phone.  She motions for the car behind her to stop, and they do.  The other driver gets out of the car, walking up to the first driver.
The first driver walks up to the second and gives her a hug.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there,"
"No really," the second says  "It's my fault,"
"No really, I should've been watching better, let me take you out for tea,"
"Well, if you say so, at least let me buy the scones then," the second says.
"OK, that sounds great. Come over to my house, say, around, 3?"
"Oh perfect, I'll be sure to get the scones."
"Great! See you later!"
They smile at each other and get into their cars and drive off.
California: 0
Small Wisconsin Town: 1

The Length of a Day

Today was one of those days that when you look back on what happened, it seems impossible that it all could've happened in one day.  I look back and I think, that was today?
And yes, it was.
For the most part of the day we were unpacking boxes, and we finally found our kitchen stuff! We found our plates and the emerald green glasses with the little paintings on them, the pots and pans and the silverware.
It's so nice to find all our stuff, because when you're plopped down in a completely unfamiliar place, it's not so nice.  But then eventually memories and happy images begin to surround as your things do as well.  It's a very nice feeling.
I also got a super nice letter that may or may not have made me cry in an awkward sort of way, and then after reading the message inscribed in Morse code I went back to work, but with a bit of a smile on my face.
When my dad finally got home we went to the ocean, and every time I go to the ocean I become happy all over again.  Grace and I bounded into the waves and rode them on our boogie boards (I haven't went surfing yet, but I'm filling the gap with boogie boarding which is much easier but almost as fun)
After ditching our boards on the sand we grabbed our masks and snorkels and dove into the underwater world.
And guess what!?
I saw a stingray!!!!!
It was so cool and so exciting, and ironically enough just the other day one of my friends sent me a letter in the mail, and in this letter was a bucket list.  And on this bucket list, as number 6 or 7, was "Pet a Stingray."
But the stingray was so cool! It was just drifting along the bottom, and when it saw me it looked at me like, "Sup dude," and continued on it's way.  The edges of it were all ribbony as it pressed against the bottom and it's tail was waving back and forth. It's eyes just looked like holes in it's head from above, but they didn't miss anything.
I was so excited when I saw it that I forgot the bucket list entirely and bounded up the beach to my dad, bouncing along like an excited little puppy.
"I saw a stingray! I saw a stingray!"
When we left the beach I was starving, and when we got home dinner was ready, which is pretty much the best thing ever, to have a meal all ready for you when you get home.
After dinner I had a thoroughly amusing and long conversation on the phone, which brings us to now.  And this is beginning to sound boring now, so I leave you all with this:
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy, and good with ketchup."

The Greatest Distance

This morning I woke up sick.  Today was supposed to be a work day, since it's Saturday and my dad is home, but i woke up sick, and I always tend to feel guilty when I'm sick and lay around all day and everyone else is working.
But I was running a fever, so, in bed I lay, amusing my self with photography books and the short stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Quite good, by the way.
Sometime when I started to feel hungry I ate, and then after lunch I lay outside on our small grass lawn, under my blanket that is the color of the sea.
As I lay there the leaves whispered to me and the wind blew softly around me, and the sun fell in a dappled pattern on the grass.
It was the perfect atmosphere to fall asleep, but my thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute.  I watched the leaves glisten in the sunlight and the next thing I knew an hour had passed.  This caused me to think of a philosophical conversation I had had earlier in the summer.  It went something like this.

We walked into the woods carefully, avoiding the thistles and branches that threatened our path.  We were quiet for a while, which is not unusual for us, as we often are quiet, thinking our separate thoughts together.
She spoke up then, starting the conversation, but I don't remember exactly how.  It quickly turned in a philosophical direction, as philosophical conversations are our specialty.  Soon we were talking of time, how it just goes on, never stopping to wait for anyone.
"Time, I think, is the greatest distance," she said, "Because no matter what you do there is no way to cross the distance.   You can cross any distance of land, if you try, but there is no way to cross the distance of time."
I was quiet for a moment, letting that roll around in my mind.

This is only one of the many discussions we have had, but I'm afraid it also is one of the last.  Because no matter how much we say that it's not, 2,000 miles is a pretty great distance itself, and life tends to get in the way.
But as I lay in the grass today, that particular conversation came back to me.  And I continued it with myself.  I thought about how time passes differently for everyone.  For the traveling writer time may pass in used up pens and pencil leads broken, and if you were to ask them them the time they may reply, in an ambling matter, "Why, it is three spilled lattes past one wrinkled manuscript."
Or for the rushed office worker it is, "Exactly six minutes until nine and I am already late," they spout, as they shove you out of their way.
For the grandmother rocking in her rocking chair the world goes by in cups of tea and grand children's visits, but for the factory worker it goes by in hours put in and the desperate time between paychecks.
For the detective it is mug shots taken and cases solved,  and for the child it is Pb&j sandwiches and nap times.
For the priest it is sermons given and blessings made, and for the tired hotel housekeeper it is sheets washed and towels folded.
How does time pass for you?
Does it pass in the rambling way of the breeze, who has no rush whatsoever,  or the frenzied rain, who must thoroughly soak everything before the sun has the chance to dry it up?
Or is it in the consistent crashing of the waves on your feet, or the rolling sensation of the grain of sand?
Next time you are rushing because you are late, look at the old homeless woman who is counting the hours and days by the coins dropped in her little Styrofoam cup.  Slow down a little.  Look at the little girl who isn't counting the time at all, but living life by the number of scraped knees and ice cream cones.  Slow down a little.  Enjoy it.  This isn't like the fair, where you buy one wrist band and come back again and again.
You only get one ride.

An Underestimated Power

I'm sorry, but these past few days have not been the best.  I've been feeling pretty overwhelmed with all the boxes crowding our house, and today we really did nothing.  All three of us needed a break and we found it by disappearing into our various books and TV shows.
But as I was moping about today, thinking about how it seemed we had too much stuff,  I had a much needed epiphany.
I realized that I have so much to be grateful for.
I have a roof over my head every night.
I have three meals a day.
I have an awesome sister and parents who love me enough to send me to a Waldorf school and pay tuition in Southern California.
I realized that I cannot rightfully complain about having too much stuff, because so many other people have nothing.
I decided to make a list of the little things I am grateful for, to help remind me, and I hope you do too.

• My dog
• Summer Breezes
• Long boarding
• Getting hilarious e-mails from my best friend that cheer up my whole day
• Realizing I am actually over someone
• Being excited for the future
• The ocean
• Having a house
• Internet access
• My ukulele
• La Maison
• Viroqua
• Costa Mesa
• Good music
• My Family
• Ice cream
• Laughing till I forget
• California sunsets
• avocados
• Sunshine
• Saltwater
• food
• My friends in Viroqua
• My future friend in Costa Mesa
• My two bestest friends
• Showers
• Hot water
• electricity
• woods
• wildlife
• lemonade
• good books
• passing a whole day doing nothing
• passing a whole day being absolutely productive
• seeing the number of views on my blog quickly rising
• getting letters via snail mail
• carpet
• being ninja without even trying
• grass
• falling into bed 
• bagels
• being happy
• inside jokes

I can't think of more right now, but this list is going to grow and grow, comment some things if you want!
And remember to be grateful everyday for being alive, because you never know when that might be taken away from you.

1800 to 1100...An Interesting Fit

I don't have time to write much right now, but I'll try.
First order of business..
I'm sorry for any typos in my blog, some are written at a very late hour, but if you find any could you comment or email me? It always helps, and I'll try to go back and fix it.
Second order of business..
Moving from a four square-three bedroom-two-bath-1800-sq.ft house on four acres of land to a 1100 sq. ft house does not work very well.
I mean, I love our little house here, but our stuff just doesn't fit.
We have been working on it, my mom, my sister and I, and it is slowly coming along, slowly being the key word here.
But that's okay, I think, to go it slow.
Because the process of getting here took so long and so much energy, that's it's okay to rest and recuperate out here.
I hope everyone who is reading this had a lovely day, or is having a lovely day, and I'm very thankful that you've all stuck with me this far.
More later.
Over and out.

A Glittering Horizon

Tonight we went to this thing called a "Grunion Run" which is a watch for a type of fish.  The short version is this:
A grunion is a very unique type of fish because it is the only type of fish that lays its eggs on land.  The  grunions "run" when the tide is very high, which is either at a full moon or a new moon.  In this case, it was a new moon.
The female swims as far up onto the sand as it can and then digs her tail into the sand.  She lays her eggs there and then the male comes and fertilizes them.  They hatch at the next moon cycle, be it new or full, and then the baby grunions swim out to sea.
So anyways, we were at this thing, and we were seeing zero fish. Zilch. Nada.
Since the tide was so high the waves were huge, and I was playing this game where I would run down as far as the wave went out and then wait until the very last second before the wave touched my feet and sprint back up the beach. One time, when I was pausing in my running I looked to my right and saw a beautiful, brilliantly glittering horizon. The lights from the city were magnificent.  Then I looked out at the sea with the giant waves, which I couldn't even see until they broke.  It would be completely dark and then a white cap would appear out of nowhere. It was then that I realized how lucky I am.
A truck came by and the driver yelled out their loudspeaker that it was 10 o'clock and everyone had to leave, which I think is ridiculous, personally. But since we were with this "grunion run" group, we didn't have to leave.
I went back to my wave racing and admired the city line.
Even if we didn't see any fish it was a good excuse to stay on the beach after curfew.

Hermit Crabs and Dirt Paths

Three days in California, and only one time swimming!  What is this? That's okay though, it was worth the wait.
Today, when my dad got home from work he took me and Grace, I mean, Grace and I, on the bike path that leads to the beach.  It is about a 15 minute ride, and not at all unpleasant.
We rode on hard dirt paths, up and down hills and around curves. The dirt path joined a more legit bike path that lead under the highway. Once we came out from under the bridge the ocean was there in front of us, beckoning with its crashing waves.  
The path abruptly ended and gave way to sand, and I dropped my bike and kicked off my shoes and ran into the surf.
The water was the perfect temperature after the bike ride, and once I was in the water I proclaimed aloud how much I had missed it.
I dove under the waves and jumped over them and ran through them and rode them. We weren't quite to the Huntington Beach yet so we didn't have all the crowds, which was nice. We had our own little sliver of sea.
After I was satisfied with my water experience I took to walking along the beach.  We were at the part of the ocean where the Santa Ana river joins it, so there were rock piers on either side of it with an abundance of crabs hiding in them.  I was hopping happily from rock to rock like a little mountain goat when I found a family of these creatures.  The small crabs were scuttling back and forth and stopping to eat off the rocks.  When my giant shadow passed over them they ran for cover or wedged themselves in between two rocks and were impossible for me to grab.
After a lot of determination but no success I was turning to go when I spotted a shape out of place.  It looked suspiciously like a giant buffed-up snail. I grabbed it with lightning speed and was quite gleefully surprised to see little legs clawing at the air!
The little legs were almost transparent with blue rings circling where the ankles would've been. It seemed I had found a hermit crab.
I put the little guy in a stray styrofoam cup and ran back to my dad like a child who had just won a teddy bear at the county fair.
"Look Papa," I said holding out the cup to him.
"Look at that!" he said. "Hermie!"
I took Hermie out of the cup and set him on my palm.  Out popped his little legs, and he went crawling across my hand leaving a tingling sensation in his wake.
I brought him back to his little home on the rock and put him back where he was.  I went back to my bike and all three of us rode home, happy and salty and free.

California: for Better or Worse, but Mostly Better.

Today we are finally in California!!
Our goal was to make it here for my birthday, and we are one day early.
I might actually get to go surfing on my birthday!
Yeah, that's right. Be jealous.
Last night, when we got here at 6:30, it was 108 degrees, so Grace and I promptly jumped in the pool.
Today it's supposed to get up to 115 degrees and we have to drive across the Mohave Desert.
At least the air conditioning actually works now.  On our last trip out to California the AC didn't work.
Now, that was hot.
It's weird though, thinking we are going to be living out here now.
It still doesn't seem real. I mean, we've done long road trips like this before and I feel like we should be turning around soon and driving back to Viroqua, to our little house down in the valley.  We should be getting back and catching up on the garden, swimming in our little stream, and running through the woods.
But, honestly, I'm glad we're not.
I like it here.
I like the hot desert wind blowing endlessly across the plains.
I like the mountains, how small they make me feel.
I like having my whole family living in one house again.
I like being back where I was born.
I like our little house at the end of the street.
I like the woods that I can disappear into and completely forget that I am in the city.
I like the prospect of making new friends at the Waldorf School of Orange County.
I like having a change in my life. As much as I didn't want to go, as much as I cried, as much as I tried to hold on, it's a good thing I came to California.
Because even though I lost so much salt water out of my body, I don't have to worry. The ocean will keep me filled up.

The Land of Enchantement

The land of New Mexico is some of the most beautiful land I've seen.
The flat plains of Texas give way to jutting plateaus, which make room for dry riverbeds which turn into tall, scraggly mountain ranges that reach into the sky. As we drove along through the amazing landscape, the rounded red rock rolling by at tremendous heights, I wanted so badly to stop and climb it.
But, alas, we had to keep driving.
The rock has been there for so long, I feel like if I were to climb the rock I would find a nice ledge and sit there forever, because the awesome monstrosity would have me transfixed with its stories and I would never be able to move.
It would whisper me to me about the sands of time that have taken their toll on it, it would bubble the stories of the rains to me, the tales of the animals and people it has seen.
But in all it's storytelling it would complain not once. Because even though it sat there through the rain and snow and floods and fires, if none of that would have happened, it wouldn't be what it is today.

Read the Fine Print

OK, so I'm trying to catch up. Having a blog is exhausting.
I think it was, maybe, 2 days ago that we were in Texas. We stayed at this place called The Big Texan Hotel and Ranch, or something like that, and next door to it was The Big Texan Steak House.  This steakhouse is home to the world famous FREE 72 oz. steak dinner  (if you can eat it in one hour)
Now, this place was gluttony, and America, at its finest.
There was a raised stage in the middle of the dining room, where the "contestants" sat.
Those brave enough to try to eat it were up there sawing away at their steaks with the red neon signs above them flashing however much time was left in the hour.
Now, these steaks were humongous. I mean, ginormous. 72 oz, is, about 4 and a half pounds, and you also have to eat a baked potato and some rolls and a salad in order to win. Now remember, you get this whole meal for free, (if you eat it in one hour) If you don't, well, you have to pay for it. 73 dollars to be exact.
These guys were up there on the stage, and they all had garbage cans next to them.  There was a whole crowd gathered around them cheering them on.
One of the guys did manage to finish it, but three others ended up throwing up into their garbage cans.
It was revolting.
But the next morning, when we came back for breakfast it was nice and calm and there was a little buffet filled with fresh melon and pineapple and strawberries, and french toast.
Outside the restaurant their sign boasts the "Free 72oz steak dinner...(if you can eat it in one hour)"
So, be sure to read the fine print before you stop for that "free" steak dinner. 

The Difference of Two Minutes

Yesterday we went to see the Oklahoma City National Memorial.
For those of you who don't know, this is the memorial for the bombing that happened in 1995.
On April 19th, 1995, a man who didn't like the government bombed a government building, and this government building happened to have a daycare in it, and he killed 19 children in his bombing. Overall, 168 people died from this.
This was the first act of terrorism that happened on american soil.
Why is there such evil in our world?
If you have something against the government, you don't go and blow up a building full of children.
You don't go and blow a building full of anyone, for that matter.
If you have a problem, you talk to who it is that you have a problem with.
At the memorial they have empty chairs. Rows upon rows of empty chairs. They have one chair for each person who died, and each chair has a name on it.
They have a wide open field, and the field is filled with chairs, big chairs, little chairs, chairs and chairs and chairs.
They are high-backed, elegant chairs, with a granite seat and iridescent legs.
Each chair has a flag next to it, and if you look in the direction in which the chairs are facing, you see the Reflection Pool, a shallow expanse of water that stretches from one tower to another.
The two towers reach for the sky, and the one on the left says 9:01, and the one right says 9:03.
This is the time before and after the bombing. TWO MINUTES. Two minutes. Just think. How many times in your life have you looked back and thought what a great two minutes you just had? Now compare that to the amount of times you've said, "Man, I wish I could get those two minutes back."
We all have so much to be grateful for. We all have so much to live for.
Now get up off the couch and stop feeling sorry for yourself.
At least you're alive.
At least you have more than two minutes to live.
Start being grateful for the little things.

This post seems like it's going to be a waste of your time but it turns out not to be. (spoiler)

Today was....You'll never guess...
(drum roll please.......)
MORE DRIVING!
How did you guess?
NO, it's really not that bad.  There's just not much to report when all we do is drive..so I'm sorry for the uneventfulness.
Let's see...what did happen today...
Oh!
We bought lemon drops!
Yep...that's pretty much it.
Well, we are in A-town-that-starts-with-an-S, Oklahoma, and at least they have a pool here.  As lovely as the Wagon Wheel Inn was, they didn't have a pool.
That's okay though,
I was too busy tending to other business to swim anyways.
The only actual problem on our drive so far is the fact that our lovely dog, Copper, has a bad front leg and has a really hard time getting in and out of the car and walking around. Like today, she got up, but then just sat right back down again when her back legs collapsed underneath her.  But she's getting better.
And so are we.
Cause we're in awesome-accent country now! Down here they say "ma'am" and "sweet pea" and everyone drives a pickup and the waitresses sound like this:
"If y'all need anythin' you just give me a holla, alright?"
I love it!
I think when I grow up I'm going to have to travel around the world so I can do everything, because I really want to do just that. Everything.
I was telling my mom this and she said that I would need money, and an immediate solution came to mind.
Why I would write books of course!
I would go to every place that I was setting my novel in, and then live there for as long as I'm writing it.
And while I write the book I'll also write stories for the local paper and be a waitress at whatever restaurant to make money.
I'll go to Georgia and write sticky, sweet, summer romances, Brazil, to write fast paced adventures set in the Amazon,
New York, where adolescents over come their troubles while growing up in the South Bronx,
Australia, where the young girl saves the animals by slashing the tires on the terrible machines.
I wish there was more time!
I don't know how I'm going to accomplish all of this, but I am most certainly going to try.

These are some various Route 66 signs that were in an art contest that we saw.

Gateway to the West

Yesterday was far too late to write anything, so this is about yesterday, July 1st.
We got off to a bit of a late start, around one o'clock, so we didn't get to St. Louis until around eight-ish, and our hotel was another hour from there.
But as we drove into St. Louis I was astounded by how big the city was.  It seemed like the perfect city for, say, a rising musician to live in, with the old graffiti-ed on brick walls and the basketball games going on atop the roof tops.
I have this friend who wants to be a musician when he grows up, and I can totally picture him living there, up in an apartment high up in a skyscraper looking out over his city, writing the next number one song.
The city flashed by quickly out my window and we were soon back on the highway in the fading light, speeding toward Cuba, Missouri.
Yes, that's right.
Cuba.
It sounds much cooler than it is, and I expected it to be a tiny little town with a one pump gas station and one motel.
The lady from our motel even called us and told us that our key was under the mat behind number one, and she was calling cuz she wanted to go to bed.
But when we drove up to Cuba, this huge city seemed to rise up out of the gloom, glittering and gleaming with all the lights.
Our motel was a little Mom and Pop sort of place, with little brick buildings and 50s style rooms.  but look at the pictures for more, because check out is in 7 minutes, and I have to go!
Have a wonderful day everyone.
Oklahoma City, here we come.

It's obviously cooler in person

this is NOT a selfie, I just wanted you to see the mirror ;)

Dog Breath

Today I found out just how much bad breath one is willing to deal with when it comes to a beloved pet.
A lot.
In my case, anyways.
My dog, Copper, who is the dog in that photo post, is riding in the car with us all the way out to California.
I love my dog, don't get me wrong, I really really do. But, would you like a breath mint, dearest, darlingest dog?
I mean, on a normal daily basis it's not so bad. But riding in a car for four or five hours can get a little, well, egregious.
But right now I'm sitting in a generic hotel room and on the table is a stack of take out containers from Red Robin.
The air conditioner next to me is humming and our stuff is already spread out across the room. 
Tomorrow we will get up, pack up, maybe eat a waffle courtesy of the free breakfast, and drive on to the next classic hotel room.   And even though I don't love her breath, having Copper along, and seeing her stretched out on the hotel carpet sound asleep, makes everything a bit more homey.

Because We Can

Ice cream for breakfast.
Mismatched shoes.
Philosophical conversations in tree houses.
Why?
Because we can.
Longboarding down the middle of the road.
Singing in the rain.
Rollerblading in a classroom
Why?
Because we can.
Holding hands in class.
Sleeping on a trampoline.
Wearing one stiletto and one rollerblade.
Why?
Because we can.
Because we can.  Because we can.  Because we can.
It's like a silent mantra flowing through the teenage brain on repeat.
People look at us and raise their eyebrows, and we just raise our glass.
People look at us and frown judgingly, but we just smile back.
Did they even try to get to know us?
Did they even care enough to part the veil of stereotypes and see, that all we want is to be heard?
And seen?
And accepted?
Can't you hear us?
Just listen!
What we have to say is important too.
We are the future, and the future's future.
Shouldn't you care?
Our crazy style and loud music is not meant as an insult.
It is there because we are longing to feel something, to be a part of something.
You can't blame us for trying.

Delicious Pictures

I have recently become obsessed with art.  Painting, photography, drawing, modern art, all kinds really.
So I have decided to share some with you.  I hope after this you appreciate it a bit more too.

Hauling Wood and Ice Cream Sundaes

The last day at Grandma's today and a wee bit sad.  I hauled wood with Grandpa, grudgingly at first, and those of you who know Grandpa Roy know what a production hauling wood is with him.
But as I actually got into it I started to enjoy my self a bit more than I would like to admit.
And then we were done!  Only after, like, an hour...
It went so fast, and then Grandpa was joking about how he'll have to give me a block of wood for my birthday because I won't have to haul any out there.  :)
I swear the number one priority in life for Grandmothers everywhere is to fatten their grandchildren up, because for dinner we had macaroni+tomatoes+meat and then we had ENORMOUS ice cream sundaes for dessert.
And as I sat there licking the fudge sauce off my spoon I felt slightly guilty but supremely satisfied, because, honestly, who doesn't love ice cream.

om nom nom

Wabbits and Bears and Deer, Oh My!

So today I am at my grandparents house, we are going to be here till sunday and then we are hitting route 66 to get our kicks. ;)
We were driving through the wonderful Northern Wisconsin wilderness today and came upon a bunch of deer, a WABBIT, and a black bear!  It was probably about teenager age, at least it acted like one from the way it just stood there and looked at us while chewing on wildflowers.
We had pulled over on the side of the road for my grandma to take pictures of it, and this red pickup pulled up behind us. We just sat there biding our time and then the guy behind us gets out of his truck and starts walking up the hill, filming the bear on his iPhone.
He was creeping very carefully up the hill and then the bear looked up at him and he froze.
They had a bit of a staring contest and then the bear took one step towards him and........BAM!
The guy was hightailing it down all two feet of the hill and tripping over his own feet.  He fell at least twice. Okay, it would've been funnier if you were there, but I could practically hear the bear laughing at the guy. The bear took one last look at us and went back to his flowers, probably thinking how us humans need to get a life.
Rebellious teenager black bear:  1   iPhone guy:  0

The Beginning Of The End

Today is the beginning, and the end.  Nothing will be the same from now forward.  I will have to learn new ways and forget old ones.  Adapt to new places and become stronger.  I will have to learn the ways of the people of the sun, in order to survive.
That sounded awesomely dramatic. ;)
No, but really.
This morning we scrubbed and cleaned and packed and shoved everything into our little black trailer.
We loaded up the dog and ourselves and left behind our home in the valley, for one year, maybe two, maybe forever.
The home where my sister and I were able to run around naked at the precious age where that is allowed without the prying eyes of neighbors.
The house with the cliff and the cave and the bubbling, babbling spring.
The house where I had my first dance party, the house where I discovered I could be creative, and I should, because people embraced it.
The house that was in biking distance of town and school.
The house where the sidewalk started was the beginning of my world.
The house that I could longboard down the middle of the road without a fear of being hit.
The house I never thought I'd leave.
But as we drove away I barely looked back because it would only make me sad again, but that was not the reason I didn't look back.
The reason I didn't look back was this.
The lovely memories that were made there are put away in a golden box and stored safely in the back of my mind, leaving lots of room for new things.  For the smell of salt and sand and the strong coastal wind.
For the crashing of waves and the sound of new laughter.
For new friends and new things, for mexican food and paletas.
Fear not my friends, I won't forget you.
I'll be back to bug you and tell of my fabulous adventures before you can even miss me.
So this is the first day of my journey, and I am facing it with a surprisingly light heart.
Wish me well.  Send me good thoughts and hugs.
Go climb a tree for me.

Dust Motes and Old Rope

I really haven't kept up with this very well.  It will get better, I promise. On our drive out there, to California that is, I will (hopefully) be writing everyday.
Today was an interesting, bittersweet, sad day.
It started early.  5 o'clock came with the chirping of the birds and the morning sunshine and my mom gently shaking me awake and telling me it was time to get up. My dad flew back out to California today, And next tuesday or wednesday we are going to drive out there, taking route 66.
His flight went out at ridiculously-early-o-clock this morning and as I watched him get on to the plane, it was the hardest of all the times. You see, My dad has been living out there for the past ten months and the hardest times were the first and the last. I thought the last would be the easiest, Yes! We're leaving soon! I'm so outta here! Peace out homies!
But as he went through security I pictured myself walking right through that metal detector, unable to turn around and run back into the arms of my best friends. I'm going to miss them so much.  If you guys are out there reading this (you know who you are) I just want to tell you that I love you very much and I will miss you terribly.
And as I stood there at the airport, at 7 o'clock on a random thursday morning in June, I had to try so hard to hold back the tears because I knew if I didn't I would have broken down then and there into a sobbing, tear-streaked mess on the unforgiving linoleum floor.
When we got home hours later, after trying to find some gratification on the racks of Goodwill, (mission successful, by the way) we were all way too exhausted to do anything but disappear into our own minds and sleep.
Around 2 o'clock we finally summoned enough energy to head up to the upper floor of the barn and tackle the biggest task left here.  We sorted and shoved and lifted and moved and grunted and sweated and breathed in the dust, but by 7 o'clock we were all satisfied with our work.  In a mere 5 hours us three girls, Turino girls, mind you, had turned the 3,000 sq. ft (approximately) upper floor of the barn into a sorted room ready to be moved and rented by someone who's middle name I don't even know.
And with the barn all cleaned out like that, as I perched in the rafters and surveyed the scene, I wondered why we hadn't done this sooner.
The old rope from the shipyards that my dad used to work at hung from a rafter and looked sentimentally picturesque.
Take time to make something how you've always wanted it.  Don't just add it to the list of things to do, don't say you'll do it tomorrow. Sometimes, tomorrow never comes, but there are times when it comes far too quickly.

Subscriptions, subscriptons

I finally figured out how to actually work my blog!
I found the place where you set it up so that you receive posts by email!
All this time people have been bugging me about it, and now it's here!
Now you don't have to come and check it all the time (because I know you all do;), instead, just enter your email in the box at the top of the page and click 'subscribe'.
A little box should pop up, and follow the instructions in said box. It is not a virus, I promise.
For all of you who actually know how to do this and, could frankly, do it in your sleep, i apologize if I just insulted your intelligence.  Just trying to help out.
Now, sit back and enjoy the graces of modern day technology.

7 Bad Things About Moving to California

1. Leaving these friends
2. Leaving my house
3. Going to a big city
4. Leaving this small town
5. Everything there is fast and loud
6. Not enough trees to climb 
7. I'm having trouble coming up with a 7th...I think that's a good thing :)

7 Good Things About Moving To California

1. The ocean
2. A change--finally
3. More friends
4. Umm...duh.  It's California
5. A big city
6. Leaving this small town
7. Leaving this drama

Ode to the letter P

P.  Proud, preposterous p.
I think if P were a person, he might be a pope.
 Or possibly a proud policeman.  Yes.  A policeman.
Strutting up and down his street, periodically checking his pocket watch, the gold buttons on his uniform glittering.
He would carry a club of course, wielding it like a mother holding a baby.
He would love his club, and barely ever use it because it is so precious to him.
As he paced he would whistle a slight, lilting tune and nod at whoever passed by him.
He would be kind at heart, but one stern look from him would stop any hooligan in their tracks.

7 Reasons Not To Get Married

1. To prove a point
2. For money
3. Because you like their last name
4. Because you like their family  (It can be a factor though)
5. Because someone told you to
6. Because someone proposed to you and you don't want to hurt them so you feel obliged even though you don't love them.
7. Because all your friends are

Good Life

So, don't judge.  This is a music video that my fabulous friend Zoe and I made.  (I would call her Zoekins but she does not appreciate that;)
So post and re-post it and enjoy!  Also a shout out to Arlo for being in this even though he didn't know he was being filmed at the time.

A Tribute to Night Laughter

Those summer nights of freedom were the best.
The nights where we laughed so hard that we forgot everything else, laughed so hard that we didn't need to do sit ups to get a six-pack, laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt enough for us to laugh more.
Those were the endless nights. 
The nights of  screaming and yelling and laughing and scaring ourselves.  The nights that as the jokes got progressively worse we only laughed harder.
The nights that our complexions seemed to go on vacation because no matter how many gummy worms we ate or how much sweet tea we drank, our faces never seemed to catch up with it all.
We would watch our favorite movies again and again just because Orlando Bloom was in them.  We would talk and giggle and make general noise through the whole thing but when he came on screen we would shush each other and slap each other and stare lovingly at the screen in front of us.
The movie would end, "Okay, it's 12:30, we should probably go to sleep now."
"Yeah you're right."
A few moments of silence.
A few precious, quite conspicuous moments of silence...
*bam!*
A word rips the silent screen and then the laughter starts, rolling and rippling along with the stream bubbling next to our tent.  
We have tickle fights and tell stories and whisper quietly and laugh, laugh, laugh.
The next time we look at the clock it says 4:30 with an odd artificial light that intrudes on our happy bubble.  We quiet down for a moment and then realize we can hear the birds waking up.
"We should definitely go to sleep now."
The only answer is a yawn and a pillow slapping me across the face.
When we wake up it is 11 'o clock and the inside of our tent is roasting, so as we roll out into the refreshingly cool air, the only thing we do is laugh.

Accepting the Adventure

Hi Everyone,

I'm sorry it's been a while.  

I have become increasingly busy as the summer goes on, unfortunately.  

Another golden nugget of wisdom:  Don't complain about a boring and uneventful life.  You will get exactly what you want and more.

Most of you probably already know what this dynamic change is, but I will share it now...

In eighteen days I am moving to California.

If you didn't know this I apologize for the shock.  So, Yes.  The summer has been full of sorting and throwing things out and sorting some more and throwing out more things.  

For the most part I am incredibly excited to be leaving, going on an incredible adventure, going where it's warm.  

But then I find myself thinking about it too much, about how I won't see my favorite people every day, how I won't know all the little secrets about our little town, how I won't get to hear the babbling of our stream outside my window.  I find myself crying about it, again, and yelling at myself for being so weak.  

I was talking to one of my friends outside of the school the other day and he was saying how he was impressed with my ability to just leave like this.  He's going to Germany for a year, and he's having a hard time with it.  He said he wished it was that easy for him.  I told him that it's not that easy.  That I try to be strong in front of people and at school but then I just go home and cry quietly to myself up in a tree somewhere.(sound familiar?) 

I do this because I hate making people sad.  My best friend is having a really hard time with my leaving and every time the topic comes up he gets really quiet and sad-seeming.

But once all of this passes, I start to feel excited again.  

I'm going to CALIFORNIA for goodness sake.  I'll make more friends, I'll discover the secrets of Costa Mesa, I'll hear the ocean  

It's going to be a wonderful adventure, A much needed change I have been starving for.  And who knows? I can always come back.  We're not selling our house, just renting it out to a wonderful woman with a golden aura and three kids, two girls and a boy.  And they are going to take care of our cats!

I should be embracing this, accepting it, bounding forward into it.  Because honestly, there is nothing I can do about it.

It's going to come whether I want it to or not.

Lunch Break!

Oh, how i love lunch.  Especially at my school.  Open campus!! Whoop, whoop!
I get time to longboard, work on my beloved blog, and be crazy.  It can get relativley boring though, at times.  Everyone tends to leave so it gets really quiet...
but then i go and--yep, you guessed it--climb a tree somewhere.  Surprising isn't it? Me, climb trees? No. Never.  ;)
But, unfortunately, as all things do, lunch must come to an end also. 
I look at the clock and --oh no!-- ten minutes.  Better get my butt back over to school and up the three long flights of stairs to endure, yes, two hours and forty-five minutes more, of school.  But only three and a half more days!! Yippeeee!!!!!!
Then it is time for my   (DRUM ROLL PLEASE...)

DYNAMIC CHANGE      DUN, DUN, DUN...

Blending Colors

Painting is a wonderful escape.
The simple motion of back and forth, back and forth helps to clear the mind.
That's all I have been doing for the past two days. 
Painting.  Mixing colors. Cleaning off the palette, getting new water, grabbing a new canvas and starting again.  
Music going the whole time and my mom repeatedly asking me to keep my door open.
For two days I have felt guilty about my lack of productivity.  Is it a bad thing that when I sit down and do art for two days I feel guilty?
Should I not be entitled to this wonderful artistic escape? 
So I repeatedly ask my mom what I should be doing and she repeatedly tells me to go back to my painting, go back to my painting.
Acrylic, watercolor, oil and ink.  Glitter and thoughts and songs.  Where is this creativity coming from? Why did I not find this before?  
The sweet relief of art leaves me feeling like I just came out of therapy, ready to face the last week of school with gusto.
Bring it on!

First Post!!

Hi Everyone! 
I hope people are reading this, anyway.  This is my first ever post on my first ever blog!  So Exciting!  and since it is my first ever blog, bare with me.  I'm just getting into the swing of it.  
The obvious foreshadowing tells of a "dynamic change".  
This said dynamic change is the main reason for this blog.  it shall remain a mystery for a bit longer though.  Can't give everything away right at the beginning. ;)
I hope you all come back and read more.  I'll try to keep it interesting.  :)
My wisdom nugget for the day:
When change comes up to you, take it's hand and skip along beside it.  Otherwise, it will tie you to the tailgate and drag you along in the dirt.  
true story.
ciao!
~Lydia

this cat is animal me, springing forth into my "dynamic change" :)