I have contradicting thoughts all bashing around together in my head.
The happy side says that there's only one day of school this week, and that's yearbook day! It's summer, the sun is shining, and I can go to bed at 8:30 if I want to because I don't have to stay up doing homework. I get to go swimming and hang out with friends every day of the week and not just Saturday (well, besides Sunday). Also, one of my best friends is writing a song for me to sing and I'm super excited. AND because it's summer I get to start taking more walks again. I love walks.
Then the sad side reminds me that my mom is getting a surgery on Thursday that will take two months to recover from. And after yearbook day, I won't see a large majority of my school friends ever again. And two of my best friends pretty much hate me and never want to speak to me again.
If you asked me if I was happy, I would say yes.
If you asked me if I was distressed, I would say most definitely.
When it comes to One Direction, I have pride issues. And just for the record, I discovered One Direction first. I discovered them way back before any of their music was released in the U.S. I listened to them obsessively on YouTube and prayed that one day I could have those amazing voices on my iPod.
(Remember my celebrity crushes post? See, I had a crush on Harry Styles before most other Americans knew he existed.)
When their album came in the mail I was more than thrilled. I told my friend from school all at about them on the bus for a field trip. She called them gay and said she didn't like them. I would not live with that falsehood and made her listen to several songs off the album.
She was quickly converted. Naturally.
The next week she was all over them. All she talked about was One Direction. For a while it really picked at my pride. After all, I discovered them first and I was the one who introduced them to her! And she was acting like it was her own great discovery and that they belonged to her. I was perfectly willing to share the 5 British wonders of the world, but the fact she was so possessive drove me crazy. (Oh, the irony...)
Long story war-inside-my-brain-that-lasted-several-days short, I had a bit of a grudge.
During class she and I started to talk more... about One Direction. I started warming up with the idea that at least now I had someone to fangirl with. It wasn't long before she and I became inseparable at school. Now she's pretty much one of my best friends. One Direction brings people together... *sniffle*
There I was again, leaning against the wall outside... alone. When had I become this? When had I gone from a decently sized group of friends to being a loner? I couldn't put my finger on the exact day, but it had pretty much been like that for over a month.
First I had a fight with my friend, and all of my groupies chose him over me and basically started ignoring me. It's not like they knew anything about what happened, but when he and I parted ways, they followed him. Whatever.
After that I sat with one friend. She was someone I was super close to, but I guess neither of us have been very open lately because mostly we would just talk about random things. I still enjoyed her company. Earlier in the year she would tell me about her boy drama and such, but she stopped talking about it after a while and I didn't know why. Maybe I wasn't understanding enough. Last week I guess she got sick of talking to me about random things and started hanging out with this girl who had boy drama with the same boy she did and she would randomly disappear during lunch. Not long after she just stopped coming to the lunch table.
I guess when it all comes down to it, it's all kind of my fault. But nevertheless, there I was, leaning against the wall just watching the two separate groups of friends that I once hung out with.
I hate A day lunch.
I'm glad the school year is almost over.
In one of Utah's chilly months (I think it was November) I made Kayla take me to Deseret Book. I had heard David Archuleta was doing a signing there and, of course, thrilled myself with the idea of meeting him. And being the amazing sister that she is, Kayla was willing to stand with me in a line that wrapped all around the building.
We stood outside in the freezing cold for a long time. Neither of us brought coats for some reason. I took probably 2 pictures before my camera died and I blessed Kayla with an explanation of my deep sorrow on that matter. When David Archuleta came, I had a hard time watching excited squealing girls come out of the building while I was still standing in a line that seemed to go on forever. I was still excited, but I was bummed about my camera and trying really hard to warm up my numb fingers.
Kayla and I started talking to the girl in front of us in line. She said she was getting a CD signed for her friend and I admired her dedication. If I was that friend, I would've loved her forever. She was really nice and we talked to her for the rest of the two hours we stood in line.
When we finally got inside, we were happy to be warming up. Our new friend bought us brownie bites and cookies to eat and we saved her spot in line.
That day was unforgettable for two reasons.
1) I met David Archuleta and he signed my magazine and said my name (it sounds even more beautiful when he says it) and looked right at me! *squeal*
and 2) I can never forget the little acts of service we received from that girl in line. We were cold and tired from standing, and she didn't even know us, but just talking to her brightened our day. At stake conference we heard a lot about little acts of service, and this is the day I thought of.
Big things aren't always the things we remember most.
I'm absorbed into a sponge of memories. Pointless ones that only make me mournful. Missing people from the past when there's no way to get them back. Regretting decisions that led to sadness. Wishing I could take back things I said in a fight.
I need to work on that.
"A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen." --Edward de Bono
I was at Kohl's with Kayla. We were looking at the jewelry and trying on rings when my dad called. He said he was taking Mom to the emergency room.
Kayla and I rushed home. Mom and Dad were already gone and I went up to the upstairs bathroom to find enough blood to pass for a murder scene. I've never seen so much blood. We cleaned her clothes along with half the bathroom while we waited for Dad's updates. The whole day didn't really seem real. Everything was blurry and I didn't even know what was going on.
We found out that Mom had emergency surgery to fix the stitching that had broken from her last surgery. She lost 1/3 of her blood.
We visited her in the evening. She was pale and had trouble having enough oxygen. I hated being at the hospital and seeing her like that. I didn't want that image scarred in my brain.
None of it really sank in, though, until two days later. That was when I found out that if my dad had arrived at our house five minutes later than he did, my mom would have bled to death. All day I felt heavy and paralyzed. I didn't tell anyone about it except my closest friends. That night I called on of my best friends and just sobbed over the phone. I didn't even know how to say how I felt. I had almost lost my mom. And if she had died, I wouldn't have even been there to say goodbye or tell her I loved her.
I love my mom so much. And even though it's impossible for teenagers and moms not to clash every once in a while, we have grown so close. I tell her all of my dreams and my stories. She is a crazy super woman, no joke. She has been Relief Society President and had FOUR jobs all AT THE SAME TIME. Her IQ is like 47 billion. She knows how to do everything and is always willing to teach me. She is amazing and even when I'm having a bad day, deep down I will never forget that. I'm so glad she is here with me and even gladder that my family is sealed together for eternity.
It is universally known that food is not only needed to keep us alive, but also a huge part of culture around the world. Food is how we experience different parts of the world through a sensory experience. Food is an art practiced everywhere. Food is how we socialize.
And I've never really been able to participate in it.
My parents tried for years to get me to eat normal foods. Their attempts usually ended with vomit all over me/the table and loss in appetite for everyone else. It didn't take them long to discover I had an extremely delicate palate. When I got to a certain age and still wouldn't eat normal food, my dinner every night was a piece of bread, or, if I was feeling adventurous, toast. All of my sisters' friends knew me as the crazy little girl who ate bread for dinner.
Although I've come to like more things over the years, not a lot has changed. I still have a delicate palete, or, as most people like to phrase it, I'm still a picky eater.
I can safely say most human beings like to have something to blame for all of their troubles. And for me, it's always been the fact that I'm a picky eater.
You see, if I wasn't a picky eater I could eat healthier foods.
And if I ate healthier foods I would be healthier.
And if I was healthier I would be thinner.
And if I was thinner I would be prettier.
And if I was prettier I would have more friends.
And if I had more friends more boys would like me.
So basically if I wasn't a picky eater... my life would be awesome.
Do you see how flawed this trail of logic is?
I know it's way stupid, but I still find myself thinking it over and over. My mom says I need an "A.N.T. eater" (Automatic Negative Thinking). Like something you can think of to replace negative thoughts. I've been trying to come up with one all week.
But I'm still working on it. That is, accepting myself for who I am. Besides, there's no point in wishing for things that are impossible.
"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich." --Dan Wilcox
"Truely great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget."
"We are supposed to be happy, 'for men are that they might have joy.'"
"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? To surrender dreams-- this may be madness; to see treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! But maddest of all-- to see life as it is and not what it should be."