Follow Up

So this is the post that I knew I would post when I posted the other post. Just as expected, primary has already grown on me. I'm not exactly a pillar of organized confidence yet, but it's coming much faster than I thought it would.

I've decided my emotions sort of work like a suction cup. I quickly get attatched to things and then it takes a real effort to remove myself. I remember leaving elementry school. Unlike most kids, I was super bummed. Who in the world would want to go to a big, scary school where all you did was sit through classes all day. No recess, no arts and crafts. It didn't sound exciting at all!

And then I left high school. I've since felt myself being slowly pried away from my friends as they leave, from my favorite teachers, and just from the fun memories I have in those hallways. College still intimidates me a little but I'm not near as bad off as I was at graduation. Summer has helped calm those nerves a little.

I'm sure once I graduate from college, I'll be the same way. I just have this habit of latching myself to things and clinging tight, loving it with everything I have. And then the winds of change come and I have to pull free. It's never a super fun thing for me but then I find something else to cling to until it's time to let go again. Makes me wonder what my spirit was like when it was time for it to come to earth...

Anyways, callings are no different. I'm already falling in love with these kids. The way they focus so hard on the actions of "Nephi's Courage" and participate willingly in all the games I try to come up with. I love how the junior primary's every other answer is "Jesus!" and the senior primary's clear understanding of things. Some of them are about to enter young men's and women's. They'll fit right in. Especially since a few of them where bigger shoes sizes than me and already have me by a few inches.

So there you have it. A problem resolved. I'm sure you all already saw it coming but it just feels good to write about it. I have a feeling I'm going to have a hard time leaving this primary group now but I've learned from this that I'll manage. Flourish, even. I'll take up the art of snow angels or something in Idaho :)

There has also been other doubts resolved. For example, the fact that I didnt make it into BYU Utah. Though I'm sure I don't know all of the reasons yet, I have discovered a few. Had I made it in, I would've left right after I graduated. Now I have until after Christmas to leave and this summer has been one of great growth for me. I've noticed things in myself that I didn't notice during the busy days of school and my parents have been able to teach me some valuable lessons that I don't think I would've learned otherwise. I've gained knowledge I'd much rather have before I went off on my own.

In other words, there is truly a plan for all of us. I see now that Heavenly Father's individual children are never at the back of his mind. They are always at the front. He knows just what we need when we need it and we simply need to trust.

Fireworks in the Rain

So obviously blog posts don't come to me quite as much as they used too. I'm not sure why. I guess my mind's too occupied. It has good reason to be; between the two stories I daydream about, college plans, and adjusting to institute I'd much rather just sit down with brothers for a good session of Teen Titans or Spongebob.

Today wasn't much different. I didn't have that usual flood of inspiration that drives me to my computer for an escape route. I simply came home from church, dug out some leftovers, and wrote in my journal.

That's when I realized I'd had a pretty good week. I tend to stress the little things a lot--as you readers can probably tell-- and if making mountains out of molehills was an olympic sport, I think I'd have a fighting chance. Sometimes I'll go through my journal and just wonder why someone hasn't labeled me a basket case. Maybe I'm just a girl.

Anyways, I had been back at it again all week before I sat down to write in my journal. The cool thing about journal writing though is that if you're wordy like me you get hand cramps. So then you tend to sift through the grains of details and only record the big chunks of events. I found some fun stuff this time around.

I was feeling particularly grumpy one day and so, knowing the best cure for such a thing, I dragged Kilroy (my kindle) and I into the kitchen to make cookies for two people in our ward who had much greater reasons than me to be grumpy; they were returning from the hospital. I whipped up some no-bakes, licked the spatula clean, and then walked up to their house. They weren't quite home yet so I snuck inside and found a paper towel and a pencil to right them a note. I got halfway through when, from outside, I heard a car pull up.

Now there's only so many things you can do in a situation like this.  But I didn't know any of them so I simply threw the note away and looked around, trying to find the least awkward place to be standing when they came into their own house to find me in their living room.

An awkward moment, a rushed explanation, and a good laugh later, things settled down.  And, needless to say, my grumpy mood was gone.

I also went outside to play soccer with my baby brother this week. This has become a regular hobby lately. We have our goals marked on the lawn and the teams change each week with whatever shirt we happen to be wearing. Usually it's Team Sonic the Hedgehog and Team Burnt Marshmellows (I have a lot of black t-shirts). The usual game goes to twenty points.

Only this time he kicked into the flowing irrigation ditch and we had to fish it out. Before long it grew into a splashing fight. Then he spotted the bucket in the sand box. We also found the cat's water bowl and before long we were chasing each other around the yard until we were both soaked. We tried to finish our soccer game but we were both laughing so hard we couldn't even kick the ball straight.

He did eventually win and my pants did eventually dry but then he started it all up again. And that, I decided, was how a six year old and an eighteen year old have become best friends. I've also slept on the trampoline with my other brother this summer and we stayed up playing pokemon--something we haven't done since I was in the fifth grade.  Oh how I wish I could take those two with me! If Seth misses an episode of one of our favorite shows I can totally catch him up on it and we'll discuss it like the avid fans we are. And I won't even have to feel like a nerd.  If I can't get up the courage to do something, I can just remember Nic's words too me when he was trying to get me to rollerblade down a rather high ramp, "Just do it. Don't even think about it."
And I could sit there and watch the both of them quote Nacho Libre back and forth for hours.

So yes. Again my goal is to stop stressing the small things so I can look up and see the much bigger brighter things in life. Like watching fireworks in the drizzling rain this year and getting all the blankets muddy. The small rain drops can be distracting but if I let them get the best of me, look what I'm missing!

Dear Daddy,

1.Thanks for all those fishin' trips. I can still taste the raw corn and smell the lake water. My fascination for everything in your tackle box are still fresh in my memory from the neon colored bait to the jar of red fish eggs. I wonder if that purple dino pole and smiley-face bobber is still around...

2.  Thanks for all the silly stories before bedtime. Even when my friends came over for sleep overs. I was the envy of them all :) And I still remember the ones about the fat gummy bear who finally saw his toes and as the tomato who was terrified to "catch-up".

3. Thanks for teaching me how to fix my bike and now my car. And for showing me life's best roads to take them down.

4. For working your tail end off. Whenever I feel overwhelmed all I need is glance at the length of your daily to-do list.

5. I love the way you make friends with the guy getting gas on the other side of the meter, the cashier in Safeway, and anyone else who crosses your path. I've been with you when you helped people with their flooded basements and I've caught you cutting wood for people. I'm always proud to say your name when people ask who's daughter I am.

6. For playing with us. Whether its baseball, videogames, or restaurant coasters.

7. Thanks for the horse rides and the round-ups. I'll have fun telling my college roomates about them.

8. I love your laugh. And how you always knowing just what will make me laugh.

9. For being able to fix anything and everything. I vaguely remember wanting to test your skills at one pointby asking if you could fix a rock--obviously the strongest element there was. You probably don't remember but you said it was easy; just use super-glue. I've since been convinced that no one can top you. Whether its super-gluing a rock, my favorite toy, or my broken heart.

10. Thanks for all those father's blessings. Even if my problems sounded silly, you always seemed to recognize that they were real to me.

12. Thanks for loving Mom! And for the gentle suggestions to help her around the house.

13. Thanks for your love for the outdoors and helping me appreciate it as well. And for sharing your talents. I still remember the birthday party where all my friends and I made bows and arrows out of tamarack.

14. For that poem that I ran across one day on Mom's blog. It brought tears to my eyes and I think I'm going to print it out and bring it with me when I leave. That way I can cry some more when I'm there.

15. For sitting out on the porch and sharpening your arrows waiting for my first date to show up :)

16. For brake checks in the truck.

17. Thanks for that one night when you stayed up late with me on the couch giggling at my newest VeggieTales movie. Perhaps there's a deeper reason to why I haven't been able to let go of those.

18. For the random phone calls just to say hi and the random notes on my pillow just to say I love you.

19. For encouraging me in everything I do. Whether its writing, piano, clay, my knack of puzzles when I was little, reading, trying to make friends, or  attempting to do my own hair for a dance.

20. Thanks for your constant imagination! Like the time you quenched my boredom by flipping through the channels on our T.V. to teach me how old members of our family were.

21. For daddy-daughter dates and long conversations in the car.

 I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for letting me be one of the luckiest daughters on earth!  You made my childhood magical and my teenage years exciting. I got to be one of the little girls who the first guy she ever fell in love with was her daddy. All those college boys have a lot to live up to!

A Joyful Noise

So now that I'm 18 and I've graduated I've only actually gone to Relief Society once. Long enough to try and smile as they welcome me and every head turns my direction. And long enough to hear a much needed lesson.  A great place! I'm sure once I'm a full-fledged member I will come to embrace it.  But, as of now, I have been called as the Primary Chorister.

At first I thought, sure. I can do that. Afterall, I feel more like myself around little kids than I do my peers (not sure what that's supposed to tell about me...). But, the more questions I asked and the more I thought about it, the more my constant companion, Ms. Anxiety, kicked in. First off, I've been told my entire life to speak up. When I write it's no problem. My ideas flow and the keyboard clicks up a storm. I can laugh really loud too. But speaking? Over an entire classroom of wiggles and squirms? I wasn't so sure.

I also talk really fast. I tend to eat fast, walk fast, read fast, draw fast, get ready in the morning fast, play the piano fast--the only thing that I don't do fast is run. So what if I rushed through every thing and couldn't fill up even the measly twenty minutes I was allotted each class?

What if the kids got bored? What if I overdid things? What if the building blew up?!

It was silly but I even had dreams about it. Dreams! Of missing hand puppets and intimidating audiences.

I've since decided that if there's one thing I'm supposed to learn here in mortality, its to relax.

Anyways, prayers were obviously said and I mentally ran through all that I had planned twenty times. Because, for some really strange reason, the girl who found excuses to watch the Swan Princess on Saturday nights and played pretend on Sunday nights couldn't face a bunch of primary children.

And those prayers were answered. From the get go even. My neighbor's little girl came in and, at the sight of me, began jumping up and down, "Dolly, Dolly Dolly, Dolly, Dolly, Dolly!!" The other leaders just turned to me with a smirk, "Welcome, Sister Hansen."

I also discovered that this month's song is "Nephi's Courage", reminding me that the Lord provides a way. Whoever decides those types of things knows what they're doing.

Then, of course, the warm feelings telling me to calm down. Those feelings I need to learn to trust in more often.

But, as it usually seems to go, most answers came in the form of people. I was immediatly given encouragement, ideas, and pointers out the wazoo. Schedules and supplies were given, visiting teachers visited, and my mom had lots of wisdom to share.

Even in the actual class. People reminded me when to get up, the piano player whispered to me the page numbers and suggested songs, and the kids actually got into some of what I was doing. I even got a cookie from one of the teachers at the end because I 'did so good'.

I'm really going to need this calling. The simple lessons, the energy, the humor--all of it! Trying to prepare for a complicated world has unravled me a little but the excitement in the kids' eyes and the randomly shouted answers do the trick well. And I think someone already knew it would.

I've been told I'm good with kids but I think what it really is is that kids are good with me. Though I'm sure when I have my own I will find them more tiring, for now I find them refreshing. They boost my ego like nobody's business and remind me that I don't need to take life so darn seriously.  And so I've decided to "go and do". To grab those in tact hand puppets and soak up the obnoxious, rambunctious but joyful noise.

The Gist

So after a busy, crazy month, I'm finally back!

It still hasn't really clicked that I've graduated. It hasn't quite set in that I might never see some of those classmates again or that I'm now old enough to date college-age guys. And that's partly my fault because ever since January, I've refused to think about it. Pondering such things really isn't a good thing for sentimental hearts; I would know. I still don't have senioritis because of that. People would announce that it was our last Friday ever and cheer while I would sulk. Those halls held tons and tons of memories and I didn't want to be torn from what was familiar and thrown into the big, unfamiliar world.  But, I've since recovered some. Prayers and people have helped. I've been able to muster up some more courage to face the world--naivety, lack of cooking skills, and all--and know that, in reality, I won't be alone. I never have been. And the Dr. Suess quote used by our Valedictorian in his speech said it perfectly, "Don't be sad because its over; smile because it happened."

That's the goal for this post. To smile at what has happened and give a sort of tribute to everything that made it so great. In short, the hows and whats and whos of why I have that diploma.

1. AR Books. They got me in trouble in Chemistry class but oh how they helped! There were days when all I looked forward to (other than lunch) was that twenty minutes they gave us to read. Getting lost in fictional worlds has always been a hobby of mine.

2. Teachers!  I've had the best of the best. English teachers that really show me how to do things on my own, Math teachers who come before school, at lunch, or a few minutes after to help me with my constant strugglings in that area. And the P.E. teacher who gave me the Oustanding Student award for trying.

3. Lockers. And friends who clean them out for your birthday. I've since become a little more organized.

4. Creative Dates. From the manquin in my car to the donuts in my locker and from mud-bogging to paint-ball with slingshots. Thanks guys :)

5. My parents. They will always be my lifeline. Whenever I've forgotten my homework, broke down in tears over the drop of a hat, or chatted on and on about my latest story idea they've always lovingly put up with me. I pretty much owe them everything.

6. My friends. Some have been close since kindergarten, others since this year, but all were needed! I've been lucky enough to have 'good' friends. Great friends. Ones that would never lead me to the dark corners, but only the places of light. Ones that were full of clean jokes and contagious laughter. Ones that knew me so well they brought and extra towel to girls camp, knowing I'd likely forget mine, and brought over a spotted cake when I had chicken-pox.

7. Peers. I've had the privlege to grow up in and LDS community which does wonders for the High School career. Peer pressure is positive in my class. I have a 4.0 GPA and still rank in 5th. Everyone is either an athelete, a musician, or both. Of course, all the drama seems to have flown over my head all these years but at least I don't have to put up with near the things I read in the New Era. It might come back to bite me later in the form of culture shock but for now, I love it!

8. Family. Immediate to the extended, I've constantly felt like I have my own personal cheer squad. Everyone thinks I've done such a good job at things but how could I not when I have support systems out the wazoo? No matter what it is, they're there in the audience. Or if they miss that, they're clapping me on the back Sunday night at Grandma's or when we go to Phoenix to visit. Even my ward family seems to be in on this. I've been given so much in this area I feel that if I don't do something, I'm going to be in trouble.

9. Siblings. Niclaas for years of Pokemon, Harry Potter, and keeping me in line and Seth for Phineas and Ferb, Teen Titans, and throwing me back out of line. I want to stuff them both in my suitcase.

10. The Gospel. One of the biggest parts of my life both literally and figuratively. Seminary, church meetings, mutual, callings, tear-filled lessons, leaders, teachers, scriptures, firesides, girl's camp, EFY, temple trips, youth speakers, General Conference--I think Heavenly Father knows how to deal with teenagers. Or at least this one. And I'm sure H knows how to deal with young adults too.

11. This blog. And all of you who read it and keep telling me to write it. It helps me put my life in perspective when things get confusing and reminds me that I'm not as bad off as I sometimes think.

12. Teacher's Aid Hours. A whole free class period to work on English and Precalculus assighnments after procrastinating! The senior's best friend.

13. Modeling Clay. I loved coming up with new things to display in the library. It kept my creative side going and even cheered me up on my rougher weeks when I'd giggle at my own ideas or people would compliment me in the hallway on the way to class.

14. Sleep. It works miracles.

15. Extra notebooks, both for when I forgot my original ones and for when I'd get ideas. I think every notebook I own holds excerpts from at least one story I've tried to write. Some have more. It's always fun to go back and look through, jumping between the adventures of Agent Trian Gull and the thoughts of air-elemental Airika.

16. Stake Dances. A good hunk of my social skills were formed there, as well as a good hunk of laughs.

17. My iPod. It's edges are now scraped and its surface scratched from years of driving class, sports trips, running, dancing when I'm supposed to be doing my make-up, mowing, and lots and lots of dropping.

18. My phone(s). The poor thing. I've missed so many calls and texts and even left one of them out in the rain. So I guess I really should be thanking my friends' patience level and my parents' budget here.

19. The little, orange pillow on my bed. There are now small mascara stains on it from having many a good cry. Looking back, I don't remember why I cried so it was probably over something of little importance, but I'm glad it was there.

20. Disney movies. I adore these things. If you think me watching them on the weekends is bad, you should've seen me at Disneyland.

21. "The Loop". My walking, running, venting, pondering, biking, daydreaming, family-home-evening, four-wheeling route.

22. My old bike that I rode through wind or snow until I got my car. Yes, I've since become wiser.

23. My art teacher who let me draw princesses and wizards instead of buildings and dogs.

24. Cold cereal. Breakfast of champions, lunch of the brain fried, and dinner of the exhausted.

25. My Buick!! It has gone through the thick and thin. The empty gas tank and the blown tire. Piling in cousins and hitting curbs. And the only revenge its ever given me is freezing its doors shut while I was inside.

I know there's more but you get the gist: the summary of my Highschool year. And I'm so sentimental its pathetic. But if it was hard for me to leave elementry and highschool I can only imagine what its going to be like for me in college. I'm sure I'll whole-heartedly embrace myself to that as well only to be pryed off again. It's alright though. I'll just keep on writing in my journal and smiling that it happened. :)

Who Could Ask For Anything More?

Besides finding a mannequin in my car with a sign asking me to prom,  this month's been pretty normal. It's also been ruled by rehersals for our school play Crazy For You. As you know, I haven't always been fond of the character I was casted as. I really knew nothing of the play at the beginning other than my part was to keep up a high-pitched voice and say super-ditzy lines. In retrospect I'm not sure why that bothered me so much; it sounded like a home video of me when I was five. I guess they just handed me my script on an off day.

Anyways, near the deadline of our rehersals, things got pretty chaotic. There were disagreements on sets, people who didn't know their lines (guilty), and still songs that needed to be learned. I came home from each rehersal tired and ready for the whole thing to be done with.

And then the actual performance came. Miracles of miracles, things seemed to add up a little better a few days before with our dress rehersals and somehow we pulled it off. Not only did we pull it off, but we had fun! Show girls were no longer getting in each other's hair and the audience could actually hear us singing. The leads did amazing and there were several side-characters that became my absolute favorites. Now I was coming home from performances excited for the next night and a little bummed that it'd all be over.

Thanks to all who came. With rehersals before and after school I really don't have much else to write about this week other than this. And a tribute to those in it. Since everyone from the ever-giving piano players to the ever-patient choreographers (my mom included :) got flowers and cards, I just want to say something about my peers in the play. I love them all--stage makeup or no! Each time the female lead would give all us show girls a hug before the show began and the lead-lead was exactly what the word implies. He basically put the whole show on his shoulders and helped to keep us all going. There was the Zangler guy who put so much into his part that he became favorite character, the cowboys who made it hard to fake-laugh while we were 'fake-talking' in the back of the scenes, and whoever it was that suggested we have a group prayer before each performance.  The improvising was amazing and the behind-stage people rocked. Then, of course, our choir teacher who took us to get pizza afterwards :)

Now I wouldn't want to be casted as anyone else! I don't have any kissing scenes, I have a punchline in every one of my lines, and don't have to act much for the whole ditz thing--it comes pretty naturally. Who could ask for anything more, right?

Hakken-Kraks

I think its been what...a month?

Sorry. So again I will proceed to give excuses. 1. My brain has been void of any new topics. Most the problems I've been facing I've already written about on here and I'm still just trying to master those hurdles. 2. General Conference (LOVED IT!!) And 3. I've spent the last two Sunday afternoons at my Grandmas. I've been having far too much fun being both a Victorian-Era business fraud and the darn' tootin' county sherriff to do much else.

So here's to trying to be at least a little more consistent. Because I need this blog. More than I sometimes realize. And it's not anything that has to do with my writing skill, rather just the writing. I have this weird brain that doesn't always see a lesson in something until its finished putting it into words. That's how my Seminary Project worked out a least.

Anyways, Easter has been great!! The best I can remember since those days when I used to get  a little pink dress, gloves, and a bonnet too show off at primary.

Part of it is because of Seminary. As those of you who follow our class' facebook page know, we had an assighnment where we were to read the Easter story from all the gospels and then record what we learned.

Again, with the writing thing, my seminary journal has helped me learn and be reminded of a bunch! As a young women's group we went to the Easter Pagent in Pheonix and then camped in the front yard of our Bishop's relative. I have scraggly notes in there from early morning scripture study in my tent and with a morning like that--what with the singing birds and cool air--it was hard to be grouchy after a late night.

I've also been able to feel so much closer to my savior through it. So much! A relationship I realized I've been slacking a little in lately what with all the senior year business and going to college anxieties. But I have since made many committments to, as President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, "Stop it." Because a lot of that chaos clears when you allow the spirit and His love to be with you more fully.

The pagent was amazing. I've been to it before but this time still struck me. I also got my earful of protestors standing outside and of ill-timed motorcycles loudly circling the grounds but I've realized that, no matter what the world tries to prove, I'm part of something greater here. I may not know just how great and I may not be very great in it, but as of now I am a part of it and have no plans of leaving. Whenever those motorcycles outdid the speakers or whenever a protestor said something that sort of jumbled up my way of thinking for a moment, I just clung to the simple truths. I knew the gopsel was true. I knew God loved me.

And its those truths I plan on using when I go to college or anywhere else. I've been told lots of stuff this year like, "One day, Annelie, the world's just gonna hit you like a brick wall." or "See? That's why I'm glad you didn't go to that college; you'd be seriously rattled."  It's probably true. And it probably stems from all the VeggieTales comments too. But still, its not comforting. No one wants to be shoved off into the great deep--all alone--with the advice to look out for falling bricks.

So the pagent helped me with that. Because I know I tend to put myself in this little 'Annelie bubble' and chances are something's going to come along and pop it.

It absolutely terrifies me. It's sent me to my knees a few of times and is even the reason why I have yet to experience "Senior-itis". But that experience taught me that while I might not know everything--and I certainly don't--I know enough.  Yes, I'll make mistakes. Yes, I'll probably witness things that'll make me want to curl up in my closet with my disney movies. Yes, I might feel like the needle lost in the haystack on that big campus. But I've repeatedly felt that I'll be alright. In the end all will be well and--as is the usual solutino with me--I can stop worrying so much.

So, like the mature, college-aged person I'm becoming, I've decided to take advice from my favorite Dr. Suess book, Oh, the Places You'll Go:

"All Alone!

Whether you like it or not,

alone is something you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance

you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.

There are some, down the road between hither and yon,

that can scare you so much you won't want to go on."

"But on you will go

though the weather be foul.

On you will go

though the Hakken-Kraks howl.

Onward up many

a frightening creek,

though your arms may get sore

and your sneakers may leak."

So watch out Hakken-Kraks. This girl's jumping into this creek with both sneakers. (And she's taking her VeggieTales with her ;)

Voices from the Dust

I almost didn't write anything today, keeping up with my new every-other-week pattern I've got going on lately, until I read more of that biography I think I mentioned in the last post.

At first I only picked it up because I felt like I should do some family history. And because I'm fortunate to have been born in the family that I was, a whole ton of the temple work is already done. So I decided to read the biography because if all my ancestors are going to be there in the next life, I want to know enough to be able to actually recognize their name or hold a conversation with them. Especially with the stalwart people of grit and hard work that I somehow come from.

It took a little while to get into it, but reading this thing has been awesome! I've grown to really appreciate and admire the man its written about as well as other names that have come up that surprise me such as my friends' ancestor, the founder of my beloved home town, and even a name I've heard on a popular pioneer movie.

The other thing I love about it is that its really hard to worry about such trivial things like my apperance or how I'll ever survive giving my talk in church when I read about this man cleverly preaching to a hostile crowd or working his tail end off trying to make ends meet. And none of the group dates I've gone on can ever compare to the one his son went on. Him and his friends risked going to a festivity where there was a family that didn't like his friends. There was a disagreement at the gate, people got angry, and a lot of the boys got shot and wounded. The girls simply did their best with icepacks until further help came. Kudos to them. I hope I only ever have to end my dates with a hug at the door.

And then there's stories on the other side of my family my mother has told me that blow my socks off. There's haunting stories of World War II, courageous stories of coming to America with no other knowledge of English but the lyrics of some Elvis songs, and a missionary and his companion who were held captive in the jungle, their captors hoping for some sort of ransom.

Like I said, I'm fortunate to have the family that I do and I like bragging about them because then it makes me want to live up to their daunting examples. My hope is that when I pass into the next life I'll be able to see them and not be ashamed. To shake their hands and ask the man I'm reading about just what it was like to know three different prophets personally.

Anyways, I have a little shadow asking me to play the computer so I'd best go. :) I just wanted to share that. I've truely began to gain a testimony of what they call the spirit of Elijah and I just felt to post this in hopes that maybe you will too.

Beware: Brain Blurt

I don't have any life-changing events or lessons to write of and had any for a few weeks, which is why I didn't write last week. But if you guys don't mind, and since I tend to make a good part of my life is open book anyways, I think I'm just gonna share a bunch of things that have been on my mind lately and aren't big enough to make a post by themselves.

First off, Sadie Hawkins was this weekend. As usual, I had a blast and was grateful to my date for being a good sport and wearing the bright red kool-aid shirt I bought so we could match, as the Sadie's tradition goes. But there's something that has impressed me with every date and dance I've been to. And that's my peers. I know I tend to be a little clueless to the highschool drama  (okay, a lot) so I probably don't know everything that goes on. However, everytime I've gone to a school dance, even when we get home at midnight, the guy I went on a date with is always at church the next morning worthy to pass the sacrament or even at the podium giving a talk or even for a certain one, playing the organ. And, though it might just be habit for them, I find that super impressive.

And then the girls I group with are always awesome. They make the date so much more fun and make me glad for the standard of group dating.
Also, all the amazing adults who stay up and make waffles s for us for when the dance is over. Seriously bless those tired hands who prepared them.

Anyways, that's just the conclusion I came to on the way home last night and I have again decided to soak up everything I can of this small town so that I can take it with me wherever else I go. Because its rare to have seminary in your school schedule, to talk about scripture masteries in English class, and have a bunch of teenagers speeding through town at night all for the sake of reaching their parents' curfews.


The other thing I've noticed lately is that I have this weird thing where if everyone likes something, I can no longer like it any more (Vocal Point and Tangled excluded). It's either that or I just have this tendency to want to be original. I've noticed it a lot in my writing because all my ideas have very little to do with creating my own world, only with mixing up others'. Like my fairytale one where the mishcevious Prince steals Cinderella's slipper rather than her just losing it. Or the idea of writing a parody of all these silly paranormal romances that have been coming out and sort of making fun of them (but something tells me that'll get me a lot of hate mail). I even been fiddling with the concept of flipping the plot line of "Lost in Austen" and having a guy get stuck in Pride and Prejudice as Mr. Darcy rather than a girl as Elizabeth.

Anyways, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything. I was just sort of laughing at myself today when I saw a commerical for "Big Time Rush" and began muttering under my breath at sight of all the squealing girls.

I've also made a recent discovery. Upon reading some family history, I found that one of my bestest friend's ancestors, way back in the pioneer days, helped rescue my ancestor from drowning in a river when the current washed their raft clean. He was acting as the group's guide into the Indian territory and even though my ancestor had managed to get his head above water and grab onto something, the guide pulled him ashore. And now, years later, she's saved my life and figuratively pulled me ashore more times than I can count. Sometimes I wonder if Heavenly Father just likes to throw in coincidences like that to make us think.

The last thing was what I gave my talk on today in Church. At the time I was assighned it, I was feeling a little overwhelmed and confused about a couple the silly little things in my little life. But, because I've inherited my mother's trait of being obedient despite myself, I did it. And guess what? I found an awesome talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland that immediatly began to clear all the clouds.

And guess what part of it was about? Becoming blessed and even healed by doing the Lord's will. Figures :)

My $500 Weekend!

I've gained two things this weekend. Experience, and something close to an ear infection.

But holy mackerels! Everything was worth it! It was held at a Hilton Hotel so at first this small-town girl felt a little overwhelmed. But it wasn't long before she was excitedly going up and down the fancy elevator (with a clear wall!) and slightly blushing when the other attendant asked her age.

In fact, my mom said I was less scared than her. But, as fate (or divine intervention I'd like to think) would have it, three people we knew were there, including my next-door neighbor. As my relieved mother said when she picked me up that day, "You're being watched over Doll."

I think she knows about the elevators. About a big city and about her silly daughter who insists on jumping onto certain rollercoasters without so much as knocking over the height limit sign. And so three others were sent there as well. Earthly parents are truly in cahoots with the Heavenly ones I've decided.

As for the height the limit, I was the second-to-youngest there. The youngest was a girl I know who is sixteen. There were a couple of ladies who looked about college aged and then everyone else there were mothers and grandmothers. (I found out there that it was technically a women's association that hosted it. There were a handful of men there. And once it got to the topic of Jane Austen I deemed them very brave souls.)

But that was all fine by me. Since the conference was Latter-Day Saint based, they were all so nice and I felt I had entered a crowd of new friends. Not to mention the topics they would get on. Characters, plot lines, other books they'd read, new ideas, different ways to word things--these people were nerds! Just like me!

The classes were awesome! Though I had a cold and my ears were still plugged from the trip down, I found myself so lost in their topics that I would forget about that all. I will admit that there was one class I found myself a little grumpy in, but for the most part, it was great! I actually know the physics of a story now! I didn't even know a story had physics before. And that's  a science I get.

I learned about how to catch a reader's attention on the first page I learned about how to write a romance (Basically, don't write Twilight. That's what they told me. Ask me later, I'll explain it), about how to write historical fiction, family history, freelancing, convincing characters, you name it! I even learned how to not over-describe someone frowning.

Life skills also came with all the art stuff though. For example, don't sign up to meet with an agent if you're only on chapter two of your story. And if you do anyways, answer their questions intelligently. That way you don't have to feel like a flat amateur the rest of the conference every time you see them again. And especially when they're the award-winning Lisa Mangum.

I even learned how important it is to tell people thanks. After classes, people would line up to ask the speaker questions. It was really fun to wait in those lines and then, once it was my turn, simply smile and say "Thanks!" 
I never thought such an act could actually surprise someone so much.

Also, if paparazzi is an issue, I definitely want to be an author. I sat by two and didn't even know it until later that day! I hated it and loved it at the same time because then I had this perspective that anyone in class could be a professional author. I could be sitting by anyone.

And, of course, there was the reminder that late nights and early mornings don't do much for a cold and aching ears.

One of my favorite parts though, was when my mom and I got to talk. I was staying and my aunt and uncle's house so she'd drop me off and pick me up everyday. I was always so excited to see her car out there so I could run from that big, fancy hotel, into a small place I knew, and tell her everything. And that time we got while she  drove was the type that always provides for those lessons you carry with you the rest of your life. The ones you refer to when teaching your own kids and, on those rough occasions, when your simply teaching yourself.

I guess what I'm saying is that it was so worth it! What I gained you really can't put much of a price on. Courage to do something different, time with my dearest of dear mother, and a humongous burst of direction, inspiration, and vigor to develop my talent.

I entered the beginning of my story into a contest and didn't win. But the judges, being the awesome people they are, took the time to sincerely critique each one. There were three different papers by three different judges. I got to the last one--the one that seemed to be the harshest--and after reading through all the corrections I needed to make, came across a line that sent me reeling,

"We need more books like this in the world."

In life, you may be critiqued by the great master of our trade, but its because He knows what He's talking about! He does it sincerely and out of love. He sees your amazing potential and knows, without a doubt, that you can reach it.

He needs someone like you in this world.

Bittersweet

This week has been pretty eventful. More eventful than most at least. Partly because my 18th birthday was this week! Can you believe it?! I sure can't...People were telling me that I could buy smokes all day. I think I'll just stick to voting....

 And, just to stay true to the facts, it was also my great-grandmother's birthday and a friend's birthday. Though I'm not sure what they did for theirs, in celebration of my officially becoming an adult, I decided to go all elementry and have my mom bring cupcakes to economics class. Though not all my friends were in that class, it was really the only one that would work. Besides that, putting cupcakes and economics in the same sentence is just sort of fun :)

I also used some of those cupcakes to ask a certain classmate to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with some corny signs that read, "It would be the best birthday present ever if you would go to Sadie's with me." Since he wasn't in ecomonics, I left it in the office. Unfortunetly when I passed him in the hall shortly after he got it, he saw me but nothing seemed to register. I guess I should've let him know who's birthday it was...

Anyways, I also discovered this week that I'm supposed to have a 'query letter' prepared for that conference. But I didn't even know how to pronounce that word, let alone what it was. Thankfully, there's geniuses out there who have invented convenient things like Google so my panic didn't last too long. Apparently it consists of three parts: a statement of the length and type of your story, a summary, and then something about yourself.

I was already a little daunted from the get-go because my story wasn't at all finished. I don't know how many pages it is nor do I have the word count. But numbers just seemed such a shallow look at a story because I could tell you how long my story is. It's hours lying in my bed daydreaming. It's half a notebook of planning and ideas. It's running two miles nearly everyday and coming up with fun details. It's countless Tangled clips and trailers that inspire me to no end. All the drawings taped to my wall, all the conversations my friends have endured, and all the moments when I just want to slam the keyboard against my forehead.

Unfortunetly, this thing also has to be under one page so that wasn't happening. Instead, I sidestepped the length, told the genre, and moved onto the summary. Once that was done, I hit another block: lists of writing accomplishments. All the samples I'd looked at said something along the lines of, "This is my third novel published, I'm in this-and-this critique group, and I have tied in first in a Fictional-Romance contest." 

Yeah. That wasn't happening either. So, throwing my shoulders back, I squeezed all I could out of my life experience thus far. I wrote how I've entered a few contests (though I've never placed), got an english class award,  and....have a 4.0 GPA. (hey, it worked on the scholarships). I was really tempted to write about winning an award for an 8th grade essay, but I doubted that would get me much credit.

So, in short, I'm going to march right up to Mrs. Lisa Mangum, hand her my letter, and take whatever I can get.

I jumped that hurdle. The next one, however, was a little tougher.

Every Mr. G's customer (in other words, the entire town) knows that my plan after college was to go to Brigham Young University. Ever since an educational fireside when I was about 14, it's been the plan. One of the many reasons my mom sent me to EFY was so that I could get in a bit of a campus tour.

And then the e-mail came.

I stared at my screen blankly, a little bummed but probably more surprised than anything. Everyone said I would make it. My parents said I would make it.  I said I would make it. The only one that didn't say so was the college.
The longer I sat there, the more it sunk in. And the more it sunk in, the harder it became to hold back the tears of disapointment. Of course, I didn't move though, so eventually, with a pathetic whimper, the flood began.

I looked at my mom, who was standing behind me, to see that her eyes were watery too, which made it both better and worse. She muttered the most sincere, loving apologies I think I've ever heard and which made me feel like the most loved daughter on the planet but eventually there was nothing for it but to be a girl. To run into my room and throw myself onto my bed princess-style and cry into a pillow.

I'm not sure why. It wasn't like I was desparingly sad. I wasn't even really angry. I guess I'd just got my hopes up to such a high level that it was a bit of a fall.

I cried and cried yet I knew I couldn't complain too much. My parents and I had been praying that I wouldn't get accepted into the wrong college so I knew that this was, of sorts, and answer to prayer. So, through the mess, I muttered prayers aloud, thanking my Father in Heaven that he cared enough to answer this prayer, though it hit hard. I thanked him for my dad who came in and, with little words, gave me a long hug that said everything. For a mom who was just as much into this as I was. And for a baby brother who came in and, after asking why I hadn't made it, left the room with the explanation of, "Ah baracles."

My thoughts exactly.

I also thanked him for texting and for awesome friends that I know are reading this right now :). They made me feel sooo good about myself. I even felt that, after texting them, I could move on. I even had plans to work on the above-mentioned, unfinished story. But my brain wasn't in the fun-creative mode so, again, there was nothing for it but to be a girl:

I grabbed some birthday chocolate and plopped down to Pride and Prejiduce.

(Something tells me I'll be using that method a lot in the near future.)

The cool part about all of this was what I learned about myself, about prayer, and about my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can give a sincere thanks through tears. I learned that guardian angels probably do exist, though most of them are visible. (Including my little neighbor 'Bean' who came over the next day to tell me she was sorry about not making it :) I learned what college I'm not supposed to go at this time and have decided to apply for every other decent-sounding one I can get my hands on. I've determined to see this more as a stepping-stone and less of a stumbling-block. It only makes sense with what I've been asking for.

And, through that whole wet-pillow episode, you can bet I felt supporting arms around me. Despite everything. Despite being silly and only applying for one college with all the confidence in the world. Despite crying over a prayer answered and despite feeling a little overdramatic at the time, He knew my disapointment. He knew my hopes and my frustrations. But He also knew the bigger picture and I felt that that's exactly what he was leading me towards if I would take His hand and let him lead.

Funny. After reading about Captain Moroni that week, I'd also been praying to feel closer to the Lord.

Make that two answered prayers.

And, after having a Stake President looking me directly in the eyes and telling me "It'll work out", and a homemade birthday cake and song by my cousins and family, I think I'll be just fine :)

My Favorite School-Related Project

Every month or so, my awesome Aunt JuJu encourages me to display some of my clay stuff in the school library. But since I usually post on my blog today and since I've had so much fun with this newest one, I've decided to show it on here.

Presenting: my Valentine's Day creation. Now Awarding This Year's Top 10 Couples!!

The Cutest: Rapunzel and Eugene (yes, I'm biased. This is basically my all-time favorite movie)

The Moodiest: Bella and Edward. (This one was hard to make. Not because of detail, but because I felt like Edward was glaring at me through my computer screen.)

The Most Herioc: Megamind and Roxanne (Also an all-time favorite of mine)

The Most Dramatic: Romeo and Juliet

It's funny. Admit it.


Next, the Silliest: Candace and Jeremy. (Phineas and Ferb. My personal stress reliever next to VeggieTales and icecream)

The Most Sophisticated: Ms. Bennett and Mr. Darcy. No couple contest is complete without it I think.

Most Epic: Aragon and Arwen

"I choose a mortal life!" (Unless your Bella, of course)

The Most Aggressive: Katness and Peeta. (I've never read the books so I had to take a friend's word for it that this would make sense.)

The Most Fantasy (at my Aunt JuJu's, or Ms. Clifford herself's suggestion): Ms. Clifford and The Rock

Lasly, the Most Tragic: Joseph City Alumni and the Pandora Radio Station

The week that website was banned was a sad week at the Wildcat home.

Anyways, I just thought that would make a fun post. Hope it made you smile (because I was cracking up 10:30 at night when the idea came).  Things like this make me sooo grateful for encouraging people like my Aunt Julie. For my encouraging friends. For my parents who help keep me supplied. And, of course, for He who blessed me with the talent in the first place, knowing I'd need some sort of outlet for my constantly-running mind.

"I Hope You Dance"

Once more I apologize for my slacking. I can't tell whether its laziness or just a lack of ideas. Or both. But even today its taken awhile for something come to mind. Usually in the middle of the week or in the middle of church I'll have this "Eureka!" moment, but it hasn't happened much lately.

On the bright side, my story is going along much better now that I've decided to review and fix it. I'm even more in love with it than I was before (which could be dangerous) and realizing more and more that the Lord didn't give Nephi the tools to build his ship; He only told him where to find the ores to make those tools. He knew Nephi had a brain and some talent and could come up with it himself. I think its been the same for me on this silly fairytale retelling. He knew I could figure it out.  I may not be this man of great stature trying to get my family across the ocean, but I'm a silly, seventeen-year-old with a dream to hopefully add a new, bright little corner to the world with my stories and I think He respects both.

However, since I feel like I've just about exhausted that topic on here, I've finally decided to speak on stake dances.

Why? Because last night one of my dance partners asked the most unique question I have yet heard in all my years of attending:

"Do you bite your fingernails?"

Now I know my stake dances are numbered now. I know I'm becoming the oldest and yet shortest girl to ever show up at them, and have reached the everyone's-taxi status. I even known the Macarena backwards. But its things like this, ladies and gents, that keep me coming.

Seriously! I could go on and on from dance a partner that enthusiastically told me about his plans to join a deep-sea-diving class to one who plopped down on one knee and joined Taylor Swift in singing, "Baby, just say yes!"

I could tell you about suddenly forgetting which way's left in every line dance and jumping into random circles of people I don't know. (Which actually won me a swing dance partner once :). The corny decorations that I've come to love, the bowls of mint gum they always have (for safety purposes, I'm assuming), and pretending I totally remember a complete stranger who obviously remembers me from somewhere.

And still, after I get back into the car with my friends, almost always someone says, "That dance was lame."  I'll be honest, they aren't as exciting now as they were when I first turned fourteen and sometimes I'm not a fan of the music, but there's always been something. A guy giving another one a piggy-back runs into me or I completely wipe out on a wild version of the Hokey-Pokey. Something.

However, I've begun to notice that if you sit in a chair or lean up against the wall the whole time than yeah. Of course it's lame.

And, as silly as it sounds, I think there's a lesson there that can apply to almost anything. I love dancing. I dance while I clean my room, fold the laundry, and put dishes away. I even have to schedule in ten extra minutes on my makeup because once "Walkin' On Sunshine" or something hits my ipod, I almost always mess up my mascara. So, needless to say, shakin' my groove out there doesn't come very hard for me. However, there are other things that I tend to classify as 'lame' that don't have to be.

Precalculus class, for example. I think if my brain built up like a muscle did, the right side of my head would be a whole lot bigger than my left.  But ever since I've put more effort into really learning things and even,  on occasion, asking extra questions just to make sure I get it, that class has become a little more enjoyable. A whole list of math problems to do still hasn't hit my top-ten list, but at least I'm not dragging my feet.

And there are others. Getting up in the morning. English assighnments. The length of some scholarships. Even, depending on my varying teenage confidence of the day, being casted as the 'dumb show girl' in our upcoming play. All of these I've thought of as lame. But if I'm only leaning up against the wall with my arms folded than they will remain that way. What good is a song if you're not going to enjoy it?

So, as usual, that's what I'm working on: polishing the more dull sides to my life. As one of my favorite quotes go (which I hoped I haven't used already) "If its not fun, you're not doing it right."

That means remembering how badly I want college english credit and college, for that matter. Making those blonde script lines outshine my already blonde hair. And chewing more gum instead so as to avoid awkward dance conversations in the future. :)

From the Inside, Out

This week's been an interesting because of one thing. Funny how having a blog can do that to your weeks. Anyways, you all know that story that I'm trying to write. Well, this week I have slammed into the dreaded wall of writer's block. I came to the conclusion that I didn't like my storyline and everything came to a screeching halt.

Basically, all week I haven't been able to figure out what to do with myself. What do I usually do in my free time? Write. How much free time do I have? Refer to post about tiny clay people. I have even taken up my old Pokemon game folks! I haven't touched that thing since the 6th grade. This is serious stuff!

And though I have managed to catch Abra and get my beaver-looking dude to level 22, the whole thing's really been stressing me out. There's only weeks before this thing and I've up and decided I want to restart all 142 pages. And I know its not like their going to publish me, but I want to show them my very best.

So, at my mother's request, I asked for a father's blessing.

Strangely, the blessing had very little to do with my writing. It seemed to cover every other problem in my life, but not my silly story. At first I felt a little disapointed. But the more I thought about it and the more I acted on the words and promptings, I realized that it wasn't so much my story that had come to a block as much as it was me. It wasn't my manuscript that needed fixed near as much as it was me that needed it.

As soon as I tried to fulfill some of the promises in there, such as working on one tree at a time instead of the whole forest, things clicked a little better.

I still want to rewrite my story, but I'm not really stressing. Everything else is working better and it helps me to see things in a brighter light. I'm still just as excited and I've drawn even more pictures of my characters. I'm sure when I present my writing thus far, I'll probably get little more than a, "Keep it up kid." But that's fine. I have an inner peace now and there's more to life than ficitonal lives.

I guess my point is that sometimes the solutions to my problems aren't neccesarily what I think they might be. Heavenly Father sees me fully. Past, future, inside, and out. He knows what's going on with me really. That's why its so important to trust Him! I tried to change from the outside in, while He knows how to change from the inside, out.

"Arm"ing Myself with Ammon-Like Attitude

This week my scripture studying landed on the Book of Mormon story Ammon. I remember when I reached it the whole storyline ran through my mind. I must've read or heard this story at least a hundred times but it was a good story so I figured I'd just keep going. Little did I know just how much this 101th time would help.

I've always been impressed with Ammon's attitude. Like Joseph in the Bible, he sticks to what he knows and puts a positive spin on things that could so easily be otherwise. He's also amazingly honest and trustworthy. Right after he slew a bunch of enemies that were threatening the king's flocks, he didn't go brag, he went off to feed and brush the king's horses like they'd been ordered to.

And like Joseph, he end up effecting an entire nation. Because of his faith and testimony, he is able to convert just about everyone in the land where he serves.

Now take a look at Ammon a few years ago and this is what really impresses me. Before, he was a bit of a menace. Him, his brothers, and they're friends basically went around causing havoc. They indulged themselves and flattered others into doing the same thing. They did some damage to the church that sent they're parents praying like mad until their hearts were changed.

I think it just goes to show a little bit of the Lord's great power. Look what He can make out of a willing heart and working hands. I think we each have more potential than we sometimes realize. But God sees it. And if we turn our lives--our time, our hearts, our trust--to Him, he can help us accomplish more than we ever could alone. Before this Ammon had the potential of becoming a king himself, but he felt he was needed elsewhere. And had he gone with what logically made sense at the time, look at what he would've been missing out on! It seems that this mission proves to be a great source of joy for him throughout the rest of his life. And I'm sure it was. Much more full than what he could've created for himself.

I realized this morning, when I finished that story, that I've been doing it the wrong way. Sure I fullfill my calling, help out around the house, and keep the standards. But I think I lost the heart of it because it seems like its been awhile since I felt that deep joy that normally comes from doing those things regularly. I was only doing it because it was an obligation. That's what was expected of me. Or, as John Bytheway cleverly put it, "I'm the postman. I do what I'm post to."

But this showed me otherwise. Had Ammon showed up with that sort of attitude, he wouldn't have gotten far. It was his willingness and love that impressed the king and allowed the Lord  to help him win the hearts of those people over. That's where his great joy came from.

At that point a scripture came to mind. Doctrine and Covenants 58: 26-28, "For Behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant; wherefore he recieveth no reward. Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause and do many things of their own free will and bring to pass much righteousness; For the power is in them, wherein they are agent unto themselves. And insasmuch as men do good they shall in nowise lose their reward." (Thank you Seminary teachers!)

It made so much sense! Of course I hadn't felt that satisfaction that Ammon had felt. What fun was doing something I was compelled to do? Those who are greatly honored have never done something because they had to. The reward came because they went beyond that.

No, I needed to put my heart in it. That's where the joy came from because joy comes from accomplishing something you put real effort into. And when your on the Lord's errand, you can't help but succeed.

And those of you in my ward have already heard me get up and bear my testimony about the same stuff so I apologize. But this has really been a breakthrough for me this week. A "duh" moment, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Which is strange because I know that I already knew that lesson. I'd learned it at church and youth conferences. But i guess applying it is a whole different ball game.

So here's to a new week of scheduling Seminary meetings and driving a plastic car through the entire LIFE board game with my baby brother. A week of studying my scriptures and doing my homework. Why? Because I want to. Because I owe it to Him, because I know what it will do for me, and because I know that I "shall in nowise" lose my reward.

Another Obsessive Burst of Ideas That I'm Sure You'd just LOVE to Read

Christmas rocked. As Christmas always does. I can't wait to tell all my college friends about my small-town Christmases. I rode in my uncle's jinglebell horse buggy, had a family/friend sing-along around the piano (mistletoe and all), watched a live nativity with a 'live' camel (a llama named Quazy), and stared with awe at the lumenaries that lined main street, marking Santa's landing strip.

Yes, thanks to my family who pops in the Christmas cds in November and tries to cram every Christmas movie, activity, and string of lights they can into it, I'll forever love christmas. And be too partied out for any New Years celebrations.

Anyways, though I'm sure you are all sick of it, we had a lesson today in church that reminded me of all the talents I enjoy developing probably more than people love me sharing.

Either way, I love sharing. So I guess you're going to just have to grin and bear it. You see,  my parents let me sign up for a writer's conference that's coming in a few months for my birthday and if I don't get some of the excitement out of my system now then my poor friends will have to take the brunt of it when I go back to school this week. So I apologize ahead of time.

I give you: years of watching Disney movies, countless evenings in Grandma's backyard, and a really nice art teacher who lets me draw whatever I feel like. In other words, my characters and daydreams on paper.

Disclaimers: my computer is formatting weird. I'm probably only on page 120. And I copied the handsome likes of Flynn Rider for at least three of my princes.  But my point is that either I'm just a nerd who somehow managed to get named Homecoming Queen or I just might be on to something here. Because I've had lots of story ideas, but none of them has gripped me this hard. Usually the excitement of them fades after a month or so, but not this one (as you can probably tell). Even the writing playlist on my iPod has taken the place of my running playlist when I lace up my tennies because I love daydreaming about it. Especially the characters. One of the main reasons I like writing is because of the characters. I almost want to say that they're like my friends inside my head, but that sounds a little like I need a psychiatrist, so I'll just say that they're fun. 

Again, thank you all for bearing with me. For scrolling through all my silliness and still telling me that I'm a great blogger. I love you all! And I cannot wait until that conference. It's been on my mind a lot this month because I get to personally meet with a real agent--and author--and hand over my manuscript to see what she thinks. Eeek!

So...wish me luck I guess :)