"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 :)

Laziness, Dating Ettiquette, and Narnia.

I apologize for not posting last week. It was a combination of two things. First, my lazy mood. It didn't help that Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers was playing in our living room. I have many weaknesses in this world: plopping on the couch to watch three hours of awesome boots, capes, and swords is one of them.

The second was that silly tendency of us girls to think in spirals. My original thought: Wow. That last post was really short-winded. Where the spiral ended: I'm the worst blogger known to man!

I think its funny how we do that. We discussed it in young women's once. Scenerio: A boy sits behind us in class.

From that we suddenly remember that we didn't do our hair very well in the back.

Because we didn't do it very well, we're lazy.

Because we're lazy, we're fat.

Because we're fat, we're ugly.

Because we're ugly, he probably doesn't want to sit behind us.

No one probably wants to sit behind us.

 It goes on and on. And before the guy's even said hi, we're already craving chocolate.

Anyways, its good to be back. It seems that without fail I can walk out of the doors of our chapel on a sunday afternoon and feel like a completely new person. Without fail! I will literally have weeks where I say to myself, "Just hang in there until Sunday. You'll be fine."

And since I know some of you probably want to know (and thank you for wanting to) Winter Formal went great! I will be eternally grateful for my peers because here--and only here--can a student announce at the end of a school dance, "And remember to study your scriptures before you go to bed!"

Awesomeness. I just hope my date thought the same thing because after forgetting to tell him the color of my dress, fogretting to remind of the time our date, leaving my money in my hurry (it was girl-ask-guy), and guessing on what sort of Subway sandwich he wanted I was thanking my lucky stars he was such a laid back guy.

In fact, he told me it was one of the funnest dances he'd been to. And guess where I found the purse that held my money (and phone)? In his driveway. I had climbed out to walk him to his door and found it at my feet--inches away from where my tire would've smashed it. I have forever vowed to have good manners on dates. I wouldn't have found it otherwise.

It was one of those times where you just know someone up there is looking out for you. He knows your less-than-perfect tendencies as well as your closer-to-perfect ones. Maybe my Heavenly Father chuckled when saw that I had left my purse, muttering that it probably would've been my head if he hadn't screwed it on right. But then he knew that it was alright. He knew me and he knew that I would insist on walking my date to the door. The money my parents spent on that phone wouldn't go to waste.

I also apologize for my random topics. I can't seem to find just one theme for this week that would be easily postable. Just the daily reminders of who I am and where I need to go because I seem to need them as daily as a dosage of vitamins. And one of those reminders seems to always be my little brother. How angry can you get at a little kid for not wanting to put his church clothes on when he asks you out of the blue, "Do they make a 10Up? Because they make a 7Up."

But itt's crazy how the opinnions and themes of the world can still so subtly sneak into your head. That's why I like church so much. All the times I've grunted and groaned and scowled at my alarm clock this year that we've had to go early, I've never regretted how clearly my mind thinks afterwards. It just seems to clear all those petty little bugs that tend to get stuck to my spiritual windshield. It's one of the reasons I write this thing on Sunday after church. That way I can look back on it later and remember why I was so happy a few days before.

On a completely different tangent, I've decided to start reading the Chronicles of Narnia again. I tried once in the fourth grade because my more mentally-advanced friend was reading them. But I couldn't make heads or tails of anything. Lions couldn't sing. And what was with Edmund? There's no way I'd walk into the clutches of an evil witch just for some turkish delight. (Whatever that was.)

But now I get it. And it's so cool! I absolutely adore the symbolism as well as the straightforward things. One of my most favorite lines, "Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed."

Oh Mr. Lewis, if you only knew! Enter: Precalculus class.

Snow Place Like Home

There's just something about snow that makes us Arizona lizards go nuts. Suddenly the halls of school are more cheery (and muddy) and everyone's out and about. Yesterday I made a cowboy snowman, had a snowball fight with my baby brother, was pulled on a sled behind our quad, played an imaginitive game of wizards with my neighbor, and rode a horse! I hardly do half that much in a normal day.

The day before, simply entranced with this rare winter wonderland, I bundled up and went for a walk since I had PM Release and got out early from school. Except I forgot that all the elementry kids got out early too.

I saw some kids playing in their yard and casually waved as I passed, saying something along the lines of, "Looks fun!"

"Hi," they replied mischeviously. Then they brought their hands up, full of packed snowballs.

And that ladies and gents, began the most pathetic defense on my life that I have ever performed. Suddenly I was being pelted left and right. One sharp-aimer even managed to get some snow packed into my ear. I finally decided to fight back but if you knew my history of throwing abilities...well, let's just say that in dodgeball I only ever handed the balls to other people and in volleyball I couldn't serve to save my life.

In short, those rascals would be at point blank and my snowball would go flying two inches to the left of them. Not that it would've done any damage anyways.

And in the middle of this cold, wet warfare, two little girls kept begging me to 'spin them'. I had done it once for one of the girls and they weren't about to let the trend disapear.

So, three more spins, fifty-three more face shots, and a humiliating twenty misses later, I finally muttered something about having to go pick up my brother or something. Like a victim of the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club, I walked off, digging snow out of my ear and shaking it out of my shirt.

But with all the Christmas stuff, and with all my plans to leave to college this summer, I've been getting sentimental. Again. To the point its almost pathetic. I basically cried myself to sleep one night just thinking about how I wouldn't be able to drive my arguing brothers to school or cuddle up by the woodstove with my family on a saturday morning. There'd be no little neighbor girls banging on my door waking me up from my afternoon nap or evenings roaring with laughter with my baby brother while watching Phineas and Ferb. My two bestest bestest bestest friends who know everything about me wouldn't be there. Neither would my Buick, who's doors got frozen shut last night and I literally had to call my house phone from the parking lot for someone to help me get out.

It'd just be me and the Barbie in the Nutcracker movie I've sworn to myself that I'm bringing.

Fittingly enough, the lesson in Young Women's today was about accepting change. I listened, trying to hold back even more tears.

And then it dawned on me. As if someone had wrapped a warm arm of security around my shoulders, the spirit whispered that this wasn't the first time I'd done this.

About seventeen years ago, I'd left a different home. One that I imagined I loved dearly. One I had built memories and relationships in. But I knew that I needed to go where I was going and that I'd be happy I'd gone in the long run. I needed to go and experience things for myself. To learn things that I couldn't there. Just like how I felt about college.

So I left my Heavenly Father, probably in a similar fashion that I'll be leaving my parents, and set off. He'd given me all the knowledge he could, just as my parents have done, and it was time for me to go out and make use of it.

I'd done it before. And a soft whispering to the heart told me that I could most certainly do it again. And, like my mom told me today, home isn't neccesarily where your past crayon drawings have been painted over or where your worn-down swing set lies. It isn't really where your first prom dress hangs up or where your favorite meal was made. Home is something in your heart. It's a testimony. A love and a prayer. A sense of confidence. A familiar warmth. Something you can take with you no matter where you go so long as you hold to it.

 And I think that, more than any financial aid or cafeteria pass, is what will hold me together when this sentimental lizard leaves her hole, no matter how thick the snowstorms. A little piece of the home before this one.