Soft sand between her toes sifting, sinking. Waves laughing at her touch, whispering, waiting. The sun dropping behind the horizon, dipping, dimming. The humid air swirling around, rustling the leaves of the palm trees, shaking, waving. Green everywhere, drops of rain softly gracing the white beach. La playa blanca. She steps onto the rough brown rocks covered in water and moss. Crabs blink and scuttle away. The waves beat harder, crashing against the soft hewn edges of the tiny peninsula. Slowly, carefully she sits down on the edge, dipping her feet into the foaming water. Voices, laughter, carry on the wind. The ocean tugs at her heart, come, come, it hisses. Come, come. The sun disappears into the far reaches of the water. Brilliant streams of pink and orange scatter across the sky. Her hands settle onto the pumice, a gentle spray of diamonds cascade over the rocks, landing on her face. Salt air stinging her nose, clouds drift by lazily over head. And voices, laughter, intermix, carried on the wind.

Running across the sand. Kicking up grainds until her legs are caked in it. Laughing, screaming, running, dancing. The green hillside shaking in the wind. Rustling like a tambourine. The twinkle of a growing star overhead. She is blind to it. Laughing, cascading over the sand. Singing, always singing to him. The breeze on her face, letting loose her hair. Tripping, tumbling to the ground, rolling through the mounds of sand. Laying back, arms spread out wide. Ocean water teasing her fingers. Closer, closer. Standing again. Running and twisting. Dancing. Laughing. Singing.

Why do people stare? She only wants to sing and dance. Only wants to praise her God who has made this place, so beautiful and serene. So wonderful and pefect. Why do they stare? Why not join her in singing?

The clouds spring to life and run as far as the east is from the west. The stars begin to dance, the trees listen to the wind as she whistles around the hills and through the rocks. She is still running and dancing. Still singing and laughing.

Oh I feel like dancing,
It's foolishness I know,
But when the world has seen the light,
They will dance with joy,
Like we're dancing now.

The ocean reaches up for her toes as she throws out her arms and dips back her head. The wind blows her hair, swishing the skirt around her knees, the trees lean forward to listen. She waits and feels the air, the moisture, the love. She whispers. Whispers become songs, words tumbling forth, falling out of her mouth, lifted free on the night breeze, carried up to heaven. For she knows, that if she does not sing, then the rocks will cry out his praise.

i have nothing to say other than HELLO WORLD! HOW ARE YOU?

oh, and the people in my youthgroup are really stupid and immature (starts laughing). Seriously, they crack me up, especially since they all think they're all that, and really cool and grown up for their age. Yea, right.

not that, that applies to everyone. ;)

choir final

i have to sing a song with live accompaniment and have choreography. it's frustrating, because i have the song and music and choreography, but it inlcudes a guy dancing with me. AND I CAN'T FIND ANYONE.

actually i have really only asked derek, which would have been perfect since he has second lunch (during my class) and i've danced with him before. but he said no, he's too afraid of what people will think of him, he has a 'reputation'

i have no idea what i am going to do. i have a month and a half to figure this out. suggestions are welcome.

quotes from like last week

Brittany (to Kari): where are you going.
Kari: Azuza.
Brittany: isn't that really hard to get into?
Sarah: Mark Seifert got in

Mr. Meyer: thanks to ADA we can't go to the top of the capitol building because they don't know how to make it accessable
Scott: will they potentially have to make doors wider for um, fat people?

Scott: no, it was one of those things where you sit in a room and they ask you questions and they pay you like twenty bucks.
Andrew: and they didn't recognize you? I mean, you have red hair.
Alex: are you racist?

(later)
Scott: and we did it like three times. The first time I said I was my dad and then i did my brother, and the thrid time they wanted my id, so I had to actually put down my name.
Andrew: and they really didn't recognize you?
Scott: I said i have an evil twin.

(even later)
Mr. Meyer: when was this?
Scott: the baseball trip to las vegas
Mr. Meyer: oh so it was that or go around collecting hooker cards

Phsycotic people who call themselves anonymous and think we don't really know who they are

okay. so i have this person who keeps posting on one of my two stories, and they are seriously, like weirding me out major. they go to my church, they have not been too discreet in even trying to deny that. I think I know who it is. But in case I am wrong, and also for this person's own privacy I don't want to say anything on the world wide web.

which, actually isn't so world wide, i mean, do people in Niger and Namibia have computers? sorry rambling...

anyway, this person thinks that, well i'm not sure what they think except that they are self absorbed and completely thinking that this story revolves around our nice youthgroup at church. WHich is quickly becoming not so nice for various reasons. I'm not entirely sure why they wouldn't come talk to me in person, are they really that afraid of me? GOOD. Because no joke:

IF YOU ARE TOO AFRAID TO SAY THIS CRAP TO MY FACE, THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. I HAVE TIME AND TIME AGAIN TRIED TO BE PATIENT AND EXPLAIN TO YOU THE ERROR OF YOUR THINKING. APPARENTLY YOU DON'T GET THE PICTURE. COME AND SAY IT TO MY FACE AND I WILL SERIOUSLY HAVE TO BEAT YOU DOWN.

and if you are still to frightened and lack the audacity to at least admit who you are, well you are not worth my time. and after this moment i want you to know i will never give you another thought. but i am sure that every time you see me at church you will think about this story and always be convinced that you are right.

ah well we all have to dream sometimes. everyone has false hopes.

i'm at Northwestern in st. paul minesota. we flew in yesterday and as the plane pulled into the air port it was snowing. it looked just like illinios. it was like pulling into ohare, even though i've never actually been at the air port in the winter. but i could just imagine.

and i'm going to the cafe with Annemarie. so i will finish later.


finishing:

so anyway. it's been weird, because i'd been thinking about chicago a lot lately. that's why i started writing my vignettes story. i'd been missing everyone, and everything. i was at perkins with my dad having lunch today after church. we started talking about guys, and then tonight before the orientation started. i was saying that one of my friends is really immature, which he is, and my dad says that i have really high expectations.

it was really weird. i started babbling, something i do when i'm frustrated. i just went on about how if i had stayed in geneva i would have a boyfriend. i would have dated cody, or caleb. what about Joe? or even Andrew. to which my dad made a face. about how i couldn't date andrew at least never with the prospect of being serious, because he wouldn't let me be in such a high control family like the nicodems.

but it's annoying. i don't have close friends at school, which i think is screwed up becaus e a lot of people from church go there. and i never feel at home anywhere except with mrs. walsh sometimes, which is screwy in and of itself. i don't know that i will ever date in high school, which is not trying to be pessimistic, but i don't know who i will date unless it's someone in the youthgroup. HA! like that's going to happen.

and i really hate colorado. i hate the weather. i hate the dryness. i hate how everyone is so filthy rich and totally selfish. i hate how it's made me cynical so much in the last year or so. i hate that i hate it.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i miss chicago so much, and i don't knowhow to talk to anyone about it, i don't know that anyone would understand. last hear i had moved on. i moved on after eighth grade for crying out loud. and now, it's all i can think about. how i had friends there, and people loved me. the small town, knowing everyone. i knew everyone at school, everyone at church knew me whether i wanted them to or not. i knew that town like the back of my hand, i'm so lost in colorado.

but then i have to be honest. kathleen and i would not be friends if we hadn't moved here. i wouldn't know the awesome game of rugby (you should come to my games!) i wouldn't have met Sara, and in some crazy ways that girl has really changed my life. i wouldn't know what it feels like to run a mile at sea level with no trouble. i wouldn't have met Kathryn Pavao and i wouldn't have ralized quite how good i have it. I wouldn' tknow Amanda so well, and I never would have met Kyle.

but the whole boy thing would be totally different if we hadn't move. i might actually be dating someone. (gasp) crazy thought i know. and in some ways, i wouldn't have some of the security issues i have to deal with now.

i totally want to do chair ramming. mmm, and caribou coffee sounds really good.

Lunch...

Kim (to Amy): Um, I think I'm supposed to give this to you. It's a hate letter from Deana.
Katie: You got another one Amy?

girl in line: What? They don't have ketchup?
girl's friend: you should do something about that
1st girl: I'm gonna sue dang it!

AP Gov talking... nm

Gov Quotes

(talking about England)
Mr. Meyer: the queen can't do anything but wave.
Andrew: but she does that pretty well...

(talking about federal agencies and drugs)
Mr. Meyer: you're going to Afghanistan for the opium, Columbia for your cocaine, Jamaica for your pot, Aurora for the methamphetamine...

(about how the bagger can get in trouble now for selling beer to minors)
Mr. Meyer: Does anyone work at Albertson's or King Soopers?
Alex (raising hand): I do
Mr. Meyer: What do you do?
Alex: I'm in Customer Courtesy
Mr. Meyer: Okay, so you're a bagger

Mr. Meyer: Jake goes online and pretends to be a fifty five year old man to pick up old ladies
Luke: free country

(student in S.S. office talking to teacher about test)
student: I was on some major doses of nyquill yesterday, and I was wondering, cause I can't remember (pause)
teacher: what?
student: did I take the test yesterday or not?

Notice

I have decided to admit... I am addicted to the internet.

i'm going to go clean my room now. really. i think i will be able to drag myself away from the computer for at least one full hour of cleaning. maybe i'll even toss in some homework.

doubtful. but maybe

Messy Messy Room

i have to go clean my room. but i have noooo motivation, except that my dad says the health department will be knocking on the door in a matter of minutes.

so? I mean, really, do they have jursidiction of my room? I think not.


(btw, this is weird for me, normally i'm a neat freak about my room)

Meh, who knows where this came from?

A cold and bitter wind whipped around the lone figure in the brown meadow of weeds. Soft mud covered the wet ground. The fence with her peeling paint stretched on past the endless fields of tall green corn. Clouds scuttled by in the late afternoon sky. A large black mound of ominous rain dragged along behind, threatening to blot out a weak sun. Shiver and hug your arms tighter around yourself. Step into the sea of weeds soon to be cut for this winters hay. The birds are silent, a lone beetle inches slowly up a nearby reed. Breathe and remember. The rain hurries forward, the sun grows dim. Whisper. The wind grabs it away and whisks it off to another land. Another place. Another time. The yellow hat shines brightly against the myraid of earthy pasture. Red golashes suck mud into their grooves, dig deep into the ground. The wind drives the clouds away. For one breif moment the sun is shinning down warming the land. Loving her. Carressing her. Then blackness covers the sky. The wind pushes on. THis rain is too long to soon be cast away. A drop lands on the yellow hat. Another plummets to the ground and splashes mud high. A loud sound as large drops crash against the fence. Breathe and remember. One red boot lifts from the ground and leans foward. The other follows. Again. And again. Until you are running. Run, the wind at your back. Run, the mud squelching beneath your feet. Run, the weeds sweeping aside. Run, the rain drenching everything. Run, the warmth of your breath stolen away. Run. Run.

Run. Do not look back.

History Questions... with a few of my own

Are humans naturally Good? or naturally Evil?
Does uneven property distribution cause people to be evil?
What does this have to do with history?
Was Socrates, really all that smart?
How do the Philosophes impact the world for good?
Seriously, do they have a point in life beyond just sitting around and um, talking?

(and would anyone pay me to do that? i LOVE talking...)