Last night, I went through some of my old journals.

I finally broke down and went through all those boxes cluttering up the other side of the basement, and was a little shocked when they were discovered. Nick was over visiting since I couldn't go out that night, and when I saw them in his hand I could scarcely believe that I ever forgot that I wrote them. 

I was never really truly dedicated to them, and I regret that now. There's sometimes huge gaps in the date and I wonder what I was doing in my life during those intervals. Not that the events in them are particularly thrilling; I remember forcing myself some nights to write in them because I was convinced nothing exciting had happened that day. But that's what makes them so interesting.

They're just, little everyday things I would read and remember. I was up until about 1:30 last night just looking through them. Some of them have pictures, diagrams, and scribbles. Lots of scribbles. Mostly, "I heart so and so," and random sketches of how I was feeling. It scares me to see how intense my emotions were back then. 

The timing sort of skips around: most are from middle school. I know I have a few more somewhere, from about 4th grade or so, stored in the house. I got my first diary from my 4th grade homeroom teacher, Mrs. Geary, as a gift for winning the Young Authors competition in my grade, and later in my school in fiction, or fantasy or whatever the divisions were back then. Initially, I wrote in it because it was a present from someone I admired, and a teacher I loved not because I actually wanted to. If I ever did want to, it was just to say that I had finished something. Looking back at the journals, I still get that sense of accomplishment from filling up an entire notebook with my thoughts.

Things have changed so much since then. The moment when Nick first held them up, I was flooded with a strange urge to rip them out of his hands and hide them. So I did. Not hide them; but take them from him before he had the chance to read them. I guess we never really grow out of the need to protect our secrets, even if they're years and years old and don't really matter anymore.

I don't know; it sounds strange, but realizing I still had that instinct was reassuring. Sometimes I feel like I'm so open with people, they feel like they know everything there is to know about me. I'm quick to share my quirks and dreams with anyone willing to uphold their end of the conversation. 

It's just nice to know I have the ability to remain just a little bit mysterious.

Tally ho.

I'm content with High School, I like it. And I'm going to miss it when it comes time to leave. But I got to thinking about moving forward with life, and wondered what I could do if I could go back.

The predictable response would be that I would just not return to any point in my past, and rather be content with the present.

However I think that if I did, for whatever reason, I would relive my gradeschool days for the academic aspect of it. Wen I was there, my intelligence was never doubted. Many viewed me as one of the brightest members of our grade, and a humble nerd. I remember resenting this label. I hated it. If I made a mistake, it came as a shock. If I forgot an assignment, it was overlooked. I remember once, in social studies, I had forgotten a graph at home that was for a notebook grade. When my turn came to hold up my page for the teacher to see, and I didn't have it, a boy made a comment in my class. It might have been Nick. He said it in jest, but I knew that he meant it with some level of seriousness. "Even with a missing assignment, I bet you she'll still get a higher score than me, and I have everything. A 104 or something.." It was greeted with laugher, and even the teacher smiled at the joke. To my embarrassment I got a 101. 

All I wanted to be was to be accepted. To be seen as a person whose only difference was a higher aptitude for learning and memorization. I've talked to people since graduation, and most, if not all, still recall this picture of me when my name comes up in conversation.

I wanted to show them that I was human. That all of them had potential, it was only a matter of dedication.

If I despised this stereotype so greatly then, why do I wish that I had it now? Because I'm sick of people not taking me seriously. I hate feeling stupid. It hurts when it happens.  The cute, innocent, perhaps naive staple that had been attached to me has stayed. Assumption has been a challenge, but I know that honestly, I haven't given it my best these last four years. And I regret that. 

My brother told me once that, "I was going to get a B in High School. Just you wait. You won't be so smart anymore."

That scared me. That was so much apart of who I was. It was who I was. That was the only thing other people knew about me, so it was the only thing I knew about myself. Just hearing Brian say that made me think about what I would do if I wasn't so well-known as one of the brighter individuals in my class. Who would I be? So I started to branch out, to put more time into discovering who I was and my potential as a person rather than a student. And my grades have never been horrible; my personality wouldn't allow it regardless of the distractions. And I can't say that I'm displeased with a 3.63.

But I am displeased that it isn't higher. That I didn't push myself more. I study for a test and I see that old potential again. I know that it's there. My memorization skills have gone towards scripts and the stage rather than the classroom. They haven't gone to waste. But I dearly wish I had applied myself more, and realized this sooner. 

I'm looking at all that I've gained, the friendships, the personality I have. And it's great. But I would change that. It makes me wonder how many times a day people have a problem, or a question that they don't ask me because they see it as something I just wouldn't know. I miss it. I miss being the one other people could come to with the trust that I knew what I was talking about. That just doesn't happen anymore. Occassionally, yes. But it leaves me feeling unsatisfied, wondering how many more questions I could answer, or ideas I could uncover if people just gave me the chance.

I miss those chances. Not to prove myself, but the comfort in knowing that other people trust in my opinion and don't have to go to someone like Lexi or Bethany for verification. Sometimes I feel bad for them, and othertimes I'm insanely jealous. Because at the same time, I remember life on that pedistool. How it felt whenever I was unprepared, or the one time Amber Kannaple did better on her science test then me. I felt like I had let them down. 

But letting them down that one time is nothing compared to the feeling of letting people down consistently. That person, being me letting myself down. I want to have a long, insightive discussion about some sort of philosophical, or academic topic without people feeling like they have to stop halfway to explain. Or just give up because I can't seem to see their point of view. Or because they don't see my topics as valid and simply a result of childish, naive wishes. I want to be pushed mentally. To be forced to look at something differently because the other person knows I have the potential to do so. To have someone completely twist my point of view on things and believe that I will still be able to hold my position. That I am open minded to change. To have a teacher come up to me after class, curious as to my opinion on things. 

I want that back. That other people know I can analyze things intelligently. To be honest, I know right now I wouldn't be prepared for it. My skills are a little rusty, so I'd need a bit of patience first. I just need someone to ask me to pursue something to advance my knowledge on a topic, for no other reason because they are curious on how I feel about it. For someone to be concerned with the reason why I came to that answer, rather than just assume the obvious.

I want that back. And I want to be able to be that sweet, funny girl who just so happens to like Shakespeare, and who used to carry around a copy of the Little Princess in her purse. Who calculates the exact price of items every time before she checks out just to see if she has the correct change. Who enjoys science, and loves anatomy. Who can make people laugh, and see that perhaps maybe her random ideas aren't so random at all. That everything she says has a purpose. Who believes in herself. Who wants a challenge. Who wants to be a nerd more than anything in the world again.

Maybe all she's looking for is a chance. 

A chance to prove herself again.

Tally ho.

It seems weird to come back to this.  Most of my writing has been handwritten, so it's strange to see something without scratch marks and in a normal format on a page.

I've been okay, just trying to keep busy. The play's going well, and I can't wait for it to open. I love doing backstage work, truly, but there's just something about being onstage. I get such a rush from being up there. I still get so nervous, it's nice to go back there every once in a while just to remind myself that I can still do it. 

Speech has started, and I have a few really good pieces. Mostly memorization, but I'm not too worried about them. My main event is still prose, and I'mr eally hoping to do well in that this year. I can't see myself quiting speech now that I've started. I know that Western has a speech team, but they LET YOU IN there, it's not like you go and try out really. 

Work is alright too. Elsie scheduled me for the hours I asked for, but on account of that I feel guilty every day I need to ask to make an adjustment. Fortunately, the office ladies and I share enough of a bond that they'll cover for me if I ever need someone too. 

Except there's this one kid who keeps making jokes and beating up on St. X boys. It's making Roy and I very mad. In revenge we're going to take all kinds of pictures from the St. X Trinity game and show him just how amazing the two schools are. (Yes, it got to the extent he was DEFENDING Trinity too.)

I would post more, but this was mostly just a check up thing. I have work in 2 minutes, so I better run. Much love.

I just had a really odd encounter in the kitchen area.

So, I'm sitting at my computer screen working on this ROCKYOU! thing for Myspace. You know, one of those funny little picture slideshows that goes to music and whatnot. I finally got the kinks worked out, and I hear some scurrying in the kitchen. I hear the word 'food' mentioned and my mind flies to the TV Dinner I had laid aside for my later preparation. 

I race into through the living room screaming, "DON'T EAT IT! DON'T EAT IT!", rip open the freezer door, and hold the meal to myself in a fierce protective stance. I see the door swing and nearly tap the hungry individual in the back of the skull. I then proclaim, "It's mine! I laid it aside earlier...I wrote my name on it and everything." The door swings back.

It was not my brother as I had previously hypothosized, but instead? My brother's roommate, Cody. Standing in shock, my brother comments how there are two more downstairs. Befuddled and terribly embarrassed, I respond in a confused fashion, "Really?" Thus reinstating the impression of idiocracy I had already instilled upon this visitor.

He nods his head, and I say, "Oh. Well, I apologize for the ruckus." Then return to my room, trying to figure out a way that I can prove that I am not a complete lunatic. The last time I encountered this individual was last fall, when I fell asleep on his bed and he had to wait outside until we left to take a nap. I also ate some of his fruit snacks and other yummy goodnesses before learning his name.

I forgot that with an older brother you have to watch out for things like this. Tally ho.

Jodi's Story: 

It was a fairly uneventful afternoon. The parental units were out for the evening, off to dinner or some other occasion, and only my siblings and I were left to hold down the house…with the assistance of a baby sitter of course. Being only so many things one can do in the company of such a caretaker, my sister and I meandered off my room to play a bit of an imagination game. Considering we lived in the cruel circumstance that my parents had chosen not only to neglect our desires and deny us the RIGHT to a plastic playhouse out of doors, as well as one of those super deluxe Barbie houses, we were forced to play an avid camping game. The camp? My closet. The campers? Jenni and I. Brian was out in the living room watching some otherwise restricted Television Show, and we innocently continued our game. Brian beckoned to me and I assured my younger counterpart that I would return "home" shortly. However, the pull of the pixelated screen was so great, and I found myself sitting in such a stupor for over an hour. During a commercial break, I remembered with horror that I had left Jenni alone in the closet, pinned in by the chair and laundry hamper we used as the door. The two of us scurried back, and to our amusement, she was resting soundly on the floor. Brian smiled. His eyes gleamed. He ran to his room and grabbed his metal handcuffs, the one where the key only worked half of the time. He took her wrist in one hand, and the chair in the other and slyly cuffed her to it. We snickered, thinking it a brilliant joke and that the babysitter would come along soon and reprimand the two of us and we could free her. It was not as such. She was engrossed in one of the earlier seasons of 7^th heaven, the one without so many kids, and didn’t give thought to the third Brashear child. It was to my parents horror to meander into my room and see the child chained mercilessly to the bar of metal. Screeching something about house fires, my father demanded my brother unlock her from the chamber. He shrugged and said he didn’t know where the key was. During this bout of insanity, my sister awoke. Noticing her predicament, she flailed about, yelling in horror trying to free her self. After calming her down and explaining that she was not about to be sold into slavery of any kind, my brother entered the room and loosed her bonds. I am pleased to announce that she has not chosen to partake in a closet nap since. 

Jenni's Story:

Okay so, one time, when Jodi, Brian, and me were little, we had a babysitter who obviously didn’t give a shit about us. So Brian and Jodi started making fun of me. Well, Brian was making fun of me and Jodi was just laughing. So, I got really pissed off and crawled into the corner of Jodi’s closet and sat there and cried. Eventually, I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I was asleep but when I woke up, I tried to wipe the drool off of my mouth. But, I couldn’t. I looked up at my hand to see that .. it was HANDCUFFED TO A FUCKING BEDPOST. Now I wasn’t particularly happy about this. I screamed and I yelled and once again as I said before, my baby sitter didn’t give a shit. If she did, she would’ve came and tried to at least unhandcuff me. Well, Brian and Jodi, being the GOOD children they were, came and… laughed at me. I started crying and Brian said that he had lost the key to the handcuffs. I started screaming and kicking and doing anything I possibly could to get those damn handcuffs off. After what it seemed 5 hours later, my dad and my mom came home. They really didn’t care either, considering they were yelling at Brian ands Jodi for about an hour, forgetting about me locked up all alone in a filthy closet. Finally, after my dad remembered me, he got the handcuffs off of me and let’s just say I never fell asleep in another closet again.

She was obviously a bit more infuriated. I really like this whole double point of view thing. 



Tally ho!

Birthday Meme, Just a few:

Events:
1284 - According to legend, the Pied Piper lures 130 children of Hamelin away.
1807 - Lightning hits a warehouse in Luxembourg, killing 230 people.
1963 - John F. Kennedy speaks the famous words "Ich bin ein Berliner" on a visit to West Berlin.
1964 - The Beatles release the album A Hard Day's Night.
1977 - Elvis Presley gives his last concert.
1997 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in the U.S.), the first book in J.K. Rowling's hugely popular Harry Potter series, is published.

Holidays:
The United Nations' Day in Support of Victims of Torture.
Flag Day in Romania
Sunthorn Phu Day in Thailand.

Now that’s cute. I'm especially fond of 1997. Go to Wikipedia and do it too. Put in your birthday and see what happens. :-O

Be safe if you're out driving tonight. Tally ho!

So, things have chilled down a bit. Except for the weather. I'm not really for certain what's up with that.

I got my license and so far have only had one near collision with a telephone pole. I backed into it at Youth Group. God was there, so it doesn't count.
O:-)

Be safe all of you kiddos frolicking somewhere this week, or later on this week for Spring Break. Lurve. Lurve. Lurve.

That's about it for now. Just sending out a hollerback. Tally ho!

I miss them already.

So much.

I think Trey put it best:

"Are you two Seniors?"
"No." (Anna and I)
"Good, because if another one of you fuckers leave, I'd have to break down and cry like the rest of them."

Tally ho.

I was tagged, and I really don't feel like doing homework right now. So, blah. Survey Spam for your friends page.

Things that piss me off:
1. Whenever someone says, "No offense..." before they say something that is obviously going to offend you.
2. Whenever I'm on my phone and someone beeps in and it won't let me click over to answer.
3. Whenever my binder is unorganized. Like, when I have about 200 papers just sitting in the front of it waiting to be placed in it's proper sections and they're not there yet.
4. Whenever Christmas ornaments aren't spaced out properly. That, and clumped tinsel. There's just no reason for it.
5. Falling asleep in contacts and you wake up and your iris is stuck to your retina or something odd like that.
6. The fact that we haven't moved yet, when my parents have been claiming we are going to for the last year or so.
7. How I don't have my license, and some sophomores I know are probably going to get it before me.
8. When there is nothing on the radio but commercials.
9. Whenever I wake up in the morning to get ready and brush my hair and whatnot, and my sister rushes to the bathroom just so she doesn't have to wait on me the MOMENT the alarm goes off.
10. Jean shopping.

Things that make me happy:
1. Having a really good conversation with someone.
2. Whenever I can find shoes that match the rest of my outfit.
3. Earring shopping at the Icing.
4. Days when all your favorite songs seem to be on the radio.
5. Moulin Rouge and the fact that the Princess Bride is on TV right now.
6. When I write something how I feel and I know that it came out in a way that works for me.
7. A smile from someone across the room, just because.
8. Not doing your homework the night before because you were too lazy to, and then going to school and realizing you didn't have any anyway.
9. That one day after we get done with exams where we have absolutely nothing to worry about.
10. Getting pictures developed from 7 and 8 months ago that you completely forgot about.

I tag...
1. Anniendo
2. Laura
3. Caroline
4. Beth Reed
5. Your Mom

I'm off to sleep, slack or start homework. Whichever happens first. Tally ho!

Stolen from Beth. I feel like such a felon.

Then:
1) What was the first album/CD/Cassette you ever bought?
The first one I ever bought on my own was the Titantic soundtrack. I remember my Dad said, "Are we happy now?" And my brother goes, "Yeah, until Jodi scratches her new CD." I dropped it later that day and the case cracked.

2) What was your first fave song?
C'est la Vie (Sp?) By Bewitched. I jumped on the trampoline for 3 hours listening to that song before I relized they were not saying 'Celebrate.'

3) Which song gives you that "funny nostalgic feeling" everytime you hear it?
Joni by Conway Twitty. Up until a few years ago I thought the song said 'Jodi' because my Dad would change the lyrics. Silly goose.

4) Name the first concert you ever went to.
I still haven't been to an official concert. I had my heart set on Rascal Flatts this past year, but to no avail. Dad wouldn't let me get tickets. and I had detention that Monday anyway. I guess if I had to choose one though I did go to a random Monkees reunion concert at the Zoo two summers ago.

5) What do you consider the worst song of all time?
"um....anything by dreamstreet. haha. DREAMSTREET." BETH YOU NERD. What about "It Happens Everytime." I am offended. But the worst song ever is that Picture song by Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock. It's one of the few songs on the radio that I absolutely CANNOT stand.

Now:
1) Name your fave song at the moment.
Either Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows or Your Song by Elton John...but then again, the latter never really changes. :-)

2) What is the most recent album/CD/Cassette you purchased?
:-X Well, thanks to Anniendo an unknown supplier I haven't purchased a CD in quite some time. The last CD I got though was Micawber.

3) Which song will you never get sick of hearing?
Anything by Allister. :-)

4) What is your current fave music video?
I haven't watched on in ages. Juanes? I have no idea.

5) If you could be a famous music artist, what type of music would you produce?
The sort of music that you rock out in your car to and almost go swerving off the road. With a few occassional emo ones thrown in there.

I feel so productive. Off to do something that requires mental thought. Tally ho!

Throughout the course of my existence, I have been faced with several trying questions, a few of which remained impossible to answer until the course of certain events took place.

Today, while sitting over a boiling pan of water, I became enabled to respond to such a question.

Many of you know of my tragic encounter with Jell-o a few years back that ended in it's burning and later evaporation. I decided to tackle such a task this evening, seeing as the internet was down and I was unable to access any of the homework I had recieved during my absence.

As it rested in my hand, the box mocked me with a 'sugar-free' grin in the form of it's label. Sure, I was taking the easy way out by not using the ingredient that had caused the fatal fuego in the first place, but it was a start. It was time to cope with my past and move forward in the art of boiled dessert snacks.

Ripping the thin cardboard in jittery anticipation, I poured the substance into a plastic bowl, while placing a pot of H20 on the stove top until it came to a violent simmer.

The directions explicitly stated that one must boil the water, THEN pour the liquidation INTO the reddish powder awaiting it's steaming refreshment. It was here that my fatal error was realized. I had added the Jell-O mix to the boiling water, and not the reverse. I had also got a trifle antsy and added the sugar at this point as well, causing the azucar to fry.

I finished preparing this strawberry flavored delight in the course of no more than 5 minutes and am proud to report my abode remains intact.

Just thought I'd share before I scampered off to finish all the work I missed whilst away from school the last few days. Tally ho!

I was sitting there in CST watching a movie about how to become a better person and to fill my life with the Messiah, and I fell asleep. I hope that isn't a mortal sin or something.

I've also realized that doing your homework in class isn't that difficult afterall. It's just like snacking in class, except you hide the papers, not the food, and you don't eat it. Unless you really want to, but that's just a little odd. I know fourth lunch is late, but that's no reason to endorse the formation of an ulcer.

The heater in English leaked today. It was rather frightening. Beth thought her epipen had exploded, but then realized that the clear, slippery substance was not the drug that would usually save her life, but useless fluids draining from the mechanism that was suppose to be providing the school with warmth.

Has anyone noticed that these past two weeks have been colder than most in class? I think it's another secret incentive to sell capital prize tickets. They turn down the heat, and then say that if you pawn off two, you not only get spirit wear, but are exempt from pneaumonia as well.

Target has some really cool stuff for Valentine's Day. ::Lunges at decorative pillows and the like:: Jenni had to drag me away from them. Literally. People gave us a few funny looks and sideways glances, but that could be because she kept screaming, "YOU WANT IT. YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT," rather loudly.

::Sounds of Crickets from the Next Room::

I am Confused.

::Sister answers the phone::
Jenni: ((To Faja))Oh hush, it's Leah.

Leah's an insect? How awkard.

::More Listening::
Jenni: Hey Dad, she says you're a hemaphrodite.

My entire house is on crack. Perhaps that's the reason why this entire entry has been slightly dazed and ADD.

::Shrugs:: Oh well. Tally ho, all. :-)

So, we're going to look at a house today...

...for the third time. A few days ago we drove around the area to check out the neighborhood for about an hour.

A good sign? I certainly hope so. Cross your fingers, I may become a Louisvillian just yet. :-X

No definites though, but some Good Luck wishes would be much appreciated. :-)
Tally ho.

I'm posting this now to meet your procrastination needs, seeing as this is about the time people might actually think of studying. Enjoy. :-)



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Let the force be with you. Tally ho, all. :-)

( Warning: Super Long Holiday Post Below. )

I remember I used to think that being a grade or two older was the biggest bonding barrier ever. Now I think that I realized that it's not really so much after all.

It's sort of cool how much closer all the cousins have become over the years. Sure, we've had two get married within the last year or so, and one just got engaged yesterday (Congrats to Katie and John. I love you guys. :-) but I think we've all realized how much we can all relate to one another because it's just now processing into our mindset that whatever we've been through, whatever complicated whatnot we've experienced, we've watched eachother as they've pulled through it. Even if it was only a few times a year when we even got to talk, we still talked about it when there was no one else we felt we could. We're all on the same general 'grandkid' level when it comes to family. We weren't really raised by one of the French children, but all nine. I guess that's why I love big families; there's always someone you can turn to, and always someone who offers to push you on the rope swing at Cheri's. Or someone to play cards with in Grandma's basement. Or to rent all three of the Home Alone movies for you to watch becuase you say that you haven't. Or to whisper that your egg is hidden in Bobbi's car exhaust pipe on Easter. Or to give you their egg instead when they tell that Kurtis or Issac threw it into the tree and watched it explode. Just random stuff like that.

I guess I never really realized how much I loved my family until now. And the odd thing is, it's not because I've been watching the Holiday specials on the Hallmark Channel. It was just seeing everyone finally together last night, all crammed into the basement when it really hit me. Knowing that you can walk up to any person you see, even if they're partially intoxicated, and know that they'll still genuinely care about what you have to say is sort of a mind boggling feeling.

I see I've sort of started going on for a bit, but I suppose that's what happens when you go this long without updating the eljay. But I guess what I wanted to say is that even if you don't celebrate Christmas, or even beleive in the holiday thing as a whole, I still hope you're having an amazing day.

I love all of you, because I see you all as a part of my family too. Sure, we may not be connected by blood type or anything listed on a birth certificate, but I love you all just as much.

Thanks for everything guys. Have an effing lovely New Year, because you all deserve it. Tally ho. :-)