Thursday, August 30, 2012


The fire I  began is burning me alive
but I know better than to leave and let it die

Yes. This is beautiful! Go Owl City!

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Keep Moving Forward

Tomorrow, I start my senior year of high school. Every time the summer ends I feel this distinct loss of something really good and beautiful, and this year is even worse. Several good friends of mine are starting college. I hardly ever saw them, but now I won't see them at all. 

But c'est la vie. 

I remember reading  a poem in third or fourth grade about how everything comes to an end. Everything changes. "This, too, shall pass." 

Our lives are constantly changing, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better. This year, like every year, I got excited collecting the mundane little school supplies even we homeschoolers need to get things done; floral mechanical pencils, a monkey-shaped blue eraser, a purple Ticonderoga eraser, a new pink pencil sharpener, paper, fruit-scented highlighters, and sticky notes with owls on them. 

But my life is changing. I'm getting older, and I might finally be moving on from being a little girl. I'm getting smarter. I'm learning more and more who I am and how God made me. No matter what stays the same, I have undeniably changed this summer. And things will begin changing even more as I go through my senior year. I'm applying for mission work in the fall, and taking the ACT to open up my options for college. 

I know I'm in a good place right now. I'm ready. As ready as I'll ever be. School is hard work, and sometimes it's A LOT of work. For instance; first day of school? Well to ease me right in, I get to read, memorize, and recite Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. Wow. And I'm still working part time, so I have 10 hours of work along with five days of school my first week alone. 

This is an incredible adventure. My whole life has been an adventure. The more you move forward, the more adventures you can have. The more you can see. The more people you can meet. The more you can learn. The more you can grow. 

Changing, always changing. I know I'm probably going to face a lot of failure, uncertainty, and loneliness this year. But I plan to keep moving forward, to become the best version of the woman I was made to be, to follow God's will, and do my part to make this world better. 

Bring it on, Senior Year.


Saturday, August 25, 2012

You go, girl.

I've never read any of J. K. Rowling's books, but this is incredible!

‘Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.
J.K. Rowling (via steferine)


Thursday, August 23, 2012

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Things people say...

Today, I was sitting at my computer, and said, "Oh! Hey, Adam Young's new album is out today. I didn't realize that!"

(I think I should say that some of my faith in Adam Young has been restored...I'm in love with 2 of the songs on his album I heard yesterday. His tumblr is also becoming more like his old blog used to be, which is very exciting! I'm not buying the whole Midsummer Station album, but I'm excited for several of the songs!)

And I was pointing out that Owl City fan-fiction was featured on, and my younger brother said,

"Just three years ago, Adam young was like a hobo. With a synthesizer."

Then, on my Figment wall, one of my friends on there said this:

Oh... Your from England! Oh my gosh I just realized that. Oh I'm just shocked.

Hey, me too! I had to go back and see what I'd said to her to figure out why she believed I was from England. I had explained how I'm planning to apply for mission work and I specified that it would be in the U. S.

I have to admit I laughed really hard. It totally made my day.

All in all, I think this proves why people are just so great.

The World Needs Saints

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Priscilla Tabitha Akron

I started a story about two years ago that was extraordinary complicated called 'Things'.

The story is a complete bust; I can't develop and keep up with that many characters, and I certainly can't make a believable enchanted world while trying to keep up with the characters.

So I doubt the piece as a whole will ever go anywhere except my 'look back on how pathetic you used to be and feel better' documents box.

But...there was one character in there I vaguely remembered. Her name was Priscilla, but you should call her Prissy.

Here are the three scenes I wrote with her. I'm captivated by this character; she's kind of mean, but very vulnerable. I think she might have her own story brewing underneath the overzealous plot that has lead me to lose hope for 'Things'.  Ejoy!

Monday afternoon, Prissy sat on the railing of the front deck, wishing for cold. It was so hot, and it was only May! The summer would get hotter, to be sure. She looked down at her black top and thick purple scarf and black jeans, wondering if it really was too hot to wear that much black, and thinking she looked kind of punk to be living in a place like Well Water. She wondered if the founders of the town realized how terrible that name sounded, or if they’d meant it to be more like, Pleasant Water. Either way, she was stuck in the tiny, hot, miserable town of Well Water.
“Hey! Hey, Akron!”
Prissy looked down, and saw with disdain that it was Calvin, the annoying son of the family who came to Well Water every 4th of July holiday to fish in Lake Well Water. He called her Akron, despite the fact she had introduced herself as Priscilla Tabitha Akron, but you should call me Prissy.
“What do you want, Calvin?” She asked, tossing her layered black hair, which was currently streaked purple. “I’m not in the mood for you.”
Calvin snickered in the obnoxious way he always snickered. “Yeah, right. Your sitting there alone and bored, and your hot and sweaty, ‘cause you’re wearing all that black, and you were just hoping I’d show up!”
“Yeah, right. Whatever,” Prissy said, rolling her blue eyes. “I would think you’d have better things to do with your time than bug me. Then again, maybe not.” After all, how enthralling could a summer of catching fish be?
“Whatever. Look, Akron, my Pop sent me over to warn you people about some guy that’s been reported around this area. He goes around and breaks into houses. He’ll probably go for yours, since it’s so ugly.”
“More like because it’s the only house in this whole town that has anything valuable in it,” Prissy said smugly. “I doubt your family has much in that camper of yours, if you vacation in a place like this,”
“We’ve got tons in our camper!” Calvin retorted, sticking his tongue out at her.
“Sure,” Prissy said, smiling. “Like, mountains of stuff from curio shops and fishing tackle, right?”
Calvin wrinkled his nose at her. “You look so ugly when you smile like that, Akron,” And he raced off in the direction of the lake, leaving Prissy to wonder a little about the burglar going around. She slipped off the porch railing and went inside to tell her mother.
The heat wasn’t much better inside, and Mrs. Akron didn’t seem too concerned. “Yeah, I heard about that,” She walked around Prissy with the Dirt Devil. Their many cats didn’t’ like vacuums, and trying to pick up cat hairs with an ancient, powerless Dirt Devil was somewhat of a thankless task. “By the way, your father and I are driving up to Carmen tonight, for a date,”
“Mm hm,” Prissy said. “Sure,” A night of uninterrupted television and whatever food she could find. Awesome.

 Prissy sat sideways in the arm chair, her legs dangling over one side, three cats sitting in her lap. They were watching an old Disney movie from the 60’s. The cats seemed to be enjoying it more than Prissy they were purring so loud. “That guy is cute, don’t you think?” Prissy said, stroking Willow’s ears. “He’s probably like, in his nineties now. But he’s still cute,” Peaches and Patches purred in agreement.
Prissy yawned and stretched. It was nearing ten, and her parents wouldn’t be home till after midnight. They were having dinner with some friends and seeing a Broadway show in Carmen. The movie ended abruptly about twenty minutes later, and it was pitch black outside. Prissy gently lifted the three cats off of her and went to the kitchen to get a snack. She flipped on the light, and froze.
There was a guy standing in the kitchen. He was tall, wearing all black…and a ski mask. Prissy’s heart stopped and started again a few times, as she remembered what Calvin had said about a burglar going around the area. All the blood drained from her face as the guy turned around and saw her. He took a step towards her, and Prissy screamed.
“Shh! Quiet!” He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Calm down, ok? This is probably not what you think,”
Prissy stared at him over his hand on her mouth, her eyes wide.
Be quiet,” He repeated, and removed his hand from her mouth.
 She sagged against the wall, shaking. “What are you doing here!?” She breathed.
“What do you think?”
“Robbing my house?” Prissy replied, shrugging. “Are you gonna kill me? My mom will just freak if you do…and I don’t think I’m insured…” She realized that she was rambling senselessly, but she couldn’t stop.
“I’m not robbing your house, ok?” He said. “I needed to find you,”
Prissy blinked. “Well…ok…why?”
“I can’t tell you. Can you be in Cade Center tomorrow?” He asked.
She blinked again. “Um…maybe…why?”
“It’s important,” He paused. “You are Priscilla Akron, right?”
Seemed a little late to ask that. “Yeah,”
“Your father is Professor Akron?”
“Be at the library in Cade Center at one tomorrow. It’s important.” He headed towards the door, and paused. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”
And he just…left. He opened the kitchen door and slipped out. Prissy let herself sag down the wall till she was seated on the kitchen linoleum, and didn’t even notice that seven cats were swarming around her, purring and meowing and begging for attention.
“Oh…boy…” She breathed.

Prissy stood in the doorway of her parents’ room, twisting the hem of her pajama shirt. She wished she knew what to do. She was scared, but curious. She hovered a few more seconds, watching her amazing mom’s shoulders rise and fall, her beautiful golden hair falling down over her face. She looked at her dad, snoring softly, his face a little scruffy, murmuring softly once in a while. Prissy took a deep breath, and stepped quietly over to the side of the bed her father was on.
“Dad?” She said softly.
Immediately, his eyes opened. They fixed on Prissy, and he smiled. “Morning, Honey. Something wrong? It’s a little early,”
Prissy bit her lip, and her father sat up. “Come here,” She sat down next to him and let him hug her. “Now, what’s the matter? You look upset,”
Prissy sighed. “Um…well…somebody was here last night while you were gone,” She said quickly.
“What do you mean?” Her father asked.
“Um…” She quickly described the scene in the kitchen the night before, and she started to tremble at the thought of it. “And then he asked if you were my dad. And…he told me to come to the library in Cade Center today…at one,”
“Hm.” Was all her father said.
“I…I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. So I came to you,”
Her father put his arms around her. “Oh, Prissy. I’m so glad you did. It’s nice to know you’re still my little girl,”
“I’ll always be your little girl,” Prissy said, wrapping her arms around him. Her dad always made her feel so safe, she wanted to be his little girl forever. She knew he wanted that, too. “So…what should I do?”
“You should go to the library in Cade Center today at one,” Her father replied. “I think I know who that was who came here. Listen to me, Prissy,” His hazel eyes met hers, serious and concerned. “If this is about what I think it’s about, you need to trust me. Say yes. I love you, but this is so important, it’s a risk I’m willing to take, if you’re willing,”
“What do you mean?” Prissy asked.
“I can’t tell you. Do you trust me?”
Prissy looked up into her dad’s eyes, and wondered how she could not trust him. “Absolutely. I’ll say yes, to whatever the question. But…what about Mom?”
“I’ll talk to her, Honey,” He said, kissing her forehead. “Go get dressed. I’ll take you to Cade Center on my way to Carmen,” He was a professor at the university there.
Prissy nodded, and left for her room. She tingled with excitement, wondering what was in store for her. It was going to be amazing, she knew that much. Her dad was sure of it.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Both of Us

* Note: There is one cuss word in the first verse (completely unnecessary). Just wanted to give  you a heads up :)

I wish I was strong enough to lift not one, but both of us

I cannot even explain why I adore this song. 

I'm not really all that much of a country fan, and Taylor Swift is a mostly country artist. I like Taylor Swift, but only in moderation.

I don't ever listen to rap, and B.O.B. is a rap artist.

A few days ago I was listening to the local hodgepodge pop station, and this song came on. It started and I was like, "Ooh, it's Taylor Swift. Pretty!"

Then, out of the blue, this rapper comes in, and for a second I thought the station had very suddenly switched songs. 

Nope. Same song.

Today, my sister and I were sharing our favorite tunes on Youtube. Again, I wasn't looking for this song. We were listening to a song by The Script or something, and on the sidebar was this video. I said, "Oh, hey, I know this one!"

My sister thought I was nuts. She likes Taylor Swift, but she could not get over the rap.

Me? I think I've listened to it almost ten times since then. I am totally in love with it. It painted a story in my heart. I love it how a white country star and a black rapper could do a duet like this, and my favorite part is where they sing together. 

I literally started a novel based on this song; I don't know how far it'll go, but that's how much I love it.

It is absolutely beautiful. 

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Art for the bored

I was really bored and kind of hot and just blah today. 

So I opened up the prehistoric Windows program known as Paint, and made this colorful, interesting portrait of a girl with multi-colored hair.


I'm wondering if Gimp is that fun....

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Feast of St. Clare

Incorrupt body of St. Clare of Assisi
Assisi, Italy

Today is my Feast Day! My parents named me after St. Clare of Assisi, the foundress of the Poor Clares and BFF of St. Francis of Assisi. 

St. Clare, patroness of television, bless this blog and pray for us!

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Some sorrow over Owl City....

My favorite artist,  Adam Young (Owl City) appears to have sold out.

One of the songs (Bombshell Blonde) on his album that is coming out soon (The Midsummer Station) is basically an anthem for objectifying a girl. The rest are basically the run-of-the-mill pop that pretty much anyone can put out these days.

This is really sad, because though I was never one of the girls who proclaimed my intentions of marrying him, I always thought of Adam Young as a reliable, lovable best friend who I could count on.

Things have changed. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. And definitely not for the better.

I don't know why this change has suddenly taken place; it almost seems day and night, especially since his old, very sophisticated blog has been replaced by something very different. One of my friends is taking it really hard and I'm worried she might lose sleep over it.


I don't know yet. I'm sad. I can actually feel a deep loss for something beautiful; Adam Young was really, truly doing something BEAUTIFUL. He was writing and performing unique, quality music in an industry that is filled with a lot of the same these days.

A few months ago, when iTunes released four songs from The Midsummer Station, I was horrified by 2 of them. But I felt certain that those were good enough odds that Adam Young was headed for another album that expressed a genuine love for beauty and truth.

Obviously, I was wrong.

I'm not angry at Adam Young, or his new music label, or anything like that. Like I said, I'm just really sad. I love his old music. It is gorgeous. This new music? It makes my head heart, too. I don't know how anyone could give up something extraordinary and beautiful for something gross and boring.

But I'm not going to focus on how or why Adam Young's music has changed. I don't approve of what he's singing, but I still love him as a person. I will always have the songs he sang that moved me and shaped me and helped me in countless ways.

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." 

Dr. Seuss

God bless you, Adam Young. I hope you still love this song as much as I do. 

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Listening to fears.

You have listened to fears, child,” said Aslan. “Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?” 
C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

I know it was no mistake that I found this quote just now.

For the past week, I have been listening to fears. I have been caught up in myself, and things that have frightened me for a long time. Last year I was struggling with these same things. I don't remember how I overcame them then, and I'm not certain why they popped back up now. I don't even know where these fears come from; they pop up from some deep wound in my heart that I can't name or overcome on my own.

I am a big fan of C. S. Lewis and his Narnia books, but I've only read the first three, so aside from an old film version (not the new Disney movie) and an audio cassette version, I'm not as familiar with the story of Prince Caspian. But I do know that it is the story of a prince who must be brave to regain his rightful throne. His fears, wounds, insecurities and doubts hold him back and cripple him.
The four Pevensie children, the Kings and Queens of Narnia, also face their own fears as they return to the world they once grew up in.

I feel a lot like Prince Caspian and the Pevensies right now. There are beautiful and noble things in my life to fight for, but I am held back by fears that plague me again and again. 

In the world of Narnia, Aslan is the Creator of all things. He is the God of Narnia; he is an all-good, all-knowing being who loves his children, especially when they are weakest. 

I know God speaks to me in the same way Aslan speaks to Susan. He challenges me to face the fears I have allowed to cripple me. He breathes His life on me, and gives me His courage and strength. Then, He tells me to put my fears behind me; they are overcome. And I am brave again. 

Monday, August 6, 2012

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Fearfully and Wonderfully


I learned this yesterday. 

I woke up with about 20 minutes to roll out of bed, eat, and head out the door to babysit for our neighbor's twin girls. 


So I scrambled out of bed, took my hair out of the French braid I slept in, and looked at my face. 

I faced reality. 

"There is no time to put makeup on."

And that was fine; I was just going to be seen by my neighbors and two 2-yr-old girls who care a lot more about Bambi than what their babysitter looks like. 

But then, a crazy idea popped into my head. 

"I'm just not going to wear any makeup today. Not even when I go to work at the grocery store."

My brain immediately yelped:
"NAY!" brain does not speak in old English. 

"NO! Bad idea! Don't do it! What will people think!"

But I wanted to. I wanted to prove to myself I really am beautiful just as I am.

At the same time, I'm angry that I needed to prove that to myself.

I continually struggle with my identity as God's daughter. I don't need to be defined by anything external. I am beautiful inside and out just by being me. 

But I did do it. And I didn't look ugly. I didn't look 'pretty'.

I just looked like me.

And I had never felt more beautiful. 

 "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful..."
Psalm 139: 14