Looking forward to: NaNoWriMo 2011!

Never heard of NaNoWriMo? Check it out!

I am getting VERY excited for November! Like, screaming, checking the website, dancing around, trying to find a friend to do it with who won't totally BAIL on me excited (Meg, Kat, Mary Kat, Anna, Ames...I'M LOOKING AT YOU!!).

Right now I'm perusing the NaNo world, getting maniacal pleasure out of my solidarity with other writing fanatics. Is that so wrong?

I've got my plot chosen and I'm raring to go. All I DON'T have at this point is a title for the book. The working title is The Lion and the Frog, but I also like the title Eden. I'll figure it out.

I know that after I won last year, many people (hi, Mom...) might not understand why I want to do it again so badly. Well....it was fun! It was amazingly cool to see how many other people love to write, and I really enjoyed seeing a book (a lousy book, but still a book!) come forth from a month of effort.

Can't wait for November....

I am very much like Pooh...

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I'm just waiting for the day someone says that to me.

One Thing Remains

You should have heard 1,000+ people singing this song.

Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me...

Fifteen Minutes

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I think Rapunzel would understand this phenomenon. 

Ever since work (and school) started, I have learned something about fifteen minutes.

Time is relative. But it no longer depends on whether or not I'm enjoying it.

You've got to mop the floor and brush your teeth and floss and journal and maybe write or get your room clean and be in bed before 11 pm.

Fifteen minutes is NOTHING. You've barely started, and you're thinking you've gotten enough done to have been working for five minutes. Its been fifteen. 

You're gonna sit down and journal for fifteen minutes, thinking, "I can write a ton in that much time! I'll have time left to grab a snack, and maybe do some cardio exercises!"

Yeah. Right.

You've written the header; date, time, location, and than doodled a little in the margin:

BAM!

Fifteen minutes up. Time to get going with the day. Sorry!

Time is an illusive rascal. When you're working your tail off, time flies while you're not paying attention. A lull for even a minute, and you're staring the the clock with bated breath.

COME ON BABY. COME ON. SECONDS, COULD YOU PASS ALREADY!? OH LOOK! THERE'S ONE!

Maybe this is especially a problem at small town grocery stores where all the costumers hide in the aisles and go "One...two...three....NOW!" and all surge towards the checkout at the exact same time.

That is to say, when you have nothing to do, like Rapunzel, time stands still and no matter what you do to pass it, it just won't budge.

But alas, when you need to do something very important, time roars passed you while you're already speeding, sticks it's head out the window, and bellows: "SO LONG, SUCKER!"

What a creep.

I miss when time passed slowly and sweetly. When it's passing slowly now, its kind of like it's pulling your teeth without Novocaine. 

They say the older you get, the faster it goes.

I'm not that old yet.

You can't make time stop by staring at the clock. Believe me, I've tried.

Fifteen minutes is all you've got sometimes.

Make the most of it....before it's gone. 

Composition Essay, Perfect Place to Study

Composition Qtr 1 Week 4 Essay, Perfect Place to Study

            Off into the hidey hole I go.

Somewhere there’s a quiet place. It’s quiet, but not so quiet you feel you’ve been completely swallowed up by your schoolbook and you are now the only human being left in the universe. There is plenty of light to shine through the big window, and outside you can see a weeping willow and a tire swing. Sometimes hummingbirds and butterflies fly past, and when it gets cold, you can watch the cardinals at the feeder while resting your mind and your eyes.

            The walls are a warm, pleasing cream, but not white. White walls make you feel like you’re in a hospital; studying in a white room makes you feel like you’re in a hospital for your brain. But the walls still must be neutral, so you can imagine taking a big, fat Sharpie to them one of these days and pouring everything down on them. Everywhere there is pleasing color, and a beautiful, unique painting or two. Sometimes you need a little bit of distraction; otherwise you’ll lose your mind.

            The floors have soft, thick, deep indigo carpet so you can lay out on it and not get all cramped up as you prop yourself up on your elbows and read ancient Grecian literature. Pillows are strewn about in organized chaos. Little ones. Big ones. Sometimes to effectively learn, you need to build a nest to nestle down in. No bird can hatch her eggs without a nest. No girl can hatch any knowledge without one, either. There is a humongous, very comfortable brown saucer chair, but it mustn’t recline too far; falling asleep while studying is no good. There is a beautiful fireplace and warm blankets and cozy socks because sometimes merely opening up Shakespeare sends a chill up your spine.

            I suppose there must also be a desk, but the rolling chair offers good support, and there is an ottoman to put your feet up on, but it isn’t so high as to drain all the circulation out of your feet and end up hobbling around feeling like little needles are dancing the mambo from your heels to toes. Everything you need is there; paper, pencils, pens, erasers, a computer and printer (complete with access to Google when you get absolutely stuck), and a brilliant and sympathetic scientific calculator named Herv. Herv understands your pain, but disagrees that all algebra books should be burned. He motivates you and is mean when he needs to be. Every procrastinator needs a Herv.

            Finally, up on the wall, right where you’ll always see it, somehow even when your back is turned, is all your inspiration. A crucifix hangs there on the wall, simple yet complex in its beauty and power. It’s easy to forget, but impossible to ignore. When I’m ready to fling myself down and cry simply because I can’t understand, or I’m weary, or I would rather do anything but be educated, I can look up at the cross and find strength. I love you, he silently says. His eyes meet mine, though his head is bowed. He loves me. I must carry on.

            Than out of the hidey hole I must come.

How will we ever learn, if we don’t stop learning for a little while?

Being Organized

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Ok, so...that's what my 'being organized' looks like.

Pretty ugly, huh?

But, seriously, that's what I do. I am only sane if I am in a complete frenzy to keep everything under control.

Note I said SANE, not CALM. Or HAPPY. Or NORMAL.

That's pretty much what I do when I'm not organized, too. The two about the same to everyone else.

Its a real shame, but I am a complete OCD control freak.

Just yesterday, my mother was trying to find photographic proof that Carter Oosterhouse was really married, and I stood behind her and said, "Do you want me to do it so it doesn't take five years?"

Needless to say, she gave me a most withering look and came very close to taking away my Internet privileges for five years.

That's a little bit beside the point, which is that I have a ridiculous need to control everything around me.

I read somewhere once that WORRY is a brain mechanism, where you subconsciously believe that if you give something enough of your attention, you can fix it.

I think that about sums up my personality.

But think about the average life of a teenager: school, work, family, extra-curricular activities, sleep, eat, stress.

Being organized helps me to focus on what's important. Unfortunately, for a very long time now it has given me a false sense of control.

I am trying to slowly just give up.

Surrender.

I can't fix everything. I can't do anything but pray sometimes.

God's got it under control.

Just think...if I surrendered, if I stopped trying to 'worry' everything into order, I might someday be so unstressed, I won't need to be organized.

Until that miracle happens, here's to effort, and to doing the very best we can.

The First of Jack Frost

I. Am. Freezing.

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It is 58 degrees outside.

AND ITS ONLY SEPTEMBER.

I am going to die.