My new favorite words:

innocuous: harmless; also, unlikely to offend or provoke.
imbroglio: a complicated and embarrassing state of things.
quandary: a state of difficulty or perplexity

The Wind Dance

Gusts the size of cannonballs, strength of trees tested. Bare feet and hair let loose. The wind is mighty, and roars its dominion. But I laugh. There is no one else upon that field of grass. Only me and the bipolar phenomenon of nature. This morning, that wind caressed my cheek, softened the heat. Now, it yells and pushes. Still, I laugh. For though he pushes me softly and pretends to wish me harm, this wind will be quiet again, will be loving again. We will be friends again. But for now, I dance.

Some new stuff

WOW. This summer is really going to be a landmark thing for me. I have made so many new friends. These are people who have high standards, good senses of humor, and actually are ok with putting up with me! It's tons of fun to talk to them, and we have tons of hilarious inside jokes. We're going to do pilates every weekday morning, and it's all going to be awesome. I have friends in my stake, Seminary council, marching band, and my awesome old friends of Junior High. More importantly, I have a new independence. I am less dependent upon others to make me happy, although I am gaining more friends who do make me extremely happy. I can be happy on my own, and I can be happy with my friends. I won't be sad when my friends aren't with me, but I will be especially glad when I can be with them. I hope this is all making sense...Anyway, I am not dependent upon one person for all my happiness, or all my unhappiness. The more I am ok with being on my own, I think it will be more likely for people to want to spend time with me. As long as I don't go antisocial or indifferent, anyway. Still, I don't think it's possible for me to be indifferent or antisocial.

Growing

I just got home from Trek, but I didn't learn as much about the pioneers as I thought I would. I spent 4 days pulling a handcart UP A MOUNTAIN ending at a grand 9000 ft. in elevation (by Scofield) wearing a dress with too many layers, but I wasn't as physically drained as I thought I would be. We didn't spend as much time as girls' camp with the spiritual aspect of everything, but I was more touched and stirred by the spirit than I thought I would be. I didn't get homesick, I didn't get blisters, I didn't sprain anything or get heat exhaustion, but there were times that were harder than many things I have faced in a long time. And I grew SO much. Here are some things I learned.

I love the priesthood.
The men of my family were so kind, pulling more than their share just so that Little Carrot and I would not have to do quite as much. They helped carry my bucket, helped set up our shelter every night, and helped us not to give up. At the top of Heartbreak Hill (explained later) there were several priesthood blessings given, and the contrast of feelings before and after those blessings was tremendous. Throughout the whole experience, I felt the power of the priesthood over our camp, and I saw the magnificence in the men and boys who respected that authority. I saw strong teenage boys weeping in behalf of the girls. It was one of the most mature, strong, compassionate things I have ever seen. I certainly do not think them less tough for it (probably even more so, I think). I need the priesthood in my life. I am so greatful I have friends who hold it.

I need to feel more.
I am feeling more and more that I am feeling less and less. I do not believe that one can get used to the spirit, and that a dulling in the influence and power that the spirit has upon one is definately not a good thing. I need to be more sincere and pleading in my prayers. I need to search for the truth in ways that I have not before. I need to write more meaningfully in my journal. I need to open myself up to the spirit, and not be afraid to cry. People may think me a fool, but I am sure that the Lord will not. I cannot allow myself to let go of the Iron Rod, thinking I know which way the path leads.

I can be weak, and should be humble.
They had a Rocky Ridge. With no exaggeration, this hill was a half mile long at a 40 degree angle. I pushed the handcart the best I could. We were not one of the first handcarts. Near the end, I felt that my pushing was becoming less effective as a result of my fatigue. Then, when we were at our slowest, people from the previous handcarts ran down and helped. I felt weak. We made it to the end. After resting, I ran down to help the other handcarts. My pushing again was, in my perspective, ineffective. I did my best, but I felt so pathetic in not being able to really help those other handcarts up the mountain. At one hill, lovingly called "Heartbreak Hill" they took the men, boys, and adult women away from us. The young women had to pull the cart up by themselves. On flat ground, there is nothing easier. On a steep incline, the task was a burden. I looked at the ground we were to pull the 300 lb. handcart over. The sandy soil would be a nightmare, and the huge rocks dispersed around the trail looked to be more than I could bear. As the men and boys walked up that hill, I sat down and I cried. The carts before us with five or six girls each were struggling, and my cart only had three girls to push it. I was scared.

I can be strong, and should be confident in the Lord.
At Rocky Ridge, after "helping" that other handcart up, I was drained, and I knew that I would only be a burden to any handcarts I attempted to help after that. So I decided to sing. With three other girls, I sang to tired handcart pushers as they neared the end of the pull. Their faces were filled with a gratitude for our sometimes rather poor singing that I will never forget. I still felt bad that I could not physically help these people, but I was grateful for the chance to lift their spirits. Heartbreak Hill was hard. As I had suspected, the wheels spun uselessly in the sand at times, and the rocks stopped the handcart in its tracks several times. But in my determination, I pulled the handcart with all of my strength, and our three did better than many people's seven. The boys joined us halfway up the hill, and we could see tears in their eyes as they watched us pulling it alone. Those boys pushed as hard as they could, and were a great relief, but many admitted that they were tired after about 30 feet (and were amazed at how far we had made it alone). Then, 3/4 of the way, our adult leaders joined us. By this time, I was tired, but I refused to be a burden. I pulled that cart, despite an asthma attack, and even though at times my eyes blacked out, and I wasn't sure how much farther I could push. We made it to the top, all of us heaving, all of us closer than ever. Some passed out. Some suffered heat exhaustion. Many did not pull the whole hill. I made it. I suffered, and was not as strong as I thought I might have been, but I made it the whole way, and even pushed the cart afterwards. The boys offered to give me a ride, but I'm pretty sure they weren't totally serious anyway.

I have a weakness for young, strong, single, Russian, good-looking, recent converts.

Co-section-leading

Marching band is going much better, the rookies are really coming along in their technique. That one, however, is still not the most...agreeable...but he's getting better, and hopefully will continue to be better as the rest of the section improves in the following commands area. THomatoe and I are officially co-section-leaders. Which will be really cool. I think we both have a pretty good balance, and we can let eachother know if we're pushing them too hard, or not hard enough. I can try to be the hard one, and he can be the more relaxed one. Or maybe we'll both try to have the same level of discipline. I dunno.

For you.

Never again.
I've seen my mistakes:
Risks I'll never take,
As long as I want to stay sane.

Never again.
Turn away from the past,
Let this will power last,
And not be as normal in vain.

Never again.
I will be who I am,
Not the lovestruck lamb
Who cries till her cheeks are all stained.

Never again.
Take the languor away,
And do what he may,
My detachment will be plain,

For never again
Will I give up
The confidence built up
At times I was free,
And left to be me!
I'll fight every feeling,
Ne'er be sent wheeling
For some blue-eyed grafter,
Or cold-hearted shafter
Who leaves in a hurry
When things come out blurry,
And gives every reason
For disinterested treason
He can beg and protest
With all of the best
Or lie down at State Street and Main,

But I will not be moved,
And I think I have proved
That to me he's now just a bane,
And can say to my once worthy swain:

"Never again!"

haha it kinda sounds like a song from a musical...maybe lengthened...Anyway, I think that explains a lot. It's not meant to be depressing, really. And for me it's not. Never again! I am an independent daughter of God, and I don't need to let myself be pained out of some faux nobility. I've been stupid and naive, and I need to grow up. So I'm growing up. Trying to lose some melodrama. My life is not some novel, so I need to stop trying to put myself through the classic cycle of aggrivation to get to the happy ending. so HA HA HA I'm doing just what I'll bet you've been wanting for a while, but only because I want to! I can only say this: I know with a surety that you will, and probably do regret much of what you've done. All of it could be justified, but I would like to say that I really think you could have handled it better. And in all honesty, I've done a lot of stupid things myself. We're old enough not to act like that. So there. You probably won't even read this, but just in case: I'm sorry for my part. I forgive you for your part. But I'm not in any state of mind, nor will be for a while, to have much to do with you at all.

Once upon a summer's eve

My brother Cashew and I played tennis tonight. It's fun. I always win, which makes it not as fun as it would be if otherwise. We had a sectional this morning. The rookies planned it. Weird. Well, it's good that they're so dedicated. Summer seminary was good. Soccerball, Seaweed, and a couple others taught. Seaweed asked me to give a thought, but there was never time. Overall, I felt kinda worthless because I didn't even help with the ice cream...oh well. Next week I'll be better. I hope I don't squander this ephemeron of bliss on feeling worthless. I need to go do more things. I need to get more things done. Cool.

Summer steals my thunder

Today was a pretty productive day. I went to Marching Band, where I actually got some things done in my section, and memorized most of the music. I came home, got some lunch, and then went to Jazz Band. That wasn't totally productive, but at least I found out what we were playing. I came home, practiced piano, and then got some Kingdom Hearts done (ha). I did my laundry, wrote a bit, and learned a song on the guitar. I still need to write a few more songs...*sigh* the composer's work is never done...hehe. I'm feeling a bit isolated and most days I don't accomplish much at all. I know I could definately do more, even on days like today. Still, I guess the only cure for that is to work harder at working hard. And writing and composing come in spurts as long as I think about it often enough. So some days are bound to be unproductive in that area. Well, gotta go do something of worth.

Hm.

WHY AM I STILL AWAKE!? I'm longing for things I don't want. I'm trying to do stuff I don't really want to do. I just seem to want to be depressed. Well I won't be. Ha. I don't need you. No more depression. I need to forget! Need to forget and to focus on what needs to be done. So I guess that's what I'm going to do. Someday I'm going to sound intelligent and in control of my emotions. That day is not today.

In memory of the deceased

I barely knew you. You were sweet, but never quite knew what you wanted. Therefore, you never got it. You were never brave enough. You were never strong enough to incite action from me. You held on long after I thought you would. After all, how can two of you live in the same heart? One must die. I'm kinda glad you were the one. The other was stronger. The other is deeper, less selfish. I'm sorry you had to die so young, with so little to show for it. Those that are born as a fire burn out as the same. Still, I mourn your passing. I mourn what you might have done. Nevertheless...only one can persist in a virtuous heart.

My ethnicity

I'm creating my race. American society has decided that I have no race worthy of recognition. But I do. I've been getting kinda tired of being just...white caucasian. I have a heritage; I have an ancestry. I am not from here. I am not Native American, although they are socially allowed to celebrate and be recognized for their background more than I. I am worthy of something other than a label. Yes, I'm white. Yes, I'm caucasian, or however you spell that. I don't even know what that means. But as others are African American, I am Danish Scottish Italian Welsch American. I am Yongan.

I have a passion for life. I want to do everything, and go everywhere, and to jump at any notice, and be able to just go do something crazy! Unfortunately, there is always something I should be doing. Oh well. There is still some time for crazy. I've just got to be more careful, and to not plan quite so much stuff. WEE SUMMMER. Emphasis on the MMMMMM for yummy

A snippet of what goes on in my head.

There's a cricket outside. That cricket has at least 10 friends, and they are all cricking their happy cricks together. I have every reason to be happy, and 90% of the time, I am. I have a great family, great friends, the gospel, a house, clothes, and even a few things that I never use. I have a smile, a laugh, and eyes that see the world the way it is, and sometimes the way it should be. I have permission to use the car more than I should. I have a brain that thinks about the world around me. I have agency to choose whether or not I will use my resources and privelages wisely, or scramble for more. I don't understand. I'm only 17. These symptoms sound too much like something else, but I'm only 17! I want to run around, be a kid for at least a little while longer. I want to be frivelous, flighty, flirty, and fickle. I want to focus on my friends when they need it. I want to be the person who helps people, not one who needs help! I want to be the person people can look up to, a person worth while. I don't want to be sad, not even 10% of the time. I'll go for 4%, I suppose, because without sadness, we don't learn the meaning of happy. I don't know why! I don't know why! I'm only 17! I was only 15! I'm still just a little girl in a big mean world, and I don't know why these emotions keep seeping in, because I'm still just a kid! I'm not sad. I'm just a tad confused. Maybe even scared. Yes. I think that's it. I'm not sad, I'm only scared. I'm scared for graduation. The seniors I've grown to love. They'll be gone. I'm scared for my own graduation. I'm scared for when all my friends get married, and what if...what if I don't? Who will I be, and what will I do, and how will I deal with that? How would I deal with the fact that everyone found someone that loved them, but me? And majoring in music is really scary. It's gigantically impractical for a girl who can't even get a date to the prom. I was going to be an architect. That was safe. This is not; this is scary; this is total dreamer material in the world's eyes. Still, deep down, it feels right. It just feels right, and I just have to take a leap of faith. The steps in the darkness are scary. I hope the light turns on real soon. Because there's a cricket outside and I'm happy 90% of the time.

Somewhere

I love how everything works out. Mostly. Sometimes everything goes horribly wrong, and you fall flat on your face and wonder why you were born, but other times you remember just why you keep loving life. I go back and forth from sure to unsure, longing to indifferent...it's crazy stuff. Finals start tomorrow. I wonder when life starts to get really hard. Do you ever wish you could find somewhere where you could just lie down and no one could see you but the sun, and no one would talk to you except yourself? Where you could just think what you need to think, and be who you need to be. Somewhere under a tree, somewhere warm, soft, safe. Somewhere with no weeds. Somewhere quiet, but not silent. Where the love songs of a hundred years wisk over your skin, penetrate the heart. Where no one will care what you look like, especially not yourself. Somewhere to smile with all substance, to laugh with utmost love, to cry with the deepest sympathy and understanding. I like my room for this reason. All it needs is a tree.

A day for lillies

Today was pretty cool. I went to school late, because I had stuff I needed to finish. Mr. CAD is dumping a bucketload of work on us for the last 2 days. It's craziness. Mr. Wealthy and I had a heated discussion about suicide. I'm not sure if he actually believes what he was saying or just wants us to think. I desperately hope it was the latter. Jazz band was ok. We had to record What Is Hip for the third time, and my solo was the worst time out of the three recordings. Well, Murphey's law, I guess. I LOVE my seminary class. Bro. Shiver's teaching style is just right for me, and the class is awesome. We ask questions, get involved, put in insights, it's so great! I love it every single time. I'm really sad to be leaving it. Hopefully I can help my next seminary class be like that. I watched the Lost season finale. HOLY CRUMOLEOS! I can't even talk about it. Just can't. No. I cannot believe how soon the school year is ending. It's so crazy. I love things lately. I've been doing a TON more spiritual stuff lately, and I feel a HUGE difference. I love everything! Everything gets me excited. I LOVE IT! So, I'm going to continue. Because it works. I bear you my testimony of that.

For a certain Radish I know

Today was a GREAT day. I walked to school really early, and the sky was gorgeous, and everything smelled so good, Robins and little seed things flying all around me, I could've cried it was so beautiful. I helped Mr. Bandman with the uniform inventory: my first task as a Band President. We went outside for APES, which was great. I said hi to Mr. Radish (If he was younger and single, Radish, I think I would fall in love with your dad, lol). I talked to Pear, who gave me some much needed advice. And we're doing Les Mis next year! Can you say dream come true? I AM SO EXCITED! It's really going to be sad having all those seniors graduating...I've gotten REALLY close to several of them. I'm still going to see one of those, though. That'll be happy. BIG PARTY! JUNE 9TH! SUMMER SEMINARY! This summer is going to be FANTASTIC! NO! June 9th is Girls' Camp. Moment of silence for a great night lost. Girl's Camp will be awesome, though. French was good, even though I had to recite my poem on the spot, no props. It went pretty well, and Madame P was laughing pretty hard. Bro. Shiver says it's one of my gifts of the spirit to make people laugh. But I have to use it appropriately. Band was pretty fun. I like the flugel horn. Pomp and Circumstance is going to be annoying and a chop buster, but I'll be too caught up in the whole gradutation thing to notice. Calculus. I love that class, now. So many cool people are in there, and we only do 10 problems a day, and Corn is the only one who makes fun of me anymore (and him only because he's teasing). I stayed after school with Violin while she waited for her Tech Rehearsal. I didn't want her to wait alone. That's the worst. So it was fun talking to her. I'm having slightly more trouble talking to people lately. I need to boost my social skills somehow :D After school, we filmed part of "THE MOVIE". It was great. Then Naisin kicked my face again a few times. No blood this time :D Then I remembered the homework. Oh yeah, I still have some, hehe. Well, this felt really good. It's much closer to the proportion of sad/happy that I usually think/feel. And, ya know, this is how I used to blog all the time. I'm taking back my blog, weeoo.

Not an analysis

To Whom it May Concern,

I'm really mad at you right now. I cannot believe that you could be such a great person and then take people's feelings so much for granted. I cried. She was hurt. At least for her sake - you could have done something at least for her sake. But neither of you did. Though your offenses were slightly different, both were an equal slap to the face, twists of the knife. I can't believe it. Why? You act like perfect gentlemen, but then your words and actions change when it matters most, and you make two young women feel like dirt. If both of you would have just opened your eyes and done something, we both could have been saved a lot of hurting. And you two would have had a great time. But no. We feel like dirt. And it's going to bug me for quite a while. It's going to nag at me, because I simply don't understand why. She and I did everything we could, but because two guys decided that they didn't really care, they'd go and leave us wondering. Why? I don't understand! How can you just do that to someone? Murdering in cold blood their hopes, and even most of their self-esteem. Maybe she doesn't feel so bad about it, but this was something I was relying upon. You two were people I was relying upon. Apperantly, I'm just not the kind of person...never mind. I wish I understood. I don't like being angry.

The Orange

An Analysis

School. Why is it so hard to stay focused?

Well, for me, there are several reasons. The first being that I'm not very good at sticking to things. I'm great at sticking to people, but hobbies...that's a different story. So, when school seems like a hobby, I get tired of it, and slack off. When it seems like a chore, I just put it off until it is difficult to do.

I find it very difficult to do things that don't interest me. Classes that are boring get a lower grade than classes that challenge me, and teach me something.

Who am I doing it for? Myself. Why go through so long doing something I don't like, simply for myself? Couldn't I be serving someone somewhere? Yes, by being educated, I will be in a better position to help people, but...the whole grade system seems stupid. Way to follow the system! Way to suck up to the teacher! Not, good job at applying what you learned to yourself. Not, good job applying what you learned to the world. Not, way to learn from me, even though you learned something slightly different than the words I spoke. Nope. It's good job for being original like everyone else. Way to do things when and how everyone else did. Because it's easier to grade. Because it's easier to rate which children will succeed, and which will think they are failures because they have such a hard time understanding the public education system.

Dish-Doing - An Analysis

I am taking a break from the dishes. It is 1:03 in the morning, and I am taking a break from the dishes. I studied for 3 hours, then went to the dishes to which I have faithfully applied myself for over an hour. And I am only half-way done. Why?

Why am I doing the dishes? I had a moment of recklessness. Some person's Mustang was parked too close to my driveway, when it should have been parked across and down the street. I was in a hurry, and had a moment of recklessness, but you couldn't tell by looking at the outside of the car. NOT A SCRATCH. We found out the owner of this Mustang had a history of car accidents. Many members of his family had quite a history of recklessness or accidents that were "out of their hands." Later, he bills us $872 for "internal damage." Like the good Christian people we are, we accepted the bill without arguement. But not without doubt. I think people should find better places to park their cars. At least he no longer parks it in front of our driveway. He's found someone else to blame "internal damage" on.

But I digress. (wow, that is so cliche it's funny) My parents looked at the bill, and decided it was my fault. Like the good daughter I am, I said, "yes it is my fault, I'm so sorry, I'll be careful for the rest of my life!" I then shrunk into my chair, and awaited the sentence of the judges. Like the good parents they are, they decided punishment was prudent. I should have been grounded from my car. But my mom was too lazy to drive me anywhere. I should have been grounded from my friends, TV, computer, PS2. But my mom didn't like the thought of having me around the house all day. So I got to do the dishes. For the rest of my existance in this house, I get to do the dishes at least 4 days a week. No other child has had a steady dish-doing job, but everytime my mom gets tired, she says "Noelle, go do the dishes." At 11:30 most of the time. When I'm doing my homework.

Why does it take me so long? Well, we have eight people to feed in our house. We have kids that leave frosting messes all over the counter. They paint the kitchen with watercolors, and then it's my job to clean it up. My parents leave dishes from the nights it's not my job "to soak", but then they "soak" just long enough that it's dried and caked on again. "Woops!" they say. It's my problem now. It's also my problem that my mom was too tired to do them the night before, so I've got a double load. It's my problem that my mom uses extra dishes for dinner. It's my problem that the dishes don't all fit in the dishwasher, so I have to wash the rest. It's my problem that we have leftovers that I need to put away. It's my problem that the kids like to dump whole sandwiches into the sink, and watch the soggy bread get all over my hands. It's my problem that my mom likes to put disposal stuff in the wrong sink, so I have to transfer it over to the other sink. But why should she care? It's my problem. Apparently.

It also takes me a long time because I usually try to do a good job. This entails spending 2 hours just trying to fix the absolute catastrophe my mom caused in the cupboard the last time she did the dishes. I don't know how she manages it. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, (which are pretty much the only household jobs I have ever seen her do) and making the dishes harder for me! Someday I hope to be as good at housework as my mother.

I really do love my mother. Maybe I can blame it all on a chronic illness that I can pretend she has so that I actually want to help more often. Because I have an AP test tomorrow. And my mom had better darn well need the help I'm giving, because it is now 1:22 am and I still have to do the dishes.

I've decided it's impossible to follow my string of thought

Wow. This week. I've done way more social stuff than I'm used to, and more than I prolly shoudl have, but...I loved it. Every moment. And I milked it for all it was worth. Now? I've got to pay the price for that time. I've got to make up for that lost studying and sleep. *sigh* Why must there always be consequences? And yet...I know why. Nothing would ever be learned, ever be done. hehe Today was a great day. Fantabulous day. I'm doing such a good job! I show just enough to encourage, but not enough to scare away! And I've been understanding, funny (sometimes), and inviting. I can't be this way all the time, but I've been doing pretty darn well when it's counted lately. Hopefully I can keep it up. Because that smile is the only thing motivating me right now. Wow, that's kinda pathetic. But no, what else could get me to do the whole school dealio? I can't wait to be a mom. And yet, I'm so dang scared. So...gosh, I hope I'm not being too vain about this week...prolly am. Still, I've done almost everything right! It's so exciting! WEE! hehe