2012 In All It's Greatness

Well...
It's New Years Eve... huh.
Okay.
I don't exactly know where my year went. At times it seemed like time was going sooooo slow. And at other times, I couldn't slow it down. This year was crazy, and fun. It was also sad, and trying at times.
Who wants to see my year in rewind?
Probably no one, but too bad. You're on my blog. Haha :)

Okay, so the year started off... with me getting a new camera. Yup. So, first things first:
Me on Christmas Day last year:

Me on Christmas Day this year:

Yeah, I grew up a little bit.

So, this year in rewind:
*January 2012- Rang in the New Year at the Levine's house.

*February 2012- Dyed my hair for the first (and not the last by any means) time. I fell in love.

*March 2012- Adopted Zac. We adopted the little foster baby we had since he was 7 days old, officially making him my brother. Woo-hoo!

(At the courthouse)
*April 2012- I went to the Casting Crowns concert at First Baptist Church of Woodstock. I included this in this post, because I had so much fun that night. It was one of my favorite nights of the whole year, I would even venture to say.

*May 2012- We booked it to Florida, going on vacation to Disney for the first time ever. At least for me. My parents had been before I was born (so selfish!). This was one of my best memories of this year. And yes, there are so many better pictures than this one... but I felt like this cpatured the vacation. Crazy, but yet fun. Confusing, but together.

*June 2012- We went on our second "vacation" to AnnaMaria Island, where my dad performed a wedding, and I videoed it. And almost passed out from heatstroke, but that's another story. And coincidentally, almost passing out was not one of my best memories of this year.

*June 2012- I turned 14. We celebrated at a hotel with three of my greatest friends. There was quite a bit of coke and food, and no sleep involved as well.

*July 2012- Played Messy Twister with my best friend in my yard. Got some freaking amazing pictures. Crossed something off my bucket list. Had fun getting paint all over ourselves. And, ya know, the yard too.

*August 2012- Went to my first ever (that I can remember anyways) Braves game with my daddy. We had a ton of fun, and even though I'm not a baseball girl (Football all the way, baby!) I actually sort of understood what was going on. It's a miracle!

*September 2012- I said a temporary goodbye to some of the best friends God has blessed me with, at the CFT Yearbook Party.

*October 2012- My mom and I trekked across a deserted field and walked across a busy street to photograph Zac for the first time since his adoption.
The cutie.

*November 2012- We took a wall down in our house that's been there since we've lived here. Bittersweet.

*November 2012- We celebrated Thanksgiving at my grandparents with football, food, family, food, naps, and more food.

*December 2012- I developed an eccentric taste in music. All I asked for for Christmas was Itunes gift cards. And that, that is what I got. (Not all of them pictured here)

Oh, yeah. Somewhere in there I finished writing two books, and started 11 others.
And this happened: And yeah, that number's still climbing.

Holy snap.
Crazy year, huh?
I thought so. :)

Book Review: Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Theif

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief is written by Rick Riordan and is the first in the series.

Summary:
Percy has always thought there was something wrong with him. He was never as talented as other kids, never as good at reading, and strange things seemed to happen to him.
All of this is explained however the summer Percy discovers who hsi father is, and the whole other world of Greek gods and goddesses.
Oh yes, they exist.
And Percy is special.

Language:
Nothing really :)

Romance:
Again, nothing much.

Suggested Age:
10+

My Opinion:
People have been telling me for months that I needed to start this series. You know what I did? I ignored them. I knew it started off with Percy being 12 years old, and I thought it would be beneath me. So I ignored the persistent people trying to tell me what an amazing book this was.
I was a moron.
This book was so incredibly awesome. I love Greek mythology, and so I was enthralled with that aspect of it. I also loved her characters a lot. I had problems connecting with Percy and his decisions at times, but I thought overall the book was fantastic and I will definitely be reading the next book.

Book Review: City of Bones

City of Bones is written by Cassandra Clare, and is the first in the Mortal Instruments series.

Summary:
Clary Fray lives a totally normal life, until the night she witnesses a murder at a club with he best friend. The problem? Her best friend didn't see it, and neither did anyone else. Follow Clary on a journey as she discovers a totally different world that was right under her nose, and as she discovers he heritage... and who she really is.

Language:
B word, A word.

Romance:
Characters kiss. A few are homosexual.

Suggested Age: 
13+

My Opinion:
Heck yes. This book was so flipping amazing. Cassandra Clare has an incredible way of writing that draws you in, and you find yourself rooting for the characters in your head. Or out loud, depending on the situation. City of Bones was so incredibly awesome, even though I'm not a paranormal fan. It's amazing because it's not a paranormal book. It doesn't revolve around that, but it is in there. She wove it into the story without overdoing it, and I give her huge props for writing the first book I've ever read that did that.
Brava.
Go read the book.

"Lulu" Jones

I wanted a little sister. Really badly.
So, when my mom told me she was pregnant, I automatically had hoped it was a girl. I hoped so much in fact, that I had deemed the baby in my mama's tummy "Lulu".
Oh yes, in the first 9 months of Holt's life he was known as "Lulu".
*snicker*
I wanted a little sister so badly....
And then I found out that it was a boy...
It was different than I imagined it being.
I had envisioned dolls and dress up clothes. And while there was a great deal of that, there were also trucks and baseballs.
I was four and a half when he was born. I put on a show in the hospital for everyone that lasted for hours and consisted of the same story line sung over and over again. We have it on video. Not my finest moment.
He was born on the 12th of December in 2002. And on the 12th of December, more than baseballs and trucks entered my life.
Holt Reid Jones did.
He and I were close from the moment he was born. He looked up to me, and I adored him. He went everywhere with me, and we played all the time. His nickname for me was "Nina" and he would yell across the house for me when he wanted me. I would laugh at his jokes, and he would laugh at mine. We were close.

I don't exactly know when it happened, but I think it was somewhere when I was about 11 and he was 7. We went through a rough patch of arguing and fighting.
It lasted a looonnnnggg time.
About six months ago, he gained a sense of humor (much like mine) and we are extremely close again.
I love him.
And I know he loves me, even if I mess up his hair, call him "Lulu" and poke him in the forehead from time to time.
The moment he made me a big sister, my life changed. And I love every minute of it.

KillJoy

I'm not feeling it this year.
This has always been my favorite holiday, my favorite time of year. I've always been in the Christmas spirit, singing songs of cheer, baking cookies, decorating my room...
But I don't know what happened.
I think the fact that we very literally can't decorate my house is responsible for part of the problem. With the renovation on the upstairs, we can't decorate. I mean a tree would look pretty weird in a totally empty room with the floor halfway done.
But I also blame the weather. I don't think Christmas should be able to come when I can walk outside in short sleeves. I'm sorry; but that just seems rude.
I went to a Christmas parade tonight, and just sat there wishing I was at home.
It's sad really.
You know; when we're little we count down the days until Christmas. We make charts to cross the days off with. We update lists and reupdate lists.
And this year: Today I realized with a start it was December 6th, I help the littles make the charts, and I don't have any clue what I want this year.
It seems as though it has somehow crept up on me, like it isn't as big of a deal as it once was.
And that's really annoying.
Like, I'm very annoyed that no matter how many times I smack myself in the head I can't seem to get with the program this year.
Christmas songs get on my nerves for some reason this year. I don't know why.
Lights are annoying since they aren't up in my home.
There's no baking happening over here.
It's the 6th of December.
Where's the Christmas cheer?
I'm afraid it might have been inside that wall that got torn down...
(I knew we shouldn't have taken it down!)

The Void

At this stage in teenagerdom, we tend to start liking people of opposite genders. Sure, we've had crushes for years, but this is where it really starts. This is where we complicate relationships and analyze things that shouldn't be analyzed. This is where "friend zones" start and where break ups happen.
And this is where we try to fill the void.
I don't know about the rest of the world, but when I don't like anyone, it sort of makes me feel like there's something wrong with me and I'm going to end up as an old maid with forty seven cats.
But I don't go out and have a crush on the first guy I see just to have a crush on someone.
You know what the problem is?
There are people like that in the world.
There are people who will go out and like the first girl or guy they see just so they can fill the void of wanting to have a crush on someone.
I know because it happened to me.
There was a guy who liked me, but it was conditional. He thought maybe I liked him back, but as soon as I made it clear I didn't like anyone, he was gone.
And not only was he gone, but he liked another girl within the next three days.
Just to fill that void.
I don't want someone to like me just to fill the void. I don't want to be a fill-in, a replacement, a filler. I want someone to love me for me. Whether or not the void needs to, wants to, or is already filled.
I want someone to not even think about the void when they see me. I don't want someone to have to force me into the void. "Here, like her. She fits in the void!"
No. I want someone to wake up one day and go, "Holy cow. When did I fall in love with her?!"
I want someone to love me without thinking about the void.
I want the void to disappear.
Because if I get shoved into one more void, I might scream.
And I hear screams echo in empty spaces.

BitterSweet

Bittersweet.
I've never known the true meaning until now.
Today a wall came down in my house. Now, I know you're sitting at your computer completely puzzled as to why this is so earth shattering that it deserves it's own blog post. Lemme explain.
By the time I was 9, I had moved 20+ times. The longest time I had ever lived in one place was 2 years. I didn't ever have a "childhood home". Somewhere I could drive my kids to when I was older, point it out, and say, "This is the house I grew up in."
Instead, we would have to sit down and make a chart of all the freaking places I've lived and then say, "Now kids this is where I lived for four months in the spring of 2005."

And then I moved here. I've lived in this house almost 5 and a half years. Which is insane for me.
And, yes, I do want to move... because that's who I am.

But when they started taking that wall down today, I felt some sort of weird emotion I'd never felt before. I was totally conflicted.
I didn't want the wall down because I'd lived here for 5 years.
I spent over a third of my life here...
After moving 20+ times, that is completely insane for me to handle.

I stood in the toyroom after they left today, and looked straight into the living rooms past the beams and wood. It felt... bittersweet.
It felt bitter because this meant we probably weren't moving for a long time.
It felt sweet because I realized...
this is the house I would drive my kids by someday and say, "This is the house I grew up in."
And I never thought I'd be able to say that.

Evaluating Friends

Tonight, as I lie in my bunk, I'm evaluating my friendships. Who is in my life that isn't good for me, who I should probably see more of, and the people that are grating on my nerves right now.
I have a hard time with friendships in general. I love friends, but it's so complicated.
Like, how good of a friend do you have to be to ask if you can talk to them and that not be weird? I've known some people since I was 9 years old that I wouldn't be able to have a conversation with them without feeling awkward. And then there's the opposite of that, where people are wanting to be my friend so much to the point of smothering me.
It makes me feel like wearing a sign around my neck that says, "I would love to talk to you! For like 10 minutes and then I might need a break, depending on who you are." Because I don't mind talking to people, I really don't. But sometimes your friends smother you.
I'm going through a tough time right now where I don't know who my friends are anymore. I sat and wept (really silently) in church this morning, because I don't know who to count on.
That sucks.
It sucks to know that most of the friendships you thought you had, depended on seeing the people regularly. If you had asked me a year ago how many close friends I had, I would have said probably close to 15. This year, I cut back on a lot of social outlets, and now it's about 3.
Because when you don't see people regularly  you lose touch, and sooner or later you realize you never talk to that person.
Again, it sucks.
And so, tonight I'm evaluating my friends. Who I need, who I don't, who I should strive to see more of, and who I should try to see less of.
It's heartbreaking realizing people you would have said would have been there holding your hand through everything are turning on you, just when you need it.
But, it's also refreshing to know exactly where I stand.
"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." - Proverbs 18:24

Nutella is Yum.

Do you know how darn confusing it is to write four books at once? OHMYWORD.
It's like stress, stress, stress.
There;s been a lot of coffee/nutella/F.R.I.E.N.D.S episodes to help me.
AND.
I did a shoot for a 30+ family on Sunday. Even more stress.
Back to the books.
I keep having issues keeping my characters straight. In each book there's a girl main character and a guy main character. And I am at the point where I'm having to write who's with who and what book they're from on my hands.
Yeah.
So, basically what I'm saying is: I'm under a ton of stress right now... so blogging may be seriously infrequent.
Also: This month is National Novel Writing Month...
So, of course on October 31st, I find this out... and November 1st I started a new book.
Yep.
Gonna die.
OH! Before I forget, this is the link to the website where I have *most* of my books/short stories: http://www.wattpad.com/user/jtruebird

Tetanus Shots and Paranormal Activity Creatures... Which is Scarier?

Juliana's Guide to Sleeping:

1) The preferred direction of sleeping is the direction with the least light. In this case, towards the wall.

2) You can only sleep facing this way if someone else in the house is awake. If not, you'll get paranoid that the demons from Paranormal Activity are watching you. Obviously, if the 7 year old is still awake, this will not happen.

3) In every other situation, you have to face the direction with the two doors, and two windows. 

4) Make exceptions only at your own risk.

So, following protocol last night, I went to bed. At 3:00 am. But that's irrelevant  Since it was 3 am, everyone else in the house was asleep (except for the dog, but he couldn't scare a moth). According to my rules above (#3) I'm supposed to face the direction of the doors.

Slight problem arises. I got a tetanus shot in my arm that morning, which hurts like crap. This is the arm I have to sleep on if I'm facing this direction.

But (according to #2) the demon from Paranormal activity has a free shot at me if I turn around (#4).

So: Do I:

a) turn around and face the wall, and take my chances?

or

b) sleep on my arm that hurts like absolute get out?

Discomfort, or unknown?

I picked discomfort.

Which is a lot like what we do in life. If you have two things to choose from, one that you know isn't good, and another you know nothing about, 9 times out of 10 we pick the first option. Because typically we're more scared of unknown things than pain. 

And, ya know, then I felt really stupid when I woke up, and not only was I intact but I had a throbbing arm.

Sometimes when we've chosen the pain, we look back and see how stupid it was not to take the unknown.

And then sometimes the moral to the story sucks, and you should just pick comfort over possible death.

The Plastic Waffle

Everything frustrates Zac. Even walking into a room can cause him to look up, point a finger at you, cock his head and yell, "Ju! No froom!" (This translates to "Juliana! Get out of the living room!" (Because everyone knows Zac owns the living room)). He's been known to tell you off for breathing incorrectly as well. And don't even try singing.
But there's one thing I've found frustrates him to no end.
The Plastic Waffle.
So, to fully appreciate the waffle story, you have to realize we used to have a ton of plastic food in out house. I had a kitchen when I was little fully equipped with plastic eggs and toast.
Basically all we have left of this kitchen is the waffle.
So, Zac doesn't understand the concept of plastic food. He's surrounded by real food all day... and then there's this one plastic waffle he can't eat.
It's even more frustrating since his breakfast normally consists of a banana... and a waffle.
Here's how the (daily, might I add) waffle conversation goes between Zac and I:
Z: "Ju!" *holds up waffle* "Ah, this??"
Me: "That's a  plastic waffle."
Z: "Oh!" *He latches onto the one word he understood and shoves the waffle in his mouth* 
Me: *shakes my head*
Z: "Ju!" <--This is said very disapproving and disappointingly "Ah, bleh!"
Me: "That's because it's plastic."
Z: "Huh?"
Me: "That's not food."
Z: "A food?!"
Me: "Not food!"
Z: "Huh?!"
Me: "... it's a waffle. Enjoy.".

Did I Scare Ya?

Do you know what holiday I don't understand?
Halloween.
I don't understand this holiday.
Small children, dressed up as other people/creatures knocking on random strangers doors asking for food.
What. The. Heck.
Like, for real? Who created this holiday? Who was the first person who said, "Alright, kids, go knock on that person's door and ask them if they have any candy they would like to give to you!"
...I don't understand...
Okay, I get little kids wanting to dress up. I get that. I really do.
What I don't get is the whole trick or treating bit.
Also: When you say, "Trick or Treat!" what does this mean? Does this mean you would gladly take a trick just as well as a treat? Is there really even a choice? Is this question just a courtesy? Would I get arrested if I tricked a kid?
Why do we even tack that word on there if not to use it? Shouldn't we just shove our Walmart bags under stranger's noses, and say, "GIVE ME CANDY NOW."
I mean, in all honesty, that's what we're doing now.
And I don't get it. I really don't get it. I don't understand. (On a side note: Why candy? Why not cookies? Or carrots?)
So, guess what I'll be doing on Halloween this year?
Turning the porch lights off and eating my candy (that I refuse to give to small children who probably have enough hyper in their bags to last them a year) in a dark room.
Boo.

Focus

I officially hate strongly dislike dilation.
I haven't been in to the optamoligist in five years, and I noticed my vision was getting progressively worse, so we decided to go.
As it turns out, my eyes are fine. Better than fine, actually.
But, not we get to talk about the absolute funness of getting my eyes dilated.
Here's a picture:

When my pupils blew up, I lost focus.
I could not focus on anything. Couldn't read anything, couldn't see my hand.
I freaked out.
As most of you know, I'm a control freak. I like to be in control of all  certain situations.
I had no control here.
No matter how hard I tried to focus, or how many times I blinked, I could not see.
I couldn't see.
I about lost it in the waiting room.

But you know what's cool??
When my focus came back in and I could see things a few hours later, everything was sharper.
Because I wasn't taking it for granted anymore.
I knew what I had lost for a few hours.
And I was so so so grateful to have it back.

Side Note: I also managed to run into a few walls while I was there. Just, btw.

Interstate Entrance Ramps

I am terrified of interstate entrance ramps.
*moment of silence as I wait for all my blog readers to pick themselves up off the floor where they most likely collapsed in laughter*
No seriously. I am terrified of them. Terrified that Mr. Tractor Trailer is a little too close for comfort, or that that blue Honda Accord is not going to let us over.
I think of interstate entrance ramps a lot like life. You're in a small city to begin with, and then you hit the entrance ramp. The interstate is the big thing. The next big jump or leap in your life. The small city is where you came from, and the entrance ramp is the getting there.
And, a lot like entrance ramps, the transition from one thing to another scares me a lot of times. I don't like having to take leaps and rush headlong into things. I'm a very indecisive person, and indecision leads to procrastination. The problem is, you can only procrastinate getting off the entrance ramp for so long before you end up in a tree.
Just like in life. If you don't make a decision, and don't make a decision  and don't make a decision .. then you're probably gonna end up stuck in a tree. (figuratively speaking. If you actually end up in a tree because of something that happened because of your procrastination, please send me a picture.)
And just like life, sometimes things go wrong and that yellow BMW decides to swerve into your lane and leave you in a ditch. Sometimes getting on that interstate of your life isn't the right time and you end up in a bigger hole than you were to begin with.
But, you can always get out of the ditch and try again (talking about life's experiences. If you end up in a ditch on the interstate, there may not be any getting out of the ditch. Just saying.).
It's okay to be fearful of life's experiences. But not so afraid that you give up. You can see so much more of the world if you hop on the interstate.

Details: They Hold Together The Picture

Last night I went to a birthday party being thrown for one of my best friend's. We had a lot of fun, but one moment stuck out to me, and I decided to write about it. There was one girl there I didn't know as well as the rest. And while this story isn't about her, she does factor into it.
I took my mom's canon camera last night to capture the mall scavenger hunt and fun afterwards. I took over 150 pictures last night alone. At one point, around 1 in the morning in the middle of playing Mario Kart I was clicking away with the camera. The girl looked at me and asked, "Why are you so obsessed with that camera?"
I stopped. Froze. Paused. Thought.
 I had a thousand different answers running through my mind.
The one I finally settled on was, "I'm not obsessed with the camera. I'm obsessed with the pictures."
But as the night went on, and I kept taking pictures, I realized it's deeper than that. I'm obsessed with memories. And details. I'm obsessed with taking pictures of details, the things that no one else notices. The things that are beautiful, if only to me.

                                             (A few of the details that held last night together)

Oblivion

Part of being a storyteller, is being a remember. I'm also a remember. I like remembering things. I like to sit and stare at the wall and remember things, and replay them in my mind. I hate forgetting things. And not just things, but experiences. Conversations. Events. Where I stood, when I said something I can no longer remember.
I loathe forgetting.
Which is probably a huge part of my paranoia. Over the past few months, I've really started to question my life. The biggest question has been "What am I doing?"
Just in general. And that question morphed into, "What am I doing that I'll be remembered for?"
Let's take a minute to think about all the people who have lived and died. 
How many of those people could you name?
Let me ask you another question.
Could you tell me your great great grandfather's name? How about what he did for a living? Was he a Christian? Did he have a family?
I know I can't answer any of those questions... and he's related to me. He's my blood. And I have no idea who he was.
We forget.
I don't want to be forgotten. 

 "Augustus, perhaps you'd like to share your fears with the group."

"My fears?"

"Yes."

"I fear oblivion," he said without a moment's pause. "I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark."

"Too soon," Isaac said, cracking a smile.

"Was that insensitive?" Augustus asked. "I can be pretty blind to other people's feelings."

Isaac was laughing, but Patrick raised a chastening finger and said, "Augustus, please. Let's return to you and your struggles. You said you fear oblivion?"

"I did," Augustus answered.

Patrick seemed lost. "Would, uh, would anyone like to speak to that?"

I hadn't been in proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed. I was a fairly shy person—not the hand-raising type.

And yet, just this once, I decided to speak. I half raised my hand and Patrick, his delight evident, immediately said, "Hazel!" I was, I'm sure he assumed, opening up. Becoming Part Of The Group.

I looked over at Augustus Waters, who looked back at me. You could almost see through his eyes they were so blue. "There will come a time," I said, "when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this"—I gestured encompassingly—"will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that's what everyone else does."

This is an excerpt from one of my favorite books, The Fault in Our Stars by John Greene.

This book is simply amazing, but this excerpt from Chapter One grabbed me and would not freaking let go.

Because I fear oblivion.

I know, I know, I shouldn't. I am put on this earth for God's purpose, and God should not be forgotten, and it shouldn't matter whether or not I'm remembered.

But.

It bugs me. It bugs me, that in 200 hundred years, no one will know my name. No one will even know I lived on this earth. No one will know I liked my coffee with a minimal amount of sugar, and was scared of jellyfish, and danced with my little siblings in the kitchen to Neon Trees. No one will know that today I went to seven different stores with my mom looking for one stupid dress, and she almost passed out in the middle of Target from laughing at me. No one will know I adopted my little baby brother this past spring. No one will know I sat in a cold wet deer stand for hours just because I got to spend time with my dad. No one will know about this blog. No one will know my passions, my love, my fears. No one will know I existed.

And dang if that doesn't scare the crap out of me. 

The Art of Storytelling

I'm a storyteller. It's in my genetics. My mom can't get through five minutes without talking about something that happened to her great aunt's goldfish, or her mom's sister's nephew's birthday party that went really wrong.
And consequently, I'm the same way.
I like stories. I think it shapes people. I think the stories you know, and the stories you tell, make up part of who you are.
I think the way you tell stories shows people what sort of person you are. If your stories are dramatic, or funny, or sad, that gives you a good insight into how that person leads their life, and what their outlook on life is.
I think you can tell a lot from people by listening to their stories. If their stories are mainly about family then hello, they probably love and spend a lot of time with them. If it's about animals, then they might be an animal person.
I like telling stories, and making people laugh. I like sharing my joy or laughter at whatever situation with people. Some of the best moments of my life have been stories people told me. I didn't even have to be there for it to be funny.
I cannot have a normal conversation with someone for more than three minutes about the weather without launching into a story. It just... happens. I really like meeting new people, but I'm not so sure new people like meeting me. Because, I view new people as people I can share my life with. And I do. Whether or not they want it, I'm agunna tell it to them. It's gonna happen.
Stories are our past, and I like remembering.

Cray- Cray Collie

This is my dog. He's got an interesting story, one that takes a bit of time to tell, but it makes him who he is.

We got Walter the summer I turned 10. I had begged (and begged, and BEGGED) my dad to let us get a dog for a long time. He finally relented, and we looked into rescue dogs.

I searched collies, basset hounds, german shepherds, everything. And then I found a Border Collie rescue pretty close to my house.

And then...

I found Walter.

He just... I don't even... I just felt like he was for us. And I hadn't even met him. I had just seen a picture, and read some background info on him. 

And yet, I felt like maybe he was meant to be with my family.

So, we set up a date to go meet Walter and his foster family, and it was pretty neat. Other than the fact that, ya know, the dog wouldn't get anywhere near any of us.

It was almost like he was afraid of us.

Oh! Whaddya know? He was.

Turns out, Walter had been badly beaten by some guy, and then dropped off in the woods somewhere.

Who can blame him for cowering under the couch?

But, everybody fell in love with the dog that obviously was NOT in love with us.

So. We got the dog. He'll come around right?

Yeah, well.

The morning after my 10th birthday party, his foster family came and dropped him off at my house. 

Then they left.

And no one knew what to do with the dog.

Can't touch him. The dog won't eat. The dog won't drink. The dog doesn't want to sit. The dog doesn't want to lie down.

Hence, he paces.

And paces. And paces. And paces. Like a shark, circling. 

For hours. 

The next day, when the collie still hadn't eaten, or slept, or drank anything, I start to panic.

See, for everyone who knows me, there's really only two words to describe me: Control Freak.

And, this dog situation? Totes out of my control. 

So, I drag the dog in my room (picture 10 year old me dragging a full size border collie who's scared to death of me. Yeah, it was a blast, thanks for asking.) and soak the dog food in water. (it brings out the smell. Don't ask how I know this.) The smell was enough to get him to eat, and so the eating/drinking problem was solved.

So, the next night I left to go to VBS in high hopes. I had a dog! Sort of.... more like a catdog.

That lasted for about three hours. Cause then the dog got out. 

Turns out, my dad went to grab the leash, but accidentally opened the door first, and Walter bolted. He was gone. I'm pretty sure he turned around and stuck his tongue out too.

My mom and dad stayed out on the porch all night, waiting to see if he would come home. He was over in the woods  and we knew it.

But he wasn't coming back.

We called his foster mom. And she managed to get him out of the woods with a piece of ham. I tried not to be jealous. (Of the fact that she could get him out of the woods... not the fact the dog got ham... that would just be weird.)

Over the years, Walter has gotten used to our crazy family. He still doesn't like strangers, and he still shies away from hands coming too fast to pet him, and he's still really strange.

But, normal's over rated anyways.

On Ridiculous Fairy Tale Endings

And They Lived Happily Ever After.
BWAHAHAHAHA.
No.
Every girl wants a guy to walk into her life, that automatically falls in love with her that's handsome, funny, and all around awesome. Everybody wants a castle. Everybody wants to be loved and respected. Because we READ.
Gah.
I realized the other day, that people write and read books because books are so much better than reality. I'm never going to get a Tobias (Divergent), or Jace (City of Bones) or Gale (Hunger Games), because those are characters authors made up.
I know this, because I do it too.
I sculpt characters and stories that I wish I lived in. Worlds where characters are perfect and funny, and awesome.
I sculpt guys I wish would walk into my life. I sculpt friends I wish I had. Worlds I wish I lived in. Lives I wish I had.
Because it's fantasy.
You know what's funny?
I realized tonight, that no one has a main character that is: female, red headed,green eyed, short, sarcastic, snarky, stubborn, a picky eater, mortally afraid of jellyfish, can't make decisions, procrastinator, lazy, 14 year old.
...I'm not exactly Cinderella either...
Wow.
We spend so much time (maybe this is just me?) waiting for the perfect fairy tale ending to fall into our laps, that we don't realize, we can't see that the ending is ridiculous. "Everybody Lived Happily Ever After. The End."
Uhm. Yeah, good luck with that.
There are no such things as fairytales. Unfortunate as that is.
I'm not going to get a prince charming. I'm not going to get a castle.
Because I'm not a princess. 
And this isn't a fairy tale.
The End.

The Adventures of a Half Blind Cat

I was making coffee. Turned the Keurig on (I don't know how I got along before the thing), and I was picking out a K-Cup.
Then I felt someone staring at me. Like really staring at me. But, that couldn't be right. I was home alone (other than my dog... but he doesn't really count), so there's no way someone's staring at me.
I was right. It wasn't someone staring at me. It was a something.
There was a cat perched on the windowsill over the kitchen sink, pawing at the window and staring at me. She was cute, if not anorexicly (Microsoft doesn't think this is a word. Whatevs) skinny. I opened the door to my porch, and walked toward her. Now, this is the part where most cats bound away from me and start hissing. It's like they can sense I'm not a cat person.
This one held her ground and kept looking at me.
She was looking at me funny though, and I could tell there was something wrong with her eye. I'm pretty sure she's blind in that eye. So, she's perched on this windowsill, and she can't get down, because she can't see where to place her feet.
So, I grab her and set her on the ground. I turn around and start to walk back in the house, and she starts following me.
I run inside, grab a bowl of milk, and open the door to set it down, and woosh!
She's in the house.
Now. Here's where it got interesting.
I have an indoor dog. A border collie. A fast, big one.
One who likes chasing squirrels and birds just for the heck of it.
So, the cat's all, "Yes! I'm inside!" while the dog's all, "Oh my gosh! Dinner!" while I'm all, "My mom's going to kill me..."
So, yeah then I chased the dog chasing the cat around the house for thirty minutes.
It was fun.
I finally manage to get the dog away from the cat long enough so she can come to me (she really likes being held... weird for a cat), and then I went and finished making my coffee. Priorities.

She's actually really friendly, and loves the dog. Oddly enough.
And then, my mom came home and so I deposited the cat outside before she saw it. She doesn't like cats at all.
The cat has stayed on the porch all morning. My daddy says if it sticks around,, we can feed it and give it shots.
Pretty awesome for a random Thursday morning.

Btw, her name is Rue. The Hunger Games has bled over into every area of my life.

Habits and Sirens

The first week we moved here, the tornado siren went off. We all trooped down into the basement, while my mom called our older neighbors to be sure they were in their basements too. The first person she called informed her, that here we had a tornado test every first Wednesday of the month.

Seems like that's the kind of information you tell your new neighbors before Wednesday.

And, true to her word, every first Wednesday of the month we get a tornado test. And every time, I tense up until I can remember what day it is. And every time Holt and Mouse come running in the living room to ask if it's a test.

It's hard to break a habit.

See, we used to live in Louisville, KY, where tornadoes were about as frequent as sneezing. When we lived in KY, my dad was going to seminary so we lived in seminary housing. Otherwise known as an apartment complexes with kitchens the size of postage stamps.

Which means, we didn't have basements. So, when there was a tornado, our entire building worth of people would go out (into the hail and rain) to get to the door that would let us into the building basement, that had like 6 inches of standing water and mold on the walls. 

It was always a party.

Then, there were the times I would be at school when they went off, and we would have to go in the hallways with our heads between our knees.

I hated that even worse than the standing water and mold.

When we moved here and those sirens went off the first week, it was habit to run to the basement. It's still habit now to automatically tense up when I hear sirens. 

(Know why I'm posting this today?? Cause it's the first Wednesday of the month and Mouse just ran in here frantically asking if it was a test).

Old habits die hard.

Normal People Have Conversations With Themselves... Right?

Conversation with myself after my little brother woke me up at 10:30:
"I should do something."
"Blog."
"I don't have anything to blog about."
"Write a book review."
"No."
"Come up with something creative."
"No."
"Well, quit just staring at the wall."
"I don't have anything to write- Oh Wait!"
"What?"
"I found a picture! I'll just post that!"
"-.- So uncreative."
"Whatever."

This is the picture I found and knew I needed to post on here:

Good night now.

Legos, Fingernails, and Brick Walls.

Let's talk about my biggest annoyance with books nowadays. Just because I want to.
Love triangles.
UGH. They're like slamming your head against a brick wall, while stepping on legos and listening to fingernails scrape down a chalkboard.
Painful.
I just... don't understand why people do love triangles. Some books like The Hunger Games, it's acceptable, but still not ideal.
Then there's books like Fallen, where I'm like, "No... a triangle doesn't really work here. But it wasn't completely butchered."
And then... there's books like Delirium/Pandemonium that fits my description above.
I just don't like love triangles. Especially not ones where the author makes you love one guy, and then she's all "LOL! JK! We're gonna introduce a new guy!" -.- Really?!
I just don't think love triangles are all that believable. Half the time they don't work or add anything to the plot. Authors throw them in I guess to have a more diverse range of people. Like, if you didn't like this guy, just wait! There's a complete opposite version of him coming up in thirty pages!
No.
You can't do that.
You can't please everyone. You can, however piss everyone off with your love triangles.
Just don't... I don't enjoy them. Nor do I know anyone who does.
I'm done ranting now. Thanks for listening. Go on with your lives :)

Book Review: Fallen

Fallen is written by Lauren Kate and is the first in a trilogy.

Summary:
Luce is spending her senior year at a reform school, while trying to run from the shadows that have tormented her all her life. While there, she feels strangely attracted to Daniel, a boy who makes it clear he wants absolutely nothing to do with her. But Luce knows he has a secret, and she is determined to discover it, even if it kills her.

Language:
Hell, S word, A word, B word.

Romance:
Luce kisses two boys numerous times.

Violence;
A girl is killed, a fight between two guys breaks out.

Suggested Age:
14+

My Opinion:
First. We must talk about the beautiful cover. The cover is what drew me to the book in the first place, and while the cover is gorgeous... the book was nothing short of a let-down.
Alright, here's the deal. There's a huge secret that's revealed like forty pages before the book ends.
Wanna know when I figured it out? Page 3.
THIS IS WHY WE DON'T NEED PROLOGUES.
Yeah. Sucky.
I just felt like the story repeated itself a lot, and Luce was like... annoying.
And the story was complicated.
And there was a love triangle.
Have I ever mentioned that I absolutely hate love triangles? I do.
I think that's all. All in all, I was disappointed.

Book Review: Pandemonium

Pandemonium is the second installment in Lauren Oliver's Delirium trilogy.

The Summary:
Lena has finally made it to the Wilds, only Alex is not there with her. Believing him dead, she sets off to help the Wilds, and finds herself right in the middle of a resistance war with an unlikely person by her side the whole time.

Romance:
Kissing, 2 people share a bed at one point.

Language:
Uhm... everything. The s word is used a lot.

Violence:
People are chained up for days and held captive. A boy is beaten across the face. People are hurt and killed.

Suggested Age:
13+

My Opinion:
GUYS. UGH. What... what... happened?!
One thing is perfect about the book: The title. It's go-go-go from the get-go, there's blood and running... and wait for it... the plot is so freaking hard to follow.
Plus... Lena just made me want to shake her!
Also, I think it was much like the first book... told from Alex's POV. At least, that's the way it turned out.
And that ain't cool.
It also isn't cool that the last book doesn't come out until February.
(Side note: I'm pretty sure Oliver wins the award for the most use of the word nausea. I wanted to hurl just reading about it.)

Also: Let's discuss the fact that, while the cover of Delirium was incredibly unique... Pandemonium and Requiem look almost identical...

Same earth tones used in the picture, same look on the girl's face... I don't know, but it's bugging me.

The In Between Place

I get the question a lot of, "What's your favorite time of day?" And it's sort of a really complicated question. So, I tend to answer, "Nighttime." Because it satisfies people, and I don't have to spend thirty minutes attempting to explain my favorite time of day.
I used to be a morning person. Like, get up at 7 morning person. Because I used to have anxiety problems, and it made going to bed easier at night. Because as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.
I used to hate nighttime. The noises, the dark, it all just creeped me out.
Now it's my favorite time of day. See, I'm a huge night owl now. I go to bed somewhere between midnight and three normally. And then pull myself out of bed between 9 and 11 the next morning. Or earlier, depending on the day.
Okay, now's where things get complicated.
I tend to sit in my living room, or in my bed working on school or writing until late. And it's practically impossible to fall asleep while doing so. See, under normal circumstances, I would probably fall asleep every night in the middle of biology. I can fall asleep anywhere.
And then came the interrogation light. This is what my mom fondly refers to it as. And I literally cannot fall asleep while it's on. Don't believe me?

It's like looking into the sun. You try falling asleep with that on.
So, back to what I was saying before. My favorite time of day, is the point where I flick off my lamp. Because then the darkness envelops me, and then I lay there and make up a movie in my head for an hour.
You know, that point where you're making up a story in your brain, and then all of a sudden a penguin shows up and you know you're about to fall asleep?
That's when I flick on my lamp and pinch myself. Because I don't like sleep. Partly because I despise all dreams, and partly because it comes normally right in the middle of a great story in my head.
My favorite time of day, is that in between place. In between waking a sleeping, between dreaming and thinking, between staying and leaving.
That's my favorite.

Book Review: The Scorpio Races

The Scorpio Races is written by Maggie Stiefvater.

The Summary:
Every year, in November on the island of Thisby, the Scorpio Races are held. These races consist of riding the vicious water horses that come out of the water every October to the end of the race. People die every year.
This year, Sean Kendrick plans to win for the fifth time in a row. He will ride the horse he loves to the finish. He will not care about any of the other riders. Until, he sees a girl on the beach training to ride in the race.
Puck Connolly, has to ride this year. For her family. She is the first girl to ever ride in the races, and she is totally unprepared.

Violence:
Between horrific water horses... and more horrific water horses, there's a lot of blood and stuff. Someone dies, and a horse is maimed for life.

Language:
Some crude slang.

Romance:
A few kisses.

Suggested Age:
12+

My Opinion:
I have a really hard time getting into books when the theme has nothing to do with romance for the majority of the book.
So, I did not have high expectations of this book.
I was blown away.
At one point, the author said something that I have said so many times, but never knew how to put it into words so I didn't look like lunatic.
That being said, I would have loved a) a teeny bit more romance and b) some more background on the island/water horses.
I'm a big background person, so the fact there was literally no background sort of bugged me.
But, it was an amazing book. :)

Bitten By the Bug

I've been infected by the Wanderlust bug.
Wanderlust: A strong innate desire to travel or roam about.
Let me explain something to you. I live in a small town, I've probably lived in 20 (give or take a few) different places in my life. I move. It's what I do.
Except I've been in one house for five years.
There's something wrong.
I don't think it's the itch to move, as much as it's the itch to start over. See somewhere new. Be totally unknown.
My house doesn't help things.
I live in a house with five other people, a dog, and two gerbils. (Plus the 4 billion mosquitoes/roaches that think they can live here without paying rent. -_-)
I am slowly being suffocated.
Same town. Same house. Same street. Same room. Same stuff.

So, I did what any sane person would do. I explored. About a year ago, I discovered that I really loved the overgrown forest on the other side of my street. It's totally overgrown, there's poisonous plants everywhere, and bugs (I found one the size of my big toe on my thigh the other day. Yes, I screamed bloody murder.).
But...
There's something special.

Something there that let's me pretend my wanderlust is satisfied.
(Btw, this was taken 2 winter's ago.)
I'll take my dog over there, and we'll run through the trees, or I'll take my ipod and listen to music. And sometimes I'll even write.
There's a spot that just out from the street that I can sit on and see the entire thing swooping below me. If I fell... I would get hurt. But, it's SO pretty.
Now, I just wish the bugs would go away. There's all kinds of bugs out there... except.
The Wanderlust Bug isn't there.
And that's just how I like it.

Book Review: Delirium

Delirium is written by Lauren Oliver, and is the first in the trilogy.

Summary:
Lena Holloway lives in a world where love is a disease. And when you turn 18, you receive the cure to wash the disease out of your body. After you get the cure, you can no longer feel the happiness, sadness, anger, or joy of love. Lena can't wait until she can get the cure. She can't wait to be rid of the thing inside her that killed her mother.
Until. She meets Alex.

Profanity:
Everything, but G****mn. The f word is used twice.

Romance:
Yeah. Okay, mostly just kissing. There is like 2 paragraphs in the middle of the book, that says they touched each other a lot, and that Lena's shirt came off on occasion. But, it's talked about in past tense, so it's not as bad as it could be.

Violence:
A dog dies, a dog tears a leg apart, people are clubbed and beaten, the inside of a jail cell is described in length.

Suggested Age:
14+

My Opinion:
I have heard mixed reviews about this book. I spent an hour last night debating as to which book to buy, and this one finally won out.
I really really liked it. There's nothing too unique about Oliver's writing style, but her word choice is flawless. Lena was very relatable (at times, I did feel like shaking her though), and Alex is just... awesome. I did feel he was a little too perfect though. Like he was inhuman or something.
The plot was really great, I followed it easily enough.
I was very pleasantly surprised at the amount of The Book of Shh! (The book with all the rules for the country in it) in the book. I thought it was very neat. That being said, I would have loved to have known more, not only about the Wilds, but also about the leaders of Lena's country. They only came up like, twice.
Also, talk about a cliffhanger. You thought the Hunger Games left off on one... you were sorely mistaken...
Anyway. I wish the 2 paragraphs (up in Romance) were not in the book. Because, it so easily could have been taken out, and if they were, my suggested age would have been, like, 12. But because of like 7 sentences that didn't really go with anything, I had to raise the age by two years. Yeah. Frustrating.
Oh! So, I don't know if y'all know this about me, but when it comes to books, I simply cannot be surprised. I just figure the ending/plot/surprising twists and turns pages before I get there. I don't know why.
But! The surprise in this book completely shocked me. Talk about awesome.
One of my favorite quotes was really simple: "I'd rather die my way, than live yours."
And maybe it was because it was like right in the middle of a super gory fighting scene, and so when she thinks this, it's like time just freezes. It was pretty neat.
Overall, it was a good book. I'm looking forward to the next one.

Day 17

Question is...
What do people most misunderstand about you?
LOLOLOLOLOLOL.
'xcuse me.
Most people misunderstand my sarcasm for meanness, my following the rules for a goody two shoes, and my constructive criticism for hatred.
I know this, because people tell me these things. (I had people at camp tell me they hated me. Yeah. Fun week.)
I don't really want to delve into this, since I think my list sort of speaks for itself, but yeah. That's it.

Day 16

Question is...
Name 10 people (not related to you) who have influenced/helped you. (Do this sort of like a book jacket.Thank You Name for blah blah blah...)
Again, not really a question.
Mrs. Davis, my second grade teacher. She was one of the best teachers of all time. She told me I could write, and pushed me to do so.
Suzanne Collins/ Veronica Roth for just being awesome writers, and making me want to follow my dreams.
Charity Jones, my teacher a few years ago. She's just an amazing person, and always knew what to tell me when I felt like my life was falling apart.
Arielle Sinnett/ Amanda Bowen/ Aubrey Poole, for always listening and laughing with me.
Madison Levine, for being the best freaking friend possible.
Emily Haynes, for helping me find the joy and laughter in every situation.
All the people who made me cry and tried to break me: Thanks. I laugh at you now.

Day 15

Question is:
What are the first ten songs when you put your ipod on shuffle?
1. Control by Royal Tailor
2.Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift
3.Good Girl by Carrie Underwood
4. Hit the Lights by Selena Gomez and the Scene
5. Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepson
6. Safe and Sound by The Civil Wars and Taylor Swift
7. This Cat's on a Hot Tin Roof by The Brian Seltzer Orchestra
8. Rumour Has it by Adele
9. Long Live by Taylor Swift
10. Undo It by Carrie Underwood

Day 14

Question is...
If you could move/ visit one place, where would you go?
Well.
This is quite the interesting question, since I want to move and see EVERYTHING possible.
I like traveling.
So.
Hmm... Like, I have a list of places I would love to visit: Paris, England, Egypt, Israel.
If I could move to one of the above it would probably be Paris.
If I could visit one of the above, it would probably be Egypt.
Complete opposites, I know.
I'm just awesome like that.

Day 13

Question is:
What are 5 names you love, and why?
Seeing as how I already have my kid's names all picked out,. this is both a difficult and easy question.
Anneliese:
Um... I don't really know why I like this name... I just... do...
Tess:
My mom always wanted a girl named Tess. So, after a while, I sort of wanted it too.
Juliet:
I have always wished I had been named Juliet (it was on my parent's list of names for me actually). I've toyed with the idea of spelling it Juliette instead of the original way... but I just don't know.
Grant:
Again, not sure why I like it.
Grayson:
Well... okay... there was this super cute guy at camp... and his name was Grayson... PLUS... I really do love the name.

Day 12

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Slacker, slacker, slacker. I get it, k?

Question is:
If you could listen to only one song the rest of your life, what would it be?
First of all, if I could only listen to ONE freaking song the rest of my life, I would die. Music is like breathing to me... so I would die.
That being said, it would probably either be:
Switchblade 372 by the Brain Seltzer Orchestra...
Jump Jive and Wail by the Brain Seltzer Orchestra...
OR Rock This Town by.... the Brian Seltzer Orchestra.
I just... really like their music. A lot.
And I'm not really sure why.
Since I don't normally like music like they put out.
Hence my confusion as to why I am in love with every single one of their songs.
And now I'll stop talking (writing?).
I'm done now.
Seriously.
K, bye.

Innings and Idiots

So, I went to go see a Braves game with my dad last week (I went when I was six... but I don't remember it. So, I counted this one as my first).
I find it extremely funny that every single situation I'm in, I find myself at some point thinking either
 a.) That would make a cool picture
or
b.) That would make a good blog post

In this case, the Braves game was both.

The blog post I realized I would get out of it, was courtesy of the lovely fellow behind me.
The guy was probably 25 or 30, and very... opinionated, shall we say.
I grew up in a hard core football house, with yelling and screaming, so the fact that people around me were yelling didn't bother me.
What bothered me about the guy behind me, was that he was just... mean.
Throwing insults to the batters, yelling foul language, and overall just being a jerk.
What seriously bothered me, was the fact that there was no reason to tell the batter that he should go back to Little League baseball. It's not like the guy was going to go back because one person he didn't know or care about told him to.
So, what's the point?
Why do we pull people down when there's no reason? When it won't benefit us in any way?
Because the world had twisted us. We think if we pull others down, it pushes us up.
How twisted is that? Let's pull the ankle of the guy above us and jerk him down below us. By default, now we are higher than that guy.
By default.
Because we didn't do anything to be better than that person.
If anything, even though technically we are higher than them, we are lower. Because in the long run, where you are spiritually is so much more important then where you are physically.
Sure, you might sit there and taunt the guy who's having serious issues hitting the ball, but because he doesn't turn around and shriek at the entire stadium "HOLY CRAP! JUST SHUT UP ALL OF YOU AND LET ME HIT THE FREAKING BALL!" (Which, by the way, is what I would probably do), he is better than you.
Without having done or said anything.

If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. - Luke 6:29

Blogger of the Year Award...

Nope. I'm not dead, kidnapped, or quit caring about my blog.

I am simply stressed.

I started school last Monday, and in between juggling that, and trying to work out volunteering somewhere, I am so bogged down.
So, no I am not giving up blogging, but my blog posts might not be as often as they used to be. Because it's not summer anymore. And my mother doesn't approve of my being up till five a.m. with a pot of coffee.
I don't understand why.

Anyway. I do have a few book reviews lined up, plus a few other posts.
I swear, I'm getting on it.

Day 11

The question is...
What are your five most favorite quotes?
5?!?!? FIVE?!?! HOW IS IT POSSIBLE TO ONLY PICK FIVE?!?! I HAVE 248 QUOTES ON A PINTEREST BOARD!!
Sorry... okay. This is not cool.
Hmm. Okay.
Definitely: "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." ~ Marilyn Monroe 
Because it's so true! I actually quoted this to my dad the other day when he informed me I was weird.
"You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." ~Oscar Wilde.
I'm a big fan of all things Oscar Wilde for some reason, so when I found this and read it, my brain went like this, "This is a beautiful quote... I wonder who wrote it... Oh! Oscar Wilde... go figure."
"Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist,  but because they tell us those dragons can be beaten." ~G.K. Chesterton 
I just really like this one. I'm not exactly sure why.
"And those seen dancing were thought to be insane by the ones who could not hear the music." ~Nietzsche
This one is so simple... yet so deep.
"Never love anybody who treats you like you're ordinary." ~Oscar Wilde
This quote was my introduction to Mr. Wilde, and I've loved his quotes and books ever since. He's just right with a lot of the stuff he says.