Stay Gold, Ponyboy

gold·en

  [gohl-duhn] 

adjective

1.

bright, metallic, or lustrous like gold; of the color of gold; yellow: golden hair.

2.

made or consisting of gold: golden earrings.

3.

exceptionally valuable, advantageous, or fine: a golden opportunity.

4.

having glowing vitality; radiant: golden youth.

5.

full of happiness, prosperity, or vigor: golden hours; a golden era of exploration.

"All that is gold does not glitter."

        "h o w  c r u e l  i s  t h e  g o l d e n  r u l e ?"

The word "gold" has so many different meanings. The famous line from The Outsiders, for example. The famous line of Tolkien's for another. Towns all across the US, including a ghost town in the middle of Utah. 
And finally, one of my favorite songs in the entire world, Golden by Fall Out Boy.

The opening lyrics of the song are, "How cruel is the golden rule? When the lives we lived are only golden-plated."

The entire song is about this very frustrated human being, and the fact that "do unto others" doesn't always work in his favor. 

In fact, it rarely does.

It bothers him all throughout the song- as he feels that doing unto others so that they will do back to him in the same manner feels fake.

It feels fake to him that we walk through life being nice and kind when we don't always feel that way. That we smile and wave even when we don't enjoy the person we are smiling and waving to.

And it feels wrong. He feels like he's manipulating everyone in his path to treat him as he wants. instead of maybe how he deserves to be treated. 

He goes on to talk about how they all walk through the city with karats for everyone to see. So now, not only are they manipulating The Golden Rule, they are carrying their prizes around with them- so everyone will know how fantastic they are and the good things that they have done.

This is arguably my favorite song on the album (tying for first with You're Crashing, But You're No Wave). It's so deep, and slow (which is weird for FOB) and so I've attached the actual song plus my cover version of it below. 

There are many different ways to take this song, and the above was simply my take on it, and I'd love to hear yours as well :) 

Redemption

Third grade gym class was the ultimate nightmare for a nine year old female who constantly had her face in a book. It was an unspeakable horror to be asked to run five laps and God forbid Coach Ashby ask us to perform push-ups.

The day I remember best started out as a complete wreck. It was frisbee day.

Let it be known that I cannot catch a frisbee to save my life. I'm great at throwing them; but unfortunately, that wasn't the task of the day. It was catching.

It required coordination, which as most people know, I was not blessed with an excessive amount of.
Or, at all, really.

It was simple, really. You caught the frisbee on your turn, or you ran five laps. If everyone in the class caught the frisbee (which put an unbelievable amount of pressure on me not to be the only one to screw it up) we could then play dodgeball for the rest of class.

I accepted my fate before I even ran out to try to catch the stupid thing.

I, along with every other person in the class but one, missed the frisbee.

Looking back, I think it was the dumbest thing he ever had us do. Maybe the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire existence as a human being. Who in the world cares if I can catch a frisbee? Please, someone explain to me how that's going to help me in the grand scheme of things.

The only kid in my class who caught the frisbee was Ryan. No one was shocked, Ryan was the most athletic person in my grade, by far.

That day in gym after everyone had had their turn, Coach Ashby turned to Ryan.

He told him he a choice.

Either he would sit out the five laps like he was promised
OR
He could run laps for the rest of us while we played dodgeball.

(At this point I was screwed either way- dodgeball was just as bad, if not worse, than running- but that's beside the point)

Ryan looked at the twelve of so of us.

And he said, "I'll run."

And while for years I thought that was the most unfair question to be put on a 9 year old kid, I finally realized that whether or not he meant to, our Coach taught us something really valuable that day.

That is the only day of gym class I can distinctly remember.

And it's because it was more than gym class that day.

It was about who we were as people.

What I took from that day wasn't the fact that I still couldn't catch a frisbee.

It was redemption. 

~Juliana True 

Movie Review: Star Trek into Darkness

Release Date: May 17th (16th at my theater)

Rating: PG-13

Time: 2 hours, 3 minutes

Violence: It's Star Trek, what do you expect? There's everything, from people getting sucked out of ships, shooting people, and... yes, there's some skull cracking. It wasn't bad in my opinion, but this is coming from the girl who watches Supernatural all the time. So, I'm not quite sure I count.

Nudity/Sex: A girl is seen in only her undergarments. A guy is seen in bed with two alien girls.

Personal Opinions:

Stars(1-5): 4

Actors/Casting: I thought the casting was brilliant. I was pleasantly surprised that they managed to keep all the characters (that were named at least) from the first one. I was also excited to see one of my favorite actors ever (Benedict Cumberbatch) was going to be the villain.

Plot(No spoilers): I thought the plot was good, it was very good. The reason it got 4 stars for me, was because I wouldn't have ended it the way they did. But I've always been a huge sci-fi fan (I grew up watching Star Wars) and Star Trek did not disappoint.,

My Age Recommendation: 13/14+

Would I recommend it? It's certainly not for everyone, but yes I would:) It was a a fantastically executed movie.

If you went to see Star Trek, how did you like it? Let me know!

~Juliana True 

Just Trust

I'm reading this book called Costly Grace  by Jon Walker right now. It's an amazing book, and I would totally recommend reading it. It's pretty cool. 

But anyway, he talks a lot about how we take the Gospel, and we take what Jesus says to us, and we take bits and pieces of it-the pieces of it that appeal to us. 

We take the pretty things, the ones that sparkle in the sun, or the ones that taste good- but we leave the ugly, the nasty ones behind. 

We accept his grace, but we don't truly give our entire lives to him. Because that's scary.

And I just molded this analogy in my mind somehow, and felt the need to share it for whatever reason. 

You have this cousin. And you know she really can't stand you. She's whiny, she's disrespectful  and thinks she hung the moon. She's rude, and she's never grateful for anything. 

But, in an attempt to get to know her better (because she's family), you decide to take her on a trip. 

Now, this trip is fully paid for by you. You've paid for the whole thing, the gas money to get to the place, the hotel, the food, everything. 

So, you tell her about it. You tell her that you'd love to spend some time with her, develop a relationship with her, that the trip is fully paid for. 

She's ecstatic  I mean a fully paid trip? She's in! And she's starting to like you a little better too.. I mean you're the one paying for it!

But then you say this, "You can come with me, but I want one thing from you. I want- I need- you to listen to me the whole week. Because you're younger than me, I'm responsible for you, and so what I say goes. The whole time. I need you to trust me."

She stares at you. Thinks about it. 

Then she nods. 

She'll do it. 

So, you go. You have fun, and everything goes great for the first couple of days. 

Then, on the third day, you decide to go to the beach. She swims farther out than you, and later into the day, you can start to see the tide coming in. 

You yell out to her, "Come in! The tide's coming in, it's going to be dangerous!"

She looks at you. 

Looks at the water.

Looks at you. 

Purses her lips. 

Your heart beat quickens as you realize what's about to happen. 

She shakes her head. Walks even farther out- right into dangers.

She doesn't trust you, she's making her own rules. She's playing God. She trusts herself more than she trusts you. 

That's what we all struggle with. "You" is God in this analogy, and the "cousin" is us. 

We're whiny, disrespectful, rude human beings. But since God created us, he wants a relationship with us. He loves us, and so he pays for our vacation- Jesus paid for Heaven for us on the cross.

We hesitantly agree to trust him on the trip. 

And then we hit a snag. We hit something where we think we know better.

We start to question God and question whether he really knows best.

It's in that moment, where our faith is tested. 

Where we see if we're any different than when we first started the trip. 

Here's what it all comes down to:

In the analogy: Has your cousin's relationship with you gotten stronger? Does she trust you more now than before?

In reality: Has my relationship with God gotten stronger than when I first accepted him as my Savior?

How much will I trust him with?

Will I only trust him with the simple pretty situations? Or will I trust him with the nasty parts too?

He asks for it all. The pretty, and the gory. 

He just wants us to trust him, totally and completely. And He'll take care of the rest. 

The Beauty of The City

I'm really very strange.

See, most photographers I know love taking pictures of nature, taking pictures of animals, or trees or other things.
Things that were made by God, and have been here from the beginning of time.

That's what makes catches their eye, and makes them want to in turn capture it for others.

My photographer's eye is caught by those things sometimes, but not all the time.

The only place I can go and feel my heart burst with passion to capture it's beauty is Atlanta.

I've been to Atlanta many times in my life, and it never ceases to make me stop and gawk at the buildings that tower above me. To us down on the road, those buildings are blended together, looming above. But inside, there's a lamp positioned in a corner, a cup of coffee sitting perched on a desk, a person on a cell phone.

Each of these things make up a piece of the puzzle of the buildings above us, but we only see the facade. We only see the big picture, and not the little pieces that make it up.

I love seeing what we've done with the world God gave us, what we've made of it. What better way to see that than in a city filled with the people he made? To see the things we created with the brains he gifted us with is pretty cool.

That's part of the beauty of it. Another thing that makes my fingers itch for my camera is the fact that so many people don't appreciate it as they drive through.

When you drive through a field filled with cows, or an orchard, you can't help but stop and marvel at the majesticness.

How many times do we gape at the beauty of Atlanta? The beauty of spaghetti junction, the beauty of the incredibly and vibrantly red tree just past the Holiday Inn, the beauty of the lamp posts lit up along Imagine It at night?

Never, because we don't stop to see the little details that make up the big picture of the busy city.

It's beautiful to me, because no one appreciates it. Everyone goes along their merry way, complaining about traffic, and checking their watches, and listening to the weather on the radio. They don't ever look up, they don't ever see the beauty in the city.

The beauty is in knowing I'm looking upon something in a way few others have ever done before.

The beauty is in the oblivion.

Called to Be Outcasts- Together

Human nature says to fit in. If you're thrown into a very awkward uncomfortable situation, you're going to try to make the best of things- right? You're going to try to fit in, to blend into the woodwork on the wall, and pretend you aren't there.

Well, that's the problem, isn't it? It's human nature for us to try to fit into this world, because we'e human, But, it's like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole.

We don't fit at all.

That's because we aren't of this world, we're supernatural. We're trying to fit into a place that isn't our home, a place that's a middleman. We were never created to fit in down here.

This world is full of sin, sin roams the streets, the devil steals souls, and temptation floods through the cracks of houses. We live in a world controlled by sin- so why do we try to fit in here?

In Romans 12:2 it says, "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."

Eventually if you pretend, and you act like something's real- if you act like someone you're not, to quote High School Musical (sorry), that's who you become.

God says to not conform ourselves to the pattern of this sinful world we live in.

Then in, Jeremiah 30:17, He says, "But I will restore you to health, And heal your wounds, declares the Lord. Because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares."

We aren't just called to not fit in here- we're called to be outcasts.

Pause.
Hang on.

We're supposed to be outcasts? We're supposed to be totally different from everyone else on this earth?
Yes, we are. Because we're not of this earth.

People will see you as an outcast. They will see that, and they will think to themselves, "What is UP with them?" But in doing this, you'll intrigue them.

This person who stands before them, who wants nothing to do with the world, who wants nothing to do with sinful nature, and who doesn't want to fit in at all, will interest people. They'll be perplexed.

And curiosity is the beginning of wisdom.

The coolest part I found about this, was when I was reading Acts the other day. Paul is speaking about the fellowship of the believers in chapter 2, and is explaining how they all congregated together, to eat, and pray.
It says, "All the believers were together, and had all things in common."

And then my mind went into overdrive, and I went back and read the  verses directly before that, where Paul stands up to talk to the crowd. At this point he was explaining to everyone there how they could all speak to each other even though they all spoke different languages. It was sort of like the reversal of The Tower Of Babel.

Now, here's the kicker,and what just blew my mind. It says, "Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews of every nation."

Okay.

So.

We have people of every nation, from different families, different backgrounds, different jobs, speaking different languages, looking nothing like each other all congregated, okay?

These people are the most random bunch of people you ever met in your life. It's like if you walked into Target, and just stood there and watched people.
Those people are all different right?
It was a crowd just like that.

Totally different people.

So how, on earth, in the next chapter can it say that they had everything in common?
When we know for certain that their jobs, their nationalities, their languages, all of that, were different?

How can they be the same?

Because they're outcasts together.

The one thing every single person gathered around listening to Paul had in common was that they were God-fearing. 
They had the breath of God living inside them, his Holy Spirit residing in their soul.

God covers everything else. His love and grace covers our job, it covers what kind of house we have, what kind of car we own, how many kids we have, where we live, who we talk to, what we do.

It covers it all, because none of it matters.

All those things, are things of this earth. Things we're not defined by.

What mattered to them, and what should matter to us, is that God called us to be outcasts together.

He called us to find the people who have seemingly nothing in common with us, but God. He calls us to rally with those people to bring others to Him. He calls us to love the people of this world-just not the sin of this world. He calls us to laugh in the world's face as we accept that we're different. We were born different, we will die different.

And we will spend forever in eternity.

Different. 

Outcast.

Cast out of this world, and into Heaven.

Time Heals All Wounds- Or Not

Whoever said "Time heals all wounds" obviously never actually got wounded.

For the sake of my analogy, let's pretend this "wound" is a stab wound, k? So, someone stabbed you in

the leg. Maybe it was you, maybe it was someone else. It doesn't really matter. When will that wound

scab over? Maybe a few days? Maybe less? When will it be totally gone? Maybe a month or so?

Okay, here's the next part:

A few days after maybe your mother's funeral, or parents' divorce, has the pain scabbed over?

Maybe so. Probably not. It's probably going to take a while for that to happen, for the pain to not be

fresh every single time you think about it.

When you press a finger to the stab wound on your leg, that's long since healed, will it still hurt? No.

Even if there's a scar there, it will not hurt.

So, in a year or two, when someone mentions the person who died, or that divorce, or that person who

left, will it hurt?

Heck yeah, it will.

It's not going to be like the scar on your leg that doesn't hurt at all. It's going to be an ache deep down in

your chest, one that screams and writhes and wants to be free of your body.

It's something you'll carry around with you forever.

It's a stab wound that will never get past the scabbing stage. It will always be a scab.

You'll know it's there, and therefore do your best to ignore it. You won't mention or think about the hurt

or death in your life. You'll tread lightly, walking gently, and trying not to run into any sharp corners.

But sometimes we can't help it. Sometimes others bring things up, that resurface our pain, and the scab

is ripped back open and blood and hurt and agony begins to pour back out.

Sometimes we accidentally hit the table when we're walking by and the wound hurts so bad we are left

gasping on the floor.

Time does not heal all wounds.

Time only scabs wounds, leaving them dangerously open, dangerously waiting.

The good thing?

They change us. They become a part of our story. “Let me tell you where I got this scab…” They begin to shape us and mold us, until we’re a stronger person than we were to begin with.

When we come out of it, we have a much higher tolerance for pain than when we went in.

The other good thing?

We know how to treat other's stab wounds now. We know what helps with the pain, what will make it

scab faster. We know how to be empathetic, and how to be there for them.

 We know how to be a doctor.

The Miserable Ones

I think I started crying about ten minutes into the movie.

When I saw Les Mis the first time, it was at a friend's house and it was awful. Okay, awful is a bit excessive. It wasn't good. There was no acting. There was no movement. It was people standing in a line on a stage singing. I followed the plot line for probably about an hour, before deciding I didn't really understand what was going on any more and completely zoning out.
When I heard that it was being turned into a movie, I was naturally extremely skeptical. The music was of course, fantastic in the version I had seen, but was great music really a sole reason to go see a movie?
In the end, I decided it was.

I ended up going with my mom and explaining the basic plot to her, since for the first hour of the version I saw, I was paying attention pretty well.
So, we got to the theater, and settled in our seats.

Oh, and just by the way, Movies at Carmike 12- Cartersville is like the coldest place in Georgia. That place was insanely cold.

But, I'm getting sidetracked.

So, the movie starts with this gripping scene with the soldiers right? And everybody's singing "Sweet Jesus doesn't care..." and I can already start to feel the tears prickle the back of my eyelids. But I held it together, right?

For like seven more minutes.

When the priest guy bestowed grace and mercy upon Jean Valjean, I just sort of lost it.
And my mother turns to me and says, "Are you crying?"

Yes, dear readers. I was crying.

I don't know how many of you know this about me, but when it comes to emotions, I take after to my dad. My dad is a crier. My mom, while she will still cry, is less of a crier than my dad.

I am more of a crier than my dad.

I cry at the commercials for Finding Nemo. I kid you not.

So, naturally this movie was horrible for my crying problems.
First time in my life I've been glad I accidentally put on waterproof mascara (dang, that crud is hard to get off... ya know... since you can't use water...)

Anyhow, there were like three times I sobbed so hard I was literally shaking.

1- When Eponine was watching the whole interaction with Marius and Cosette at the fence/ her singing in the rain.
It really is true the saying, "There's nothing worse than watching the person you love love someone else."

2- When the little boy dies. I knew he was going to die, and so I had braced myself for it. And I had told myself not to cry. And I didn't. Until his brother broke through the barricade to get to his body. Eessh.

3- The ending/finale. That was so spectacularly done, and so beautiful.

I'm not sure who was more miserable: the people in the movie, or me, sitting in a dark theater, freezing and sobbing/shaking.

But it was a good kind of miserable. IT WAS AMAZING. I sat there in my miserable-ness, and was miserable and LOVED IT.

I'll be back.
I'll be back.

"Will you join in our crusade?
     Who will be strong and stand with me?
     Somewhere beyond the barricade
     Is there a world you long to see?
     Do you hear the people sing
     Say, do you hear the distant drums?
     It is the future that they bring
     When tomorrow comes!" ~Epilogue/Finale Song

Despicable Us

So, I got this really weird revelation today watching the very deep and emotionally scarring movie: Despicable Me.
I started thinking: We have two phrases to describe people. Either "Good or Evil" or "Good or Bad".
Did you notice that while the third word changed, the first did not?
Why do we use multiple words to describe "Evil" but good is always just good?
Another question: Why is it, that in all little kids movies, the bad guy is called, "The Bad Guy", but in more mature and movies for older audiences, the bad guy is always called the "Villain"?

I think I have a partial answer to both of those questions.

We deem bad guys, "Bad Guys" in children's movies, because they're just "bad". They're not really evil, or diabolical. Because it's a children's movie. The world is never really in peril, and all us older people know it.
However, in our movies, the bad guy is the "Villain" because he is Evil with a capital E. There's something about him that's not right, and he's whacked in the head, and he might really blow up the world.

Now, back to my original question about the bad/evil thing.

Okay, so let's go back to the beginning for a minute. The beginning of earth. What was the tree called in the Garden of Eden?

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

So, here's the deal.

Good is good is good is good. There's no getting around what good is. Good is purity, it's innocence, it's naivety  It's love, it's everything right and perfect in the world. There's no medium to good. There's no gray area where something might be good. It just is.

Somewhere along the way, we decided we needed another word for evil. Because Evil with a capital E, was used in the name of the tree. Evil meant Satan. It meant darkness, it meant terror, it meant panic, havoc, fear, mortal peril.

But, the problem is; there are shades to "Bad".

Stealing a cookie from the cookie jar isn't as bad as murdering someone. Calling someone a name isn't as bad as robbing a bank.

We decided we needed to define evil/bad, because there are so many shades of gray in between what we consider bad, and what we consider evil.

You would never tell a child, "You are so evil!" But yet, I say all the time, "You are so bad!"

Because somewhere along the way, the word bad became a medium. It's somewhere in between evil and good. It's not good, but it's not evil either.

Being "Bad" is a very dangerous spot to be in.

It's an undefined area, an area humans made up. We made it up. We invented it in our petty minds.

When really God implied in that garden, that the things you do are either Good with a capital G, or they're Evil with a capital E.

There is no in between.

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.".