Friday, May 15, 2009

Storms, Graduations and Vacations

Last night I prayed to God again. I asked him to protect me from corruption while I am in the current state of confusion. I asked him to bless everyone who hates me, everyone who loves me, everyone who inspires me, whether the inspiration is good or bad. I went to sleep dreaming.

I dreamt of being locked out. There was a thunderstorm, and I was on the beach. Lightening came crashing down, waves lunged at me. I was not scared. I saw the people who locked me out. They were watching me blankly. I smiled at them and I was glad that they locked me out; for out of my company, only I could take the storm and be happy about what had happened. The twenty-third psalm echoed through the thunder and the waves as I danced around the beach. This is where I belonged.

Today was the last real day of school. I finished my final exams, removed everything from my locker, went to graduation practice and left. Dad asked me where I would like to eat. Without thinking to much of it, I remembered that Quincy's sister worked at an ice cream shoppe called The Creamery. I told him that that is where I would like to go. When we were in the parking lot, I realized what I had done. I told myself to calm down; she wouldn't be here today..........

I was wrong. She was there, and she took our order. Later, right when we were leaving, I invited her to my graduation. She couldn't make it; she(and the rest of her family) would be out of town. "Have fun," she said as she hurried to one of the booths to serve. "You too," I weakly replied. She didn't hear me.

Monday, May 11, 2009


Last Friday, I went shadowed a high school with some classmates of mine. The day was very interesting.
The girl that we were shadowing was a freshman named Jenny. Since she went to our school last year, I had met here acquaintance a long time ago. She hated me then; and she must dislike me know. Anyway, we met up with her during second period. We walked down the halls with our heads held high. I felt so stupid and insecure; I felt like one of those people you read about in books.
We stopped by one door, and others gathered around too. It wasn't long until more people came. We looked like an army. A tired army. I watched freshmans come to us. I saw familiar faces. Jay; that scary kid. Emily; the annoying one. Even Stephen; the kid whose family I spent the summer with. Finally, I saw one kid who I remembered most of all: Seth. Seth was tall with blond hair. He was a runner, and had been training for marathons since fourth grade. I knew him from a distance. As he passed us by, I saw him scan each of the girls I was with. The first he saw was Carol; the one with three houses and two swimming pools. Next was Lauren; the skillful dancer and smart academic. Then Lynn; the beautiful girl with six sisters and a brother. Then his eyes fell on me. I watched him with a cold stare and he did the same.
The Spanish teacher I had heard so much about put me in a seat near the door, surrounded by people I knew from years before. Beth beside me, Emily behind me, Stephen behind Beth. I kept watching.
"Mary, you're so white." I turn to see Tom, giving me his best. "You are so white that you look like........." I smiled at him and gave him a too enthusiastic "Thank you." He kept on talking. By that time Emily was telling me all about how I should never take Spanish because the teacher got her degree online. Stephen asked me some questions, and Tom joined in. What's happening at school, didn't all the guys leave? I answered all of them. Finally Stephen asked me if our school had a cross country team. Watching Seth(mostly because he was watching me), I told him that they didn't and that I am preparing on the side. I also said that that was what I was doing next year.
Spanish II ended. I followed the other girls to the English room, and Seth started talking to us. He was laughing and smiling. He told us about how all the rooms were cold and how he was surprised we didn't have a sweater. It was surprising to see how much he had changed by the bell ringing. I didn't see him after that. We later went to a typing class, where Jenny tried to make us do her assignments. The teacher caught her, however, and we were then free to roam the web. The day was half done, so Lynn called her mom and we all got a ride back at school.
It is surprising how much a thirteen year old thinks about boys. This is actually the first time in months, however, I have thought of more than one boy at all....

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Prayers, Tips, Gifts and Advice

I woke up to the sounds of mom and dad arguing. I listened a bit and only to find out that they were discussing my birthday, which happens to be a long time away. I guess that dad got me a camera, because mom was mad that she wanted to get me a camera. I went back to sleep.

When I woke again, I remembered my prayer from the night before. I prayed that God would tell me what to do (concerning Quincy and I) in a dream. Obviously, I either forgot the dream or God decided not to answer. Irritably I went about until I had taken a nice bath and gotten my breakfast: half a pear and one grapefruit.

Later, I worked on giving mom a tip of what to give me. I asked her to get me some new rosary. Her only reply was that she would give me a new chain for the one I already had. As we ran our errands, she tipped me on how Mother's Day was coming up and asked if I remembered that scarf she liked at the store.

Well, at least she was obvious.

Saturday, May 2, 2009


Right now, in my cherry pajama pants and my enviromentalist shirt, I look past at everything that has happened:

  1. Memo has taken a vacation to Nicoragua
  2. I either passed or failed my P.E. final
  3. Once On This Island is over with
  4. I have no idea what is going to happen with Quincy and I
  5. Memo told me (right before she left) that Malvolio has talked to her mom and is probably going to ask her out as soon as she gets back

I asked everyone at theatre to pass around a notebook and put their names and email's on it. I caught Cesario (Sorry, keeping names secret) saying he did not want to put his down. I laughed and smiled. I don't EVER want to email him anyway. I also found out that Quincy doesn't have an email. Or a cell phone.

I know that I may not see him for quite some time, but I have a feeling-- a sinking suspicion-- that I might.

Anyway. I went to the cast party. As soon as I came in and found everybody, Quincy smiled and actually looked glad to see me. I played around with everyone for a while. I joked with Viola, the Imposters (as Memo and I like to call them; long story), Agwe, etc. I took care of my "little buddy" whom I call Gummy Bear, who fell outside in the dark. I gave her a piggy-back ride up the stairs for a game of air hockey, but we found the directors already challenging each other with faces and laughter as they threw around the puck. Gummy Bear decided to mess with a drum set and Quincy ducked in to check on us. I smiled and looked down. What else could I do?

What else could I do? When Mom came, I hugged everyone goodbye. Quincy took the longest.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed

Nothin' seems to fit

Those raindrops are fallin' on my head,

they keep fallin'

So I just did me some talkin' to the sun

And I said I didn't like the way he got things done

Sleepin' on the job

Those raindrops are fallin' on my head,

they keep fallin'

But there's one thing I know

The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me

It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red

Cryin's not for me

'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'

Because I'm free

Nothin's worryin' me

It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

So I just did me some talking to the sun

And I said I didn't like the way he got things done

B the way, I need to let you know that I don't write any of the lyrics I provide on this blog. If you want to see poems and lyrics that I write, go to my other blog:

Once On This Island Shots

These are some shots of the musical I am in.

To the left, you will see Ti Moune, torn. She must leave her loving parents (who are in the back) and look for Daniel, who lives on the other side of the island, whom she loves. Towards the bottom, you will see Papa Ge, the sly demon of death; he has come to collect Daniel's soul.

Heh. This ugly person is me. I am telling Daniel that he cannot love Ti Moune.

This is Daniel's fiance, Andrea. This is one reason why Daniel is a jerk.

It's a great play. When ever you can, look it up.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

To-Do Lists

Today, I got up thinking........ thinking about what to do. I needed to get my essay done (which is due tomorrow), be prepared for an (embarrassing) oral presentation, and get ready for a performance (that I am not ready for). Then, when I realized what I was doing, I scoffed.

I looked at myself for a minute and acknowledged how stupid I was being. Why was I looking at short term, one-hour worries? I need to get ready for so much. I am making a list of things to do.

My To-do List
  1. Become a better person, inside and out
  2. (Truthfully) Compliment three people every day
  3. Learn to listen to my conscience
  4. Listen to God's prayers and messages that have been sent to me
  5. Encourage people
  6. Let others know what I think
  7. Jump over brick walls, hurdles and other obstacles that stand in my way
  8. Learn to know when be silent and just listen
  9. To control my feelings
  10. Lead a life of my own, with the Holy Spirit's help

Saturday, April 25, 2009

The Song He Sang........

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes -
how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love?
Measure in love. Seasons of love.
525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes -
how can you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love. Seasons of love! Seasons of love~

If only he knew what he sang just then.

~How can you measure the life of a women or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.


I have had one hell of a day. I don't know how to fit it all on here. I'm going to try though.....

........Let's see; how did the morning start? Oh yes. I woke up to my mom talking to someone. In my fuzzy state of mind, I listened for a while. I was completely awake by the time I heard my name. Mom was in my room trying to wake me up. She kept on talking and I grunted a bit. Mom set some coffee down on my file cabinet and went out of the room.

I drank my coffee and went outside of my liar. Who was I to behold but my twenty-four year old brother who currently lives thirty-five minutes away from us........ I remembered later that he spent the night here after going to a friend's party. After I put my contacts on, he was gone.

Mom and Dad came home later. When they did, they found me asleep again on the couch while watching CMT. Mom gently woke me up (Screaming to dad in another room.) and I pleasantly awoke. I found some food and went with mom to run errands.

Mom and I have "errands" once in a while. We go to garage sales and cruise around just to enjoy life. We parked in somebodies yard, thinking that we might be at the right place. I eyeballed a bright red sports car and kept walking. As mom and I are peering at the house, we saw a man in a crisp white sneer at us. Mom and I laughed and kept walking until we got to the right place, with a two minute detour to stare at three small dogs who seemed to be staring at us too.

Later, we went to get sand for my gecko and I had to go to theatre. Nothing much happened at the first performance. My best friend (that I call Memo) was skeptical about something but I decided not to ask her. She would tell me when she was ready.

I was right. She told me. Memo thought that this guy was giving her mixed signals (To back this up a bit, Memo's been having some problems. She's beautiful as it is, and she has a great personality. Any guy who wouldn't like her would be crazy. Memo likes two guys though. One guy who I like, who we shall call Quincy, and another, that we shall call Malvolio. Malvolio is two years older than her and has known her for about a year. Quincy is 6-12 months younger and has known her for the same amount of time. Also, you should know that it is obvious that Quincy likes her. I know for sure that Malvolio is a her good friend.) and she didn't know what to do. I hugged her. I didn't know what to say.

During the second performance, Memo asked him. She told me with great enthusiasm that when she asked, "Hey...... Do you like me?'' he had said yes. She told me what he said vaguely while in a trance. While she was talking, I kept on praying that Quincy would be alright.

Now, I can't do anything about it. I can't ask Memo if she sure that Malvolio knew what she was talking about. If Malvolio actually loves her. I can't do anything about Quincy, because he doesn't even trust me. I mean, he knows he can come to me to fix a prop.

I don't know. I don't know what to do. Why does this have to be so hard? Why can't Quincy be a friend? A friend, at least? Why do I have to love him even when he doesn't love me?

I guess some would say I'm too young to feel like this. Well, I feel it whether I am young or whether I am old.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009



I have decided to share my life.

See it from your eyes and feel it from your own shoes, your own feet.

My name is Voice. I am thirteen years old. I am kind of scared about putting my age on here but I know that you must know of where I am from.

To start it off, let me tell you about school, where you will always find me at this point in my life. I go to a christain middle school and I am in the eighth grade. I am an outcast. The other kids hate me. I am called names all the time. They tease me, calling me "too religous." To them I am a freak.

I practically live two different worlds. I am also an actress at my local theatre. I am among my friends and I joke around. You can most likely see me in my favorite costume: a frog hat, a cape with midnight blue lining and a toy machine gun that makes peculiar noises when you pull its trigger.

The truth is that I am scared. I am scared of being unoriginal. Of not being individual. I know, however, that I am in a big majority of people that feel the same way. And that scares me too. Maybe I need to get a life. Maybe I need to start my life. Either way, I am typing to you from my blog because I am scared. I am scared of being crowded and I am scared of being alone.

If you don't want to read this, then don't. I have no need for anyone to read this. I have a need of venting my feelings and learning more about myself. I have a need for an eternally sharpened pencil, a perpetually long ink for my pen and an everlasting sheet of paper to write. I call this need a computer.