Traditional Christmas Stories

     All these stories were on my blog last year, but I thought that I'd repost them in time for Christmas. Enjoy!

     I thought that this would be a funny story since it's nearly Christmas time. I lived in Hawaii for the first four year of my life, and I had some nice warm Christmases there. Lots of little kids were scared of Santa when they were little; personally I was never like that. One day my family went to the beach and low and behold there was a rather plump old guy lying on the beach, I thought that he was Santa. Suddenly I was an extremely excited toddler. I tugged on my parents swimming trunks and exclaimed, "Look, there's Santa!"
"Can I please go talk to him, mommy?" I started pleading. The real Santa Clause was the man standing right next to me trying to think of what he could say to discourage his two year old from embarrassing the poor man.
"Honey, Santa is on vacation right now. If you don't disturb him maybe you will get better presents this year!" My big blue eyes scanned the man who looked like Santa for a final time, and then dimmed a little.
"Okay." I said in disappointment.

     When I think of that story I always laugh. My dad had to be rather quick witted to come up with a story to persuade me not to talk to Santa. Personally I would have had no idea what to say in a situation like that! The next one is a really cute story that involves my little brother, Mitch.


One day my little brother decided that he wanted to buy Christmas presents for all five people in our family. It was a very nice act, but seven year olds don't make that much money. Even so he was very determined to feel the happiness of giving. So Michael saved up money the whole year so that he could by us Christmas presents. When it finally reached December, my dad took Mitch to Sam's Club to buy the gifts. In the process of finding Christmas presents the eleven dollars that my brother had saved fell out of his pocket. A few minutes later my brother reached into his pocket to feel the money that he earned, but there was a problem, it wasn't there! As you can imagine it broke my brother’s heart. All of his money that he had earned all year was gone! Tearfully he told my dad what had happened. My dad was also heart broken to see his own little boy so sad. He took Mitch up to the lost and found and told the workers about the money that Mike had lost. After hearing my dad's case, the employee spoke on the loud speaker.
"A little boy has lost eleven dollars that he has saved to buy Christmas presents. If anyone finds it, please bring it to the lost and found, thank you." I'm sure that there were plenty of dishonest people that went looking for the money after that revealing announcement; many probably just so that they could put it into their own wallets. But who knows what really happened to the money that Mitch dropped? Most likely it was found by one of those people who wanted it for themselves, but that's not important. Just after the employee finished his sentence over the intercom, the Sam's Club Santa Clause came jogging towards us. He was probably just an old man trying to earn a little money for the holidays by dressing up and holding little kids, but he gave up his own earnings to help an adorable little boy that he had never met.
"Here you go little guy," said Santa, bending down on one knee so that he could be level with my brother,
"I found your money!" He then proceeded to hand my brother eleven dollars. We could all see that my dad felt a lump in his throat as he whispered,
"Thank you."

     I don't know if you believe in karma, but I do. That same December we went to Universal Studios for Christmas break. As we were walking towards the entrance, my dad spotted a little bundle of dollar bills wrapped up in a little ribbon. As he looked at that money he had a flash back of when Mitch lost his money. That money could belong to a poor little kid like Mitch! My dad took the money, and immediately after we entered the park we went to lost and found. Dad told the stunned employee that he had found that roll of money on the street, and thought that it might belong to a little kid. The employee looked at my dad in amazement; his eyes became as round as quarters.
"Sir, I have never seen anyone as honest as you! I must reward you for something as kind hearted as this!" He reached into the shiny cashier box and handed my dad five front of the line passes, one for everyone in my family, valid for the whole day! Kindness is never unrewarded; I love the spirit that Christmas brings!

Happy Holidays!

Yeah, it is pretty late at night so sorry if there are any errors in this. But I've just been thinking about the things I'm grateful for for the past few weeks. I came up with quite a list. As of today we officially finished marching band with a big party, which was quite fun. I was able to see all the people who worked hard receive awards for all the time and effort that they put into marching band, I was truly proud of my classmates. I'm really grateful that I was able to be a part of the massive band that had over two hundred kids, (even though we lost every competition to American Fork.)

I'm really grateful for my friends who can always make me laugh, even when I feel like I'm never going to laugh again. I'm thankful for the great friends that I have that are willing to lift me up when I fall, and be my crutches when I limp. They make life a lot easier to live, and give my life something worth living for.



    I'm grateful for my family who are willing to put up with all my faults and flaws; trust me, I have many. I'm grateful that they are willing to do anything, and the fact that they are willing to do what they think is best for me (no matter how much I protest.) I appreciate that they are completely honest with me, and help me improve so that I can grow up and be a self reliant, "grown up."





     I'm thankful for the opportunity to go to school. School is basically my life, and I don't know what I'd do without it! I actually enjoy waking up to every school day (even though I was happy for the break this week.) It gives me a good reason to wake up every day, and it gives me a good reason for working hard.


    I'm grateful for the armed forces. Even though I love speaking my new developing language (Chinese), I will still remain patriotic to America. I'm especially glad that America isn't communist like so many other countries. We are blessed with so much freedom, and there are young men and women all over the world, fighting so that we can continue living as we do now; in a safe environment with roofs over our heads.


     I'm grateful that I have religion in my life. Without it, I don't know who or where I'd be. Just going to church and being there encourages me to be better and to do better than I'm already doing, even when life is being really tough on me. Church teaches me to have more compassion, to be more giving, and encourages me to be a good example to others.


     Now that I've told you a few things that I'm grateful for (and trust me, I could write a list that contains hundreds of things.)Now stop and think about what I've said. What are you grateful for? Keep those thoughts, the first thoughts that popped into your head when you thought of what you are grateful for. Those thoughts will give you strength when you are having a hard time, so keep them in your heart for as long as you can; and at least every day until Thanksgiving is over. Happy Holidays!

Sonnet 1 Does he love me?

     For Honors English, we had to write a sonnet. Yeah, that's right, a sonnet! A poem that is as mushy gushy as you can make it! Sounds fun right? It's not my normal style of writing that's for sure... When I mention "azure" eyes I'm not really thinking of one specific person. This is written in the basic Shakespearean format, "ABAB CDCD FGFG HH." Every line should have ten syllables if my calculations remain correct. The first eight are meant to be a question, line eight is the transition, and the rest are of the lines are the answer. Enjoy!




As the leaves of fall descend upon me,

A new love blooms like the blossoms of spring.

Was it meant for this blooming love to be?

My heart is mending like an old bird’s wing.

A once broken heart is once again whole.

I look into his eyes in puzzlement,

His azure eyes are windows to his soul.

Does he feel the same, this angel heav’n sent?

Sighing, I hope, begging the stars to know.

Our love is not seen or heard, only felt;

Springing up from the ground where seeds do sow.

His eyes drift away, I feel my heart melt.

What can be, what may be, cannot be told,

I love his heart which is as pure as gold.

Halloween Dance!

Well I must say that this was the best date that I've ever been on! (Well it is the only one I've been on...) But still, yesterday I went to the Halloween Dance and had a ball! (Literally) So, enjoy the pictures!

Marching Band

If any of you are fans of my blog, I apologize. I have not posted anything in nearly two months. Yes, that is my fault, I am the author of course. It's not that I don't want to post, it's just that I don't have time. It seems like my life isn't about me anymore; it's about "the band." What band? One of the country's best marching bands! Every day after school over two hundred kids get together to be yelled at and do push-ups for three hours straight. But to tell you the truth, it isn't as bad as it sounds. Although my life's priorities are a little mixed up with marching band taking up all my time, I can't deny that I love every minute of it.

Now I've had a few people ask me, "What do you guys do?" I just respond simply, "Work on our field show of course." As if everyone would instantly know what I was talking about... Well I've come to find out that generally when people grin and nod, they don't really understand. So for everyones sake (yes, you too Mojo,) I've posted a link to where you can see our crazy "field show." It's really fun to watch, and even funner to march! So just click on the top of the youtube link that I've posted to see what band kids consider something worth sweating over.

I'm sorry if the show doesn't load on your computer, sometimes it loads very slowly, and sometimes it doesn't load at all.

Compass Course

     Yesterday while I was on vacation, my dad called me. He said some words I was surprised to hear,

"Hey Beth, the bishop just called." I just sat there thinking ,

"That's strange, I wonder what for?" So I thought my questions out loud over the phone,

"Why dad?"

"He wants you to give a talk in sacrament meeting tomorrow." I started feeling a little nervous. I replied to my dad's comment,

"Tomorrow? He wants me to write and be ready for a talk tomorrow? Wow, that's not much notice."

"That's what he said, he wants you to talk about youth conference. And about the orienteering compass course you went on, and how that relates to church and things in general." Compasses! My talk was on compasses, and I was a little confused on where I could even start. Not to mention I was on vacation all day long! I was getting home from vacation around three o'clock, and then I had two birthday parties to go to! Needless to say, my feelings of "not enough time" and dread for this talk dramatically increased when I got home at 9:00 P.M.! Luckily it seemed to turn out alright. People seemed to like it well, so I'll publish it in case you want to read it! If you're not religious, it's okay if you don't read it! It's just that this blog is like my journal, and I want to remember all the talks I give.

     Good morning! Today I was asked to give a talk relating to an orienteering course that we conquered at youth conference this past week. I will also talk on how we are supposed to use life’s compasses.

     I’m sure you’ve all heard common quotes on life such as “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.” Or sillier ones like “Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.” Or, “Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it depends on what you put into it.”

      But, recently, I have come to discover that life is also like a compass course, you have to make many decisions as you try to go in the direction that you think you want to go; and when you reach that destination, sometimes you discover that the place you’ve finally reached is yet another fork in the road! Life is a place of agency where you choose your own course and have to make many different and sometimes difficult decisions.

     Life is like a road, and you are the driver of your own self-propelled vehicle. You decide where you’re going and how fast you are going to get there.

     But if we are in charge of our own lives, then why do we need compasses? What is the purpose of a little magnetic compass with four different directions? Which way are we supposed to go? And better yet, which way are we trying to go?

     Sometimes a compass can be confusing, when you are continually being told to go north by the rest of the world because “everyone’s doing it,” and as you try to follow others instead of your own path, you may find yourself running into a tree, or running off of a cliff both physically and spiritually. There are many people that will try to direct and guide you throughout your trail called, “life,” and there are only a few directions you can take to follow the right path to the destination that you truly want to end up.

     A simple song that we have been singing since we were primary children, and continue to sing today, is “Choose the Right.” It may sound like a simple enough song as you quietly and reverently sing it, but if you listen to the actual words, they mean much more than we realize.

     “Choose the right when a choice is placed before you. In the right the Holy Spirit guides;” What does the song mean by “In the right the holy spirit guides?” It means that the Holy Spirit is always right! He will always try to lead you down the right and happy path. Despite what others may say, the Holy Ghost will guide you in the right direction every time.

     The song then continues: “And its light is forever shining over you”. As long as you are choosing the right and trying your hardest to point your compass towards Him, you will feel his light shining in yourself and those you surround yourself with.

      And the first verse finishes with, “When in the right your heart confides…” all you have to do is try to do the right thing! Let your heart confide in things that are good!
“Choose the right! There is peace in righteous doing.” What is the definition for peace? I found several simple descriptions that all sound pretty good to me.
“Freedom from war.”
“Tranquility,” meaning a calm and quiet state.
“Mental Calm,” with no anxiety.
“And Law and Order,” the absence of violence; a freedom from disturbances. That choosing the right path is starting to sound good now, huh? But the song isn’t finished yet.

     “Choose the right! There’s safety for the soul.” Being safe is being “unharmed” and “undamaged,” our soul is not our physical body. Our soul is what’s left of us after we die. It’s the essence of our nature, and our distinctive character without a body. That means that if we choose the right, we will be safe from damage and harm, but not just in this life, forever!

     Now, we know all the great things we can be blessed with if we choose to follow the “right” path. But, what exactly is our goal? The goal of choosing the right, isn’t always being right. Yet again, the song tells you what you can do, “Choose the Right” finally tells us where our compass should be pointed and magnetized to. “Choose the right in all labors you’re pursuing; Let God and heaven be your goal.”

     I really enjoyed youth conference this year. It had a much more personal level with just our ward there. We had good activities which included swimming in an ice cold lake, orienteering up and over steep hills, and ending in one of the most spiritual experiences that I’ve ever had in my life. I was really grateful for the opportunity to go, and I thank the leaders for planning and putting together such fun activities.

A Dose of Misery

     As of last month, my Summer was going great! I woke up at five thirty every morning; I then practiced my instrument, got ready, and went straight to 7:00 marching band. Everything was going great! I got to see my friends occasionally (which was more than during the busy school season,) and everything just seemed to be going so well. When disaster struck a fatal blow to my Summer. I received my nastiest most crippling injury in my life.

     The way I'm going to describe it probably won't sound bad, but everyone is shocked by what my foot actually looks like now. Almost every layer of skin on my left foot was scraped off, and on the right I have blisters the size of Texas. Now you are probably in curious shock, "What were you doing?!?" It all starts and end with two words "marching band."

     Some kids think that "band kids" are "nerds." I disagree strongly with that (well maybe because I'm in the band,) but our dorky outfits for band prove that common stereotype. We wear these scientific shirts that say "Matter" and underneath it says "Vapor, Liquid, Solid." Well that is just the first bit, we must tuck the shirts into our brown Davis High shorts! Yet that's not the worst part, it's the shoes! They look like something my brother would wear to church, and they are the most uncomfortable shoes that I've been forced to wear (well they're the only shoes I've ever been forced to wear, but still.) When I ordered my shoes I thought I'd have no problem wearing my normal shoe size 6 1/2, boy was I wrong! I picked up the shoes in the band room and tried them on. They were about an inch longer than my foot, but that didn't seem to be the problem. They were so narrow! Looking at my friend Aubree as I tied my shoe laces I inquired, "Wow, Aub, are these supposed to be so tight? I have duck feet!" She merely replied, "Yeah, that's how they all are! That's how they're supposed to be!" Putting my faith in her I took the shoes home.

     That's where the injury came from, my little marching band shoes. I was trying to break them in on Monday during the parade route. Little did I realize that that was a horrible idea! I've never really worn anything other than tennis shoes! So I marched along in the neighborhood next to Barnes Park for about an hour enduring a pain that I'd never felt before in my life.

     I was walking along next to my friend Jason in the parade, and I was not having very much fun. My feet seemed to be on fire from the sun! It was about 100 degrees that day, and I was feeling the heat on my feet. Or so I thought. Steadily the heat rose in my foot, but I wasn't about to break every rule I'd learned in marching band. Rule #1 was not to break attention, ever. That meant no looking around, or breaking out of line. The heat went on for about 45 minutes, when I realized it wasn't heat, it was pure pain! I tried not to limp, I tried to look up and stay in my line, until I couldn't stand it anymore. Like many people who had messed up during a song, I ran to the side of the road and did push ups. I forced myself to do push ups for not walking in the rank very well, then I would try to adjust my socks a little. Adjusting socks didn't help, and it hurt even worse when I had to run the length of a football field to get back in my position.

     When the pain was about to make me scream, I gave up. I sprinted to the side and tore my shoes off. Tying them together, I slung them over my shoulder and ran back into position next to my fellow baritone players. Jason laughed at me, "Why were you doing push ups?" I just whispered back, "Well.... For multiple reasons." Not wanting to get caught talking, I rejoiced in the freedom of my aching foot, then continued marching the next hour.

     When we got back to Barnes Park, I decided to assess the damage... I could never have imagined the pain that I'd forced myself to endure. I thought it was just the sun! So I lifted my sock up a ways and looked down. Jason was still standing next to me, and you should've seen the look on his face, "Oh, woah, ow!" I closed my eyes trying not to throw up and disgustedly repeated the last word Jason had said, "Ow....."

     When I got home I took my socks off and called down the stairs to my brother. "Mitch, it's practically eleven o'clock! Wake up!" He woke up and came up the stairs. I told him what had happened and showed him my lovely foot. His eyes practically popped out of his head. "I'm calling mom, now!" So my brother called my mom, "Mom, Beth has really bad blisters...." my mom was at work in Salt Lake, "Okay I'll do what I can when I get home, Mitch, there's nothing I can do from here."

     When my mom came home she demanded to see my foot. I calmly obliged, and all calmness was instantly extinguished, "OH MY GOSH!!!! Oh eww!!!! Beth, what the heck did you do?!? This isn't a blister, this moleskin isn't going to cut it! We are taking you to the doctor, now!" Hating to go to the doctor, I tried to reason with my mom, "What?!? The doctor? Isn't that a little drastic mom? It's not THAT bad." my mom's reply seemed a lot less enthusiastic than mine, "Don't get me started!" So with that being said, I was taken to a medical clinic.

     When we got there, my mom offered me help walking to the door. "Do you need help walking?" still refusing to think my injuries were "THAT bad," I refused her help and limped through the doors. Finally when the doctors were ready to see me, they brought me through some terribly clean white doors. The nurse proceeded to tell me to sit down on the cold, metal, medical table thing, and said that she would "be right back." Well she came back, right back after a good six minutes, by then I was getting a little impatient.... Which was nothing like the anger that welled up inside me at the nurses next few words. As she looked at my foot from across the room with her clip board, she studied my heel like it was a fiery monster. "Oh," she said feebly, "Is that a band aid?" My mom looked at her, and the nurses eyebrows shot up into her head, "That's the skin?!?!?! Oh wow! Oh wow wow wow!" This whole time I was thinking, "This is the nurse..... Is this how she's supposed to be acting? Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?..... She sure knows how to make a patient feel better....." Without looking at my foot again the nurse asked my mom a few questions, "What happened?" And no matter who I tell the story, I always get the same reaction, "How could a shoe even do that? How's that even possible?"

     As quickly as she could the nurse sent me to the more ominous doctor. After waiting on another cold metal table for ten minutes, the doctor came in. He wasn't that impressive of a sight, but apparently my heel was an impressive sight to him. It reminded me of dissection in science class this year. He just stared and stared at my foot, observing every detail as if he were completely fascinated. He asked my mom all the same time wasting questions as the nurse. The doctor also had a way of making me feel a whole lot better about my predicament, at one point bringing me to tears. "Well, that's a good injury we've got here.... That's like something you'd see in the pioneer days!" When I told him about how it had happened at band, and how I was breaking in shoes for the parade on the fourth of July, he gave me a terrible response for a "band geek," "It's a miracle that you are even walking. You shouldn't be able to swim for about a month. You've got a parade on Friday? There's no way in the world that that will happen!"

     I didn't cry from pain, I didn't cry from being told that I had to go to the doctor, but I couldn't help my eyes watering when I was told that the thing I'd been working so hard for all summer was "not going to happen."  The doctor ordered, a dose of misery on my Summer.

     But it's been okay. It's hurt a little here and there, it's a little painful to walk. But all of that bad stuff doesn't really matter to me, I'm just grateful that I'm not dying. I feel a lot worse for the people living in Africa. And with my friends coming to my house on Tuesday to visit, my perspective is turning brighter. Even though I can't run or play sports, I still have the most caring family and friends, and that has made all the difference.



     Yep, that's my foot! That's before it swelled and turned all red! It looks prettier there for your own convenience.

Attention

     As I sit down every day and work on the end of year slide show; I always end up shaking my head in unbelief. Being one of the workers of the slide show, I get to see nearly every picture that has been taken this past school year. Some pictures are interesting none to say the least... Looking at these pictures makes me very curious.
   
     Why do students do the crazy things that they do in front of the camera? What is up with the crazy faces and poses? The flimsy facades? It all goes back to the things that we've been learning about the past few chapters in Stargirl. It seems as if everyone wants attention. Whether it's making the dumbest possible face you could when your grandma is trying to get a picture for her scrapbook, or going "skater" and wearing pants so tight that you have to wear tights under them to fit them on; everyone does something for attention.

     My Dad was watching a special about crime and murderers on T.V. yesterday, and as my dad recounted the scary stalker stories to freak me out; I realized that it boiled down to the same thing! Lack of attention! Almost every murderer that my dad told me about wasn't remorseful; they enjoyed killing people because it made them "look strong!"

     I can't even begin to pretend like I understand the necessity for attention, but as I sit here and brainstorm I start to see a pattern. From how I see it, people think that attention can only be showed and shared through the mouth. Which would explain exactly why silences are awkward, there is no attention, no communication! The lack of attention is what makes a silence so difficult and avoided.

     Whether you know it or not, people are always paying attention to you; the observer may not always tell you everything about their observing, but as I observed others for my English assignment, I've come to realize that others observe me too!

     Mr. T told us a few weeks ago how it seemed like students are becoming robots, always checking, "Is this right?" "I'm following instructions correctly aren't I?" It seems like nowadays we have to have "positive reinforcement" or "positive attention" either to keep us "straight" or "make us feel good." Sorry for the randomness, but lots of things are connecting in my brain as I sit and brainstorm the mysteries of attention.

     One last example of this strange attention that people crave. About the "positive attention" thing that I mentioned earlier... Have you ever met someone who insults everything they do? It's almost like they aren't trying to be modest, they are trying to get that positive back up, I'm sure you've heard something like, "Aww this drawing isn't very good... I wonder if it will get full credit." Girl one flashes the illustration at Girl two. Girl two has that same kind robot reaction, "No, that drawing is great!!! That must be the best drawing ever!"

     Why do you think that people are so desperate for attention? 

The funny things people say

     I have had so many embarrassing quotes thrown at me in the last few weeks!!! It has been insane! Some of them are funny, so I'll list them here in really short versions.

     Okay, quote one... This was at a stake dance, and over and over again people asked me why I didn't go to the bigger and more ominous "Regional Dance." I replied rather awkwardly to everyone that asked, "Because, nobody ever asks me to dance... It makes me feel a little left out." Until finally one of my best friends asked me the same question. When I replied to his question, he gave me a surprised look and said, "Well, if I had been there I would've asked you!" It was rather funny, but lots of people laughed at me for that comment.

     This quote is going to take a lot of confusing explanations. The quote? "Beth, stay away from knives!!!" So one time I was just sitting at lunch, and I was bored to the extreme. For some reason I just started playing with my utensils, twirling them in between my fingers, poking things around on my plate. And somehow it has become the joke that I have turned emo, just because I was playing with the knife! If you've heard a rumor that I'm emo, it's not true!!!

     Next quotes are from a kid who likes to poke fun at me when I'm doing the Student Government announcements... One day (when I was doing the announcements over the speaker phone,) a kid in Mrs. Cobia's science class blurted out, "Hey, I recognize her voice! It's that Sleepy Hollows girl!!" That same kid made another funny comment about me earlier in the year in Mr. Thompson's English class. As the kids were reading "The Pigman," they came across the word "Transylvanian." Quizzically a student asked, "What is a Transylvanian?" And little Mr. Joker says, " Like Beth!" Well that was mean, but I can't help that I'm white...

Those are just silly quotes I've heard other people say lately, but just for your sake, I'm going to post funnier quotes.

Age to women is like Kryptonite to Superman. -- Kathy Lette

As you get older three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two... -- Sir Norman Wisdom

In olden times, sacrifices were made at the altar, a practice that still continues. -- Helen Rowland

Women will never be as successful as men because they have no wives to advise them. -- Dick Van Dyke

Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach him how to fish and you get rid of him all weekend. -- Zenna Schaffer

The pen is mightier than the sword, and considerably easier to write with. -- Marty Feldman

I can resist everything except temptation. -- Oscar Wilde

I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally. -- W.C. Fields

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity. -- Albert Einstein

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most. -- Mark Twain

Last week I stated that this woman was the ugliest woman I had ever seen. I have since been visited by her sister and now wish to withdraw that statement. --Mark Twain

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt. --Mark Twain

I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals. -- Winston Churchill

A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. --Winston Churchill

Locks of Love (Good Karma)

When I turned seven years old, a crazy idea popped into my head. What if I could somehow help people who had cancer? My Grandma had uterine cancer earlier in the year, and seeing what she had to go through made me want to help other people who had cancer. Sometimes I would sit and brainstorm, my tiny little seven year old cogs spinning in my brain. Finally after a few weeks of deep thought, I came up with an idea. Lots of people who had cancer ended up with no hair, they were hurting internally, and their pride was hurt on top of everything else. What if people with cancer got wigs? That might help their self esteem! I told my mom about my brilliant idea, what if people with long hair (like myself) cut it, and donated it? Then a manufacturing company could turn it into wigs, and finally they could give it to the needy patients with cancer, free of charge. My mom just laughed, "Beth, they already have that program. It's called "Locks of Love." I was a little down cast from having my brilliant idea already be taken, but I was excited that people were already giving up something they loved for people they loved. After finding out that a program was already in progress I told my mom that I wanted to donate my hair. She was rather surprised, as if she didn't expect her little seven year old to be so grown up already. My mom reminded me that to donate my hair, I would have to give away at least ten inches. That didn't really sink into my brain, I wanted to donate my hair. For two years I grew my hair out, to the point where I would not be offended if people started calling me Rapunzel. When I was nine years old, felt like I was ready. Secretly my mom was worried that I would be cutting off more than twelve inches of my hair. Stubbornly I had refused to get my hair cut those two years, how could I be so selfish to cut my hair when people needed it? Little did I understand that I had four inches of split ends would not be sufficient for people who needed hair. I was driven to an old man's house, clear in Ogden. The ten minute drive seemed much too long. When my mom walked me up to the house and read the sign that said, "walk-ins" I knew that this was serious business. We walked in to a small parlor, everything around seemed to be made of wood. There were vertical wood panels running along the walls. On the walls, there were pictures with all sorts of old fashion criminals on them. "Wanted, Jesse James: Reward 2,000 dollars." "Wanted Billy the Kid: Reward $500" It was a little surprising to see all the faded yellow wanted posters on the wall, it was quite a collection. There was a tall old man standing in front of me, he must've been at least 6"5. He told me to sit in his huge black chair, which he had to lower all the way to the floor. Quietly he talked to my mom so that I could not hear him. He told her that my hair was extremely damaged, and that if I had any chance of being able to donate my hair that day, I would have to have a bob. My mom worriedly told me that my hair would be up around my ears. Knowing how short that was, I was a little disappointed, but I never faltered. I had waited two years for this, and I didn't need my hair as some poor soul with cancer. There was no way in the world that I was going to back out now, I was doing this. So yes, all through fourth grade I had a bob. My hair was nearly as short as a boy's! Nowadays it would be considered the same length as a boys. Still, I hated my hair cut, but I loved the feeling that I felt from giving up my hair to the needy.

My mom was so impressed with me, that she decided to grow out her hair. Somehow in my family, it takes a really long time to grow out our hair. From the time I was nine, to just yesterday now that I'm fifteen, my mom grew out her hair. Yes, my mom cut her hair and donated it yesterday, and let me tell you, I was really proud. Her hair isn't quite a bob, but it was the thought that counted. The old man who had cut my hair earlier was the same one to cut my mom's hair. He questioned her about me and asked her questions like, "How old is she? What school is she going to?" My mom told him that I was currently fifteen years old, and that I would be going to DHS next year. He told my mom that I was just the right age for a job position he had opening. Being a business at home, he didn't have too much business. At least, he didn't have half as much as he would liked to have. He told her that he has hair models in all the major High Schools around D county. My mom listened intently as he told her that his hair model from DHS was graduating this year, and that he needed a new one. Darin asked my mom to bring me in so he could "interview" me for a new job. It turned out that he didn't really need to interview me. There were only a few questions, "Are you involved in school? Do you get good grades? Do you have time for this job?" I answered in the affirmative to all his questions. Darin clapped his hands and said, "Okay, we're set!" So because I started brainstorming at seven years old, I have a job at fifteen years old. What comes around goes around, so be good to those around you!

My Substitute Teacher Phobia (Part Two)

       You know how I said I was, "scared of substitutes?" I had another fun experience today with a substitute. Want to take a guess at what class they were substituting in? Same as last time! I had a substitute bus driver. Not as life threatening as the last, but it was very inconvenient.

     My dad took my brother to school early. Before my brother left, he sprinted down the stairs and into my room. Looking at me curiously he asked, "Do you want a ride?" After thinking about the question for about a millisecond I said, "No, I'll take the bus. Can't you see that I'm still in my pajamas?" Mitch rolled his eyes and jogged back upstairs to hitch a ride with my dad.

     Hurriedly I shoved a pop-tart in my mouth and got changed into my favorite black shirt (my only black shirt.) When I was done getting ready for school, I practiced the piano until it was time for me to leave. Like all typical days, I turned the alarm system on, and then walked out into the brilliant sunlight. It had been the first time I'd seen the sun in a few days. Breathing in the fresh air, and absorbing the gloriously warm sun rays; I strolled to the bus stop. I stood at the bus stop waiting patiently for the bus. During that time I chit-chatted with a few girls, and then Jacob plucked up the courage to talk to me. He asked me if I was ready to dissect crayfish in science. Gritting my teeth I told him that I didn't want to be reminded. Right as I was thinking about the disturbing dissecting, the bus came to a screeching stop in front of us. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see my worst nightmare sitting in the front seat, a substitute bus driver! Reluctantly I trudged up the dirty black stairs, as if it was a natural instinct, I scanned the bus for seats. To my surprise, practically every seat was open! That was a first! Well I didn't think much about it, an almost empty bus seemed convenient at the time.

     A few minutes on our journey, Jacob looked at his watch and said, " I like this substitute! We're going to be early today!" Still it didn't phase us that something wasn't normal. Sitting in the front seat, I heard the static radio start to talk, " Turn back, you have missed a bus stop!" it was repeated again for extra emphasis, "Turn your bus around, you have missed a bus stop on Parkside." It was a nasally woman's voice, but the message was clear, or so I thought, apparently the bus driver had a hard time in English. "I did what?" he spluttered, "What's wrong? I missed a stop?"
 "Yes, I repeat, you missed a bus stop. Turn back now." repeated the radio woman for the third time. "Uh, okay." replied the bus driver. Angrily I covered my face in my hands. I live about six miles away from the school! We were just two streets away from reaching the school! So close, yet so far, the bus driver turned around at the city library.

"Well Jack, guess I won't have to worry about dissecting anymore." I said glumly. I didn't want to dissect, but I didn't want to mess up my perfect attendance record.
"They can't mark you tardy." he replied. Getting more frustrated by the minute I replied peevishly.
"Well that doesn't matter! I'll get a demerit in band, if I don't get my folder into the slot. That's an automatic ten points off my grade, the difference between an "A" and a "B." He looked a little sympathetic and then replied,
"Well then, it's not your fault if you get a B." I swallowed my words, trying to cheer up, I looked out at the sun shining mockingly bright.

     Eventually we drove past my neighborhood to Parkside, the forgotten bus stop. The teenagers at that stop thought it was hilarious that the bus was so late, everyone else was in panic mode.

     When we got to school it was about 8:14. Already four minutes late to class, I practically ran to my locker. I dumped everything in my backpack into my locker, grabbed the few things I needed for dissection, and shut my locker. When I reached class two minutes had passed. As I walked into the classroom Mrs. C looked at me like I was a more disgusting creature than the crayfish we were dissecting! Hastily I told her, "My bus was late." The look on her face told me that she didn't really believe me. Right then I decided to take Jacob's advice, it was Mrs. C's fault if she didn't believe me, I was telling the truth! My frustration was dissolved when I started dissecting, frustration was replaced with disgust, and soon after my disgust was replaced with a math quiz. It all turned out to be another typical day at school.

Once again, I will stick with my advice from my last report on substitutes. Be grateful for the people who take care of you! Be grateful for teachers, because you never know how awesome they truly are until they're gone.

A Chilling Story

     As much as I love “old people,” sometimes they have the worst memories! Even without Alzheimer’s they forget the little details, often only hearing what they want to hear. Well I heard about a really scary Alzheimer's moment a few days ago. It was a long story involving my grandma's neighbor and friend MaryAnn.

     MaryAnn went to go visit her father at the hospital, he had a serious surgery a few days earlier. Well MaryAnn being old like her father had her fair share of heath problems too. At the hospital she had to find a bathroom so she could take her daily dose of pills. On a daily basis MaryAnn takes five pills a day, all at the same time. As she took her pills, something didn’t feel right. It felt like the pills weren’t going down her throat.

     Quickly she went to a hospital store and bought a little food, which she swallowed immediately to help the pills go down. The pain in her throat sank down with the food. Now she was having chest pains, and her throat was just fine! Not knowing what was happening; she walked to her father’s room and proceeded to talk to the doctors, informing them of her strange pain. They informed her that they couldn’t help her, they advised her to go immediately to her own doctor.

     There was a violent snow storm that day, but the doctors gave MaryAnn no alternative. She had to go to another hospital on the other side of town with the occasional twinge of chest pains. When she made it to the doctor, MaryAnn had a check up, blood withdrawal and all. But no matter what tests he ran, the doctor could find nothing wrong with her. He sent her home advising her to take it easy and call him if the pain should get either worse or more persistent. A little shaken MaryAnn drove home.

     After parking in her driveway, she climbed the stairs up to her front door and entered her house. That’s when it hit, excruciating pain filled her body, and it was like she had been shot. She doubled over in pain, and hobbled to a phone. She took her doctor’s advice and called him. With an alarmed voice he told her to come back to the hospital immediately.

  MaryAnn knew her life was on the line and listened to her doctor’s guidance. There was only one test that the doctor hadn’t run the last time. He didn’t think it was necessary, but now it was an essential task. MaryAnn was x-rayed. Cautiously the doctor asked her if she had swallowed anything square that day. A little hysterical by this point MaryAnn immediately cried, “No!” The doctor replied, “It looks like an aluminum blister-pack from some medicine…” MaryAnn had a horrifying flash back of earlier in the day. She didn’t remember throwing away the rapper of her pill pack! She had swallowed not only her pills, but the whole pack! The doctor hurriedly told her that the aluminum would shred her intestines if they let it go through her system. It had already cut up her esophagus. MaryAnn listened to her doctor in shock as he told her that she would have to have surgery, or die. The doctor wasn't such a heartless guy, he gave the panicked old woman a word of comfort with an alternative. The doctor told her that there was a slim chance that they might be able to take the aluminum out with a scope. Hopeless MaryAnn agreed, although using the scope might waste the last minutes of her precious time. But what if it actually worked? It seemed like at the time that anything was better than surgery.

The doctor successfully pulled out the aluminum from Mary Anne’s stomach using the scope! MaryAnn wasn’t a lucky old lady that day, but being saved from death and surgery, she felt like she had won the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Comma Essay: My Substitute Teacher Phobia

I have never suffered from any allergies, or had the wonderful experience of hives. Until a few months ago, when I came to realize that I am allergic to substitute teachers. Admit it, none of us really like a sub, no matter how oblivious they are to the mischief all around them. Yet somehow, I know that there is a reason why we as students must endure the hardship of subs. Substitutes are meant to make us students become more grateful for our kind and caring teachers. Lately I've had a lot of them, mostly in math, science, and band.Well two weeks ago there was a substitute bus driver driving our neighborhood’s bus. She was a little ignorant of what exactly she was supposed to do. Every two seconds she would look back at me and say, "Which way do I go? Where do I turn?" I would calmly respond, "Left," or "Right."Well that isn’t what put me on edge for the rest of the day. How she entered the school parking lot nearly broke the camel's back.The short and stout little substitute driver turned sharply, and then cut left into the FFJH bus parking lot. “Well, what’s so bad about that?” She drove up onto the sidewalk! It was a rather icy morning, and so she couldn’t see the road very well. I seemed to be the only one paying attention to this serious driving violation. Unfortunately I was wide awake after having eight hours of sleep, I was staring in horror at how the crazy sub was driving.There was an innocent looking seventh grader carrying a rather big instrument on the icy pavement only ten feet from the bus, but that didn’t slow the bus driver down. The young boy had quite a start when he realized that a bus was heading straight for him. The sub driver looked very irritated that a boy was in the road; angrily she honked her horn several times. Practically falling out of my seat I half yelled, "You're on the sidewalk!!!!" The old lady didn't seem abashed at all over her mistake. "Oookay!" she replied, no remorse was heard in her strict tone.

I learned my lesson the harsh way, now it’s time for you to learn yours. Be grateful for the people around you who take care of you, teachers, parents, and especially your bus driver.I learned my lesson the harsh way, now it’s time for you to learn yours. Be grateful for the people around you who take care of you, teachers, parents, and especially your bus driver.

Lost!

     Have you ever been lost? Have you ever been all on your own in a crowd of gigantic strangers, barring your way to your parents? Well I’d bet that doesn’t sound too terribly scary for you teenagers. Most likely you would have a cell phone readily available so you could call your parents and say, “Sheesh guys, why did you abandon me? Where the heck are you?!?” Trust me getting lost is much more terrifying when you are all alone in a place of death and disease (a hospital.) What makes the situation worse is when you are a little seven year old kid with no cell phone.

     When I was seven years old my Grandma contracted uterin cancer. My cousin and I were her little nurses when she was sick. Together we would make white nurse hats with those big red crosses on them. Then we would run around doing whatever our grandma needed or wanted us to do. It was pretty fun to be grandma’s little helpers, we felt like we were on top of the world or something like that.

     Eventually my grandma got a little bit sicker and had to go to the hospital. My family went to visit her in a huge hospital.

     The hospital absolutely boggled my seven year old mind! Everything was so clean and white! I was completely fascinated with the smells and sites. It was so strange going to a hospital for the first time! My family walked through the main hall and into a shiny elevator, overloaded with people trying to see their injured loved ones. I was near the back of the elevator, and to my amazement there was a huge map of the hospital on the wall behind me! I just stared and stared wondering how big this place really was. Curiously I stared at the keys and patterns when I realized that I was the only person in the elevator! Oh no, where was my mom? The elevator began falling back down toward the main floor. Only a few people boarded the elevator. One of the people was a huge tough looking Samoan who was wearing an impressive uniform with a badge that read “security.” He looked down and spotted me, he looked around for my parents and then looked back at me. “Where are your parents?” he said in surprise.

“I’m lost!” I cowered in his humongous shadow.

“I’ll help you out!” he replied in a kind sounding voice. I didn’t know what to say! My mother had told me not to talk to strangers, and here this stranger was trying to give me help. Not too long ago my mom had told me that if I was lost, that I was supposed to stay where I was, and yet here this guy was trying to give me help. I really felt like I needed it. My seven year old mind started racing,

“What am I supposed to do?” I thought, full of stress. Apparently I looked scared and confused, because the security guard pulled out his badge and showed it to me. He talked to me concernedly 

“It’s alright, I work here! I’ll help you out, don’t worry, we’ll find your parents in no time!”

“Okay!” I said feebly, still worried about “stranger danger.” He stopped the elevator door before it shut and I followed him out into the main hall. He walked briskly, glancing over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure that I hadn’t gotten lost following him. Eventually we came to a set of double white doors that we walked through. We strode into a room with the words “security” labeled on the door. I gasped; the whole room was filled with computers and television screens showing different parts of the hospital! The security guard sat down in a wheeled chair and swiveled it around to face me.

“Okay little girl, what is the name of the relative you came to see?”

“Grandma,” I replied in a small voice.

“Can you tell me her name?” he said trying not to sound too exasperated.

“Janet," I replied timidly while wishing that I hadn’t been so curious.

Meanwhile my parents were pretty frantic. Their little girl was missing! They had pressed the elevator button, and the elevator had come with no Jojo on board. “Oh no, where is Jojo!” They cried in panic.

The security guard typed in the name “Janet,” and had found out what room and what floor my grandma was staying in.

“Good news!” He told me sighing with relief that I had been able to spell my Grandma’s name correctly. “I know where your parents are headed to!”

In a minute I found myself riding the elevator once more. I was completely alert, my eyes never left the door as I waited for it to reach the eighth floor. After what seemed like ages the doors opened. There stood my mother looking as sad as if she had just lost a child.

“Jojo!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“You’re alright! Thank goodness! What happened? Are you okay? Where did you go?” The security guard answered most of the questions as my mom hugged me. After explaining what had happened, the security guard left probably feeling pretty accomplished. My mother called my dad on her cell phone and told him the good news. In a few minutes our family was gathered around my grandma’s hospital bed relaying the story of my unexpected trip.

     Well I guess that laughter is a pretty good medicine after all! In a few weeks my grandmother was completely cured of uterin cancer!

Embarrassing But True

This is a pretty sad but true little story. In English all of Mr.T's classes are reading "Nothing but The Truth." If you aren't in Mr. T's English class then you might as well stop reading because this won't make sense to you, sorry! I have been siding with Philip all along. Even though I can't stand his personality, he apparently relates to me in his "patriotic" ways.

Kaysville Junior High is very different from Fairfield when it comes to announcements. Kaysville has announcements every morning. Every Monday morning they always did the pledge of allegiance. So when I came to Fairfield and they played "The Star Spangled Banner" I was thoroughly surprised and happy for the change.

I was so used to reciting the pledge of allegiance that for some weird reason I thought that we were supposed to sing the national anthem. So I was just standing in my student government class on the first Friday at Fairfield with my hand over my heart belting out the song. The song had just entered into the high pitched part when I realized that I was the only one singing. I covered my mouth in surprise, but then I ended up covering my face in embarrassment. I'm not trying to insult myself, but in all honesty I would be the next William Hung if I was ever to try out for American Idol! That was pretty embarrassing!

The Worst Day of My Life

Well “The worst day of my life” does not sound like a proper title for the kind of day I had on Thursday. Everything went wrong; I haven’t had a day with worse luck in my whole entire life.

The first thing that went wrong was pretty mild compared to what happened later, but it felt big at the time. My friend Audrey started daydreaming at lunch while I and Pippin were talking. Well I never knew that daydreaming could be so destructive! She opened her chocolate milk before she started daydreaming. For some reason Audrey always shakes her chocolate milk before drinking it. Get where this is going? She had an Alzheimer moment and forgot that she opened the lid. So she shook that milk, while aiming it right at me! You can imagine the devastating effect that had! Milk poured all down my torso, it seeped through my sleeves, and soaked into my pants! I was wearing my officer jacket that can’t be washed; and to top it all off that chocolate milk was freezing cold! I think the shirt I was wearing is ruined. For the rest of the school day I had to walk around sporting gigantic milk stains all over. You think that was bad? Haha, keep dreaming! Or rather don’t, you know that sometimes dreaming isn’t a good thing.

Accident number two was more painful than embarrassing, and it gave me a seriously bad headache. I was at the West Point girls’ basketball game waiting for the game to start. The boy officers somehow got a hold of a basketball. So they were passing it around when the only boy officer to be on the boys’ basketball team aimed a bad pass. That pass came crashing down on my head, ouch! All I could do was laugh at my bad luck and rub my aching cranium. It hurts to think about it!

And finally, the straw that broke the camel's back; my mom has a huge project at work that keeps her at work till very late, she has been working on this project all week. So on Thursday she wasn’t there to help with the third accident. Unfortunately my dad wasn’t either; he was on a business trip in St. George. Dad called and asked my Grandma to come pick me up from both of the girl’s basketball games after school. She agreed to pick me up both days. Grandma asked me when it would be best to come to my school and pick me up afterwards, I replied “I’m not sure, probably around 5:30 to around 6:00. Come in between that time, okay?” “Alrighty!” she assured me “I’ll be there!” Well I thought that when she said “Alrighty!” that she understood the fact that I wanted to be picked up from school.

So I went to the game with a stained shirt, and left with a headache. I got home from the game at 8:30 P.M., because everyone completely forgot about me. My parents couldn’t have picked me up, and my grandma somehow didn’t get the fact that she was supposed to come pick me up in the first place!

I got to the school at 5:30, right on time to be picked up by grandma! So I went into the school and grabbed my backpack and flute and went outside to wait in the cold as the sun set in the west. Slowly every officer, cheerleader, and basketball player was picked up by their loving and responsible guardians. I just stood their holding my heavy book-loaded backpack while thinking, “I guess I’m just going to have to wait for 6:00, I didn’t give her a very specific time!” Well by the time the clock struck 6:00 everyone was gone, except for me. And grandma didn’t show up. I started despairing a little bit. I walked around inside the school to warm myself up after standing outside for a half an hour. I didn’t have a cell phone that I could call anybody with. The school doesn’t have a free pay phone. So I roamed and waited hoping and praying that someone would have some telepathic power and think “Oh, Jojo is in trouble, I better go and rescue her!” This was the worst day of my live, so obviously that didn’t happen. I waited till seven o’clock, and then people started coming into the school! They were coming for an award ceremony for the Reflections Contest. Eventually someone I recognized came in. It was my next-door-neighbors! “Mrs. Jones!” I called after her, “Mrs. Jones!” I yelled until she heard me. She turned around and gaped at me in my stained officer jacket, “Jojo, what are you doing here?” she scrutinized my dirty clothes. “Nobody picked me up after the girls’ basketball game. Can I use your cell phone?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Sure,” she replied looking at me sympathetically. First I dialed my house, my brother who was “sick” didn’t answer. “Can I try another number?” I asked Mrs. Jones desperately, she nodded. Next I tried my mom’s cell phone number, but to no avail. I felt a cold wave of panic crash into me, trying to drown me. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones, can I try one last number?” “Of, course you can. I just can’t believe that your parents haven’t picked you up by now.” She said shaking her head. “I just hope they haven’t called the police!” I punched in the last phone number that I could think of, my mom’s work number. As it rang I remembered something she had told me earlier in the day, “Jojo, I won’t be at my cube today, you won’t be able to reach me on my work phone number. I’ll be working in the lab. Just call the lab or grandma if you need something.” My teeth clenched together and I fought tears of anger and sadness. Why, why couldn’t my grandma keep her word? How had she possibly forgotten to pick me up? Was my brother Mike so sick that he hadn’t noticed that it was 7:00 P.M., and that he hadn’t seen me since 7:00 A.M.? I hung up the phone in defeat. Telephone numbers are my fatal flaw; I can’t memorize that many phone numbers! I couldn’t remember a new telephone number to save my live. “What is grandma’s phone number?” I racked my memory searching for a hint of hope, but I just couldn’t remember. “Mrs. Jones, could I possibly get a ride home with you after the awards?” “Sure!” She repeated that word for the second time that night. It seemed like everything was going to be alright after all. My brother hadn’t called the police, and finally I was going to be able to go home. The ceremony ended, and a frantic student body officer teacher came searching through the halls for me. Along with her was a man named David that my dad works with. “Jojo, you’re here!” They exclaimed when they found me, looking totally relieved. “Mrs. Dorp, David!” I shook my head feeling so embarrassed. My dad must have called the house and found out that I wasn’t there! “Oh my gosh, he called my student government teacher? Ugh, this is so embarrassing; I wish that I was invisible!” I thought wishing that I could just sink through the floor and never return. “Yep, I found her.” Said David in his deep voice, he was talking into a cell phone. He said a few more brief words into the phone and Mrs. Dorp told me how relieved she was that I was safe and sound. David took me home and everything was alright for the rest of the night. I was just glad to be home.

A Belief in Fate

If you have ever read the "Leven Thumps" series you will probably call me Geth after reading this; because I strongly believe in fate.

When I was born my family was stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. My dad worked for the active army airplane unit. He was a very good soldier! So, The U.S. army parachute team wanted my dad to move to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. But Charlie another soldier, and my dad's best friend outside the family (who I talked about in an earlier blog called "Standing up against Bullies,") had just barely been stationed in Hawaii. My dad finished his first military assignment, so that meant that he had to reenlist. When a soldier swears into the army they sign a contract, that contract lasts for five years, and then they can either quit or re enlist. Which meant that he was able to re enlist and choose any army post that he wanted to work at (with the exception of Utah.) So, Dad re enlisted to Hawaii so we could live by Charlie.

After my dad sent in his re enlistment orders and told him that he wanted to go to Hawaii, things didn't turn out right. The army assignments manager didn't want to send dad to Hawaii. The army assignments manager did a nasty thing to our family. He switched the date of my dad's reenlistment papers so that it looked like he didn't turn the papers in on time. If you don't turn in your papers on time, they don't let you choose your next assignment. So my dad was assigned to go to Washington D.C. instead of Hawaii, all because of a very selfish and nasty man. Dad had no other choice than to accept although he wasn't very happy about it. But he did the smartest thing that any human being can do. He decided to kill the person who had wronged us. Not the kind of killing you're thinking about! But he decided to kill him with kindness so that he would feel guilt and remorse. He sent chocolate covered macadamian nuts a (delicious treat made in Hawaii) to the army assignment manager.

It worked! The assignment manager felt bad about what he had done to our family and promised that he would reassign my dad to Hawaii within the next 9 months, that promise was fulfilled. Because my dad was nice in a bad situation, he gained the respect of the assignments branch. He showed them that he could be flexible. Four years later a new special duty assignment came up and they needed someone to complete the assignment. The assignment involved joining an apache helicopter unit, in Utah! The same old assignment manager rewarded my Dad again and sent our family to Utah, knowing perfectly well that that was were my Dad's home was.

The special duty assignment that my dad was given didn't even exist until the point that he was assigned. It required specialized training, which my dad had, and the rank of sergeant first class, which my dad was at the time. It was like a one in a million chance! Nothing but fate could have put me right here in good old Utah!

Your very own Star Wars name.

This is a funny thing that my mom showed me last year.

In Star Wars they have some pretty funky names like Obi-One-Kenobi. Well ever wondered what your funky Star Wars name would sound like? Read this blog and find out.

Step 1 Take the first three letters of your last name

Step 2 Take the first two letters of your first name.

You have now made your first name in Star Wars language, now to make a last name.

Step 3 Take the first two letters of your mom's maiden name

Step 4 Take the first three letters of the city that you were born in.

You now have an awesome Star Wars name, hope you like it! If you wouldn't mind, I would like to hear what your names are!

Creating a Superhero

Have you ever thought of what type of super power you would like to have if you could choose one? I do, pretty often. There are lots of cool super powers out there. Super strength, invisibility, lasers coming out of eyes, being able to freeze things, breathing fire, seeing into the future, reading peoples minds, being able to control certain elements, mind control, flexibility/ stretching, healing wounds, and flying are the most commonly known. Personally if I could choose from any of those I would choose the same thing every time, flying. Tons of people are scared of heights; personally I would go to the extent of saying that I love heights. Lots of people don't like rides like "The Tower of Terror" or "The Rocket." I think that they are the best rides ever! Most people get a horrible sensation in the pit of their stomach when they fall rapidly downward, for some reason I don't have that sense. When I am falling from heights like that, I love the feeling of the breeze whipping through my hair, and seeing all the beautiful things across the landscape, and the unexplainable sense of freedom.

Well now you know what power I would pick, but now I must sort out the specifics… Wings or no wings, well I can eliminate at least two types of wings that I wouldn't like to have. Fairy or butterfly wings, they are much too fragile! If I decided to become a hero and try to save people I would need a nice sturdy set of wings. If you touch butterflies wings then they can’t fly anymore. And big wings like a fairy are an easy target, thus giving you an obvious weakness. If I could pick wings I would pick angel wings. Those are really cool looking and intimidating in battle. But even though that would be the coolest thing to have pure white angel wings, I would never have wings if I could avoid it. The second your wings get damaged or hurt it becomes impossible to fly, and I wouldn’t want to lose my superpower! So I would go with no wings at all. To make up for having no cool wings I think it would be cool if I was so bright when flying that people would mistake me for a shooting star.

Sorry this blog is going to be pretty long with all my different opinions of becoming a superhero. Next would be the name of the superhero. There are lots of different ways to choose names for becoming a superhero. Probably the most common names for superheroes have something to do with their superpower or symbol, and then they add “man” “girl” “lady” “woman” or “boy” to the end or beginning of the name. Examples are; Batman, Spiderman, Superman. Or they have names that describe themselves then the added title of “man” “girl” etc. Examples of that would be; Wonderwoman or Pandagirl. So if you decided you wanted to fly and look like a shooting star while doing it good names would be; The Human Star, (just kidding lol!) Starlight, Star, Soar, The Shooting Star, Lightlady, Stargirl (Wait, I think that’s the name of a book…) Well now you’ve probably got the picture.

There would be a big problem if I became a superhero. I could never ever kill/defeat any of my enemies. I just couldn’t hurt someone like that, no matter what they had done to me or my family. I would definitely find some way to take revenge on them if they killed any innocent people. So you may wonder what my solution would be. Well that seems like an easy question to me. I would take all the super villains to an uncharted island and leave them there to think over what they had for the rest of their miserable lives. But that is pretty harsh, so I would fulfill one last request for them, (as long as it was harmless to others.) I would fulfill requests like, “I want to say one last word to my mother,” (even though that isn’t very supervillain-ish) or “Please provide me with food to eat.”

If you’ve put up with reading this blog then don’t worry you’re almost done. Now we have to worry about the costume. My costume would probably be pretty ugly. I’m not that great when it comes to fashion. Unfortunately I couldn’t break the hero custom of tight wearing. But trust me tights are a lot better than Superwoman’s tiny underwear thing. The colors that I would put on my outfit would be red and gold and the colors would glow. I just think that would be sweet. Unfortunately I would need some sort of protection/stunner if I were to fight villains. I think that high heels would suffice for a dangerous weapon. And then I would have some spiky metal gauntlets around my knuckles. Well that’s it now I’ve made a superhero, now you should make one too! It’s pretty fun!

Santa Lives!

Despite all these facts that people have made to convince us that St. Nicholas isn't real, I don't believe them. Santa is real! Santa is anyone who does something kind hearted and selfless, we could all learn a lot from Santa. Some day we might even become him!

1. No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

2. There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to the Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

3. Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, and assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of his sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course we know to be false but for the purpose of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

4. The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 punds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (refer to point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal load, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

5. 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecrafts re-entereing the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy per SECOND, EACH! In short, they will burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create a deafening sonic boom in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousanths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal* forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

Harry Potter

I apologize about this blog… Usually in my blogs I try to write something entertaining dramatic and fun to read. This week my mind was totally blank, so I apologize because I am going to write about something unentertaining for a change. I’m going to write about my favorite series and try to convince you that you should read it.

Don’t let this recommendation scare you from reading the rest of this blog; but I think that the Harry Potter books are the greatest books of all time. True they may be long, but if you stop thinking about how long the book is, you might actually enjoy yourself. The first book is okay it has a rather rough start, but then Harry finds out that he’s a wizard then it becomes a fast exciting and descriptive read. He finds out how his parents died, they were murdered! But not by just any normal villain! They were killed by Lord Voldemort, a criminal so cruel that he tried to kill a little one year old baby, Harry Potter! By the end of this book Harry shows how brave he is by overcoming what normal people would fear, and then facing Voldemort himself!

The second one was one of my favorites despite the fact that there are humongous spiders and a horrifying ten foot long snake. And even though everyone hates Harry in this book and thinks that he is Slytherin’s heir, he shows you how hardworking and brave he is by solving the mystery of who’s behind all the attacks and then saving a few people in the process.

The third one is pretty scary it’s not exactly my type of book, but it is still not my least favorite book of the series. It involves a lot of mystery. What was that huge black dog that Harry saw before he got on the night bus? A grim or something worse? Who is this mysterious mass murderer Sirius Black? Why did Mr. Weasley make Harry promise not to be reckless? Why would Sirius Black a complete stranger possibly want to kill Harry?

Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? In the end all these nagging questions are answered in the most phenomenal and heart pounding way possible. The fourth book was always my favorite, until the seventh book came out of course.

The fourth book is about a competition held at Hogwarts. Harry mysteriously ends up competing in the tournament. He has tons of luck, but it wasn’t just skill that helped him survive. The competition is rigged! But not by someone that would truly want to help Harry!

The fifth one… I won’t even go there. That might have been the most boring and negative book that I’ve ever read. No offense Panda Girl! After Voldemort gained his body back the link between Harry and Voldemort is stronger than ever. Harry used to feel a little twinge of pain whenever Voldemort was close, now he can have visions from inside Voldemort’s head! But of course Voldemort isn’t a very happy villain; every angry hatred filled emotion that Voldemort feels affects Harry’s attitude and mood. He becomes moody and unreasonable; he also yells a lot and disrespects his own friends.

The sixth one is a lot better then the fifth. Voldemort realizes how dangerous the link between him and Harry is, so he backs off a little. In the sixth book Harry learns about something called a Horcrux. It is one of the most terrible things in wizarding history. So terrible that all literature about the subject was removed from Hogwarts School, that gave Hermione a rough time! A horcrux can be made with dark magic when a witch or wizard kills someone. After they kill someone they can rip part of their soul off and put it in something. Thus if someone does the killing curse on you, you can’t really die. That explains why Voldemort didn’t truly die, he made seven horcruxes! In the end of the book Harry and Dumbledore set off to find one of Voldemort’s horcruxes and destroy it.

The seventh book is the absolutely most amazing book that I have ever read in my life! If you were patient enough to read over 3,000 pages to get to Harry Potter 7, you will not be disappointed at all! No other book in the series can compare to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, in my opinion anyway. In this book Harry must find all the horcruxes so that he can fulfill his prophecy, “neither can live while the other survives.” In the end Harry or Voldemort must die. Will Harry find the horcruxes in time? Will Ron and Hermione stick with him to the end? Can Harry possibly dream of killing someone so evil and cold hearted as Lord Voldemort himself? Read it and you’ll see how good the series is, you won’t regret it!