In a Beautiful Way

I know I'm just one more person talking about seizing the new year.

Or saying goodbye and mourning 2010.

One more person in the blogosphere telling you what I think.

So I won't.

I'll let someone else do the dirty work.

I'll let you look at their creative brains and let you do the thinking.

It'll be far more thought-provoking and interesting than plodding through my emotions with me.

Here are the shining stars...

The year in quirky photographs

Well-spoken teenagers

Taking stock of the year...last year...

Know what? I like this system.

They're smart people.

And now for a brief message from our sponsor...

...that would be me...

...I thank you.

For being here.

For completing another wonderful year of being.

I wanted to finish in a beautiful way.

indeed...

A friend of mine texted me this very morning.

Quite a Christmas surprise, because, although she expresses no faith, she said, "Happy birthday, baby Jesus!"

Joking or not, I responded with a simple "Indeed."

Indeed.

Happy birthday, baby Jesus.

I Heart Audrey

I really, really like Audrey Hepburn.

Like everyone else, I know she's classy and elegant and a style icon.

And I, like everyone else, wish I could dress like her.

She had tons of pretty black dresses.

Just one pretty black dress, and I'd be set for awhile.

But even without the pretty black dress, I'd be content just being her devoted fan.

Ever since I first watched My Fair Lady many, many moons ago, I've been in fandom-mode.

Then followed Roman Holiday...

and Sabrina and Breakfast at Tiffany's.

This Christmas break, there'll be Funny Face.

Along with The Great Gatsby (which was...interesting)...

the three-disc set of Doris Day and Rock Hudson...

DVD, a family favorite, in Lt. Robin Crusoe...

Amadeus, which I had no idea existed until yesterday...and now it's broken.

Oh! And the ever-authentic Alamo, which I simply must watch with father dear.

I think I love old movies almost a little bit more than the ones we've got now.

You have a favorite?

check it

Go see {link love}.

Please? I'm proud of it.

On another note, here's what's been going on as of late.

• The "f" key on the keyboard is going out. I have to press it seven times to get it to work.

• It's December. (You already knew that, I know, but that's not the point.)

• I'm popular on Dictionary.com. Sort of.

• There's a Superman shirt at Wal-Mart I've been dying to get.

• I sent my letter to Jacqueline.

• There's a purse waiting for me out there. If you've never been purse-hunting, you're not missing anything, let me tell you. It's one of a female's most stressful shopping jobs.

• I learned how to Arrive Alive, how not to be a statistic...etc. Good things to know.

• Jennifer Grey (not to mention Derek Hough) won Dancing with the Stars. Yeah, yeah...I am, unfortunately, a follower of that ridiculous show. Does that lower my IQ?

So, yes, I am a typical teenage girl.

I think I need to accept that.

Meet Jacqueline

I'm here! Alive and well!

Slightly disappointed that I neglected my blog for a month and a half, but alive nonetheless.

Since the last time I was here, I received a letter.

Her name is Jacqueline.

She is the little girl who got my Operation Christmas Child box.

The first letter from Jacqueline I received over the summer.

She speaks only French.

Her second letter is as sweet as it gets.

She drew a picture for me using the crayons I sent her.

I'm convinced that she's the sweetest girl in Niger.

And she wrote a poem called "For Elyse".

"L'amitie"..."Friendship".

"Many people have lost their time trying to buy something that can not be bought.

But when they realize the mistake it is never too late to correct.

Friendship is one thing that we can wholeheartedly do even if there are still difficulties to be opposed.

Friendship is a mysterious feeling that can only be discovered by the heart.

The true friendship lies in the sincerity and love."

I cried.

It amazes me that a little girl so far away from me understands something like this so beautifully.

Jacqueline has made me want to be her best friend, too.

Time to write a letter in French.

gratitude

Boy, was I mad the other day. Some little thing someone said, somewhere...I honestly forget what it was...I just felt like punching them. HARD. It threw me off. I let it get to me. And I went through the rest of my day like that. Not really listening in class, taking zero notes, playing tennis horribly at practice, snapping at my teammates, ignoring my brother's Fantasy Football woes, failing to work on my homework. And yes, what that person said probably wasn't that big of a deal. In the moment, it sure seemed that way.

But as I lay in bed that night, my blood cooling, I thought of something. It hit me. HARD.

What's the problem?

I'm forgetting what I already have, not whatever it was one ignorant person thought I didn't.

So I counted my blessings.

1. I can go downstairs for a glass of water. (And so I did.)


2. I can walk downstairs for a glass of water. No wheelchair or braces or crutches. (This I did as well.)


3. I can pull out my Medieval History textbook and learn as much as I want. (Which I did. I wasn't in the best learning mood, so it didn't last long, but I did.)


4. I can whip out my cell phone and play a game on it. (I did. Apparently just owning a cell phone puts me in the top percent of the richest young people in the world. Gratitude...)


5. I have my vision. (I looked at one of my favorite fairy tale books with beautiful illustrations, and greatly enjoyed it.)


6. I have my innocence. (Which speaks for itself.)

So, as you can see, I have much to be thankful for. I just forget sometimes.

my gift {to you, by you}

Much as I would love to have a picture by my friend Melissa right here, right now, to share with you, I cannot. Alas, my computer is being ridiculous.



What I do have today is a beautiful, sunshiny afternoon. I'd like to share that with you. Alas, I cannot transport you here. So that's out, too...


Oh! I know! I can tell you about the singer at church today; let you hear her beautiful voice...shoot. Can't do that either. Alas, I have no recording of her.


Okay, let me tell you this: it's finally autumn, it's beautiful outside, and I heard someone who has been blessed with a lovely voice.


If you've ever experienced any of those things, call on their memories. It's all I have to give you for now...something you already have.

the issue

So, here's my idea.

Original oratory this year? Ya know, that speaking thing I do?

I gotta have a speech.

Persuasive; on a human issue.

So here's my idea.

Rating books.

I mean, seriously, we rate everything else.

So why not books?

Isn't a written story just a movie in your mind?

Can't a book scar a young person just as much as a horror movie can?

Yes, I'm focusing on young adults here.

Because their minds are delicate.

Prone to belief in anything that sounds cool.

Developing.

Sounds like me.

So why not protect that?

Because they say...

"They're going to hear about it sooner or later."

"Sheltered kids get nowhere."

"Parents can read along with their kids and explain why it's wrong."

"Freedom of speech is a human right."

Honestly, how many parents of young adults are going to read with their kids?

And how many of the kids whose parents aren't reading with them are going to understand it's wrong...and yet follow the example set by that book they read?

Most of them.

And that's dangerous.

Culture caters to "young adults" in public libraries, too.

Where anyone can pick up any book supposedly written for someone like them and read it without any warning.

Don't get me wrong, literature is good.

But not all of it is good for everyone.

So, how do we fix this?

Pop a PG on the cover and be done?

Maybe?

Well, that's what I'm going to figure out.

The Love Runs Deep

I can't imagine it.

Getting married, right now, as old as I am.

That's what my grandma did.

She loved my grandpa.

And he loved her.

She still loves him.

And he still loves her.

Grandma, who shoots air soft pellets at squirrels through the laundry room window.

Grandpa, who makes new friends every time he eats breakfast in town.

Grandma, who is always waiting for us in the kitchen when we come to visit, with food that's "almost ready".

Grandpa, who gets more tools for each new odd job.

They've both been standing for Jesus their whole lives.

They're full of stories, character, strength, and love.

My grandparents, whom I love and respect.

This picture was, in a sense, their engagement shot. Aren't they lovely young people?

i want us to know...

...that we're all pretty fascinating, when you think about it.

...people who want you to learn are not (fill in the blank).

...someone who's a little different is still worth our time.

...that femininity is not found in playing dumb.

...that manliness is not found in ignorance.

...that breaking rules isn't what true fun is.

...someone will be thinking about us.

...that books are not just for geeks.

..."smart" is a good thing.

...something beautiful.

Sometimes I need to remind myself of these things, too. I tend to see everyone else's issues, point them out, and harp on them in my thoughts. I was the little girl in kindergarten telling the other kids what not to do. Funny, I've befriended those same troublemakers here in high school. But enough about me...that's not what it's about, right? We've all got issues.

At least we get to have them together.

I Took Me Some Photographs

I went photo-shooting with my dear mama's camera the other day.

I was pretty impressed with myself.

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Photography can be done.

Even by someone like me.

make 'em laugh!

Everyone laughs differently.

I look people straight in the eye.

My mother leans.

Dad rarely gets truly tickled, but when he does, he concludes with, "Ah, shoot."

My brother is strange. He smiles big, a lot, but when he laughs, I do too.

My art teacher tears up, or at least rubs his eyes, every time he laughs.

My friend sounds like she's choking, or coming up for air or something.

Another friend airily giggles. It sounds fake, but it's not.

Yet another friend lets out one big blast, then covers her mouth.

An aquaintance has a different laugh every time I see him. He usually sounds like a goat, but it's hilarious for everyone around him. No one cares, and neither does he.

Yet another aquaintance can't talk until the moment is completely over, and even then she might keep on going for awhile.

How do you laugh? I know you've got your own little quirks, because I do too. So tell me.

This picture is of my grandfather John and grandma Bonnie. The Bonnie as in my mother's mother. The one with the brilliant words about doing. See "About the Name". She's obviously tickled here, and leaning over just the way her daughter does.

I love how Grandpa looks impressed with himself. He knows he made his love laugh.

your love is a song...

symphony

I'm so nothing. I have nothing to recommend me, nothing truly special in the eyes of the world. But in your eyes...in your eyes, I see truth. I see an opportunity to be who you created me to be. You show me what it means to be loved, and I try to show my thanks for it by loving you back.
I think of your love as a symphony, as music that seeps through my thoughts, my inhibitions, and finally, touches my soul. Can I feel that, please? Can I be lost in the songs you sing to me?
You show me your love through daily occurances...a spontaneous thought...a beautiful day...the history you've orchestrated...the people you place in my life...the song I'd forgotten, but heard all the same, at just the right moment. And at that right moment, you tell me what I need to hear.
Please, help me listen to what you say, because I know you speak to me in ways I love.
And I'll continue to love you back.

Filled

"Lead me with strong hands, stand up when I can't..."

~Sanctus Real

I want to be led.

I want to be emptied of everything I know now - my desires, my hopes, the things I picture for my future, my failures, over and over again, my imperfections, my obsessions, the things and people I love -

I want it all emptied, good and bad alike.

To be empty is to be clean.

To be empty is the potential; gaping, wide-open potential, to be filled.

Refilled with only the good and more: the beautiful, the humble, the simple, the joyous, the dependent.

When you're filled with good things, they create a solid surface. It's something you can lean back against, soak up, and enjoy.

Bad things fill up full of holes, so you always want more. They deceivingly make themselves appear grounded in truth, and when you try to put your weight tentatively on them, they fall through.

I want to be emptied. Cleaned out, refreshed, sanitized, and made full.

In fullness, there's freedom.

Finding My Online Self

I've been messin' around with some new templates and fonts and other pretty stuff. So, my color scheme may go from brown and gold to pink and blue to orange and white to who-knows-what. Bear with me as I discover who my blogging personality truly is! It will come to me...

We Do These Things

An average afternoon, pre-Fourth-of-July, and my mother and I were power-walking through Wal-Mart, searching for blue cups to match the color scheme of the weekend. (Not to be found, by the way. What's up with that?) In the midst of calculating the advantages and disadvantages of buying Tropicana lemonade over Great Value lemonade, and the cooing over the patriotic star-shaped ice cube trays, we stopped in the drink aisle. The one with racks of soda towering over you on one side and water bottles piled up on the other.

All I wanted was cream soda. All I wanted. However, wouldn't ya know, the only rack going empty in the entire aisle was that one. A single bottle lay at the very back, just out of reach. Nevertheless, I was undaunted. I wanted that cream soda. No other would do. I stretched and stretched, up on tip-toes. My fingers brushed the cap, and in that moment of frustration, I said...

"Come on, little buddy, come to me..."

...yeah.

It was at this time that I realized something I'd completely forgotten in my quest for cream soda: other people go to the drink aisle, too. A man stood with his cart full of cat food and an amused expression directly behind me. At that moment, I abandoned my mission quickly and gladly, not wanting to know who else, exactly, had witnessed this. I grabbed some Pepsi and beat it - back to my mom, and far, far away from the man and his cat food.

Fortuanately, I have a mother who laughs. With me, not at me.

Doesn't everyone do stuff like this? Even if you have no one to chuckle with in the moment of flushing, it sure makes a good story for those around you.

Melodious Sonnet

Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise his name – I’m fixed upon it
Name of God’s redeeming LOVE.

Hither to, thy love has blessed me
Thou hast brought me to this place
And I know thy hand will bring me
Safely home by thy good grace
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He to rescue me from danger
Bought me with his precious blood.

O, to grace, how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be. Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love! Here’s my heart, oh, take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

~John Wyeth

Something Glorious

Some things I want to experience at some point...

• Some weddings...my brother's, a wonderful friend's, and, maybe someday, my own.
• An outdoor concert...and I won't care who's playing...as long as it's a symphony.
• Receiving an acceptance letter to that great college I'll find one of these days.
• Find a love letter written by a long-ago family member.
• See this band perform "Something Glorious" again.
• Taking pictures of my children someday.
• Casually bump into someone famous.
• Read my journal in thirty years.
• Glimpse a real movie premiere.
• My 25-year class reunion.
• A tailored outfit.
• A great prom.
• See Italy.

Won't You Help?

I'll get straight to the point: I need some new blogging friends. As much as I love the few blogs I frequent-and I do mean few-I'd like to get to know some of the other corners of the blog-o-sphere. If you'd like to suggest your own blog or someone else's you enjoy, please, please, please comment. I'm lonely here at it is best to be! Truly, (insert pathetic sad face) won't you be my friend?

A Workout

You know those times when you say, "There is absolutely no way I'm doing that."? I love saying it. I don't have to do the thing then, because I'm being pathetic and whiny, and therefore no one feels like forcing me to do anything. Oh, I've used it on occasions like, say, spiders in my room, a 100 degree day when it's possible you'll be painting something...outside...So, let me share with you my latest experience with the afore-mentioned phrase.

I returned home this afternoon from the week-long camp my youth group goes to each year. Needless to say, it was a fantastic experience altogether, but the phrase...

Robert, my wonderful, amazing, cool youth pastor, whom I normally completely agree with, suggested, "Sometime this week, we'll probably be going to the ropes course on the property here."

At this point, I felt torn between wanting to slap poor Robert or running to hide.

How dare he offer something like that, I thought. I'm not physical! I have no upper body strength! I'm gonna feel like a total idiot! I'll be standing there the whole time! What's the point of climbing around thirty feet in the air on ropes and cables and whatnot?!

Somehow, I did it.

Yes, after all of my internal complaints, I just climbed up a cargo net (that gave me terrible rope burn and bruises), walked across a bridge made out of two-by-fours (forty feet up), and zip-lined down to the ground (three seconds of which were spent falling straight down). I, Elyse, just did it, and I'm so glad.

Maybe this stands out in my memory because I'm the kind of person who would love to just sit back, be comfortable, and watch extreme sports when...well...never. That's just who I'd accepted myself to be, and I planned on defending that personality trait whenever threatened.

Just doing it made me feel like I could do whatever else I wanted. Maybe it's a good idea for me to stop saying I'll never do something.

Tough

I'll tell you something: it's tough being a teenager. Especially one with morals. You want to be in but not of. How do you make the right decision? How do you deal with those who seem to think you're odd or out there because of what you believe to be true? How do you say no when it seems impossible, when there's easier options? How do you get over the fact that people around you have different priorities?

Sometimes I enjoy being the voice of reason, because I'm the one with the truth. But that's tough, too. Even when you know you're right, and that they need to hear this, you continue to doubt yourself, wondering if they even care or if any of it is sinking in.

They treat you differently, and you're torn between wanting it and wishing it away.

You want to fit, but know that you never completely can.

Leaving things your heart knows are wrong tears it apart sometimes.

I might sound hopeless, but I know it isn't. There's a point to it all...getting there is tough. *sigh* Sometimes I just wish things were simpler.

"happy birthday, dear elyse..."

I was born on the day of my baby shower. I apparently wanted to be at the party. It's also Angelina Jolie's birthday, and exactly one month before the fourth of July. However, these things don't really matter as much as the others that have happened over the years on June 4th. Here's some thoughts (well, really mostly my parents'...) on birthdays past.

• I hiccupped in the womb. It was a great event for my mother's coworkers.
• I didn't cry loudly when I was born, like my brother did. (Let me just say, the "loud" aspect hasn't changed much since then.) I whimpered, like a little lamb.
• On my first birthday, I downed an entire Twinkie when my parents' backs were turned.
• The sound of the shrieking peacocks mystified me when I went to the zoo at three years old. I guess the goats' tongues, did, too.
• I had a cake with a Barbie stuck in the middle for a ballerina party. I loved that cake.
• At one birthday, I made a movie with my friends. There were tater tots, photo booths, and guest appearances. Man, that was fun.
• There have been tons of wonderful themes my mother is fantastic at planning for. Let's see...sunflowers, carousels, princesses, ballerinas, American Girl, the Wizard of Oz, a tea party, butterflies...

I so love my memories. Happy birthday to me.

Good Senses

• Smell: My darling father's aftershave. It lingers, and yet it isn't overbearing. It seems to make the whole house smell amazing. I never get tired of it, and I tell him so constantly. He definitely smells good.
  
• Sight: My calendar, when I cross off the 26th of every month. It means that the next day, the 27th, my texting bill starts over. Yes, this makes me ridiculously happy. It shouldn't, but it does.
  
• Sound: The crunch and swoosh of my beautiful formal dress. All these poofs and layers. Occasionally I just put it on and swirl around my room. I feel like a Disney princess - completely beautiful.
  
• Taste: One of those giant orange sodas from the cookie kiosk at the mall. I love those things.
  
• Touch: The genuine squeeze of a genuine person who's genuinely glad to see me. Every time I see someone like this, I don't know whether to grin in cheesy joy just to be near them, or stand paralized in awe of their awesomeness. Do I make sense? Probably not. I'm good at that. :)

The Splendor Falls

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying.
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! How thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying;
Blow bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Isn't this beautiful? I'm getting to be a poetry person...huh. Never saw that one coming. :)

So...Today...

Man, it's been a long few weeks. Cramming for finals, EOCs, etc, etc, etc. My thoughts today...

• Aw, shoot. School's almost out. I love school!
• Being a senior is just about as cool as you get in high school.
• As a result, I love seniors.
• As a result, I want to be one.
• Graduations make me cry.
• How in the world do sponges digest food? The absence of a cell wall allows animals what?
• I won't have to take biology as a senior.
• I refuse to wear heels when I'm graduating.
• I'm way too hung up on seniority tonight.

Moving along...

• I wish I could take good pictures. Practice, yes...but you kind of have to have a camera that works...and a lot of time.
• Lemon cake is delicious.
• Pink laptops are very cute.
• My birthday is coming up soon!
• Elyse on World War II: Hitler was crazy, his wife must have been crazy, too, and it's very hard to grasp the fact that one man was responsible for the destruction of almost half a race.

Well, enjoy the evening. I'll be weeping for the by-gone seniors. And looking up sponge facts.

The House With Nobody In It

WHENEVER I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

- Joyce Kilmer

Relyn did a post about this a while back, and I read it four times in a row. It's so beautifully sad. And if you know me, you know I'm not a poetry kind of gal. This was touching.

Atticus Is the Man

I have finished To Kill A Mockingbird for the very first, but not the last, time. It was required reading, but it didn't feel like it to me. Normal required reading is considered dusty, dull, and old. But this story really struck a chord with me. I don't suppose I'm the first, since it wouldn't be required reading if it hadn't at some point. But, required or not, I loved this book. My favorite character was Atticus.

He's the man.

I sat there reading, thinking, "This guy is so smart. Man, this guy is smart. So smart." I mean, I can't imagine saying things like that off the top of my head! So poignant, yet so true.

Maybe it's just the manhood thing. Atticus is a real man. He is emotional, you can tell, but isn't afraid to hide it. He admits he's getting old. He's honest with his children. He's strong, but doesn't boast it, only using it when he needs to. He does the dirty work. He is self-controlled. He's smart. He knows he's a man.

This is coming from a teenage girl's point of view, but wouldn't it be nice if all men were like Atticus? Stepping up, taking initiative, being men, yet not over-doing it. I'm pretty sure that, if anything, men want to be like Atticus, somebody so respected for the right reasons, deep down inside.

I Love It

I am in a play. And I love it, let me tell you. I can't get enough of it. Why?

• The excitement of auditions. They really are pretty great. "Ooh, she's pretty good. Naw, they won't make it. Oh, I did terrible! No, you did just fine. He'd be good as so-and-so..." Nerve-wracking but way fun.
• The leap your heart gets when you see the cast list. Surprise for some, shock for others. "Guess who I got? Yes, I did! Who are you? Really?! I can't believe it!"
• Rehearsals. Continuous laughing, line-checking, stumbling, more laughing, bumbling, yelling, and more laughing.
• Dress rehearsals. "You should have your lines down by now! Speak up! Man, I messed that up bad. Set changes need to be quicker! Um...can you help me with my makeup? This doesn't fit. I hate this lipstick!" One of the best parts.
• Pre-show antics. It's a secret world of it's own. All kinds of games and laughs and makeup-fixing.
• The actual performance. "Oh, the audience liked that part. Whoops, skipped a line. Nice job, guys. He's ad-libbing a lot. Wish me luck. Break a leg!"
• The applause.

I'm A Geek

Have you ever seen those people who get excited about certain things that don't seem to matter in the long run? That aren't even true, but love the stuff anyway? Like Trekkies. And Twilighters. Those "Mrs. Cullen"s. Whatever, I say. I smirk at their obsessions like everyone else. But I'm also human, and I'm a geek, too, so I know people smirk at me sometimes, too. Feel free to do so as you read this. :) But what am I geek about, you may ask?

• The Lightning Thief series. If you've never heard of these books or don't know what they're about, this will fill you in. If I lived in New York City, I would have been at the premier in a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

• Jane Austen. This may not apply to me in full because I (don't hit me) haven't read the books. I know. Very bad. But I like the movies...does that count at all? My mother says I can't buy the shirt that says, "I randomly quote Jane Austen," (which I do) until I've actually read the books. I'm getting around to it...:)

• The Rebelution. I check the website every time I'm online for their latest blog post. It's so incredibly refreshing to read anything by the Harris brothers. This is a good geek-thing.

• Chuck. The TV show about that be-Conversed, bumbling, adorable spy who loves his partner agent (but won't admit it) and works at an electronics store in the Nerd Herd as his cover. I love it. My family will testify to the fact that every time it hits eight o'clock on Monday night, I can be found shrieking, "Chuck is on! Chuck is on! I love you, Chuck!" to the screen.

Yes, I can be very pathetic when these things are anywhere near me. Like I said, I'm human, too. But I gotta admit, I love life even more when Chuck is on, or when I'm reading about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, or having a bi-weekly P&P movie night with my mom, or checking in with other rebelutionaries, so I guess it's worth it. :)

The Tunes

How 'bout the songs I listen to? I've got so many I love and then wear out, but some just keep coming back for special occasions.

1. Pumpin' up tunes - Bring 'em Out by Hawk Nelson, It's All About You by PureNRG, and Jump by Van Halen (of course).
2. Sleepy-time tune - Silent Night by Celtic Woman (yes, Christmas song, but it's in the most beautiful language ever...it's the old language of Ireland, I think?).
3. Pre-band competition tune - August's Rhapsody (see playlist!) and Bari Improv by Mark Mancina.
4. "Why am I here?" moment tunes - Lost Get Found by Britt Nicole and Tears of the Saints by Leeland (the first song that made me cry in a concert).
5. When I just want to be a teenager tune - Because You Live by...(yes, I like him)...Jesse McCartney. (Smite me.) Oh, and Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis, Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade, and Apologize by OneRepublic. Wow, didn't realize just how much of a teenage girl I am.
6. Good ol' tunes - Monday, Monday by the Mamas and the Papas, Day O by Harry Belafonte, and The Way You Look Tonight by Steve Tyrell.

Can you relate to any of them? Any suggestions for other categories?

Ick

Do you know that feeling? The little pinch inside that says, "That's stupid. You're stupid. Why did you do that, stupid person?" Well, I do. I really don't like it that much. Here's an example...
I was walking down a hallway, and truly, I'll admit, I was pathetically trying to look cool, like I had somewhere I needed to be, like I had it all together. Right. Interesting how our conscience works. I'm convinced that it was bored and felt like picking on me. It whispered a little snickering message to my arm, and then to my hand. "Fling the water bottle across the hall!" it said. I hope it had fun. I did, and it worked. To make it worse, the cap on the bottle broke, and the little water that was left went everywhere. "Stupid, stupid Elyse!" it said.
Well, no, I did not succeed in appearing the least bit cool. In fact, I'm sure I looked pretty klutzy. That little pinch had a good time. I didn't.

Feminism...Sort Of

Feminism is great. Wonderful. Fantastic. Without it, women would still be mostly looked down upon. No voting. No equal pay. No higher positions or promotions.

Perhaps (most likely) you've seen or read Mary Poppins. You know the mother of the children in the story? She's a suffragette. Like, a completely obsessed suffragette. Never home, never caring for or disciplining her children. She's so caught up in the cause that her first duty is forgotten. Now then, here comes my true appreciation for feminism, because so many women risked so much for their rights. For that I'm very, very grateful. But perhaps we forget what a woman's first priority is - being the helper of the genders.

Our culture has told us, ever since womens' rights, that being the helper is bad, very bad. I'm not saying that that's the calling of every woman, but it's what we were made for. And that's not a bad thing. We've bought into that lie and have settled for less, when women should be taking pride in being feminine and the role they therefore play.

I'd like to maybe share that with a few people, through an original oratory speech next year - why it's important to remember to be feminine while being feminist. The speech is supposed to be persuasive. What do you think? Would male judges appreciate the topic as well? Would a woman who is very pro-womens' rights even listen? Would you personally agree with this topic if presented well? Give me some feedback! I'd love to know your thoughts.

Thoughts

So, what am I thinking about today? This...

• How much I want a Christa Taylor dress.
• This analogy.
• Affirmative Action. I must write a four-minute speech about it before Friday.
• How discrimination is so cruelly unfair.
• How wonderful it would be if everyone knew Jesus.
• How nice it would be to get a blog makeover done by this person.
• Why I can't write poetry.
• How incredible Jane Austen's world of communication was.
• What it would be like to live in Hungary, where our church's missionaries are headed.
• Why I'm so terrible at photography.
• Why I didn't take art this year.
• How pointless I believe high school dances can be.
• Why it's so terrible to have to eat a meal with a plastic spoon, as some people seem to think it is.
• How lovely it would be to have someone come and do my laundry for me...and fold everything...and clean my room...
• How totally cool I'd be if I could sword fight.
• How blessed I am to have been born into this, my family.
• How neat it is to have five followers, compared to last week's two. :)
• Why songs get stuck in our heads and refuse to move out.
• How much pure fun it is to be in a play.

This picture was taken by my friend Melissa. Hence my thought today about being a terrible photographer, which I am. Melissa, however, is obviously not.

The Big Red Button

http://www.toysforyourblog.com/games/bigred/


Follow this link...if you have some time and don't mind being taunted by a button. Maybe you've seen this before, but it's a lot of fun. Give it a shot! I spent fifteen minutes of my life with this thing. Was it worth it? No...but it made me smile.

Messy Yet Beautiful

It's been a long time, blog. Nice to be back. I took a break at the beginning of the year. Some prioritizing was necessary. So, for today, I have a post I drafted forever ago. Here goes...

When I'm old and gray, and I have a house of my own, I want to be the one with the fun house. Haven't you read a book about the mysterious old lady with the weird house? Somehow, it can then become a sanctuary for a lucky young person.
Yes, my house will have many rooms, each with it's own special personality. I want one room filled with bookshelves, and, having read each and every one of them, I'll invite others to do the same. We can sit and sip tea and talk about the hidden meanings in every story. Then I'll have a clean room, with pale teal walls and hand-made rugs with a million colors. It'll have a window that opens out into a beautiful garden and a wrought-iron bed with fresh white sheets. Oh, and then I'll have a memory room, filled from ceiling to floor just with things from the past. You know how much I'd love to be in a room like that? To be in the past, just for a moment? Ah, well. Next will be a writing room I keep all of my stories, and that's where they'll live.

Yes, when I'm old, I don't plan on being lonely. Loneliness is a choice. That's why I dream of having a house that's alive with stories and history, so that others who appreciate those things can enjoy them.