We're off!

Playpractice tonight! Hours upon hours of work- but therein lies the joy! What kind of accomplishment is it if there's no work? This week is cheerfully referred to as Hell Week- the week before opening night, the week of dress rehearsals and sleeping onstage out of exhaustion, stressing out over everything and having no time to do homework. But opening night- with the lights and the excitement and the satisfaction of 'yes, now we have a show!'... it's worth everything. Even in the chorus, when you're only on the stage for three scenes and you get no praise for it aside from the praise of the loving directors, it's worth it. Every minute of it.

Life

I am so sick of waiting for that camera to come in. I've been waiting for what, two weeks? I told you my good buddy the oldie camera broke, right? Nope. Well, she did. She won't turn on at all. So I went to Shopko to the camera sale, and had to get a Rain Check because my camera was out of stock. And now I've missed like two weeks of pictures, and they're working again!
Abrupt change of subject.
It's a little alarming to get on Facebook and see a picture of your neighbor with blood gushing from his head, don't you agree?

Lots

PHANTOM!!!!
Random outburst, I know. But I am just so excited for our school musical! We're doing Phantom of the Opera... and I have no idea how I failed to mention it before! I am just on my toes waiting for the moment when Mrs. Day says, "Guys... we have a show!"
A thought: You know that feeling when you've done a good turn, and made someone happy? Then comes the moment when they say, "Thank you, Jenica." That's when I decide that life is good, I love people, and 'whatever dude, life goes on.'

That was quite poorly written... but hey, it got the point across, right?

There is much gold paint on my blue jeans.

The title has absolutely nothing to do with the subject of the post. I just decided you guys needed to know.
The more you think about things, the more they confuse you. Either that, or the more they make sense. In this case, both. Everything coincides with everything else. Everything has a purpose. Otherwise, why would anything exist? That goes for people, too... everybody has something in common with everybody else. Everybody has a mission to accomplish in this life. Otherwise, why would we be here?

Good Friends

What is a friend? The dictionary definitions are as such- 1: One attatched to another by affection or esteem. 2: A favored companion. 3: Showing kindly interest or goodwill. 4: Cheerful, comforting. 5: Serving a beneficial or helpful purpose. 6: Compatible, accomodating.
So I must ask myself: Do my friends fit these definitions? Are my friends attatched to me by affection or esteem? I know that my friends are my favored companions, but am I theirs? Do my friends show kindly interest or goodwill towards me? Are they cheerful, comforting, compatible, accomodating? Do they serve a benificial or a helpful purpose?
And now I ask: Who are my friends?
And now the most important question: Do I do these things for them?
And finally, a thank you: to my three frequent and faithful viewers, who I must say fit each category specified by the ever-obliging dictionary. My dear ones, you know who you are.

(No Subject)

Hmmm. Uh... Nuh. Ah- *deep breath out.
...
...
Why are people stupid?

Ha.

Right now, I am sitting here in a hard chair wondering what the heck I'm supposed to do with my weekend. I have chores, but I do NOT want to do them, and I have books, but I'm so bored by them right now that I can't even take in a paragraph, let alone read for hours the way I usually want to. I want to watch a dramatic, touching love story, but I have six younger siblings that would gather around and drive me crazy, or, as said in another post, up the wall, across the ceiling, and down the other wall. There are people I could call to talk to about nothing, or about nonexistant twins or first dates and things like that, but I'm too scared to call people, especially since I called people yesterday. Humph. I hate having school off. This is the time when I sit around and gain weight. Who agrees?

"They will get them, if we let them. Come! We cannot let them get them!"- Ten Apples Up On Top! Theo. LeSieg

Blah

I don't want to be optimistic. I don't want to find something happy to say. I don't want to do any of that. I want to go cry and punch my pillow and take a nap. I want to scream. I want to... grawr! I don't know what I want to do! This accomplishes nothing, this sitting here and not wanting to do anything. All I feel is confusion and anger and you know what's sad? I wish I was back at school listening to a lecture. At least there there was peace of some twisted sort! Who wants to be angry? This I don't get. No one in any sort of right mind would say they want to be angry. Yet here I am saying I don't want to be optimistic! This stupid little twist on things that so many humans see, always something to be angry about, always a reason to yell. Why do we do it? Don't we realize there's always something to be happy about, too? Always a reason to smile and say "Thank you,"? But we don't. We don't even thank our mothers for changing too many diapers to count and listening to our screaming and all our complaints and still loving us anyway. We don't even say thanks for that! Good gracious heavens to Betsy, how do I get from being incredibly angry to talking about mothers?

Ahhh Memories...

Sometimes I just want to sit back and remember things. What's sad is when you can't remember. Sometimes I just want to bask in the warmth of my memories and pretend I'm still there. What happens when I forget? What happens when all that's left is a glimmer of a feeling or a picture of a face? What happens when you can't even reemer the faces...?
That's why I keep a journal. Pictures and notes and all those fun things; trinkets from plays or little things that are garbage to others but help you remember; I tape those in, too. And then I get to read what I wrote back then, laugh at myself a little, maybe feel sad about things past... but I remember them! I can bask in the memory, the sights and the sounds replaed in my mind, the lessons I learned. And then I can go on, and remember to love where I am, too... because later, I'll want to read about all the happy times in the multiple books of the story of my life.

;adlgih

I know, interesting title. You see, my first thought when I looked upon the title bar was an onomatopoeia that I know not how to spell... I've been making up alot of onomatopoeias today. I think I've said the word onomatopoeia to multiple people already, and now I've said it three times to you! I don't even know if anyone reads this, but whoever sees it... onomatopoeia! It's a good word.
You know, today I was sad. And I smiled.

Complaining to Myself in an English Accent

It was such a cliched moment. I stood next to the Temple site, camera in hand, complaining in clean language and an English accent because the stupid thing wouldn't turn on. I finally said, "Fine. I'll tell all those people it's your fault that I missed five whole days of pictures because you wouldn't turn on!" And I dumped the offending contraption unceremoniously back into my bag. On the way to the steps of the Tabernacle for my study time, I realized it was sprinkling, so it was probably unwise to try to read a book under the open sky. So I determined that I would do my studying before I watched the movie I had borrowed from my friend, but would wait until I got home. I went to the corner to cross the street- and the streetlight wouldn't turn into a little blue man! Now this was one of the lights that was usually quite cooperative, so I was feeling a little put out. I thought it may have been because I was talking in an accent, but then, I always talk in accents. Last time I was a pirate. I decided all the electronics were just in bad moods because it was raining. I finally crossed the street and made my way across the Smiths parking lot; after that I had to cross yet another street, and the light for the street I wasn't crossing was a blue man  the entire time. So, in short, I was aggrivated. Then, two blocks after I finally crossed the street, the rain poured sown in earnest and I was soaked to the skin by the time I got home. Oh, and I almost got hit by a car... twice. And through this entire deluge of rainwater, each rotation of my bike tire was puctuated by the sounds of my British-accented complaining... until I saw the Seminary Building. Then, (still in an accent,) anyone who was listening would have heard, "Onward, ever onward, as we glory in His name..."