Between Battlefields

Right now I am sitting in my dorm room, trying to complete some homework so I won’t have to take it home with me for the weekend.  It will be the second time since Christmas break that I will have left campus and returned to Mind Over Manor. Number two out of the five expected times I will be home during the semester, not counting Easter weekend and Spring Break. My best friend and honorary brother was able to follow one of his dreams and join the Chapel Choir for our college this semester. This has limited his weekends off to five, and most likely mine as well as he is the main person I trust from our home area to car-pool with.

Not that I mind staying on campus during the weekends. It is easier to get my homework done without the urge to spend time with the family I don’t see during the week or play with the cat on my bed. I can workshop with classmates, have girly nerdy movie nights with my roommate, get caught up on laundry, and  listen and watch the joy on my brother’s face as he sings in the choir every Sunday. This past weekend I watched movies on Hulu, and managed to defy the darkness that had threatened to swallow me on the same date of the previous year. But sometimes it is not enough.

I desperately need this weekend off. The past weeks have been a struggle, emotionally. More and more I’ve been fighting the urge to cry as soon as I wake up. I quit going to the writing club that was my favorite part of the week up until now. I haven’t been able to make myself write. This week in particular, I had to drag myself to the student worship service. A normally enjoyable activity that I have loved since I first came to college. But it has been too much; being around people was too much. I need to curl up on a love seat with our elderly marmalade cat and a book that is not related to class in any way shape or form. I need that quiet peace that can only be found in the middle of the woods, and hear birds outside my window instead of blow dryers down the hall. I need to be a child again, to re-connect with Abba and be free from all these problems that the adult world has pushed me into. And in an hour or so I will have that break.

One hour till I am on the road with my brother. I’ve never told him this, but those car rides are my favorite part of going home. Just the sight of his black Infinity is enough to make the tension, the stress start to ease off. Some of my favorite memories are in that car on the road back to Mind Over Manor. In some ways, I think I enjoy more out of the ride home that being home (don’t get me wrong, I love my family dearly).  In the summer we race down those majestic hills with the sun pouring down on us, wind tearing through the open windows while we sing “Good to Be Alive” by Skillet. Not that we could hear each other, not with the loud music and the wind. Often we had to turn down or pause the song and roll up the windows a bit before we could talk. In the fall we would take the same road, now filled with red and gold tree tops and, on occasion, thick mist while listening to TFK (Thousand Foot Krutch) or even the soundtrack to The Walking Dead. At one point we had to slow down to a crawl because the fog was so thick we couldn’t make out other cars, let alone our exit. I think we spent ten minutes convinced we had missed it in the low clouds before the sign popped up in front of us. When we left for Christmas break this past year, the trees were dead and the sky was overcast. We drove through the tall winding hills listening to “I See Fire” by Ed Sheeran.  I leaned my head against the now closed window and let the words sooth over me while my brother sang along. I’ve heard some people say it is an ant-Christian song, but not for me. Tolkien loved Norse mythology and culture, and used a lot of it in Middle Earth. “I See Fire” reflects those Nordic beliefs, at least to me. Those people knew that the world around them was fallen and dying. They knew that they too would leave this existence, but they did not hide. They mourned and despaired the destruction of their world, but they did not run from it. They ran to meet it and died fighting. To quote Secondhand Lions, “they went out with their boots on.” 

As Christians, we know this world is fallen and that we are promised hardship and pain. But we are called to fight on anyway. I may see fire, I may feel darkness and death, but that puts me in the best position to put out the flames, light a candle and give life. How are you going to stop the fire if you can’t see it? That day in my brother’s black Infinity, I found the strength to fight on. Yes, I was tired and ready to cry in front of my best friend because the weight of everything was too much. I was so weak from the semester that I didn’t think I could stand if I had been asked to. But that cloudy car ride gave me strength to go on, it reminded me what I was fight for. “That there is some good in this world…and it’s worth fighting for” as Sam reminded me shortly after that during my family’s Annual Lord of the Rings Marathon.

  

Sometimes I stop and listen to “I See Fire” between classes. Just to remind myself that just because I see fire, I am not doomed to burn and that I can stop those flames from consuming others. It is a nudge that keeps me going at times. Whether my brother and I listen to it today on the way home, or if we decide to go with Thousand Foot Krutch, at least I am going home. Granted, home is just as much a battlefield as campus is. It has a different set of tactics that we will have to re-acquaint ourselves with and no doubt I will be eager for the ride back to campus by the time Sunday afternoon comes. But sometimes a change of pace can be good and being moved to a different battlefield can give us a break from the first. However, it is the journey between the battlefields in a black Infinity that gives me space to change my mind and spiritual weapons from college to Mind Over Manor mode. It is there that (for now at least) I can find the time to sit and simply be in Abba’s arms.

Pebbles in a Creek

                I stand with my feet in the cool golden waters of the creek, in my hand is a smooth honey colored pebble. A leaf falls from a nearby tree and lands in the water, making faint ripples. Smaller such rings appear as a water skater lands and looks for tiny bugs. I drop the pebble as hear the “plop” as the water rings spread further and further apart. With a tiny motion, I disturbed the flow of this simple creek.

         Each action we undertake has a reaction. We affect all of those around us, whether or not we are aware of it. We all drop pebbles into creeks, the lives of others. There are numerous ways to drop a pebble and the ripples that emerge are different every single time. The dropped pebble can cause a positive change in someone’s life, or they can terrible consequences.

“Hey, Retard!” A dodge ball comes flying at me, hitting my hip as if it was a missile. I can already tell that it will bruise in a few minutes. As I move to sit on the bench, three more balls fly at me. Two thump my back while the third finds its mark on my head.

            “I’m already out!” I turn back and face the three boys standing there in complete confidence, convinced that they are allowed to do this.

            “So?” The leader, a tall tan sports player with dust colored hair spreads his arms. “This isn’t for bookworms, Retard.” The boy to his left starts to throw another ball when Coach Percival tells us to change and head to our class. I walk into the locker room, shaking with the effort of keeping my feelings hidden. I can’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I stifle a sob as I pull out my t-shirt. Why did my teacher have to place me next to them? How long will I have to pray until we get a new seating arrangement?

            I sat between two of my tormentors for the rest of the school year. Everyday new insults were added as they tried to cheat off of “The Retard’s tests.” When the next year started, nothing changed. My teacher finally found me sobbing in the bathroom one day. Although I did not understand at the time what had happened, several bad ripples had emerged in my creek. I refused to make eye contact, flinched every time someone tried to hug me. Worst of all, my prayers had gone unanswered for so long that I was convinced God abhorred for me. I hid in a fantasy world of books, build a wall around myself; all because three boys dropped pebbles of doubt, hate and fear into the creek of my soul. We may tease each other, but to some it is not teasing. Every step you take, the smallest word you say can and will affect those around you. I still struggle with what happened to me. What those boys did has impacted my outlook on life, and the way I think of myself. Their pebbles were thrown in with force, but we have the choice to gently let the pebble skip cheerfully across the creek.

            “Hey, are you going to Jen’s party?” A tall boy with coffee colored hair stands in the doorway of my mother’s classroom.

            “I don’t know…” I trail off, trying to come up with some excuse.

            “I can give you a ride if you need one.”

            “I’ve got a lot of homework, Kaleb.” I glance down at the desk, refusing to meet his gaze.

            “It’s on a Saturday.” He strode over and sat on the edge of the desk. “You’d enjoy it. We’re watching a movie, playing games, the whole gang will be up there.”

            “I don’t really know Jen that well.”

            “She loves reading the same stuff you do and is an excellent cook. You’d like her.” He bends down till his eyes are level with mine. “Please Sis? You spend too much time avoiding people. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re my sister, well, in spirit.”

            “Alright,” I sigh and try to hide my small smile from him.

            “You’ll have a lot of fun, you’ll see. I love you Sis.” The nineteen year-old college student wrapped his arms around me, a mere fourteen year-old nerd, and pulled me into a bear hug. I froze, no boy, not even my cousins had hugged me in years.

            That hug, from a friend who became my honorary brother, was a pebble. Unlike the first, it radiated kindness and a form of love that I had believed to be dead. The initial ripples of fear and confusion gave way to hope, support, loyalty and adoration. I could see the light again, although I did not yet comprehend its meaning. Even now, I can still feel the effects of that one hug in my internal creek. However, it was a year later that my creek truly began to find its true course, with the help of an avalanche of pebbles that were tossed in by three complete strangers.

            “Sis!” Zach, a tall tan boy with chocolate hair and earth brown eyes turns and looks for me. “Where are you going?” He raises his voice, trying to make himself heard over the concert music and the writhing crowd.

            “I’m gonna buy some of that last band’s stuff.” I point to the tents set up not too far from the stage.

            He lifts one eyebrow. “Really? I’d think you liked that kind of stuff.”

            “I don’t, but they did a good job of working with the crowd. Plus they mocked Twilight, I’m just doing it to support them.”

            “A’right, you want me to come with you?” A look of concern crosses his face. This kid may not have known me for long, but I can tell he thinks I’m too shy to go by myself.

            “I’ll be fine,” I lie, Zach needs to spend some time with his real sister, not the girl he claims as one. I turn and let the flow of people take me to the line of teens and adults wanting to buy Manic Drive merchandise.

            “CD’S!” A girl comes out waving a basket of CD’s. “Two for twenty bucks! Get them signed inside!”

            “What the heck, why not?” I raise my hand and give her a twenty as she hands me the two albums. I stand there and look at the smooth cool covers that are now mine. One is dark blue with the three band members standing under the title Blue. The other shows a wind-swept desert and bares the phrase Reason for Motion up at the top. I look up to realize that I am next in line to meet the band.

            A boy, only ten years older than me meets my eye. His short black hair is on end from his recent performance. I step forward, a compliment about his singing on my lips when he smiles at me. I freeze, the hand holding the CD’s outstretched. Still holding my gaze he gently take Blue and opens it. “Did you enjoy the show?” He inquires as he signs his name.

            “Yeah, you guys did a really good job.” I bite my tongue. “Really? That’s all you have to say to the kid?” He looks up as he hands my CD to the guitarist, still smiling at me. I’m tempted to see if he is looking at someone behind me. As I take Blue back from the drummer, I look back at the singer. Why did he smile at me? He doesn’t know me.

            That smile, a tiny twitch of facial muscles had a huge impact on my creek. That smile held words, as did the look of kindness in his eyes. The singer (Shawn Cavallo) did not know that I did not trust people enough to make eye contact; he just reached out and looked straight into my dull and unused eyes. He did not know that only my closest friends, my “brothers” gave me looks of kindness. I had never thought to look for that in a stranger, but Shawn did. I thought about that smile for the rest of the concert and until the next day.

            The rain fell hard on the tin roof, drowning out the sound of my father’s snores from the next room. I glance at the clock as I lay my book down, the digital face reads seven a.m. Gazing around my room, I spy two CD’s I bought at the concert yesterday. Careful as to not wake my parents, I place the first CD in the player and press play. The lyrics had been placed inside the cover and I read them while the music played.

            “… thought I made a masterpiece, compared it to clones I thought I made an art that was unique (Manic Drive, “Blue”).” “That’s funny,” I was having the same problems with my stories. I sit and listen, intrigued now by the band who has the same creative problems as me. “Tried my own way, still I can never feel at home. Please don’t remind me that I can’t do this on my own; change my will to Yours... (“Blue”) “Change my will to whose? Do they mean God? No,” I rub my arms. “No, he doesn’t care about me.”

            The song switches, a slow piano number begins. “…I need you closer, so take all I am, start again, bring me in cause I need you… (“Closer”) “Do I need God? He certainly has not done a good job of taking care of me.” I shudder as a brief memory of the bullies flashes through my mind while the next verse goes on. “We turn around and we curse his name, they convince us that our God is dead and it’s His fault that we lost Him (“Closer”).” My head jerks back as if I had been slapped.  I sit there for a few minutes before putting the second CD in.

            “I know you’re hurting; your eyes, they show me the truth and my heart, it hurts for you (“Tragedy”).” I frown in thought, “does God feel pain for me? How could he understand what I had gone through?” “How can I come to you when life’s a tragedy?” I nod my head, even the song writers don’t get it. “I don’t want to think that I’ll lose you over one mistake. I hope you try to find a place for me in your heart…” “God wants a place in my heart?” I bit my lip as I try to figure out this seemingly complex puzzle. Then the song changes again, speaking of hiding from the past and leaving God behind (“Crying”). That’s what I did, “should I stop running?” Tears of confusion start to build up as the second singer sings his part of the chorus. “I’ll wait for you, if you want me to. Look at me, in the eyes, cause it’s now or never (“Crying”).” “Has he been waiting, or have I left it too late?” The second verse continues to describe the fears and doubts that I have held for what seems an eternity. The tears start to fall from my eyes as I try not to sob. “What have I done? Did I really cut myself off from what I needed? Can I ever get it back?”

            The last song begins, as I try to read the lyrics with eyes floating in salty water. “My spirit came and created light and since then I loved you (“Alive”).” The impenetrable wall I built around myself trembles. “He loved me?" “I’m alive, I’m still here. Just seek and you’ll know (“Alive”).” Once again I start to weep as the wall breaks. Somewhere inside I feel as if a final puzzle piece has been placed in my soul.

 The band Manic Drive dropped more than a pebble in my creek. Their decision to start singing resulted in me gaining my life back. They gave me the final push I needed to be in God’s arms. I found out in the course of writing this paper that the main album that save me, Reason for Motion, came out the same year that I lost my faith. The actions of three Canadian boys in their mid-twenties made me become a true believer of Christ, and they do not even know my name.

            No matter what we do, someone is watching. They are watching our actions and are being affected by them, no matter how big or small the decision. What we do does have an impact, whether we know it or not. Insults will lead others to ruin, and not just the victim. People do judge us by the way we treat others. Small movements, such as a hug can show someone the meaning of love in ways we could never understand. Perhaps the most wondrous of all, we can change the life if a complete stranger without knowing we have done so. We all drop our own pebbles in all the creeks around us. The question is, what kind of pebble do we choose to drop?

Works Cited

Manic Drive. “Blue.” Blue. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2009

Manic Drive. “Closer”. Blue. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2009

Manic Drive. “Tragedy”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006

Manic Drive. “Crying”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006

Manic Drive. “Alive”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006

Bedtime Thoughts: Brothers and Memories

It's late, my parents and sister have already gone to bed. I lay in my bed, the warm light from my lamp casts light across my room. This light, so much smaller than my bedroom light, still manages to light up the entire room. My light may not be as strong as Father's, but it still shines. Be it science or faith, light and dark cannot co-exist.

The fan blows my still damp hair in my face, I brush it back as I stare at the ceiling. The cardboard dragon model above my bed spins in the breeze created by the fan. It's blue and white scales make it as a frost dragon. It's long shadow spreads across the ceiling, looking for a place to land but doomed to fly forever. I give a snort of laughter as I recall how this past December Tristin and Ayden had told in about the monstrous frost dragons they had fought in their computer/video games. They had been so excited and eager to tell me of their conquests and of the magical creatures that hold all three of us in awe.

I pause for a minute, listening to the music coming through my mp3 player. Again I hold back my laughter, thinking of the look on Ayden's face when he introduced me to TobyMac. He had thought I didn't like it, yet today I've listened to this album three or four times. I'll probably have it memorized by tommorrow.

My eyes move from the dragon to the tall white bookshelf at the foot of my bed. Tales of the Kingdom, The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Circle. I smile, Tristin Ayden and Aric all pushed me to read that last series. I finally gave in and ordered a set after Christmas. Those books have helped me understand love in a way had never though possible. Yet another thing I have to thank my brothers for.

At the foot of the bookshelf is a small wooden treasure box. Letters from Mexico, a rosary, a candle, a photo and a blue chopstick reside inside it. All of them are from Aric, my gifts from a close friend and brother. Sometimes I pull the letters out and read them. Laughing at his adventures on the missionary trip, and fingering the wooden rosary he brought back for me. I play the chopstick, wondering is Aric still has the matching one.I look at the picture of the two of us at prom, thinking of how excited we where to dance in a castle, despite not knowing how to dance.The candle fills my nose with the sent of lemongrass, my favorite. I can remember when he went to the store he bought it at on our one evening out. Next to the chest, on the bottom shelf are two binders. One is filled with my first and only completed manuscript, the other is Aric's. The creative fantasy worlds that we helped each other create. On rainy days I flip through them, amazed by how much we have grown with our imaginations and a pen.

Next to the white bookshelf is a small brown one, under my window. There, on the bottom left shelf is a pitiful collection of CD's. Red, Manic Drive, Skillet and Newsboys. Ayden introduced me to Red, and even gave me one of the two CD's that I have by that group. I giggle, then stop, not wanting to wake my sister or Dad in the adjoining rooms. Ayden took me to my first concert, I've only been to one concert without him, actually. He was with me when we heard Manic Drive for the first time. This past year he has helped me grow in my faith by using music, or lectures where Aric used his pen.My fondest memories of my last year in the Asylum were of the weekend long concert I spent with Ayden and the rest of the youth group. Sometimes I play his favorite Red, Skillet or TobyMac songs and try to figure out why he likes them so much, and why I agree or disagree with him. Like writing, music has a flow a plus that can affect the lives of people around the world. The pen and music is what gave me my faith back.

On my west wall, next to my mirror is a picture, Tristin gave it to me on my birthday. He spent over a month drawing this detailed picture of the library we both dreamed of yet never had. I grin at the way he had complained about how long it took to draw every single tiny book on the endless shelves. I love it, at least once a week I go up to it and look at his signature in the bottom right corner. It's a friendly little wave that reminds me that he really did draw that medieval underground armed library just for me.I looked at the back of the picture once. Tristin's favorite smiley face, the head of a dismayed man (he may have been in pain, I couldn't tell) a half erased celtic knot that beat any that I could have drawn and the phrase "It's equal." Whether that is just his doodles or something meant for me, it brings a smile to me face.

These gifts, given in passing are tokens of the love that resides between siblings. I've never told Tristin how much I love it when he calls me "sis"; it makes me glow on the inside. The way I can't stop smiling when Ayden runs to give me a hug when he sees me at church. The feeling of trust when Aric tells me of his problems and how he has fixed other issues. I belong when they give me these small gestures. I strive to impress them, to live up to their expectations as much as my parents'.I want them to know I listened to what they told me and that I love them too. A few times I've had bad dreams about letting them down, though as of yet I haven't done anything too major. Aric still want to know what I am writing and always offers his help and thoughts.Tristin told me he was proud of me several times on my graduation day and kept apologizing for not being there. Ayden did the same, and continues to tell me about how much I am going to love being at college this fall.

My eyes move back to the lamp and to the new Bible laying next to it. If these boys see me as their little sister, how much more so my Savior, Jesus? I may not have any letters, music or pictures from Him, but His love for me is stronger than any shared by two mortals. In my ear, TobyMac continues to sing "this ain't no ordinary love." He's right, this is a special love, one that needs no gifts or tokens, yet Jesus still gave me one. His gift for me is in my heart. I can feel his arms around me when I close my eyes. This brother gave his life for mine, Tristin's, Ayden's and Aric's. I don't know if he'll call me '"sis", but the love of a brother is unique and I have learned to recognize it, thanks to Tristin, Ayden and Aric. I only hope and pray that the love of a little sister is enough for all four of them and that I don't abandon my eldest brother.

The song changes, taking my thoughts with it. I roll over, glancing around my room once more. Before long this won't be my room, I'll be gone to college. What will I take? What will I leave? The letters, the music, the picture? The stories we all told and listened to? Will I leave them behind and start anew, like so many of my classmates are doing? Will do the opposite and take the past into the future? I stretch, my fingers brushing the smooth, cool cover of my Bible. Is it the past, the memories that defines who I am, or is it what I do with my past? I turn off the lamp and take out my earbuds, the player goes to sleep as the last song ends. My Bible, letters, music and picture will come with me; to remind me to stay in touch with all four of my brothers and make new memories with them. A new beginning does not mean an end to the laughter of the past, and I want to have their friendship and support for the rest of my life. I flip my phone over to find a text from Ayden: G nite sis. Sleep well n God bless. Love ya. Yawning, I save the text and send him a similar one back before pulling the sheet up to my ears. Some nights, like tonight, I can feel Jesus sitting on the foot of my bed. He's watching over me with the love and wisdom of a brother as I drift into the dreams he wants to share with me. I hazily wonder what he has in store for me, Tristin, Ayden, and Aric.

Unexpected Plan

There's a joke that has an important message. How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans.
So far in my life, my plans and God's have matched. I want to be a writer, and as my brother told me recently, I seem to be pretty good at it. I want to go to one college so badly that I pray every day for an acceptance letter almost to the point of tears. Friday, part of God's plan became obvious to me and I was completely thrown by surprise.

I am doing an online Bible Study with a group of kids around my age and young adults. We come from different states and some of us live in Canada. We all met through our favorite band, Manic Drive. The band members are administrators of the study along with a young mother who made friends with the band and started our Bible Study, Prayer Group, and friend group (for us to just chat). After the first few days, I was the only one commenting and saying my thoughts and views on the daily readings our teacher, Jodi, was posting for us to learn from. Jodi contacted me, she told me that this was the first Bible Study that she had taught and that my comments were very encouraging to her and that I was catching stuff that she was missing. I expressed how much I was enjoying our Bible Study. A few hours later I was staring at her reply, unsure if I should cry or scream. " If you'd like you can do one of the chapters studies for the day :) just let me know if you'd want to."

Me teach a lesson? I just got my faith back roughly two years ago! I don't know the books of the Bible and I have no Bible verses memorized. I've never been to church camp and only one concert. How the heck could I teach about a whole chapter of Proverbs to people I've never met? I just looked at the computer screen, part of me really, really wanted to do it. I love our online lessons, tearing apart the verses for any secrets God hid within for me to find. I loved posting my findings for my teacher and friends to read and tear apart for themselves. I even liked it when they proved me wrong on certain issues, but could I really teach a lesson myself?

Unsure of what to do, I reached for my phone and texted my brother at college, Ayden the son of my pastor. "Well, I think God is asking you to do something for him that would also help you as well." He replied within minutes. "I wouldn't pass it up. What are you nervous about?"

I told him my fears and doubts, but even then I knew I would take up Jodi's offer. God wouldn't have put this before me if he didn't think I could do it. I had no cause to be nervous. Still the back of my head tittered back and forth. At least until Ayden texted me again. "I'm going to tell you what my dad told me. It's not you who's speaking or even influencing them. It's God who's doing the talking. The disciples didn't know their scripture either, but God spoke through them." That did it, I typed a reply to Jodi immediately saying I would be interested in taking one of the lessons if she would like me to. Ayden continued to talk to me, saying that I couldn't be that surprised by Jodi's offer. "I'm just saying you've got a way with words." He added, which gave me more strength. If I was actually meeting these people, chances are I would fall over from stage fright, normally I have no problems with talking in front of others, but this will be the first time I've done it over the Bible. All I have to do is type my thoughts over the chapter and post them for the rest of the class to see. As Ayden put it, it was "a good starting point."Although, I did start to panic a bit when I read that text. Starting point? Oh boy.

Jodi messaged me back and we agreed that I would take over the lesson for Proverbs chapter 20 when we reached it (we're going through the whole book, one chapter a day). My pastor had a huge grin on his face when I told him this morning at church. I still can't believe that I'm actually going to teach a lesson. My stomach has been fluttering since last night, though that may be due to the Girl Scout Cookies and peanut butter cups.

While I'm very nervous, I can't wait to reach chapter 20. Teaching a Bible Study lesson was never in my plans, but it was in God's and I'm sure he was laughing when I opened that message from Jodi. I can't help but laugh at my reaction with him. Was I really stupid enough to think that I knew what all was going to happen? This was completely unexpected, but it's still part of God's plan.

Wednesday Quotes

"They sell Jesus...in a box."
"Does he come in assortments?"
-Aric, and Tristin

This is what happens when Aric, Tristin, and I stay up too late. It took Tristin a while after he said the second quote to process what Aric had said. Then Aric got what he had said as well. I got what they both said, but was too tired and I couldn't get my tongue to work. I have a lot of quotes like this.

Catch Up

Sorry for the lack of writing, the light in the darkness was flickering for a time and needed some help to get it's strength back. Thank you Tristin and Aric for your help, Father knows I needed it for a while.

I got a great deal of work on my book done, rough draft of the 2nd one is done. It needs a lot of work before I can really do anything with it, though. I am proud that I got it written down at last. It took me long enough. :P

I spent Halloween night at home watching the new Sherlock on PBS. The night before was the town night for trick or treating. I went to Tristin's for that. We had him hanging from a gallows by a harness hidden under his shirt and Aric was a head in the "candy" container. I was the witch that killed them both. I told the kids that were old enough to be scared that the candy was in the container that had Aric's head in it (there was a hole at the bottom and in the table too, so Aric could stick his head in there while he sat in a tight position under the table). Aric would do an evil laugh and scare them. Then I would give them the candy, but for the ones that were really tiny, I just gave them the candy. Tristin would pretend to be a dummy and then say "How's it hanging?" (or something along those lines) when they walked past. A few people thought I was a statue as they went for the doorbell. We had a lot of fun, and had a lot of laughs. At the end, Tristin could not walk straight from hanging in the harness for several hours and his back was killing him. Aric's knees and neck were hurting from being cramped under the table, but we both think Tristin had it the worst. After I was out of the witch costume and Tristin and Aric had nursed their wounds, we went to my house and watched Ironman 2. We had a lot of fun and I wish Tristin would be back next year so we could do it again.

Crazy and Calm

It has been an interesting time for me. Lots of things are going on right now. The weather is getting colder, not badly, but fall is most definitely here. The Fall Festival we have having at the square is this Saturday and I am working a shift in a booth to help raise money for my high school class. Mom and I got blue spray for my hair...I intend to put it to good use for the booth. Show how badly we poor (literally) crazy little ones need to find new medications... on the other hand, I could end up putting ward mates in padded cells and straight jackets (if they don't have one already) and scaring people away from the booth....hmmm....

At the same time, I have to deal with high school on a regular basis. The teachers are doing their best, but class is dreadfully boring...I am counting down to the release time from the moment I step in there. The food is like nuclear waste with cardboard on most days. I want out, what I won't do for a way out.

Tristin went out of town for a while, so I was asked to take care of his dog while he was away. Abbey is a sweetheart, and I love her, even though I normally hate dogs. She was so happy to see me when I came by to see her today. I had left her outside all day as per Tristin's instructions, but she must know how to escape the chain...I walked up to the house, after being released from school and she comes running to the front yard to greet me. After last night's fight to get her in the house, while leaving the ball outside, I wasn't surprised to see she had the ball in her mouth again. I played with her and petted her until I had to leave, poor Abbey, I felt so bad leaving her chained up outside :(. Good thing her owners are back. :)

I still spend any free time I have talking to Aric. He texed me earlier saying he would be back in a bit because "Dinner is being obstinate" I had the image of Aric chasing a chicken around the kitchen, trying to get it into the cooking pot. I don't even know if that's what he is eating, whatever it is, it appears to still be alive.

I might be busy, but I still have time to unwind. I have one of my favorite books, oranges, a cat on my bed and a family who loves me...now I just need to print off that Bible Study worksheet...

Weekend

There is no better feeling than sleeping in on Saturday morning. Cozy bed and finding you have a book to read on the nightstand. (Yes, Tristin, I'm reading it) It gets better in the winter, when the rest of the room is cold and the bed is toasty warm. You can stay in there all you want and there is no reason to get up. The weekends are awesome.

Tristin came over last night, we met at the school and went to our favorite chocolate store. We talked about our plans for Halloween a bit and the fall festival out town does every year. Back at the house, we hung out in my room and goofed around. Tristin gave me some advice for one of my stories (which was very useful) and then we played with dragon toys and threw little egg and rabbit launcher thingys at each other. Later we ate pizza and watched "The Iron Giant" then got on my computer afterwards. It was a lot of fun and I can't wait to hang out with Aric and Tristin next weekend! :)

Wesdnesday Quotes

"I am a giant eye, waiting for your stories of niceness."
- Tristin

Brothers

Today I had a surprise visit from my honorary brother, Tristin. It had been a long time since I had seen him and I was so happy lay eyes him. He had said he would not be coming up to the high school since he has problems getting along with some of my classmatesmates. Nothing could have brightened my afternoon like seeing Tristin outside the door and grinning. That boy is like a ray of sunlight in a storm cloud. He would prefer to be called an assassin and he is one at times.

My second honorary brother, Aric, is at a college in a far off town, but he sends me messages on what he is up to and gives me stories he has written. We spend a great deal of time talking online and have been able to keep our friendship growing in strength due to the wonders of the internet. We both would prefer to see each other off the net, but Aric can't come back to our hometown every weekend so we look forward to the time we get to hang out with each other and Tristin.

The third honorary brother is Aden. We hang out at church every Sunday and goof off in our youth class. He is am amazing artist and has his own ways of expressing his faith. I went to my first Christian rock concert with him and one of my buds from "The Insane Asylum" along with the rest of our youth group.

It is strange how I grew up with no brothers only to find I now have three that I treasure as much as my real sibling. These boys are my brothers in spirit and I wouldn't trade my memories with them for all the books in the world.