the old one was a house, four walls, a floor, a roof, appliances, electricity, the usual. even furniture, but it was all very impersonal, very cold. all the pictures were down, memories gone, it was just an empty house.

the new is a home, there are pictures, there are paintings, scents of freshly baked food, there are stories that fill every room. there are people, a family, memories old and new.

I didn't want a home, I didn't want memories, stories, people, I didn't want to interupt anyone's life.....but I got it

my tiny dancer...

We met in spanish 3 H. I simply made faces at the girl who never thought she did well enough on our tests. I made faces, and she would make a face back, the facial expressions grew to words, words grew to conversations, and conversations grew into friendship, one of the best friendships I have ever and will ever know.

I went to one of her dance competitions last year, and I was blown away. I assumed she could dance and dance well, but she surpassed any expectation that I had. As she danced she showed her heart and soul, every move was a glimpse into the person that was becoming one of my best friends, into the person I always knew I wanted to be. . .

Everyday this girl makes me feel special, it sounds stupid but you know what I mean. I walk into school and she tells me I look awesome, or she makes a comment in passing about how I do something well, or how she admires me, or what a great friend I am, and with everyday I realize that I am not the one to admire, I am not the great friend, I am not the great person...she is.

I doubt I have ever told her how much I respect, admire, and adore her, but I do. I respect her for being her own person, for being a good person, for her work ethic, for always looking for the good in others. I admire her for her dedication, for her faith, for her kindness, and yes even for her family. I adore her for her spunk, her personality, and her ability to light up a room with just her smile. It goes with out saying that I would be lost this year without her.

Tomorrow my tiny dancer will audition for a school, for her future. I know well enough that she has nothing to fear, I have seen her dance, I have seen the look in her eye...nothing can stop her. She will dance with her heart, and she will captivate the audience, and win over the judges...



she doesn't need luck, she has talent, desire, strength, grace, beauty, and so much more, but just incase she feels she needs it.... GOOD LUCK, I love ya no matter what

She sat silently listening to her teachers words. She usually is one of the first to volunteer, to argue, the first to say whatever comes to her mind. But not today, not on this topic..."how would you feel?" She looked immediately down at her paper, playing with her pen, doing anything possible to avoid eye contact with the teacher, with her friends. The thoughts about how she would feel, how she did feel, racing around in her head, racing around a path they knew well.

She just wanted the conversation to end, to change, to focus on anything but that. She wanted to be able to look up again, to look her teacher in the eye, to look at her friends, instead of trying to hide her face, hide her emotion, hide what could have easily been tears. She wanted to say all of the things in her head, she wanted to to answer the question that still lingered in the air, "how would you feel?" but instead she held her tongue, she put on her mask, and when the conversation ended, she looked up again, looked up and rejoined the class.

*I just don't know what to do...*

november 15th...







...I hope you come quickly :-)

I wish I knew if he liked her
I wish I knew if everytime I caught him looking at her, it was with a shy "I-like-you-and-wish-you-would-look-at-me-too" look
I wish I knew what he was thinking
I wish I knew if he was cute-akward because he wanted her to stay and talk, or if he wanted her to leave
I wish I knew if he did want to dance with her, if he would have
I wish I knew if when he turned to face her, and looked her in the eye, it was with friendship or with love
I wish I knew if when he got shy around her it was just his normal shy, or the shy you get when you're around your crush
I wish I knew if he felt that horrible fear, of "please-don't-notice-me, but-please-don't-ignore-me"
I wish I knew if butterflies filled his stomache when he saw her
I wish I knew if he thought about her, ever, often, always
I wish I knew if he liked her


and not just because I'm nosy...

it wasn't supposed to be like this....

She drove home, and she loves to drive home hidden by the darkness of night, with her window down and the breeze cooling her face. She drove home and she wanted to cry, not wanted, but she felt as though she needed to. That's what night drives had always been for her, release, but tonight she couldn't let go. Maybe its because she didn't know what to let go of....maybe it was because tonight she had TOO many thoughts.

it wasn't supposed to be like this....

I drove by two little girls, each holding a blanket out behind them as they ran. They ran and the blankets became capes, the moved their arms like wings of a plane. One of them crashed, fell flat on her face...but she got up, and continued to fly around her lawn. Jumping into piles and piles of leaves, and never coming out with a scratch, never a bump nor a bruise...just a smile and a reving of their magic engine... to again continue their amazing flight





....because all magical planes or girls with capes are invincible...

please wait for her, like you do everyday. you know, how you pace in the hall to make it seem like you're not waiting, you're too shy to wait, but you are waiting, you do wait for her, and everyday it makes her happy. everyday she hopes you'll keep waiting. keep talking to her, because when you do she can't help but smile...... someday, hold her hand while you walk with her....




hold her hand, and never let go.

it comes down to about ten pages of paper
some pages full of numbers and scores
letters from one or two people who think they know you
a story, the story of you.

so put yourself on a piece of paper.

write the story of you, but make it a good story to read.
let your voice be heard.
keep it short, 2 pages or less or writting.
but write enough so that they find you worthy.
bear your soul.

show it to a group of strangers.
strangers paid to judge you, by these pieces of paper.
they'll read the story of you...

and they could tear you to pieces


put yourself on a piece of paper...and try to get into college.