I know I'm far from perfect,
But what I say it true,
That my whole life I've been striving,
To follow the example left by you.
You gave me peace and comfort,
When my soul could find no rest,
You were my joy when all was gone,
And for that I am so blessed.
Please stay with me forever,
Please take away my pride,
I know that when I need your help,
You will always lead and guide.
The blood you bled for my sins,
I will forever be in debt,
So I will do everything I can,
To keep the promises that I've kept.
I know I'll make mistakes,
I am human after all, but
Through your sacrifice I know,
That you will catch me when I fall.
Lord, let me love like you do,
Give me strength when I am weak,
Hold me in your embrace forever,
My soul is yours to keep.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Darkness
My soul has lost its way,
Think fog and darkness all around,
Darkness, even at the break of day,
Suffering cause of what I haven't found.
When my eyes are closed the world is black,
And I thought it would be hard,
To Turn around and walk all the way back,
And lay down some brand new cards.
I never realized how easy it would be,
To simply open up my eyes,
The light could fill me up and strengthen me,
And to my sins bid final goodbyes.
If only we could realize,
That however far we run,
He will always be there when we turn around,
God's only begotten son.
Think fog and darkness all around,
Darkness, even at the break of day,
Suffering cause of what I haven't found.
When my eyes are closed the world is black,
And I thought it would be hard,
To Turn around and walk all the way back,
And lay down some brand new cards.
I never realized how easy it would be,
To simply open up my eyes,
The light could fill me up and strengthen me,
And to my sins bid final goodbyes.
If only we could realize,
That however far we run,
He will always be there when we turn around,
God's only begotten son.
Lord of Trance
His arms are flailing about,
In an organized way,
He unleashes his dance moves,
In the bright light of day.
Illuminating the dim,
The crowd gathers around,
Exciting each body,
Moving to pure sound.
Each person takes off,
To each his own,
A brilliant tapestry,
Of dancing is sewn.
The music stops,
They again become sane,
Each goes their separate ways,
Returning to the mundane.
In an organized way,
He unleashes his dance moves,
In the bright light of day.
Illuminating the dim,
The crowd gathers around,
Exciting each body,
Moving to pure sound.
Each person takes off,
To each his own,
A brilliant tapestry,
Of dancing is sewn.
The music stops,
They again become sane,
Each goes their separate ways,
Returning to the mundane.
Haiku and Cinquain Poems
Snow
Resting on my car
Unwelcome, soggy snowflakes
Screw Mother Nature
Sin City
Desert city lights
We will show you a good time
Vegas is the shiz
Stairs
Tall, tiring
Climb, step, elevate
A journey in itself
Stairs
Resting on my car
Unwelcome, soggy snowflakes
Screw Mother Nature
Sin City
Desert city lights
We will show you a good time
Vegas is the shiz
Stairs
Tall, tiring
Climb, step, elevate
A journey in itself
Stairs
Simple Pleasures
Sinking into a warm bubble bath,
Realizing I have leftovers from my favorite restaurant,
Watching your friend laugh after telling a joke.
These I have loved.
The first bite of a rice crispy treat,
Early mornings and cuddling with my puppy,
The satisfying burn of working muscles,
These I have loved.
Cutting the shopping tags off brand new clothes,
Reading letters from missionaries,
Dancing in the club with music pumping,
These I have loved.
Finding a five dollar bill on the ground,
Listening to Techno music,
Running warm water over my hands,
These I have loved.
Being with the ones I care for,
Watching sunrises and sunsets,
Daydreams of my future,
These I have loved.
Realizing I have leftovers from my favorite restaurant,
Watching your friend laugh after telling a joke.
These I have loved.
The first bite of a rice crispy treat,
Early mornings and cuddling with my puppy,
The satisfying burn of working muscles,
These I have loved.
Cutting the shopping tags off brand new clothes,
Reading letters from missionaries,
Dancing in the club with music pumping,
These I have loved.
Finding a five dollar bill on the ground,
Listening to Techno music,
Running warm water over my hands,
These I have loved.
Being with the ones I care for,
Watching sunrises and sunsets,
Daydreams of my future,
These I have loved.
Fictional Story - GREENER
They were evacuating the hospital. I escorted the maternity ward out onto the dusty street. Fearful that any one of them could go into labor at any moment, I hurried them along to the building they would be staying in.
Sandals slapped against the dull brick road, white hospital dresses fluttered in the breeze, and big, round tummies slowly bounced with each footstep. I imagine how strange this might look to someone watching. Ten impregnated women taking an afternoon walk. This wasn’t a leisurely walk, however. In a war torn country, we often had to flee from our homes to hide in the sparse bomb shelters around the neighborhood. I was sure the same thing was on every mother-to-be’s mind – ‘How will I raise a child in this environment?’
Not far from the hospital, Frances and Eduardo are sending their dear son a letter. His name is Pablo, and he is in America, going to college. Frances signs a check for his last semester of tuition. It is all they have left in their bank account. Eduardo kisses his wife’s shoulder. They love their son very much, willing to sacrifice everything, even down to their last nickel, for Pablo to get a quality, American education.
The setting sun glitters on the dirty, cheap buildings. Having no idea what they will have to eat the following morning, they pull out their chairs and turn to the post office to send off the precious letter and check. When they get in line, there are about nine people waiting in line. However, one group of aristocratic men stick out like a sore thumb among the people dressed in dull, dirty clothes. One even holds some brandy in a glass while he waits in like, carrying a magazine and a large stack of official-looking envelopes and what appears to be bodyguards on his right and left.
“What is a man like that doing in the post office?” Eduardo murmurs to his wife.
The man overhears him say this and turns to Eduardo and says, “I am Jacobo Esteves, son of the dictator of this country. I am fleeing from this country, because I do not agree with my father’s beliefs. He will kill me unless I leave. But before I leave, I must send some of my father’s secret plans to the United States.”
Lisle peeks out of her ‘rock house’ that she plays in when her family visits their beach house. She looks up into the sky and watches the plane that Jacobo Esteves is traveling on. She wonders who the people are on the plane, and where they are going. She jumps out of her playhouse and spreads her arms as wide as they can. Imitating the sounds of an airplane, her feet soar across the grass, then sand, finally hitting the salty sea waves. She wishes she could fly away just like that plane – to freedom. Away from two parents addicted to money and their jobs. She knows on the outside, her family looks successful, even perfect. But everything is not as what it seems. Her hand glides over her bruised, scratched arm that her daddy left her when he got too drunk and angry. If I was on my plane, Lisle thinks, I would fly across the ocean to a pretty little village and make friends with the children that lived there.
“Lisle!” her mother’s voice sounds over the waves, “Come inside!”
Her daydreaming would have to wait until tomorrow.
Sandals slapped against the dull brick road, white hospital dresses fluttered in the breeze, and big, round tummies slowly bounced with each footstep. I imagine how strange this might look to someone watching. Ten impregnated women taking an afternoon walk. This wasn’t a leisurely walk, however. In a war torn country, we often had to flee from our homes to hide in the sparse bomb shelters around the neighborhood. I was sure the same thing was on every mother-to-be’s mind – ‘How will I raise a child in this environment?’
Not far from the hospital, Frances and Eduardo are sending their dear son a letter. His name is Pablo, and he is in America, going to college. Frances signs a check for his last semester of tuition. It is all they have left in their bank account. Eduardo kisses his wife’s shoulder. They love their son very much, willing to sacrifice everything, even down to their last nickel, for Pablo to get a quality, American education.
The setting sun glitters on the dirty, cheap buildings. Having no idea what they will have to eat the following morning, they pull out their chairs and turn to the post office to send off the precious letter and check. When they get in line, there are about nine people waiting in line. However, one group of aristocratic men stick out like a sore thumb among the people dressed in dull, dirty clothes. One even holds some brandy in a glass while he waits in like, carrying a magazine and a large stack of official-looking envelopes and what appears to be bodyguards on his right and left.
“What is a man like that doing in the post office?” Eduardo murmurs to his wife.
The man overhears him say this and turns to Eduardo and says, “I am Jacobo Esteves, son of the dictator of this country. I am fleeing from this country, because I do not agree with my father’s beliefs. He will kill me unless I leave. But before I leave, I must send some of my father’s secret plans to the United States.”
Lisle peeks out of her ‘rock house’ that she plays in when her family visits their beach house. She looks up into the sky and watches the plane that Jacobo Esteves is traveling on. She wonders who the people are on the plane, and where they are going. She jumps out of her playhouse and spreads her arms as wide as they can. Imitating the sounds of an airplane, her feet soar across the grass, then sand, finally hitting the salty sea waves. She wishes she could fly away just like that plane – to freedom. Away from two parents addicted to money and their jobs. She knows on the outside, her family looks successful, even perfect. But everything is not as what it seems. Her hand glides over her bruised, scratched arm that her daddy left her when he got too drunk and angry. If I was on my plane, Lisle thinks, I would fly across the ocean to a pretty little village and make friends with the children that lived there.
“Lisle!” her mother’s voice sounds over the waves, “Come inside!”
Her daydreaming would have to wait until tomorrow.
2010 Men's Convention
10:00am
Room #10……………………………………………………………………………..Basic Communication
Room #12……………………………………………………...When To Give Chocolate and Flowers
Room #13...…………………………………………………………….………...Life Isnt Just About Xbox
11:00am
Room #14……………………………..…Experimenting with Your Hairstyle is Not Attractive
Room #16…………………………………………….........Conservative Facial Hair, You Can Do It!
Room #10……………………………………………….………………….………..Diamonds and Jewelry
~12:00~
~Lunch~
1:00pm
Room #19……………………………..…………………………………………How To Make Her Happy
Room #18……………………………….…Your Car Can’t Fix You Dinner, Your Girlfriend Can
Room #12……………………………………………………….……..Understanding ‘Girl’s Night Out’
2:00pm
Room #14……………………………………………………………………………………….Patience Is Key
Room #12…………………………………………………………..………..Evaluating the Relationship
Room #16………………………………………………………………………....………..How To Say Sorry
Room #10……………………………………………………………………………..Basic Communication
Room #12……………………………………………………...When To Give Chocolate and Flowers
Room #13...…………………………………………………………….………...Life Isnt Just About Xbox
11:00am
Room #14……………………………..…Experimenting with Your Hairstyle is Not Attractive
Room #16…………………………………………….........Conservative Facial Hair, You Can Do It!
Room #10……………………………………………….………………….………..Diamonds and Jewelry
~12:00~
~Lunch~
1:00pm
Room #19……………………………..…………………………………………How To Make Her Happy
Room #18……………………………….…Your Car Can’t Fix You Dinner, Your Girlfriend Can
Room #12……………………………………………………….……..Understanding ‘Girl’s Night Out’
2:00pm
Room #14……………………………………………………………………………………….Patience Is Key
Room #12…………………………………………………………..………..Evaluating the Relationship
Room #16………………………………………………………………………....………..How To Say Sorry
Falling Short
Your handsome face,
A nice brown tan,
Thick, rippling, confident
Muscle man.
You stare at me,
From across the pool,
I laugh because
I see you drool.
Your man candy,
It’s plain to see,
Your abs and pecs flex,
As your eyes dote on me.
You stand up
To get a drink,
And as you stand,
My heart does sink.
You were perfect,
Until I could see,
You only reached
About four foot three.
Disappointed and sad,
I let out a sigh.
Things just cannot work out,
Between you and I.
If we ever
Were to date, I think
You would find yourself
An unworthy mate.
What would happen
On a Friday night,
While on the dance floor,
You holding me tight.
If I did wish to
Rest my head on your shoulder,
I would need to bend
Completely over,
And what happens when,
You want to kiss me goodbye?
And you stand on your tiptoes,
But you just can’t reach high?
Our relationship would crumble,
Like a castle or fort,
Because you fall,
Just a little too short.
I’m sure your amazing,
I’m sure your nice,
I’m sure your lovin’
Has lots of spice.
But dear muscle man,
It’s plain to see
That you and I
Can never be.
A nice brown tan,
Thick, rippling, confident
Muscle man.
You stare at me,
From across the pool,
I laugh because
I see you drool.
Your man candy,
It’s plain to see,
Your abs and pecs flex,
As your eyes dote on me.
You stand up
To get a drink,
And as you stand,
My heart does sink.
You were perfect,
Until I could see,
You only reached
About four foot three.
Disappointed and sad,
I let out a sigh.
Things just cannot work out,
Between you and I.
If we ever
Were to date, I think
You would find yourself
An unworthy mate.
What would happen
On a Friday night,
While on the dance floor,
You holding me tight.
If I did wish to
Rest my head on your shoulder,
I would need to bend
Completely over,
And what happens when,
You want to kiss me goodbye?
And you stand on your tiptoes,
But you just can’t reach high?
Our relationship would crumble,
Like a castle or fort,
Because you fall,
Just a little too short.
I’m sure your amazing,
I’m sure your nice,
I’m sure your lovin’
Has lots of spice.
But dear muscle man,
It’s plain to see
That you and I
Can never be.
A Pen
Writes a word,
Writes a thought,
Expresses love,
Expresses hate,
It can sew you together,
Or rip you apart,
These words don’t erase,
They stay on your heart.
Writes a thought,
Expresses love,
Expresses hate,
It can sew you together,
Or rip you apart,
These words don’t erase,
They stay on your heart.
A Letter
Send it far,
With faith it will arrive,
Hold it close,
Cherish the words written,
Send and receive,
Receive and send,
A prolonged conversation,
Mail your thoughts and feelings,
Seal it with a kiss,
To someone you love,
And someone you miss.
With faith it will arrive,
Hold it close,
Cherish the words written,
Send and receive,
Receive and send,
A prolonged conversation,
Mail your thoughts and feelings,
Seal it with a kiss,
To someone you love,
And someone you miss.
Superstar - Personal Fiction
The room was dark, and only a solitary stream of white, island light shone through the curtains. My head pounds with relentlessness, and each pulse of pain brings back another memory of the previous crazy night. It had been my opening concert in Jamaica. Yes. I Emily Knorr, am a superstar.
I never thought I would ever become what I am when I was only five years old, going to voice and guitar lessons (complaining the whole time) and doing small performances in my hometown. My parents had cruelly ignored my pleas to quit my exhausting schedule of practices and concerts, but now I realize that they had a bigger picture in mind. Of course, all I wanted to do when I was a kid was be like everyone else. But here I am, in an expansive, fancy hotel room. I sit up and stretch out my skinny arms, moaning as my muscles protest. I roll over and shake my boyfriend, James, awake. Kissing him on the forehead.
“Mmmm…” he groans. We both had a little too much Tequila last night.
“Good morning babe. How did you sleep?”
“I was out the second my head hit the pillow.” He throws the covers off and walks to the window, his tan and muscular body a little clumsy from the hangover, finally pulling the curtains open to reveal the absolutely gorgeous scene that fills the window. The sun illuminates the whole room. My eyes scrunch as they adjust, my headache pounding, but all I can concentrate on is the pure beauty of the outdoors.
James is back on the bed, cupping my face in his hands. “Honey, you did so well last night. I’m so happy I could share this adventure with you.” His beautiful eyes stare into my soul. I just can’t get enough of just looking at him. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
James and I were always meant to be. I met him when I was only seventeen, working as a waitress at Winger’s. He had been with his closest sister, Michelle, and we had exchanged numbers. At seventeen, I already had a record deal, and working on an album. But I kept the job to keep my life as normal as possible. My parents had insisted I keep my schedule clear for concerts and recording sessions, but I really wanted the experience of keeping a job. Mine and James’ relationship had lasted four years so far. He was planning on going on an LDS mission when we met, but he decided to stay in Utah and help me with my career instead.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never skyrocketed into fame. I would probably just be living an ordinary, peaceful life. I wonder if I ever would have met James. I would probably going to school, and maybe be married to someone in the temple.
But I like my life as a superstar. Ignorance is bliss, afterall.
I never thought I would ever become what I am when I was only five years old, going to voice and guitar lessons (complaining the whole time) and doing small performances in my hometown. My parents had cruelly ignored my pleas to quit my exhausting schedule of practices and concerts, but now I realize that they had a bigger picture in mind. Of course, all I wanted to do when I was a kid was be like everyone else. But here I am, in an expansive, fancy hotel room. I sit up and stretch out my skinny arms, moaning as my muscles protest. I roll over and shake my boyfriend, James, awake. Kissing him on the forehead.
“Mmmm…” he groans. We both had a little too much Tequila last night.
“Good morning babe. How did you sleep?”
“I was out the second my head hit the pillow.” He throws the covers off and walks to the window, his tan and muscular body a little clumsy from the hangover, finally pulling the curtains open to reveal the absolutely gorgeous scene that fills the window. The sun illuminates the whole room. My eyes scrunch as they adjust, my headache pounding, but all I can concentrate on is the pure beauty of the outdoors.
James is back on the bed, cupping my face in his hands. “Honey, you did so well last night. I’m so happy I could share this adventure with you.” His beautiful eyes stare into my soul. I just can’t get enough of just looking at him. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
James and I were always meant to be. I met him when I was only seventeen, working as a waitress at Winger’s. He had been with his closest sister, Michelle, and we had exchanged numbers. At seventeen, I already had a record deal, and working on an album. But I kept the job to keep my life as normal as possible. My parents had insisted I keep my schedule clear for concerts and recording sessions, but I really wanted the experience of keeping a job. Mine and James’ relationship had lasted four years so far. He was planning on going on an LDS mission when we met, but he decided to stay in Utah and help me with my career instead.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never skyrocketed into fame. I would probably just be living an ordinary, peaceful life. I wonder if I ever would have met James. I would probably going to school, and maybe be married to someone in the temple.
But I like my life as a superstar. Ignorance is bliss, afterall.
Top Ten Signs You May Be Addicted To FACEBOOK
10. The first thing you do when you get home from school is bolt to the computer.
9. You have captioned and commented on every single picture you have uploaded.
8. You are a level 70 on Mafia Wars and send all of your friends daily ‘Energy Packs’.
7. Your statuses are updated hourly and consist of everything from “I am eating a turkey sandwich for lunch” to “I am bored.”
6. Your friends have tagged you in over 1,000 different pictures.
5. You accept friend requests from people you don’t know, including a member of the Tongan Cripps.
4. Over half of your friends are either relatives, or live in your ward.
3. People are aware that they are more likely to get a hold of you over Facebook than your cell phone.
2. You are ‘friends’ with your best friend on Facebook, as well as their grandparents and other extended family.
1. Through Facebook quizzes you have discovered; which Greek God you are, what your biggest fear is, and what your Harry Potter patronus is.
9. You have captioned and commented on every single picture you have uploaded.
8. You are a level 70 on Mafia Wars and send all of your friends daily ‘Energy Packs’.
7. Your statuses are updated hourly and consist of everything from “I am eating a turkey sandwich for lunch” to “I am bored.”
6. Your friends have tagged you in over 1,000 different pictures.
5. You accept friend requests from people you don’t know, including a member of the Tongan Cripps.
4. Over half of your friends are either relatives, or live in your ward.
3. People are aware that they are more likely to get a hold of you over Facebook than your cell phone.
2. You are ‘friends’ with your best friend on Facebook, as well as their grandparents and other extended family.
1. Through Facebook quizzes you have discovered; which Greek God you are, what your biggest fear is, and what your Harry Potter patronus is.
Graffiti
Trapped in a jail,
Of bodies and faces,
Lost in a maze,
Of familiar places.
Shadowy specter,
Over a pond smooth as glass,
Interfere the calm water,
Peace never lasts.
Disregard being liberal,
Forget being yourself,
The only way you can make it,
Is to be like everyone else.
Life is so short,
A journey to embark,
A cement wall with graffiti,
Just be sure to make your mark.
Of bodies and faces,
Lost in a maze,
Of familiar places.
Shadowy specter,
Over a pond smooth as glass,
Interfere the calm water,
Peace never lasts.
Disregard being liberal,
Forget being yourself,
The only way you can make it,
Is to be like everyone else.
Life is so short,
A journey to embark,
A cement wall with graffiti,
Just be sure to make your mark.
The Ultimate Blasphemy
This is a poem I wrote about the "Happy Valley" state of mind.
Mindless Pride,
They stand on their Castle tower,
And hang from their Steeples,
Yelling a Prayer to their Lord,
For all to see and hear,
But they do not feel.
Backstabbing the God they worship,
Taking no Pity,
Having no Mercy,
Knowing they do wrong yet,
Feeling no Guilt or Regret.
The ultimate Blasphemy.
Their Hearts are hardened,
Calloused to the Ecstasy of True Religion,
Immune to the Tender Freedom that it offers,
An open Guide to the Cure,
For all the Diseases of Life,
And all you must do is Turn the Pages.
Yes, find comfort while you still can,
Worship Popularly,
While you can harness your Sultry satisfaction,
From the Handicap that is your own Arrogance,
He loves all, BUT,
His Hands don’t insure those that deny him,
His Blood won’t advocate a Hypocrite.
Mindless Pride,
They stand on their Castle tower,
And hang from their Steeples,
Yelling a Prayer to their Lord,
For all to see and hear,
But they do not feel.
Backstabbing the God they worship,
Taking no Pity,
Having no Mercy,
Knowing they do wrong yet,
Feeling no Guilt or Regret.
The ultimate Blasphemy.
Their Hearts are hardened,
Calloused to the Ecstasy of True Religion,
Immune to the Tender Freedom that it offers,
An open Guide to the Cure,
For all the Diseases of Life,
And all you must do is Turn the Pages.
Yes, find comfort while you still can,
Worship Popularly,
While you can harness your Sultry satisfaction,
From the Handicap that is your own Arrogance,
He loves all, BUT,
His Hands don’t insure those that deny him,
His Blood won’t advocate a Hypocrite.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
What Goes Around
Today before lunch started my friend Whitney and I drove to Wendy's and picked up a lunch for Stanford. We dropped it off at the Main Office at school and the secretary called him down to get it. When I saw him next he was super happy and smiley. Doing things for other people makes me so happy! I think that is the key to happiness is simply forgetting about yourself and going out of your way to serve others.
If you do good things for people the favor will eventually be returned to you, wether its through that person, through something completely different or just feeling good about it. Thats called Karma.
If you do good things for people the favor will eventually be returned to you, wether its through that person, through something completely different or just feeling good about it. Thats called Karma.
Plans
School is ending, so it is time to make plans for summer and fall! So far what I have planned - I am hopefully getting a morning job at Zumiez in the mall, where I can work until the afternoon and then start working at Wingers around four. So basically I will be working my butt off, in order to save up a sufficient amount of money to pay for living expenses while I am away from home. In late July, Whitney and I are moving to St. George to go to school. This will be scary living away from home, but at the same time it is a life-experience that I need to have. Eventually we all need to grow up, and I think this will be a good thing.
There is something plaguing my life right now, and it is the issue of BOYS. I recently 'dear johned' my missionary (in a sense). I just told him that I don't think it's fair that a 17 year old can't date around and have fun. And he didn't take it well. I wish I knew what he was thinking and how he was doing. There is no easy way to be away from the guy you love, but those two years are for growing, and its hard to grow if you are being held down. When he gets back, it things go like I hope, everything will workout between him and I and we can hopefully get married. But it's not just one boy that is worrying my head. My ex-boyfriend recently send me an email on Facebook, asking me how I was doing and telling me that I was on his mind a lot and that he missed me and wished we could hang out more often. Its hard. I miss Jacob, but we have gone separate ways. You may think now that I am desperately trying to push every single half decent guy away from my emotions, but thats not true. I am dating a guy named Stanford, and he is AMAZING!!! I was up really late last night finishing a project for Creative Writing, and guess who was with me the whole evening, organizing papers? Yeah, Stanford. He is amazing! He is smart, organized, cool, talented, dedicated and romantic. We've been good friends for about six years, and just started dating. Hopefully this summer with him will be a good one :)
So I guess even though a million things can be wrong in your life, there is always that one thing you can find that makes it worth all the heartache. :)
There is something plaguing my life right now, and it is the issue of BOYS. I recently 'dear johned' my missionary (in a sense). I just told him that I don't think it's fair that a 17 year old can't date around and have fun. And he didn't take it well. I wish I knew what he was thinking and how he was doing. There is no easy way to be away from the guy you love, but those two years are for growing, and its hard to grow if you are being held down. When he gets back, it things go like I hope, everything will workout between him and I and we can hopefully get married. But it's not just one boy that is worrying my head. My ex-boyfriend recently send me an email on Facebook, asking me how I was doing and telling me that I was on his mind a lot and that he missed me and wished we could hang out more often. Its hard. I miss Jacob, but we have gone separate ways. You may think now that I am desperately trying to push every single half decent guy away from my emotions, but thats not true. I am dating a guy named Stanford, and he is AMAZING!!! I was up really late last night finishing a project for Creative Writing, and guess who was with me the whole evening, organizing papers? Yeah, Stanford. He is amazing! He is smart, organized, cool, talented, dedicated and romantic. We've been good friends for about six years, and just started dating. Hopefully this summer with him will be a good one :)
So I guess even though a million things can be wrong in your life, there is always that one thing you can find that makes it worth all the heartache. :)
The Last Mile
I can't believe its actually happening. There is only a week and a half of school left, which means I will be graduating next Friday. And due to some last minute drama, I have an F in Journalism and some ARCs (attendance restoration) and hopefully I can pull things together at the last second.
I'm so done with high school. I'm done with 'concerned parents' I'm done with scary teachers, I'm done with boy drama. I am ready to move on to bigger and better things like COLLEGE!!! and LIVING AWAY FROM HOME!!! These new developments will be a good thing for me - I know it. I desperately NEED some freedom, it will be healthy for me.
It is time to take off the letterman jacket, and don the graduation robes.
I'm so done with high school. I'm done with 'concerned parents' I'm done with scary teachers, I'm done with boy drama. I am ready to move on to bigger and better things like COLLEGE!!! and LIVING AWAY FROM HOME!!! These new developments will be a good thing for me - I know it. I desperately NEED some freedom, it will be healthy for me.
It is time to take off the letterman jacket, and don the graduation robes.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
What Defines A True Fan
Last night, my friend Whitney and I watched the Lakers and Jazz game at Whitney's house with her family. We were by far the most energetic and enthusiastic fans in the room (and ironically the only Lakers fans). We screamed and cheered when the Lakers blocked a shot, caught a rebound or made a three-pointer. We booed, used degrading words and substitute-swearwords when the Jazz made a point or fowled on the Lakers. Then it came time to go home during halftime, and I left Whitney's house wishing the best for the Lakers. I had bought a Lakers jersey to celebrate the inevitable win that was to follow. However, when I walked into class I immediately got grief from a few of the sore-loser students that had obviously rooted for the Jazz. After I sat down and was trying to start doing my work, one of the Jazz supporters called my name and gave me the oral "Laker-fan Quiz": name five Laker players excluding Kobe Bryant. I have always liked the Lakers. And when life allowed, I would watch a game with friends and root for the Lakers, however I could not name five players. The Jazz fan got a satisfied smirk on her face and turned back to her work. Since when did knowing the names of players make you a fan? Maybe a hardcore, statistic-following fan, but I don't believe that not knowing the names of the players makes you a poser.
Sooo.. if being a fan isn't knowing all the facts and details of an NBA team, what is it then? I believe that the answer lies in enthusiasm. If you like a certain team, even just a little bit, you have the right to call yourself a fan. And nobody else can tell you that you are not. Nobody can call you a poser, nobody can call you fake. Every fan is different. Some follow statistics, some worship Kobe Bryant, some are hopelessly dedicated, and others (myself included) don't let basketball rule their life and watch a game when they can and may not know the names of all the players, who may have to leave halfway through a game; Nonetheless, each and every one of those personality types can be a fan if they want to be.
In my case, I am a Lakers fan who likes to watch games, who likes to wear a jersey to school, who knows a few names of players, but who doesn't like getting crap about being a poser.
Sooo.. if being a fan isn't knowing all the facts and details of an NBA team, what is it then? I believe that the answer lies in enthusiasm. If you like a certain team, even just a little bit, you have the right to call yourself a fan. And nobody else can tell you that you are not. Nobody can call you a poser, nobody can call you fake. Every fan is different. Some follow statistics, some worship Kobe Bryant, some are hopelessly dedicated, and others (myself included) don't let basketball rule their life and watch a game when they can and may not know the names of all the players, who may have to leave halfway through a game; Nonetheless, each and every one of those personality types can be a fan if they want to be.
In my case, I am a Lakers fan who likes to watch games, who likes to wear a jersey to school, who knows a few names of players, but who doesn't like getting crap about being a poser.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
