Happiness is a Choice

As Christmas quickly approaches, my days continue to get better and better. Last week, Monday was one of the best days I've had in a long time. Friday, again, was fantastic. Yesterday was probably the best of them all.

When I stop to wonder why these days have been so freaking happy, there are a few different ideas that flow from one side of my mind to the other. 

1. I have friends. Hold on. I actually have real friends. As in, people I'd want to spend extended amounts of time with. Half the people I interact with on any given day I'd gladly trade the world for. People never cease to amaze me. Each person, every friend is so genuinely unique and beautiful that I can't help but be astounded by them. 

2. God is amazing. He's given me such a sense of grace and personal growth this year. In every single thing I've done, I've found myself at another stretch for personal growth and lasting happiness. He's the best. I mean, what a boss he is. I love. 

3. I've kind of calmed down! I used to be ever-stressed about everything. Everything. Whether it be school or band or life or people or whatever. I've really gotten to a point where I do stress out, but not in excess. For example, I have my HH project due tomorrow. And what am I doing?
I'm writing on my blog. Because this is important as well, and I've worked my butt off lately.

Joy is such a state of mind. I know for a fact I was happy on Friday because I woke up laughing. Really, I woke up giggling. Which, I mean, sounds like an absolutely ridiculous thing to do, but my dreams have an awesome sense of humor.

I think happiness really is a choice. Every day, there are people around me who choose sadness. They don't look on the bright side, or help themselves. I'm not just saying that for meanness.

I went to go see "Of Mice and Men" yesterday. Which was amazing. The cast and crew.. Seriously, I'm telling you guys, theatre folk are the best people in the world.

I'll make a list, now, of things that make me happy.

-peppermint hot chocolate
-laughing when I'm not supposed to be
-french-tipped nails with glitter
-being expressive
-theatre people
-excellent Stumbles on stumbleupon
-getting random texts
-looking at my Christmas tree
-wrapping presents
-really huge words
-things that smell delicious
-excellent style
-feeling good about myself without makeup

and that's just a few! I suppose I might say that I'm one of those people that are easy to please.

Make a choice to be happy this weekend. Find five things that make you happy, and do them as much as you possibly can. As long as they're not like "killing people" or "burning books."
You'll see an effect. I promise. 

Of Mice and Me

My school has the best high school theatre department in Michigan, and also the world. 

We have wonderful actors, directors, tech, makeup artists.. everything. 

Which I am, unfortunately, not a part of. 

Yet. 

This weekend, they'll be showing Of Mice and Men, which I've heard is quite a tearjerker. However, you should go, even if you don't watch sad things usually, as we have, as previously stated, the most amazing theatre department in the world. 

So props to them (no pun intended) for being amazing people, as well as amazing actors. 

I'll be there Saturday, selling tickets, since I made the unintelligent mistake of not joining the cast or crew. I assure you, it will not happen again. 

I emphasize that these people are amazing for several reasons. 

1. They are. 
2. People need to be aware that these Broadway-esque performances are not done by divas. 
3. They're the coolest people and deserve fame and fortune. 
4. They make me feel better about myself and slap sense into me when I become vulnerable and insecure. 
5. They make my day with a few words, texts, or facebooks likes. 

So there you go. Go watch "Of Mice and Men" this weekend. 

And no, I'm not in charge of advertisement for the show, either. 

Theatre is good for the soul. It's basically a proven fact. There's something about the lights, and the stage, and the accents, and the makeup. It's truly an amazing thing. 

I experienced this in 5th grade for the first time, when I saw Godspell at the same highschool I'm attending now. 

I've experienced it with the lights on Broadway, and in too many places to name. 

It's a gorgeous thing. If one doesn't allow themselves to feel the theatre, and to experience it fully, they're selling themselves short. 

I promise, even if the show is about something really sad, which this isn't necessarily, it'll bring joy to your life. 

So go see this show. 

It doesn't matter if you live in some other state. Plane rides are fun. Like theatre people. 

Brighten your own day by allowing the actors to. They'll live up to it, I promise. 

The Warmth of the Cold

Here in Flint, the air is becoming even colder. The temperature is going to take some dramatic nosedives soon, as the ever-reliable weather ball tells us. 

Last week, we had our first snow. 

I usually dislike winter the most out of all the seasons, but this year is different. 

The cold is comforting to me, like "Oh, Christmas really is coming soon to deliver me from the stress and worries of school!" 

No, but really. I can't wait. 

Today I put up my Christmas decorations. Don't ask me why it's taken me so long to get around to it. There really is no acceptable answer. Christmas is the jolliest time of the year, so there's no point in waiting to celebrate, right? 

The Christmas tree is standing in the archway between 2 of our rooms. This means that my family can now get a glimpse of the tree on just about every room on the main floor. It's covered in lights and ornaments that look like they were made by a two year old, because they were. 

Our banister is wrapped in two kinds of tinsel, and holly. Poinsettias are everywhere. Nativity scene out, Advent calendar up. 

It's Christmas. Why not. 

All these things are so incredibly heartwarming. In fact, they're so heartwarming that the warmth is spreading from my heart to the rest of my organs, to my muscles, to my face, to my life. 

It may be getting colder, but it's also getting so much warmer, everywhere one might look. 

The beauty of Christmas is ever-present even in Flint. 

Even in the worst city in America in sense of crime, we see the Salvation Army people ringing their bells. Yes, sometimes they give us dirty looks when we put in change. 

Not the point. 

This Christmas inside me is visible everywhere. And this joy- this is what Christmas is all about! Yes, it's about Jesus, but what did he bring, and what did he want us to have more than anything? 

Allow me to make this crystal clear. 

Jesus wanted us to be happy. 

That's why He was born. 

That's why He died. 

That's why He rose. 

He did it for us, so that we could have the greatest joy of all- not just the joy of Christmas, but the joy of eternal life. 

He is the warmth in the cold of Michigan winters. 

Growing Up is Hard to Do

When I grow up, I want to be a writer. To be able to spill words across a blank page, and to have people who would kill to read it? My oh my. That would be the life. I could sell my thoughts a dime a dozen. Reach one thousand twitter followers. Be able to share my effervescent emotions with that world.
The world! Oh, I could be a travel blogger. Travel around, and get paid to take expensive trips and stay at resorts. I would write everything in detail, of course, but the best part would be the culture and relaxation. That would be the best. Ideal, really.
You know what's ideal, though, really?
Doctors make a ton of money. If I was a doctor - no, a midwife - I'd never have to worry about anything ever again. I could help deliver infants out of their mothers' wombs. I would specialize in teen and young adult mothers, helping them with the things they'd have no idea to do.
Or maybe a medical examiner. Like on Body of Proof, you know? Cut me up some dead people and figure out what made them die. Get to know people through their stories. The perfect mix of investigation and medicine. That would be awesome.
On a cheerier note, maybe I would be best as a wedding planner. I do love weddings. The dresses, the cake, the designs. Nothing is better than a wedding. It's a joy bringer, no matter how long the marriage lasts. I'll always be there for the happiest night of one's life.
You'd think that with my hatred of science class, I'd never consider becoming a scientist. But to be a scientist for Lush Cosmetics? I'd be making bath bombs all day! That would be so cool! I'd get money off all those delicious products. And I'd get to create something that makes so many people happy.
Or I could be a lawyer.
Or an Apple design person.
I could work for twitter.
I could open my own restaurant.

Clearly, I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. There's few jobs in this world that DON'T sound interesting to me. It's strange to think of how open my options are.

I wonder how many options most people have. I wonder, when it boils right down to it, where these kids I go to school with will end up.
A couple will be stars. It's impossible for them not to be.
Some will be professionals at something they don't want to do.
Others won't work. They've never had to work a day in their life, why should they start now?

The people of Flint are the same way. It's not that they're spoiled. For many, they don't know how to work. They've never applied themselves. They may be brilliant!
But they can't say that. They're not trying.
That's when it comes to guns. People give up trying, before they've hardly even started.
When, in reality, it's not time to give up yet.
It's time to work. It's time to achieve dreams, and do what you can to get there.
Guns, violence, drugs? Those aren't any sort of answers.
The answer to growing up is to keep trying. To push through the adversity life tosses at you, and go out there.
Make.
It.
Happen.

Remaining Optimistic

Today, there was a man with a gun on Court Street. He was in some UofM student housing, and when we passed, he was on the second floor.
There were probably 12 police cars there altogether, and that probably clears out the entire city's police force that was on duty.
Shootings are scary things. It makes me wonder what possibly possessed this man to want to possibly harm so many people.
Hurting people hurt people.
Surely, he'd had quite a rough day. I've had a few of those lately. Have they been so bad that I'd carry a gun into some student housing?
Well, no. But that's partly because I wouldn't touch a pistol in the first place. I'm too afraid that it would go off and hurt someone.
Highschool is very different than any other experience I've ever had. People everywhere make really, REALLY sucky choices. Sometimes, I try to say something. Perhaps it's a hint, that maybe that's a stupid idea.
Unfortunately, a lot of times, I keep my mouth shut.
Half of me wonders if anyone tried to ever say something to the man with the gun. Was there anyone in his life that might have suggested to him that he could take his life down a different path?
If everyone suggested that to just one person they knew was headed down a bad road, certainly, crime wouldn't be like it is today.
Our society is so tolerant of things I personally can't imagine! Pot-marijuana- is the norm. People are no longer surprised when someone in highschool says they smoke. In fact, oftentimes, people are more surprised when someone says they don't!
What does that say about our society?
Though things seem to be getting rougher everyday, and people need to help stop it, it's important to remain optimistic as well.
Thou shalt not conform.
I force myself to have the mindset that people are generally really well intentioned! Because, most the time, they are.
I try to treat everyone as though I love them personally. I don't ever want to be the person that just let someone slide through life, watching them destroy their own chances of success.
There is hope for this generation. It's not very abundant, but it's there.
And hope, like marijuana, can grow. People seem to be less aware of the former.
There are those who stand up to their friends, who leave parties, who fight the crowd.
Those are the world-changers, the believers, the ones our hope rests in.
Because in ten years, when the conformists are working at McDonald's, the ones who said no will be taking this world by storm.

A Bit About Myself

I'm not really self-absorbed. Not really. I like to think about other people- hear their problems, help them solve them. However, occasionally:: I like to talk about me.
So if you're not interested in hearing about what I have to say on the topic of myself, I urge you: Navigate away from this page.
This post isn't written necessarily to be about my city, though I'm sure my city will come into mention at least once.
I'm a mix of several characters that I've read about or watched.
I'm Spencer Hastings' ambition. Yale, I need you.
I am Hermione Granger's desire to know it all.
I am Blair Waldorf's control freak.
I am Audrey Hepburn's class.
I am Adah Price's often silent mind.

At the same time, I'm myself. I'm so distinctly Isi. And yes, I'm aware of that fact. Some people say I'm kind of geeky. That's okay. I know I can be. I'm dedicated to getting my homework done, and getting it done well.
Surprisingly, that's not all there is to me.
I'm a fan of breaking stereotypes.
I love God a lot a lot, but love gay people as much as anyone else on this earth.
I crave to know more about the world around me, but don't think that I know everything.
I listen to and love Ke$ha, Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, and Cady Groves.
My style is girly, and I'm a romantic. But I have friends that are anything but.
I read Gossip Girl, and classic female literature.

Stereotypes are the worst. I think of none that fit me, except for the common stereotype that white people can't dance. Which I can't, although I took ballet as a small child.

I am a bibliophage with a pulchritudinous vocabulary.


Believe it or not, I have an opinion on just about everything.
Take the censoring the internet bill, for example.
I don't actually hate the idea like most people I know. I think it could help cut back on the cyber-bullying, which I would love to happen. I don't think it means that people on youtube should stop doing covers. They usually credit the original singer anyway, and they're amazing.
Plus, I'm tired of seeing stupid people swearing all over the internet. And then posting pictures that make me embarrassed for them. Be classy, please.

I love a lot of things.
Blueberry muffins.
Happy people.
Fairytales.
Pink.
Forever21.
Days I have off school.
Hearing the things my teachers tell my parents about me.
That really, really great grade.
Ke$ha.
Jesus.
Flint.

Love. That is All.

It's starting to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go.
As long as everywhere you go is inside department stores.
Needless to say, the holidays are approaching quickly. More like flying at us, head down, read to knock us over with the first winter wind.
Which I assure you, is just around the corner.
Everyday, I think "Boy, I'd sure like to update my blog!"
But I can't, as my life decided that it wants to kill me with work. That's cool.
I think what really prompted me to write was the never-fading memory of Halloween. I might as well clear that up, you know. I didn't like beg my parents to move us out of this forsaken city. I'm still in love with good old Flint, MI. My emotions were just high at that time. The fear takes a while to run its course in my body.
Since I've written last, two (yes, you heard right-two!) significant things that have happened.
1. I went to YoungLife Camp.
- I fell back in love with Jesus, because He and I are BFFs. And I would minister you all right here, right now, but I dislike the word "minister" and that wouldn't be quite acceptable by time constraints.
2. My birthday.
- My birthday is clearly one of the highlights of life. 15 years, baby. How cool am I. Wait, don't answer that. I got pretty much everything I wanted, including five trillion things to the makers of the best bath company ever. http://www.lushusa.com/shop

Life is beautiful all the time. Not just on my birthday. Not just at Timberwolf Lake. Not just while I'm on Forever21.com.
You must know by now that I'm an exuberantly happy person. I'm too happy, some say.
My life of joy stems from this love that God's given me. It's INTENSE. I'm so focused on loving everyone all the time. And the joy that brings forth is incredible.
As this year travels on, I've thought more and more about what my Janelle once called "oh that lovely love."
What a gorgeous thing.
I love people.

Strike Some Terror in Me

Picture this.
It's Halloween. I'm wearing my cousin's Goodrich jersey and some ADORABLE grey jeans. Clearly, I'm a soccer player.
Clearly.
Janelle is a cute little kitten, dressed in black with precious whiskers on her face.
And yes, we are Trick-or-Treating.
At 14.
One street away from my house.
Some complete ?.£%|%%?! comes up behind us off the street. We do not know this man.
We double our pace. He does the same.
Suddenly, he snatches Janelle's hard-earned bag of candy.
And for the first time in my entire life, I hate this city. It's foreign to me. I'm literally afraid to be outside.
All for a bag of candy.
This event made it quite difficult to remain optimistic. It called to mind every time I had defended the thieves and criminals of this town.
I suppose it was a learning experience.
I merely wish it was a lesson I didn't have to learn.
As they say, ignorance is bliss.

I'm sure you're probably thinking about how I am overreacting. I don't blame you.
However, this certainly can be noted as the first bad experience I've had in this town.

The Sweetest Feeling I've Ever Known

Relief. I'll just say it there. The best feeling in the world, perhaps outside love, is relief.
That moment when I know that everything will be okay, and I can breathe again, because I did my HH project and I didn't die.
The feeling when I just sigh and think "Oh, I have nothing to worry about for the rest of today.
Wow.
This has been enlightening. It has taught me many things, and not all of them have to do with weird religions.
1. I need to calm down. I'll be fine. The world will not end if I do not cry over a project every night.
2. People will still respect me. They'd still talk to me. Even if I bombed. (Which, note, I did not do.)
3. Ambition is not a sin. There are people with ambitions like mine. Many overachieve like I do.
4. If I focus, I can literally do anything.
5. Be kind. People will be kind to you and respect you during your presentation if you do the same for them.
Guys, the relief after a project like this was a blast of fresh air. It's indescribable.

I wonder if some people get that feeling ever.
Some people don't have a home to go to where they can unload on their family and be so ecstatic and relieved.
Rather, they are worried to go home and stressed on the way there. School is their haven.
I think if my world was that intense, that empty of relief, I wouldn't turn out well.
Funny.
Normally the people you hear of going around killing people didn't have a happy life.
They never had the sweet feeling of not having to worry about anything for just one day.
And honestly?
If you think about all the tension and worry they have bottled up, you might not blame them for walking around in a paranoid manner all the time.
It's not a happy world.
Maybe this is why I cut these criminals so much slack. There's something in them that makes their world a scary place to live.
If you were living in your own Hell on earth, admit it or not, you may not be so nice yourself.
I sure wouldn't be.
So, scattered as the point I'm trying to get across is, it remains.
There is reasoning behind why people do the things that they do.
It may not be obvious, or bright and shiny, but it is always, always there.

10-Letter Word for Busy

Homecoming. That's H-O-M-
You get the drift.
Admittedly, I've been very, very neglectful. And I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, as my to-do list grows longer, my days grow shorter.
Drat. My time to write dwindles. This is the first writing for fun I've done basically since my last post.
Needless, to say, I've grown desperate. One outlet, any outlet. Today I started writing on the back of a test I had finished. Everyone else sitting, working on their stick figures. Not Isi. She's working on some novel-esque note.

Desperate indeed.

Let me tell you a little bit about my week.
Monday- pajama day. Warm and happy. I matched EVERYTHING like the superdork I am. Same day, I went to the eye doctor, who told me I couldn't wear contacts all week, as my eyes were screwed.
As if that could happen.
Also, band practice. Little much.

Tuesday was twin day. I was twins with Jacquie, and that was a blast. Worked on homework till the cows came home.

Wednesday? Service day. Went back to middle school and did things there. Finally got to see my old teachers, who I still miss nearly every day.
That was a half day. Went home, worked on homework until about 5.
Yes, you read that correctly. I did bits of my HH project as well. Saying it was overwhelming is like saying the ocean is a little damp.

Today was superstar day. I did not dress up, as I am superstar enough as is.
In my glasses.
Clearly.
Also, I had no costume, which may/may not have been the majority of the problem.

Tomorrow will be Friday. (Thank you, Rebecca Black.) I'm looking forward to it more than one could express.
It's not "school", persay. It's spirit day.
And I'm in the band.
Well what does this mean, you ask?
Two classes of rehearsal.
Early lunch.
Playing band songs marching down the hall to get our friends out of class.
Facepaint.
Happiness, more or less. Spirit. Pep rally.
Oh yeah, and mass, as well as an earlier dismissal.
Days like tomorrow are good reminders of why I like life.

Saturday comes afterward, and that's the dance.
I'm nearly trembling with excitement.
Not that I have a date, but not that I care. That would be unnecessary and awkward. For the most part.

Until then, I have to write a paper on service day for my awesome theology teacher/ neighbor.
Fun class.

I do hope your week has been as lovely as mine.

Mindless Chatter

Everyone is gearing up for homecoming. And I mean everyone. Some people haven't been asked, others have been asked multiple times by multiple people. (Though I fall into the first category, I do not plan on holding a pity party anytime soon.
It doesn't feel all that great, to be completely and totally honest and vulnerable. But that's alright. I have my fun on stumbleupon.com anyway.
The amazing thing about Homecoming is the noise. I mean, my school's homecoming isn't for 3 weeks still, and people don't stop talking about it. 10 minutes after someone is asked, absolutely everyone in the entire school knows about it.
Conclusions are drawn, assumptions are made, and that's that. People talk, whisper, throw notes, mouth words across the classroom.
Nobody's quiet about it.
Because, really, let's face it. Homecoming is not a private business. It exists as a social event that everyone goes to, everyone hears about, and everyone makes little inside jokes there. Everyone dresses up, everyone dances. It's Homecoming. It's what everyone does.
Why can't the dates be private? Well, this is highschool. Nothing is really too private. I have yet to decide whether I like this or not.
But Homecoming. Admittedly, even I'm looking forward to it. I love the dresses. No, I cannot dance. I'm bad, even for a white girl.
I will, though. I will dance barefoot amongst the crowd.
Maybe.
I decided to comprise a list of the cutest ways people were asked thus far at my school.

One guy had the person reading the announcements call to the office the girl he was going to ask. In the window, he stood there in a suit, holding a bouquet of roses, and a little sign that said "Homecoming?".

Another taped arrows down the hallway to his girlfriend's locker, where a collage of pictures of them was, as well as a sign with the words: "Will you go to Homecoming with me?" on it.

Different guy wrote "HC?" on every page of a girl's flip folder, then signed it on the last page.

Others cover girls' lockers with sticky notes spelling things out.

Yes, this is highschool. Yes, everyone freaks out about these little romantic acts. And that is not an exaggeration. People just make so much chatter about it. I'm guilty of this as well, unfortunately.
So I don't really know how I feel about Homecoming. I don't know if I really even want to go. You could say I'm a little nervous about the prospect.
But it's Homecoming, for Heaven's sake. I certainly can't miss it..

The Bullycide Project

The greatest problem today is not crime. 

Hear that? (cue whispers: "Not crime? How can it be? The world is rampant with morons with guns!")

Guns aren't the only thing that can kill oneself. 

Today, my school hosted this absolutely moving presentation about bullying, by a group called the Bullycide Project. So I cried and cried and cried through it all. (Quietly, of course.)

And it started me thinking, as several things do, about this glorious city I live in. 

Flint's rate of bullying isn't worse than other places. In fact, I'm sure it's better here than some of the elite cities of rich kids like Rosewood. (shoutout to you if you love PLL.)

And that's what affects everyone most today, I believe.
To me, bullying is worse than a bad crime rate or a few unnecessary shootings. 

Don't get me wrong. Are those things horrible? Yes. 

But are they absolutely the core of everything evil in this world? Absolutely not. 

Okay, okay. So Satan encourages all evil, all these bad things originate with his horribleness and corrupt self. 

But don't you think those people pulling the trigger on others in this city have at one point or another wanted to pull the trigger on themselves? 

That's only natural, I think. I know that I'm not the only person who has thought at one time or another: "Maybe it would just be easier if I was gone." 

Those bandits certainly have felt the same way. If they're going as far as to wreak havoc on other families, they've got to be going through some intense mental pain. 

Really, those criminals are just what we talked about today. Big bullies. 

A student dies every thirty minutes of their own hand because of bullying. 

We've all heard the stories. Dharun Ravi's, who videotaped his roommate at Rutgers. Phoebe Prince, who I assure you was not an Irish whore. Carl Joseph Walker-Hoove. 

This is not okay. 

So why are so many bullies let off the hook while adult bullies spend lifetimes in jail? It doesn't make sense to me. If they're going to dole out punishments, they might as well be fair about it. 

We all need to realize that life isn't easy for anyone. Everybody has issues sometimes. It's not a simple world to live in. 

I need to improve myself most of all. I generally feel like an okay person, but gosh I can be mean. And I hate that!! I don't want to be considered mean! I need people, I love people, I love human nature. We're a perplexing and wonderful species. 

A species that can dance and laugh together. 

A species that cries together. 

Takes punishments for each other. 

Smiles at each other. 

How can that be the same species that makes each other cry?
Trips each other in the hall? 

Breaks each other's hearts? 

Kills each other? 

What happened to humanity? This amazing place isn't likable all the time. 

That's not my fault. 

It's not your fault. 

It's not really anyone's fault entirely. 

So bullying. Everyone does it, and everyone is a little bit of a victim of it. 

However: it's up to us to stop it. One comment at a time. 

In the Beginning...

Wow. 

A new school year has yet again arrived. I've been attending for about 2 weeks now, and am thoroughly overwhelmed. This could be for several reasons. 

1. It's high school. This is normal.

2. I guess I'm slightly intelligent. Therefore, I decided to be ambitious and sign up for all advanced classes. 

3. I'm in the marching band. Two 3-hour rehearsals every evening does not give me any wiggle room for homework. 

4. Lack of an outlet. Believe it or not, all the things that de-stress me require more than 5 minutes before bed. Like writing this blog, like reading a magazine, like painting my nails.

So I become... stressed. 

But this is only the beginning, teachers tell me. Upperclassmen warn me; it only gets more difficult as time goes on. 

However. 

I am surviving, aren't I? I'm writing from the Media Center during my study hall. It's not easy, but I'm here, Fresh, and alive. 

I have formed a few mere ideas about this place. 

People care, here. No matter if it is in the middle of Flint, dead-set in the ghetto. People care. Not that I
know that many people yet, because I don't. And not that I even know that many people's names, because I don't. But even the Seniors that I'm absolutely terrified are going to point me in the direction of my next class, if I ask them. 

Groups are as solid and clique-y as Alison and the Pretty Little Liars. They stick together, naturally, and let virtually nobody in. It's intimidating. Yes, I have people from my school in some of my classes, but at moments, it's just me. And I don't know who I can approach, it seems like nobody really wants me around. 

But I don't think that's true. I think everyone, surely, must be as insecure and worried as I am. 

We're Freshmen, after all. 

Homecoming. That's in about a month. I don't know if I want to go yet. Everyone's saying I should, it would be fun, I'd love it, I don't have to take a date. 

I don't necessarily want to take a date. But I'd wanna go with some dude as friends maybe. I don't know. Or maybe a group of people. 

Would that be better? 

I do love dressing up. Dresses are lovely. I can try dresses and only dresses on for hours at a time. 

I can't really dance, though. So I don't know. 

Okay, I get it. None of you care about whether or not I want to go to Homecoming. In fact, you care almost as much as the Seniors sitting in the opposite corner of this library do. 

You want to hear about Flint. 

There were tons of sirens last night. My mom kept noting it. You might think that that would scare the living daylights out of me. 

If you think that, you are incorrect. 

I want to live in New York, people. If I can't deal with a couple sirens as I'm heading off to sleep, then I would never survive. 

I cannot live a life of fear. I highly advise that you don't either. 

There's so much beauty in Flint. If you're too scared to go there, you will never experience any of it. Open your mind, please, for just 5 seconds. 

I live in this city. I wake up here every morning, eat breakfast, and go to school here. I practice my clarinet and march in the parking lot and football field. 

The simply gorgeousness of this place does not get old. 

Guys, this is beauty! And this, right here, is what life is about. 

Finding the beautiful in something that has imperfections. 

So don't be afraid to come here. Really. 

Putting the Fresh in Freshman

Highschool.
How can ten letters inspire so many different reactions in so many different people?
Some shake remembering highschool. It was the "worst years of their life".
Others laugh out loud, claiming it's the peak of everything wonderful.
Still others divulge in a simple smile, as though they know a secret they can't tell.
Surely, not everyone's experiences were this different. They couldn't cross vast worlds, from miserable to shades of Heaven.
Or maybe that's just me, being naive.
I think the most important thing, through all, is to keep your chin up, for back of a better phrase. To remain a "glass-half-full" outlook. And in examining, I find that the optimistic people are the ones who enjoyed their highschool all the more.
Generally, I'm over-the-top optimistic. I'm painfully cheery and bright. I just feel sunny. Like blindingly so. I don't know why. I don't know what I've done to deserve this brilliant glow. 
I really need to take this with me. Through highschool, through life, through thick, through thin. This is what matters. When people ask me, twenty years ago, whether I liked highschool, I want to be able to say: "Why yes. It was absolutely, without a doubt in the world, unforgettable in the best way.
I'm a freshie. Freshman. 9th grader. Low man on the totem pole. Whatever you want to call it will work for this illustration.
Right now, I'm having so many ideas thrust in my direction. Not that that's a bad thing, but it feels so different. Not only ideas, but things to remember. This class is this way. Lunch is this hour. Your locker is this one, your com is here.
It's all so incredibly overwhelming, it must be easy to get distressed and depressed. I guess that for some, the depression sticks. For all four years.
"I can't wait to get out of highschool."
In others, it's fleeting.
"I'm sure tomorrow will be a better day."
And for a tiny little few, they aren't touched at all. And how lucky they are.
Oh, for all those who only read this cause it's about the most dangerous city in America, here you go.
My highschool is in FLINT. Some nights, while practicing with the band in the parking lot outside, we've heard what we assume to be gunshots.
You know what the truly amazing part is, though?
It doesn't make a difference to me. 
I'm so not afraid of this city! It's not a bad place to live! None of us have ever gotten killed during practice. Not even one person. I mean, sometimes we feel like we're dying from working so hard, but we never actually have.
So highschool. Exciting. New. Different. I've gone from a school of 200, to a class of 150. I know, tiny, tiny numbers. It's still a weird leap.
What does highschool mean for me, after a week?
It means a lot more responsibility. More work. More activities to juggle. What feels like millions of people judging me off things teachers say every single moment of the day.
But it gives me a chance to be spread my wings a bit, and to grow. I've always felt a little cramped. Like a huge bird in a little egg. Scratching, poking awkwardly, unable to get out of the space I'm in. It was, in its sense, comfortable. I didn't dislike it, but I knew in my heart of hearts that it did not present a true challenge for me. Life was simple, yes, but it was monotonous.
Now, I'm in a position to learn and to be challenged more than I have ever dreamed of being.
I thank my parents, teachers, and school for setting me up for that.
And I thank all my old teachers for preparing me for that.
The change feels nice. It fits me well.
And now, out of the egg, I can stretch out, take a few wobbly steps, and stretch my wings. And only then can I really fly.

The Love of Summer

A few weeks ago, I went to a place that took my breath away.
New York. 
Cue every song written about the city in the world.
No place took more from me than this city did. Nor have I ever taken more away from anywhere, ever.
I want so desperately to live there one day.
You must understand. I didn't stay in a nice Best Western or little hotel. I stayed for four days in a townhouse in Greenwich Village. We were in the middle of the whole world. It felt that if I only walked a couple blocks, I could go anywhere.
And I could.
As much as I love the place I've grown up, New York is different. In a good way.
I'm a city girl at heart. I always will be.
New York is powerful and beautiful. In my opinion, more beautiful than the ocean or rolling hills or small villages.
Because, I mean, New York is New York.
I wish I could describe my whole trip in detail. But I'll just sum it up.
I met Kevin McHale at Serendipity3.
I got Daniel Radcliffe's autograph after seeing his show, as well as Sister Act.
I went inside the Plaza, which indeed is a very special hotel.
I ate dinner at 11:00 pm.
I experienced the bliss of Margherita Pizza.
I visited Chinatown, and bought $5 sunglasses. Coolest pair ever.
I went to the Upper East Side, and made myself feel like Blair Waldorf.
I bought shorts and a shirt from the 7-floor Forever21.
I went to every cupcake shop in what seemed to be the entire city.
I went to two street fairs, not including the Farmer's Market.
And that doesn't even come close to all.
So New York took my breath away. I could ramble on like a star-eyed fan forever. But I will spare you from my intense love for a city to continue on this update.
I registered at Powers Catholic High School last week, which is awesome. Pretty much my entire 8th grade class is going there, with a few exceptions.
I'm nervous, yes. I have all advanced classes, as well as Marching Band. And I'd like to do theatre. Huh.
I'll be busy this year, that's for sure.
Summer is the best, isn't it?
I'm spending some of it at my aunt's making some cash and watching children I love more than myself. Other bits will be spent at camp. Two weeks in marching camp. And one in Wyldlife. This week, I'm going to Pennsylvania to ride ATVs like a pro and feel the thrill of the wind in my hair.
Who knows what else.
Oh, goodness! All this from a girl who lives in the most dangerous city in the world?
Yup. Plus, I run this town every other night with my dad. I'm not afraid. This my city.
And oh how I love it.

End of the World?

Saturday, the huge buzz was that at 6:00, the rapture was going to occur, and the end of the world was going to begin. Clearly, as I am writing this, that did not happen.
I won't lie, a few minutes before 6, I got extremely nervous. What if it really did end? I haven't done near everything I want to in my lifetime. I wasn't particularly happy at the moment. I figured, if the world has to end, I'd like to die happy.
It served as a reminder to me. I have to live like I'm going to die tomorrow. Because who knows? Maybe we will, not to be overly dark.
To different people, this means different things. Some people would like to spend their last day relaxing and reading a book with their families. Others, like me, would want to go out with a bang.
I'd want to be in the middle of a block party. There would be huge inflatable slides everywhere. Everyone I know and ever have known would be there. And everyone would be running around, apologizing for past transgressions, hugging and kissing one another. Just saying "Goodbye, I'll see you when all this is over in a place where we'll be even happier than we are now, which seems kinda impossible."
I don't know if there will ever be such a block party. I don't know if the end of the world is even going to occur in my lifetime. I don't know if I'll even know the same people when it occurs.
But I know I have to live. I can't weigh my life down with regrets. And I don't; I don't regret anything I've done. I can't. Even the bad experiences have taught me something.
But, when I look at it, there have been many more good experiences than bad.
I mean, look around.
This blog.
This school.
My relationships.
Endless laughter.
4.0, too many times to remember.
Teasing.
People who wiped my tears away.
No, I have no regrets. I like my life. Even more than that, I love the people in it. I love the people who remind me that yes, I am important, and yes, I am loved.
And that's why I'm here. I don't know if it would have been so possible to make it through the struggles life throws at me without every single person I have to lean on. I wouldn't be so independant, wouldn't be so open-hearted and minded.
Okay, so the Apocolypse didn't come on Saturday. I'm so glad it didn't. It takes a bit more time than that if I wanna attend the End of the World Block Party. I'm so glad for the reminder, though, and this time to think about it as I write it down, that I have to live. And I mean really live. So, I have some words of advice, collected from various places...
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."
"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let us down, probably will. You'll have your heart broken and you'll break others' hearts. You'll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them, and you'll cry because time is flying by. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, forgive freely, and love like you've never been hurt. Life comes with no guarantees, no time outs, no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell someone what they mean to you and tell someone off, speak out, dance in the pouring rain, hold someone's hand, comfort a friend, fall asleep watching the sun come up, stay up late, be a flirt, and smile until your face hurts. Don't be afraid to take chances or fall in love and most of all, live in the moment because every second you spend angry or upset is a second of happiness you can never get back."
"The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything they just make the most of everything that comes along their way"
"Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like no one is watching."

Okay guys. I'm done quoting things at you. If you read all this, good for you. You're really awesome, you know that? Even if I don't know you. Someone out there would kill to see you smile, and would cross the world to make you happy. I love you.
And live like you're gonna die tomorrow.

The Last Stretch

I'm in my last month at a school I've spent 8 years at.
Eight years.
Eight years that have taught me more than I ever thought I would learn. Eight years of friendship and catfights. Eight years of love and broken hearts. Eight years of meeting new people, and cherishing old friends. Eight years of laughing with (and only sometimes at) teachers that are subconciously funnier than anyone else I know. Eight years of getting to know my parents, and brother. Eight years.
My heart breaks thinking about it. This, above all else, makes me ill to consider. I can't leave. It's not natural for me to leave a place that gave so much to me, and that I poured my heart out to.
And do you realize the people I have to say goodbye to? These people have seen me sob. These people have seen me cry laughing. These people have held my hand when I'm angry, and reassured me when I needed it. I've given every person at this school a little piece of my soul.
I don't want to leave. I wish I could be held back, even if nobody else was. I don't want to go to a school where nobody knows me at all.
This is it. Two weeks. I'm spending every second I can here. Dreading my last day. I feel emotions I can't put into words.
The last stretch.
Have you ever felt like that?
Have you ever lived most your life in one place, only to be torn unceremoniously from it?
The realization hit me the other day like a load of bricks. I will never forget this place.
I'll even miss the bad experiences. Kinda.
If you're fortunate enough to not be in 8th grade, please enjoy your school. Cherish next year. Love your classmates. Don't be negative about them. You won't want to think badly of everyone at a time like this. Enjoy your fun years, because right now, it hurts enough for all eight years.
I love my school. I'll dearly miss my 8th grade class.
And goodness, will I miss my seventh graders.
Thanks for reading.
Have an epic week.

(Quite Possibly) The Best Week of my Life

You know who's cool? Dale Kildee. I do not work to make this blog apolitical. However, I am a naive child and do not know where he stands in relation to the Republicans vs. Democrats. I had the pleasure to chill with him in Washington DC. He chose to hang out with us instead of Mr. President. Which, I must say, made me feel pretty special.
There's something about spending about 24 hours on a bus with people. Try it sometime. You might be surprised what you learn about some people. It's even easier to learn things when the people are high in quantity, like we were, and all armed with cell phones and iPods.
Needless to say, I learned a lot. Not only about people, either. I learned about history. I learned about how easy it really is to make people happy. I learned to trust more easily. I learned to keep my guard down, and see who will take the effort to let themselves inside.
I made friends in DC. I made friends, or at least friendly, with people I've never spoken to before. My relationships were tested and strengthened. I grew in love. I gave endless compliments, and reminded those who needed to be about how awesome they are.
Because everyone there was amazing. I got to know everyone just a little bit better. Or a lot better, depending on who they were.
I think it would be smart for the judges to go to Washington DC together. All of them. Not the court officials, but those who "call it as they see it." Because maybe, just maybe, they'd learn that people aren't always as they seem.
Perhaps that would be the way to shake Flint's bad reputation. Maybe then, they'd learn to stop labelling people "bad" or "good." Life isn't black and white. Losers aren't only losers, backstabbers aren't only backstabbers. Intelligent people have more to bring to the picture than their smarts.
So get to know someone. I did. And that's one thing that I can never repay DC for giving me.

America's London

Friday was the royal wedding. It was sweet, I woke up at 6 and saw that it was on, and then saw that they were still processing in. Apparently, it started at 4. I can understand why they had so many people, not only is Kate Middleton the second most lovely person ever*, but her husband is so awkward and sweet that they make a perfect couple. His respect and love for her is no less than heroic. Beautiful, beautiful couple. England is fortunate to have them.

*Lucy Hale is the most beautiful person ever. As you can see by this picture. She is my favorite. Her name is Aria, on my favorite show ever (Pretty Little Liars) and I would very much like to be her. Not only is she stunning, but she is eclectic and funky, and quite the original. Like myself, only slightly different. I won't bore you on the details of Lucy Hale, even though I have the most intense girlcrush ever on her. She's so cool. She also dated David Henry, and that was before she was my Epic Aria.
 Kate and her prince went to Buckingham Palace and celebrated and had their beautiful celebration. It was very sweet. One day, I'm going to have a royalish wedding, and everyone is gonna care, just like they did for the OFFICIAL royal wedding.
This week, I'll be in America's capital, their London, of sorts. Of course, I may just fail at European geography. I guess it's a poor comparison. I'm getting off topic.
Anyway. I'll be in Washington DC, with 60 of my closest friends. We're leaving at 4:00 am tomorrow morning, so I'll be going to sleep on this lovely Sunday around 6. Probably. I don't know why I'm rambling on and on about my sleep schedule, other than that I am quite excited. As is my friend, Jacob, who wanted me to add on that little fact.
Washington DC. I've never been. I've planned excessively, and been super nervous and excited for the past while. I'll definitely let you know how it is. I'm sure it'll be seriously fun.
Two rooms over, four boys Are giving each other "five stars", which are apparently back high-fives. Maybe that's why Flint is so violent? ;)
I have to go finish packing. Have an epic week!
I love you.

Living a Lush Life

This past week, I've been working harder on housework than I ever have in my entire life.
I do this not only because my family plans on moving, but because I have an obsession. I admit it, I have an addiction to LUSH products. If you have tried them, you understand.
I've made $44.75 in the past week. I'm planning to spend it on- yep, that's right. Soap and bath products.
I told you I have a problem.
On the topic of moving, originally I was thrilled. I've lived in the same house for every one of my grand 14 years. I'm ready to welcome a bit of change.
However, doesn't moving go against everything I believe? Especially if it means moving out of the city, because it's simply "too dangerous."
Why yes, yes it does. I don't plan on moving to any city because the original is "too dangerous." When I admit to that, I fail. So I, personally, am moving for my own reasons.
I'm moving for an extended vaction, in a big house where I feel free. Because, as nice and beautiful as my present home is, I really could use the internal change brought about in moving.
Not that we know where we're moving to yet. Our house hasn't even sold.
Maybe I'm planning on something that won't happen. I don't know.
Maybe it's unimportant. I need to focus on now.
April 18th, and it's snowing again. What's up with that? I was planning on wearing shorts today.
Not that I'm complaining! I love the Michigan weather. (I'm an optimist, remember?)
I'm sorry, my mind is a bit scattered this morning.
@lushcosmetics tweeted me back on twitter. (My username is @therealisi, for those of you that don't follow.) They said they read my blog, and that it was awesome. Which I DEEPLY appreciate, seeing as I'd like to work for them one day. Hopefully, if they read this post, they enjoy this one as well.
As I hope all of you reading do.
I'm sure you all know I love you, so there's no need writing it out again.
Have an amazing week!

The Last Post

It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize profusely for taking so long to post. As you may or may not be able to imagine, life has been quite busy for this 8th grader. Let's see.
Since we last spoke, I sprained a ligament in my knee, planned a dance and a half, resumed voice lessons, and drag raced in my wheelchair.
Yes, I had a wheelchair. Laugh all you will. It was called the Breezy 500, and was perfect. I loved that wheelchair like some people love food. Actually, like I love food. It was fun, being pushed around, I must admit. I still wish I could walk- that would be much more fun.
For now, I'm on crutches that I use once and a while, and the most awkward leg brace anyone can imagine. Fun, right? I know. I bet you're jealous.
Also, I've fallen in love. With a book series. Pretty Little Liars? Yes, PLEASE. I love the show (always have) and read five out of eight of the books. Or maybe six. But if someone wants to send money, so I can buy the rest, that would be nice.
Just kidding. Keep your money. Buy yourself an ice cream instead.
My months have been long and strenuous and tiring, but some good has come of them. It's a good life, you know? Sometimes it takes a while to realize that, but I think that today I have.
Rebecca Black brings us to this week. It's Friday, Friday, gonna get down on Friday. Unless you're me, with a handicapped leg. I feel quite terrible for her and the hate that's been piled down, I can't imagine the hard time she's given at school. I do hope she's okay.
I ALMOST FORGOT JAPAN. I feel so bad now. Undoubtedly, they are in my prayers. The maker of Pokemon died. That hit me quite hard. He was so awesome. Pokemon was my childhood.
Unfortunately, I have to go to my next class. I regret to inform you that this will be my last blog post, ever. I love you all and hope you have an amazing life. Thanks for reading me.


April Fools.