Hypocracy

Let's face it everyone is guilty.  Whether it is meant to save the other person harm, or while playing a card game.  By saying you aren't going to cheat and then yelling at someone for doing so, but then being found to have cards up your sleeves makes you a hypocrite.  Funny how that works.  Even saying you shouldn't be a hypocrite sometimes makes you a hypocrite.  I guess it's just a cycle that can't be broken.  We know everyone commits the crime at some point in time so no one can really say they are better than someone else because of it.  Oh well, back to the card game.

That Wascawy Wabbit!

I hated that rabbit.  It wasn't even cute enough to be called a bunny.  Why is it that when you go to the pet store all the little bunnies are so cute and you pick one that just seems so sweet, but then when you get home the cuteness act wares off.  It's no longer cute.  Sure, one day you let it out of it's cage for a hop around the house, ya know, to get some exercise.  That's when it happens.  That little evil puff ball has the nerve to bite you! Let's just say when this happened to me I screamed.  I tried to get it to let go, but of course that effort was to no avail.  I picked that dumb puff ball up and started twirling it in circles, but he still wouldn't let go!  The thing has some grip.  I finally pried the rabbit off my hand to find teeth marks that had broken the skin.  I immediatly thought I'm going to die from getting rabies from this stupid thing.  Great.

Work, It's Real Fun Stuff

So I have a job.  I can't complain, because compared to most I have it made in the shade.  I'm a coach for a gym that treats all it's employees amazing.  I coach competitive cheerleading, recreational cheerleading, cheernastics, and anything else they need me for.  My recreational cheerleading and cheernastics classes have a showcase coming up that I have to prepare for.  In other words I have to make up an original routine for every class I teach.  It's been interesting.  The advantage of working at a movie theatre, or fast food restaurant is that your work doesn't come home with you.  This of course comes with making up routines.  It sounds simple, but a routine has to have an opening, running tumbling, standing tumbling, stunts, a dance, a cheer, and a pyramid.  In addition I also have to pick out my own music that needs to pieced together.  Fun stuff right?  Oh yeah, you guessed it. It's stressful.  As stressful as my job is, the more i work doing this, i love it more and more.  So as much as I can complain about my job, I love the kids I work with and make me smile so much.  Besides I would give anything not to be flipping burgers!

So Yeah, Halloween

Halloween. Every kid big or small loves the chance to get to dress up in costumes, and get free candy!  If you were to do that any other day you would just get weird looks. The question is though, how big is too big to tick or treat?  I've seen someone who is a junior in high school come to my door.  Then again, I've also heard of people who had several college kids trick or treat at their house.  The trick?  Instead of candy, they received Ramen Noodles instead.  Those college kids left very happy.  I know this is an extreme and they probably were just goofing around and having fun, but should college kids or juniors and seniors in high school really get candy?  I'm not so sure.  I think Halloween is meant to little kids to be all cute in their little costumes.  They can get all dressed up and get a special once a year treasure of a bag or bucketful of candy.  When older kids try to dress up and get candy I can't help but think "you could easily pay for this yourself".  Halloween will always be a fun holiday, but trick or treating should be just for the kid-os.

What does your box hold for your future?

To just run away

With a box of your future

Will you open it?

High school is coming to a close.  Yes, it’s still during the first semester, but think about it.  All the things you have to do by the end of the year create a ginormous list.  Take the ACT, apply for schools, get accepted to schools, send transcripts, arrange housing, try desperately to find a decent roommate, it’s never ending.   The pressures of college are so straining, but it didn’t even just start.  I can remember in eighth grade my Career Orientation teacher Mrs. McMillian expected to have our career picked out and at least three colleges listed as possible schools practically the first day we walked through the door.  That’s crazy.  What eighth grader knows exactly what they are going to do in life?  I guarantee that every one of the kids in my class has changed their desired profession at least once.  The pressure on kids no a days is intense.  Sure, I would hope by the time someone is in the eighth grade that they know whether they are squeamish from blood  and should stay away from the medical career, or if they love to cook and should be a chef.  Even being a senior I know so many people who still have no idea what they are interested in doing. 

I had always been curious.  When I was little I wanted to know how everything worked and asked thousands of questions.  Naturally, my dad thought I would become and engineer, but then I got ahold of my first taste of the medical field in sixth grade.  After that I knew the medical field was where I wanted to be.  The problem is that just saying the medical field has so many possibilities.  After doing a pig heart dissection I had so much fun that I thought I wanted to be a heart surgeon.  Well, that didn’t last long when I realized I would have a full person in front of me instead of just playing around with a heart given to us by our sixth grade science teacher Mrs. Newton.  Keeping in the same health field I talked to my mom who is a registered nurse and knows just about every health care career there is.  We came up with a Pathologist.  A pathologist is someone who studies diseases. At the time of eighth grade I had an obsession with the show CSI.  I would sit in front of the television all day watching the marathons thinking how cool it would be to work in the labs like the people on the show.  Mrs. McMillian wasn’t thrilled that I had decided to narrow my career so much because she didn’t know what a pathologist was; I was quite pleased when I stumped her. 

Somewhere between eighth and tenth grade I developed an interest through AP biology in developing insulin pumps and prosthetics.  This led me to being interested in Biomedical Engineering.  Sounds intimidating, right? Well, I didn’t think it was that bad so I looked into, and applied for a summer program at the University of Arkansas specially for biomedical engineering.  I got turned down.  This infuriated me so much that I decided to go into a new direction.  Physical therapy.  At my current place of employment that’s what I was practically doing anyway and I loved that it was with kids too.  Through and injury I realized that it wasn’t physical therapy that intrigued me so much but occupational therapy.  I loved how creative you get to be while working with people hands, plus I wouldn’t have to touch anyone’s feet!

Although my journey was very long with many twists and turns and indecisions I have finally found my future.  My future holds helping people through occupational therapy overcome injuries.  I am holding my box to my future, filled with the skills given to me by my high school.  As graduation day fast approaches my box is opening ever so slightly, showing me glances of what is to come.

While on the Sidelines

While on the Sidelines.  You might be wondering why i named my blog what i did.  No, it's not anything that requires deep thought, the plain and simple reason is I'm a cheerleader.  And frankly, right now and the upcoming six more weeks I'm and injured one.  So, as you can imagine I'm sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else practice.  Just so y'all know, no, I'm not talking about the kind of cheerleading that cheers for football players.  I'm talking about competitive cheerleading.  If you don't think it's a sport i dare you to look up one video from Worlds Cheerleading Championship 2011 and say it's not hardcore.  My dream is to be up on that same world champion floor.  My problem is that with competitive cheerleading there comes an age limit.  An athlete can't be older than eighteen by August 31.  So in other words, this is my last chance.  Last year my team was two spots away from making it to that famous stage.  We came sixth at a competition where they only gave invitations to come to worlds to the first four.  You can imagine the sadness people felt when we were so close, but didn't make it.  When you devote so much time of your life to this sport.  Months of training for at least five hours a week for just two minutes and thirty seconds to show off what you and your team can do.  By spending so much time together you get so attached and love not only what you do,  but who you do it with.  Your team becomes your second family.  Everyone is so close by the end of the session.  I've been growing up with my teammates for seven years.  I don't know how I'm going to be able to say goodbye to them.  But, i guarantee that just being a worlds competitor would be the best send off i could imagine.  All this is hopefully still a plan on track, but the farther away my clearance date is pushed back the more I start to panic at the thought that the sesion is so close to starting and I can't even put weight on my hand yet.  So for now, I will watch, While on the Sidelines.

That One Thing, That Has to Go Wrong

Everyone has that one thing.  The one thing that a parent cautiously lends their child.  My dad's 1979 Corvette was that thing.  The weather was perfect to be driving with the t tops off. I had to run home for my work clothes that I had forgotten at home.  I merged into the turn lane before the white line started so I wouldn't have to wait on the long line of cars.  By the way, that is one-hundred percent legal.  As i was in the turn lane, a man pulled out from a Kroger parking lot, just because someone waved him out, right as I was twenty feet infront of him.  Corvette lovers beware of this next part.  I had no time to stop as I tried to slam on my brakes as hard as I could, but to no avail.  I smashed into the man's front left side of his little Ford Fusion.  The fiberglass of my front right side exploded from the impact.  My hands shaking almost uncontrolable I yell to the other car asking if they are okay.  They yell back that they are fine and with that assurance I break down.  Tears start pouring down my face and I put my hands on the top of my head to try to control my breathing.  Meanwhile school has just let out and all the high schoolers are staring at me.  I see Lindsey, who is basically my sister, drive by.  I flag her down abd she parks down the road the comes to see if i'm okay.  The police had been called and they had just arrived as I called my dad to tell him what happened.  I was so scared he would be mad at me for getting in a wreak with his car.  The policeman had both the man and I move our cars.  I knew as I heard the scrap of my wheel against the fiberglass that it was not drivable.  The impact had bent the axel so that the tire couldn't be turned.  The standard license and registration were exchanged when my dad showed up as the policeman was getting a statement from the man in the other car.  Thankfully after seeing the extent of the damage my dad was just happy that I wasn't injured in the accident since there were no air bags in the Corvette due to the year model.  The policeman came to me and got my statement then explained that it was the other man's fault for pulling out infront of me.  A wave of releif hit me, but it didn't last long.  The man was not happy.  He imediately got angry and didn't understand why the wreak was his fault.  I felt myself try to shrink as he pointed at me yelling that it was my fault not his.  Being that he was a large scary man to begin with, his anger didn't help the situation.  After he had calmed down and left I had to watch as my dad's beloved Corvette was towed off, but my dad hugged me and sent me on with Lindsey happy that I was okay.

A Magical Night

Homecoming.  One of the highest points of High School, other than prom, that's dreamed about.  The dolled-up hair, the perfectly done nails, and of course, the dress.  Then, you and your date dance the night away.  That is of course what you think it's supposed to be like.  Until suddenly, it's your sophmore year and the excitment is almost uncontainable! Finally, the moment has come for you to step foot into this magical place, and you're shocked at what you see.  No kids, i'm not talking about the, suprise, here's a puppy, kind of suprise.  No, im talking about when you walk in, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head from culture shock.  You have official entered the ring with the big kids.  Everyone in school who you thought was so innocent, well, lets just say they tossed that out the window.  All the sudden you realize your just standing there staring.  Let the awkward moments begin.

Now to put it into perspective, everyone does their own thing.  By the end of the night everone has had a good time, but the best part are the after parties.  They don't have to be a party where the music continues to blare and you are dancing with your date.  Sometimes the best after party is when you sit around a fire with some hot chocolate on the cold night as you and all your friends laugh and tell stories.  In the end giving the happily ever after that you so desperately wanted.

What do you Stand for?

I stand for respect.
This is the south,
We don't mouth off to our Mommas.
We say yes Ma'am and no Sir,
If only just because we're scared of what might happen if we don't!

I stand for honesty.
I work hard for what I do,
And no one better claim it as theirs.

I stand for progress.
If something is wrong,
Do something about it!
Have a little ambition!

I could go on all day about what I stand for,
But when you see something wrong,
Will you stand?

A Powerful Thing

A blog is said to be a powerful thing.  Its ability to express the written word for everyone in the world to see gives a very powerful feeling.  Although, today I realized that a blog is not the only way for your writing to influence people.  Whether someone means for their thoughts to be recorded for a purpose or just to simply communicate.  With this power comes consequences as all do things with power.  By writing a letter for example, the tone of voice is lost and certain words become dangerous.  Those mistakes are of course are accidental.  Then, for example, text messages can be misunderstood if they are not worded correctly.  Now these examples are for when you want to convey a message.  But sometimes we don't realize that what we text is still recorded.  As soon as your thoughts leave your mind onto a piece of paper or text, they can't be taken back.  Everyone understands the occasional typos (I know I have my fair share if not more), but what happens when you  mean to send false information?  Do you think to yourself "Would I say this to them in person?'' or "How well this affect them and other people involved if I send this?" No, most of us don't but, why is it that we think it is okay to send aweful things just because they can be deleted?  Well, let me give you a heads up if this is they way you feel, a text message is just as powerful as a blog.  It is still a written record of what you said and thought.  A text message can almost be more dangerous because of this neat little button called "forward."  It never fails that the message will get out, it always does.  So please, next time you are about to send something that you wouldn't say in person or that could affect someone, stop and think.  Because here's a hint, a text message is a powerful thing.

The Day that will Live in Infamy

Fire was everywhere.  All my classmates watched the television in utter silence.  Our teacher had stepped out of the room as soon as she had seen the headline reading "Twin Tower Under Attack."  I felt a giant hole forming in the pit of my stomach.  I didn't understand what was happening then, but I knew it wasn't good.  We were trying to make sense of what was happening as we saw another plane coming.  It crashed into the other tower.  The scene looked like it was from a movie.  The only thing that let us know that the scene was real was the "breaking news"  stamp at the bottom of the screen.  I was in 2nd grade.  I can still clearly remember watching the towers collapsing.  When I saw all the people running I cried because I was so scared.  That day will truely live in infamy.

A Handwritten Memo

A handwritten memo,
That's all that was left.
I scrutinized it for being the last piece of him.
Now the silence is chilling.

A handwritten memo,
One page describing why.
It was tri-colored,
White paper, blue ink, and a red stamp.

He will be back.
I believe it.
One short footnote says
"I love you, and I promise to come home again"

Off to war he goes,
I don't have to worry.
I got the handwritten memo.

Mad Cow Disease, When Cows Attack

They were everywhere!  Who would have thought this would happen?  I didn't.  Mad cow disease, that's what they said it was.  Farmers have turned into doctors.  The world has been turned upside-down ever since the outbreak started.  People running around, cows chasing them.  Who knew cows could run so fast!  Then again, the people could be smart and get in a car, but I guess when running away from a derranged rampaging cow you don't have time to look for your keys.  I on the other hand have secured my home so that I don't have to worry about the cows. 
Bang.
What was that?
Moo.
Oh no!

What to do at Midnight

It was midnight.  The witching hour so I hear.  The time that gives plot to "tween" items like Twilight and such.  Although, when is Twilight life real?  No one REALLY sparkles in the sunlight or can go forever without sleep. Any college student can tell you that, because when it comes down to the time for mid-terms, trust me they try.  Midnight for me isn't about all that craziness, but instead it's peaceful.  A time to myself when all the world is sound asleep.  Midnight is my favorite time.  I like to sneak outside to my backporch and just listen to the slow moving water of the trickling waterfalls while I stare up at the white flouresant moon that is directly overhead.  Just to think while I rock back and forth peacefully in the broken-in iron rocking chair.