MITT ROMNEY

I just watched the Mitt documentary on YouTube. I mean, talk about taking risks!

I cried at the end. When he lost. He sat there in his house, with his wife and it was over. All that work and stress and anxiety and depression. Determination and faith and hope. Over. 

That's what comes with risk. Uncertainty. You might be doing the wrong thing. It might not be for you. You might have done something wrong. But you're not going to die from it. So you might as well live and learn from it. Take that risk. 

BLUEBERRY POP-TARTS

Are pets family? Because if they are, then I can say I've lost family.

Her name was Goldy. She was a goldfish. She was the first time I experienced death.

I came down to my room and looked over to my mini aquarium. Goldy was floating on the top of the water, slowly moving with the current. Being young and naive, I thought she was just taking a nap. I thought it was funny. Goldy never took naps. I wanted to show my sister. She looked into the tank and gasped then sprinted up the stairs. My dad came downstairs with my sister trailing close behind. I was sensing panic and urgency but I had no idea why.

Goldy wasn't taking a nap. Goldy was dead.

My sister sat on her bed and screamed bloody murder while my dad scooped Goldy out with the green fish net. If you walked into the room and didn't know what was going on, you would've thought her arm just got cut off.
I sat on my bed, opposite of my sister. Silent. Watching my sister cry and my mom try to console her. Was this what death was? Was everybody supposed to scream bloody murder? Why wasn't I? My eyes were watery. My throat felt huge. I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I had to be the tough one.

We put Goldy in a blueberry Pop-Tarts box. My dad got the shovel from the garage and we slowly walked to the backyard. My sister's head was resting on my mom's stomach as she hugged her tightly. I was standing by my dad and watched him dig the hole in the dirt. We put the blueberry Pop-Tarts box in the whole and covered it over.

By then she was sobbing again. We said a prayer. It was Mom's idea. I felt awkward.

Blueberry Pop-Tarts have never tasted very good since then.

INVISIBLE

(push play on "Invisible" on my Grooveshark playlist on the right)

"Invisible"

Crowded hallways are the loneliest places
For outcasts and rebels
Or anyone who just dares to be different
And you've been trying for so long
To find out where your place is
But in their narrow minds
There's no room for anyone who dares to do something different
Oh, but listen for a minute

Trust the one
Who's been where you are wishing all it was
Was sticks and stones
Those words cut deep but they don't mean you're all alone
And you're not invisible
Hear me out,
There's so much more to life than what you're feeling now
Someday you'll look back on all these days
And all this pain is gonna be invisible
Oh, invisible

So your confidence is quiet
To them quiet looks like weakness
But you don't have to fight it
'Cause you're strong enough to win without a war
Every heart has a rhythm
Let yours beat out so loudly
That everyone can hear it
Yeah, I promise you don't need to hide it anymore
Oh, and never be afraid of doing something different
Dare to be something more

Trust the one
Who's been where you are wishing all it was
Was sticks and stones
Yeah, the words cut deep but they don't mean you're all alone
And you're not invisible
Hear me out,
There's so much more of this life than what you're feeling now
And someday you'll look back on all these days
And all this pain is gonna be invisible

These labels that they give you
just 'cause they don't understand
If you look past this moment
You'll see you've got a friend
Waving a flag for who you are
And all you're gonna do
Yeah, so here's to you
And here's to anyone who's ever felt invisible

Yeah, and you're not invisible
Hear me out,
There's so much more to life than what you're feeling now
And someday you'll look back on all these days
And all this pain is gonna be invisible
It'll be invisible

For anyone trying to trust life, someday you'll look to life.

NIKE

I love Nike. Say it ten times fast and it starts to sound weird. Actually give it 30.

I had an experience. I was going shopping. Now I'm not like some of you girls, that when you hear shopping, you picture Nordstrom and high heels. When I hear shopping I think Sports Authority or Dicks. Dicks Sporting Goods. You dirty minds!

Well I was walking into Sports Authority. It had been a while since I'd been and something came over me and I started to cry. I was standing in the front of the store and the tears were welling up and then the dam broke and they ran down my face.

It's just one of those things man. I can't explain it. Like I would die if I had a "Everything is FREE" card to that place. (Which would suck because then I couldn't use it, but you know what I mean...)
It is pure heaven. Pure heaven. PURE. HEAVEN.

This is what I looked like. (I was looking at the muscular man mannequin.) And then the shoes and then the running jackets and then the sweats and then the running shorts and then the spandex and then the waterbottles and then the headbands and then the hoodies and then the leggings and then the elite socks and then the shirts. HEAVEN.

 This is what I looked like after buying everything.

And this is me now. Sitting on my couch day after day eating crap. (Except she looks like a model-I don't look like a model.)

I love Nike.

FEAR IS A HOME RUN

"Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game."

^^That's what they all say.^^

You want to know what I'm afraid of?
I'm afraid of:

love       failure       success                                                  bugs     thick books     sweaty hands 

Let me elaborate.

  
BUGS: Just to name a few, I hate rollie pollies because they COVER my window well. And I find one every so often. In my carpet. Dead. And when they die, they turn white and it just makes me want to puke. I hate flies, because that buzzing sound gives me the chills and they're so quick on their feet and I've heard they puke every time they land. Maybe that's a myth but I believe it. I hate mosquitos because, duh. And I hate ladybugs because they tickle. And they also puke when they land. But they do look cool. And I like counting their spots. And it doesn't tickle that bad. Okay I take that back. I kinda like lady bugs.

THICK BOOKS: I've never been a huge fan of reading and when I see books the size of King Kong I just get discouraged. I can just picture my mom's book shelf. The top shelf is lined with all of The Work and the Glory novels. Probably about 3,000 pages each. I'll just stick to the movies-I watched the second one tonight.

SWEATY HANDS: You've all touched someone's hand and it's been either soaking-wet sweaty, or that sticky-grime sweaty. Neither are too pleasant. Which is why I'm afraid of sweaty hands. I'm afraid I have them. But I've found a way to prevent it. You can thank me later. Wipe your hand on your clothes and then touch something cold, like your knee (at least mine is always cold) and then let it sit there, face up, without touching anything and then just don't think about it. It works every time. If it doesn't work, that's really okay, too.

LOVE: I'm afraid I'll never find love. I've never kissed a boy in my life. Actually, 2nd grade, but it was on the cheek and I was confident back then. I'm afraid I'll become the next Sherri Dew. Alone. Never married. Amazing! But alone. I'm afraid I'll never have my soulmate. To scratch my back, make me laugh, and hold me tight when nothing is right.

FAILURE: I think everyone is afraid of failure. It's the first thing that comes to everybody's mind when asked what your fears are. Because failure hurts. It's embarrassing. It makes you vulnerable. But yet it's the only thing that makes you stronger.

SUCCESS: I find myself shying away from opportunities where I could potentially succeed. Simply because I'm afraid to. Afraid to succeed. Once you succeed, you get higher and higher up. And someday you are bound to fail. And the higher up you are, the more embarrassing it is when you fail.

But they say,
"Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game."

Fear keeps us from playing the game, most of the time. But it isn't until we face that fear that we hit home run after home run.

OR WITH A BRICK

                     Or with a brick.

MY RED BRICK HOUSE

The first four years of my life were spent in a little red brick house.
I don't remember much about that house, but I do remember a few things.

I remember standing in front of our little TV, dancing to Shania Twain and 98˚ with my sister.

Just so you can get the mental image, we were both in dress-up. She was "Anastasia-Mulan" and I was just myself. I would establish a pivot foot and then bounce up and down to the beat while spinning in a circle.
Unfortunately I still dance the same way…

Another thing I specifically remember was a dream.

It's weird how some dreams, you don't forget. We were in the mall and in the middle where all the kiosks are, there were about five car washes lined up and cars were just slowly driving through the mall, getting car washes! I remember being so fascinated. It was obviously a dream I'll never forget.
I remember waking up from the car wash dream and seeing a little tiny mouse right in front of my face staring right at me. It scared the !@$% out of me! But I didn't scream. I squeezed my eyes so tight, I'm surprised I can see today. And about 5 seconds later, I opened them and the mouse was gone.
You're probably saying "Cool story bro. Now go make me a sandwich." Well, you know what! These memories are me. With all that I am, I wish I could go back in time and relive them. These were the times I was truly truly happy. Me and my curly locks. Me and my little red brick house.


Since then, my family has driven past that house and it's sad. There are no flowers. There are brown patches in the once-green grass. The blinds that I used to stare out of are shut tightly. There are no little kids on slipping slides. There are no balloons lining the fence for anybody's birthday. There is no life.
Now, I'm not saying I'm the life of the party, but I'm the life of the party. And this little red brick house-which once held the daily party, whether it was a dance party or a tea party-has no life.

I guess I have to bring life somewhere else. I guess I can do that right here. I guess I can. I guess.