"The Room" by Joshua Harris

“In that place between wakefulness and dreams,” I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index-card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.” The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.”

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.

The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him.

All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.

There were still cards to be written.

There are two new men in my life.

One of them is named Jacoby, and the other is Clay. They're both extremely small, with long tails. They are...rats. On Wednesday, I got them at the pet store and brought them home. Jacoby is a little boy rat, with a brown head and a few brown splotches on his white coat. Clay is young gentlemen, who has been a daddy before [which is why he'll be taking care of Jacoby and teaching him manners] and is mostly tan, with a white belly and a few white flecks. They're both extremely energetic, and particularly enjoy climbing around on my shoulders and playing with my hair.

I'll have pictures of them soon. :)

Merry Christmas

He has a girlfriend.

And I'm just fine with that.

A white Christmas?

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..." Well, it's certainly snowing, and it has been for awhile now. I think it looks really pretty, but I'm not out there shoveling it quite yet. However, the thought that I might be shoveling it all is kind of...blah. I hate shoveling. Last year I managed to escape shoveling at our house entirely, but did have to shovel at my best friend's house. I suppose that's what comes of being regarded as part of their family.

But right now I'm trying not to think about the snow, and the cold, and the wet and the blah. So BLAH to snow and shoveling and all that jazz. I'm warm and cozy next to a warm wood stove, and that's good enough for me right now.

"And maybe get some sleep tonight..."

Click to Hear

...looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see
That I want and I'm needing everything that we should be
I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about
And she's got everything that I have to live without

...talks to me, I laugh cause it's so damn funny
That I can't even see anyone when he's with me
He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right,
I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do

...walks by me, can he tell that I can't breathe?
And there he goes, so perfectly,
The kind of flawless I wish I could be
She'd better hold him tight, give him all her love
Look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky cause

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do

So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light
I'll put his picture down and maybe
Get some sleep tonight

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do
He's the time taken up, but there's never enough
And he's all that I need to fall into...

"Hi mom!"

I really love Dustin Pedroia. I really do.

A hilarious video of Dusty P. waving to the camera and saying "hi" to his mom:


And a great video montage of Dustin set to "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet."


Here's some pictures for you all to look at:



















And here are specific ones of Francona and Dustin!
Dusty + Tito = BFFs

Apologies

Sorry I've been neglecting my blog - life has been hectic recently. I suppose I could have made time, but...I didn't. :) I'll be posting again, and thanks to all of you who kept checking back here.

WHAT THE...heck.

This is unbelievable. Santana is NOT worth Jacoby. Boston GMs, or whoever the heck makes these decisions...WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING????

I'm honestly too mad to say anything else.

'Tis the season to be...stressed.

Finals, Red Sox trades, work, school, social life, school, Red Sox Trades, and of course, christmas shopping...it gets pretty stressful sometimes. And yet, we still love this time of year. To get in "the Christmas" spirit, people do all sorts of fun things...getting the Christmas tree set up [we did that today, and I picked out this ginourmous fat one that my dad will probably have to cut up and feed out the window instead of taking it through the door when it's time to take the tree down], people go caroling, bake christmas cookies, and fun stuff like that. And advent calenders. Those are pretty awesome too.

So, what can I do with this blog to get all [three?] of you who read my blog into the Christmas spirit? Well, there will be a change of layout [as you can probably see now] and I'll be doing my own version of an advent calender...with...Red Sox players. [I can hear you groaning mum!] But of course, I'll still keep you all up to date with my life. So, if you're like my mom, and you really don't want to read about the Sox, just read till I start talking about them. I'll be talking about a player a day till Christmas. :)

But for now...let's talk about the play that's now over! For those of you who didn't know, I was in a play this past Friday and Saturday. It was pretty awesome... "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever." I played the part of "Imogene," who starts out as bratty, self-centered, bossy and ends up getting the true meaning of Christmas. It was pretty fun.

Nothing else has really happened to me recently...except for the fact that I learned how to straighten my hair without burning my hands, ears or head. :)

Later today I'll make my first advent post. :)

It's been a busy few days.

After getting back from Vermont, I've been incredibly busy. It's really difficult to come back from almost a week of vacation - where the hardest thing you were expected to do is put your dishes in the dishwasher - and have to jump right back into school, homework, work, and life/reality in general. Oh, and the stress of Red Sox trade talks. Let's start there.

For those of you who don't know, here's how the schedule runs:
Nov 5-8 general managers' meetings
Nov 12 free agency filing deadline
Nov 14-15 owners' meetings
Dec 1 deadline to offer salary arbitration to former players who became free agents
Dec 3-6 winter meetings
Dec 6 rule five draft
Dec 7 deadline for free agents offered salary arbitration to accept the offers
Dec 12 deadline to offer contracts to unsigned players
Jan 5-15 salary arbitration filing
Feb 1-21 salary arbitration hearings
Feb 14 pitchers & catchers report

In other words, I won't be sleeping well till that annoying, overly-mushy, "remember, you're single!" day that most people like to call "Valentines Day." However, my jumpy nerves will calm down once I find out whether or not Clay Buchholz is going to be traded. If we keep him, expect great rejoicing. If we don't, expect this blog [and its blogger] to be dressed in mourning black for the appropriate period of time. I'm hoping that Jacoby Ellsbury will be Clay's "savior." The young superstar center-fielder, who has stolen more fangirl's hearts then he has stolen bases [amazing, but true] is considered to be the Red Sox's "untouchable" player - meaning that they won't be trading him for
anyone. This is good, because the Twins are asking for Jacoby and either Clay or Jon Lester.

So, you can see the flaw in the Twins' plan. They're going for Jacoby and Clay or Jon...but the Sox aren't willing to give up Jacoby, and they're certainly not going to be dense enough to give both Clay and Jon up. So here's hoping that Jacoby "Tacoby" Ellsbury will save my favorite player. If he does, I'll be much more greatful then I was when he won the USA a free taco apiece.

NOW, to get off the subject of the Red Sox, for all you people who are like, "I hate the Sox and Meredith's constant obsession with them." That's towards you, dearest, darlingist Mummy.

On a less sad note, but still a sad one, my hair isn't straight anymore. The curls have returned, much to my dismay. I miss the staight hair already, but hey...if God wanted me to have curly hair, I guess I can't really complain. But I will straighten it from time to time.

AND GUESS WHAT ELSE?????????????

IT'S THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. Words cannot express how much I love this time of the year.

And with that, I leave you. :) Have a great day/week/month/year/lifetime. :)

~ Meredith

P.S.:
Click here. Watch. Applaud. Repeat.

I'm feeling...tired.

I've had quite a week up in Vermont and I came back to find this in one of my baseball sources:

"The Red Sox might have the best shot at grabbing Santana, though I still don't understand why they need another starting pitcher outside of just trying to keep him away from the Yankees – hardly a good reason to make a high-profile move like this. Boston happens to currently possess a center fielder highly coveted by the Twins in Coco Crisp. The Red Sox would love to part with Crisp and the Twins would love to take him. Unfortunately, it's not that easy for Boston and a lot of other pieces would need to go Minnesota's way. The Red Sox would need to include either Jon Lester or Clay Buchholz several other prospects. Depending on what the final package turns out to be, if Lester or Buchholz are the biggest losses on Boston's end, then it would be a good deal for them considering they're getting the 28-year old Santana in return. But if another big-name veteran needs to be tossed in there, then the Red Sox might have to part with too much."

It's the whole "Clay Buchholz" thing that has me worried. As some of you might know, he's my favorite Red Sox player, and if he leaves the team, I'll be crushed. Expect updates as the trade-talk continues.

Also, there will be a lovely long post about my time in Vermont for all of you people who might be interested in reading it. :)

The Fight for Natural Beauty

The Axe Effect: the official website. It says everything about the condition of our world and how it sees beauty. “Click here to see nice girls turn naughty.” “Click here to see the world’s DIRTIEST film – so dirty you’ll beg for a shower.” These words flash across the screen, accompanied by images that I’d rather not describe. It is saddening to see how the world’s perspective of beauty has been distorted and destroyed throughout the centuries, degrading women to objects, not people.

Botox, liposuction, cosmetic surgery, makeup, pedicures, manicures, facials, body lotion, perfume, moisturizers, cosmetic Bariatric surgery, diet-pills and more…these are things that are pushed towards women in today’s world. Advertisers tell us that we’re not pretty enough as we are; they tell us that we need all this to make ourselves “truly beautiful.” They tell us to forget the idea of “natural beauty” and try to persuade us that we need all these objects, procedures and more to be attractive and to get the “hot guy.”

It isn’t just things we can pay for, though. In today’s culture, the music and lyrics that blare out from the radio also encourage us to use our bodies – and not our personalities – to catch a man. “Slow bangin shorty like a belly dancer with it. Smell good, pretty skin, so gangsta with it.” Those are some of the opening lines to the song “Don’t Cha” as rapped by Busta Rhymes. Right after that comes the Pussycat Dolls, who put out the song. One of the things they say is, “Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?” The message being portrayed by this group of women is quite clear: be hot, be raw, be flirtatious, and you’ll get the guy you want.

It’s not just singing groups, however. Women also have to deal with the unrealistic expectations of men. I recently asked a young man who I know who he would choose out of two of my friends: my drop-dead gorgeous friend, or my simple, yet pretty friend. It was automatically the former. He didn’t even need to think. Men want the gorgeous girl by their side.

Now, there are the notable exceptions to the rule, so please don’t think that I’m a ranting, raving feminist who thinks all men should be shot. I have been blessed with many guy friends who are able to see past what the world says is “real beauty” and can see the natural beauty. To be told that I am beautiful by one of them means a thousand times more then if I were wearing makeup, and then told I was beautiful. I know that they mean what they say, and that I didn’t need to put on a show to get their praise.

One man I am thankful for is my father, who shows me everyday that there are men in this world who are worth looking up to. When he met my mother, she didn’t wear makeup, yet he says that he fell in love with her at first sight, despite the three or four scarves she had on, the baggy overalls, and sweatshirt she was wearing. Later on, when he wasn’t with her, his friends would tell my mom that he wouldn’t even look at other women. He saw my mom as she was, and not as an object that should be won over, slept with, and then dumped. This is, for me, an example of a “real man.”
-----------------------------------------------
That's the beginning to a paper I'm writing for my literature class. I'll post the entire thing here once I'm done.

Your comments on it would be greatly appreciated.

It was one of those times.

You know what I mean...the times when you just can't stop laughing? I had one of those today. I was at my best friend Jo's house [Jo is short for Joanna] and we were playing "Uno Attack," a version on the game of "Uno" but with a thing that shoots cards at you. Pretty fun. Here's what happened:

She was down to two cards, and played her Wild card, changing the colour to red. Well, I didn't have any red, so I pressed the button of the thing that shoots the cards, and some cards shot out at me. As that happened, Danielle [Jo's younger sister] came into the room and I was like, "Hey, you wanna play?" At that moment, I picked up my cards and saw a Wild Hit card [a card that meant the player to your left had to press the button till cards got shot at him/her] and I went like, "Muahahaha." And promptly dropped the card. Well, for some reason, we all thought it was funny.

Correction: Jo and Danielle thought it was funny...I seemed to think it was hilarious.

I totally burst out into helpless laughter, and within seconds, tears were streaming down my face. I literally couldn't breathe because I was laughing so hard. Eventually it turned into one of those silent laughs...the ones where you're desperately trying to breathe, but completely failing. This went on for about five minutes, and I totally couldn't stop laughing. I'm pretty sure that they all thought I was insane by the time I managed to catch my breath, stifle my laugh, and get a drink.

So, we continued to play Uno Attack, and after awhile, Josh [Jo's younger brother] came out and said, "I'm cleaning the rat cage - you wanna hold them?" Instantly, we all volunteered. Josh has two rats: Triss and Curda. They're very curious, and soon were galavanting up and down me and Danielle while Jo watched in amusement. They were not content, however, to play with our hair. They began to investigate everywhere they could go, including our clothing. At one point, Curda was running around on my back and stomach, with me desperately trying to catch her.

More laughter ensued, and by the time Josh came to collect his insane pets, me, Jo and Danielle were laughing our heads off.

Sometimes you really need a good laugh. I think people are entirely too cynical in this world. I should know - I used to be one of the most cynical people out there. But now I'm beginning to see things in a different light, and it's really making me feel like a better person. So, here's to living life and being content - down with cynicism...it won't do you any good in the end.

Jhandrol ailai si shol,
Laughing into the wind,

~ Meredith

"You never catch up with the future."

That's what one of my friends says, and I honestly couldn't agree more. Perhaps more people should take the time to experience the now instead of always looking towards the future. God is blessing us every second that we're alive, and to always be looking past it without appreciating every single breath is truly a waste. Instead of thinking about the projects that are to come in the week ahead, perhaps you could instead thank God for the time you have now, whether it's ten minutes to read a chapter of a book, half an hour to play a game of Scrabble, or perhaps just a couple minutes to glance around and see your family around you.

Right now I'm totally in a weird mood. I feel like anything is possible...that if I just reach for the stars, perhaps I'll be able to grab some stardust. This song is like, my love right now: Taking Chances, by Celine Dion. It just makes me feel like I can fly if I want. I don't feel bitter, cynical or anything. This song gives me hope, something I haven't had in awhile. Here are the lyrics, but I highly recommend listening to the song if possible - it's totally worth it.

Baelaes cyrdol ais saesi'm mylor kyl shaelyrn,
Never knowing if there's solid ground below,

~ Meredith

I'm sleep-deprived and hungry.

I had a ton of time to do my schoolwork, and yet, here it is...almost 11:00, and I haven't gotten any of it done. "I'll get to it," I told mom. "Don't worry," said I, "I'll get it done." Oy. Well, I'm finally getting to it, and I will get it done. And yet, notice how I put it off by posting on here first. Sad, isn't it, what we'll do to get out of something we really don't want to do. I don't mind the science work that needs to be done [even though there's a lot of it since I've been putting it off for days now] - it's the Logic and Rhetoric stuff that's killing me.

I'll tell you all this right now: Logic and Rhetoric late at night is the most confusing thing in the world [after, of course, boys]. Of course, doing it in the morning isn't too swell either. So here I am, dreading doing my homework, but knowing that it has to be done. Blast it. What do I have to do? I'm not even sure. That's how bad I am at it. Like, I realize that I should totally be on top of homework and whatnot...but I'm not. Each day, I wake up and tell myself, "Meredith, today is the day that you get yourself organized and get your homework done."

Sadly, that day never comes.

I have basically no work-drive, and that bugs me. I wish I were the sort of person who could buckle down and work hard. I wish I could have the self-discipline to just put my nose to the grindstone and churn out "A" grade work all the time. But I'm not. I get distracted way too easily. For example, instead of doing my work earlier on today, I spent an hour cutting out pictures of Red Sox players from a massive stack of newspaper articles I had been saving. Tomorrow I'll probably use those pictures as an excuse not to do my work: "Oh, I'll just put all these pictures up on my corkboard...then I'll do work."

Why can't I motivate myself to do work? Why? I see everyone else around me, and they get their work done before these insane hours. They say, "Wow...I was up so late last night. Almost to midnight!" I say, "Wow...I got to sleep so early last night. I went to bed at midnight!" Clearly, there's a problem here. I can't blame it on the internet, because even when my mom shuts off the internet, I'll work on my book. I can't blame it on the laptop, because when I don't have it, I just read or draw or something. This is a problem.

I. Need. To. Focus.

On a happier note, I have a funny story for you all. So, every Wednesday morning, my Aunt Sharon comes over to our house to have tea with my mom. Well, starting this Wednesday morning, my younger brother Jack is taking some wood-working class over at New Hope. She completely forgot that Aunt Sharon was coming. So at 10:00 in the morning, I'm in a deep sleep. I am, however, awakened by a loud: "HELLOOOOOO?" And I'm all, "Eh...what?" And then I roll over and try to go back to sleep, figuring that it was just a dream. It wasn't. I hear it again. So I stumble out of bed, get dressed and go downstairs to find my aunt there. SURPRISE. I'll admit, I really didn't get what was happening at first, because I had just woken up. My aunt and I ended up having a very nice time talking together, so it was all good. It was nice to have some "Aunt Time," since I don't usually get to have it.

On another note, I have decided that sleep is overrated. So is caffiene. Who doesn't want to stumble around all day looking half-asleep? I mean, come on! It's fun, right!? RIGHT?

Ok, I can hear the crickets.

Well, I guess I'll go now. But not to sleep. Nah...I won't get to do that for another hour or so. Hey - maybe I'll get to go to bed at midnight!!! :)

Shorol sar paes vaelia por tysti sia,
wishing that dreams really did come true,

~ Meredith

// Consider this post edited. It's 12:40. I finished my science. Didn't even start Logic and Rhetoric...way too tired. So I'll be doing it tomorrow morning at 6:30. Yay for me.

Let's blame politics.

Looking at the stats, most people would say that you might as well flip a coin to decide whether CC Sabathia or Josh Beckett was the better pitcher. Boston fans [and other intelligent people] know better then this - intelligent people know that, when it comes down to it, Beckett was the better pitcher. But hey - let's blame politics. Joshie was, to put it lightly, not fond of the reporters. He clearly didn't like talking to them, and didn't make it easy for them to talk to him. And hey - sportswriters like a guy who likes them, right? Perhaps that explains why Josh was left so unceremoniously off the ballots of two votes.

Now, I had a really big post in which I named both guys' stats, and then proceeded to rant merrily about how awful the voting system was, how CC Sabathia didn't deserve the win... But then I figured that my mom wouldn't be too fond of the post as I got a bit too into it, and my language wasn't exactly suitable for civilized company. I feel properly ashamed for having written such things [sort of...] and will not post them here for your viewing, er, pleasure...

I did have a lovely time imagining CC shamefully packaging up the Cy Young award and having it over-nighted to Josh's ranch down in TX with the following telegram to accompany it:

TO JOSH BECKETT. STOP.
VERY SORRY TO HAVE WALKED OFF WITH YOUR AWARD. STOP.
WON'T EVER HAPPEN AGAIN. STOP.
SUGGEST THAT YOU TRY BEING MORE FRIENDLY WITH MEDIA. STOP.
ON SECOND HAND, NEVER MIND. STOP.
YOU DON'T NEED ADVICE FROM ME, A MEASLY 19 GAME WINNER. STOP.
HOPE YOU LIKE THE AWARD. STOP.
HAPPY DEER HUNTING. STOP.
RESIGN MIKE LOWELL. END.

I fricken love Winnie the Pooh.

So, how was your day? Mine was great. I got to sleep in, and then I got to hang out with my mom while we went bridesmaid-gown-shopping. Woohoo! It's a really pretty dress too. Here's a picture off of the "David's Bridal" website. Pretty, is it not? So that was fun. And then mom and I went to Farmer Brown's [a fantastic store with like, everything for sale] and got clam chowder, apple cider and crispy, crusty bread. Really fun.

After that, I came home and hung out the rest of the day. And then I found out that Dustin Pedroia had won the AL Rookie of the Year award! I had a happy spazz all to myself, and went off to find a video of his press conference, and when I found it, I watched it. And let me tell you, this guy is so friggin hilarious. Like, I was laughing so hard that my sides hurt. If you want to watch the video, go here. If it doesn't come right up, I'll try to get a direct link for all of you.

Well, another day, another shooting contest. Once again, it was me, Jack and my dad [whose real age I can't recall at this moment, but he assures me that it is not 1048] and once again...I was the victor. It's times like these that I feel really special. But, special mention must go to my mom, who also took a few shots at the cans. She went 3 for 3, something neither my brother nor my father could achieve over the course of the evening. Great shooting mum. <3

And now...let us have some wise words from our very dear, and very wise, friend, Winnie the Pooh.

- "It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like 'What about lunch?'"

- "If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear."

- "'I don't see much sense in that,' said Rabbit. 'No,' said Pooh humbly, 'there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it along the way.'"

- "Before beginning a Hunt, it is wise to ask someone what you are looking for before you begin looking for it."

- "If you want to make a song more hummy, add a few tiddely poms."

And lastly, my personal favorite:

- "You can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right; but spelling isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count."

Jhyjol thys vaeresi ail eir si vol valaer,
Looking for pleasure in all the right places,

~ Meredith

Mission "Find Out What Time-Zone I Live In" : Success

Who knew that there were so many Time-zones in this world? Seriously! When I asked my mom what time-zone we New Englanders lived in, she said, "Eastern Standard" time. Well, I figured that that would be easy enough to find. HAH. It wasn't. There were like, fifty-billion EST things. So I had to go through like, a million of them. Long story short? I found my time-zone, and now everything will make sense.

Thaelol baesia sostal,
Feeling very triumphant,

~ Meredith

It's past 11:00...

...and I want to go to sleep. Why is it that I always put off doing things, when I know I'll wish I had done them earlier? If you know the answer, please let me know. Meanwhile, I'll continue to consider the more important things in life, such as...why do you drive on a parkway, and park on a driveway? Nah...never mind. That's a bit too deep. Instead, I think I'll just go. The whole point of this post is so that there was a post when all you wonderful people dared to click on this link.

So, yes. Hello. Yay. As you can tell, I'm clearly not on my A-game right now. But then, if you had a cold, and were sleepy, would you be? HAH. I thought not. Anyhoo, I'm done rambling now, so hopefully you've all had a great laugh at my expense. If you haven't, don't be afraid. There will be many laughs to come, whether you're laughing with me [hopefully this one] or at me [I do this a lot...]. Meanwhile, please ignore the date/time/day of this post. I'm still trying to figure out what timezone I live in. :)

AH. I'm also going up to VERMONT to see one of my bestest friends. I haven't seen her in like, two years, so I'm wicked excited. =D More updates on that to come.

Today I discovered something: I am quite a good shot with a gun. No, I wans't out killing anyone. :) I was upstairs when I heard the sound of my dad's BB gun being fired. So, going to the basement stairs, I sorta bellowed down, "I WANNA SHOOT THE GUN." Turns out that my dad [age 1048, name of Stephen] and my younger brother [age thirteen, name of Jack] were taking shots at tin cans. I joined in, and completely kicked their butts. Like, I was BANG, BANG. Knocked both cans off the little stand in a row. Totally on fire. Then Jack was all, "Let's have a contest to 12." So we started. I got to 12 [he was at 6], and so the contest went to 15...then to 20. Final score? Me: 20. Jack: 9. Poor boy. First, I beat him in Risk, and now shooting guns. So then I'm all, "I'll have a contest with Dad sometime." And dad was all, "How about now? First to five." So we had our contest.

End score?

Me = 5
Dad = 0

Life is good, is it not? And yes, I'm done bragging now.

Jholi aelaesia maelyl jhoji air'm os jhar.
[Live every second like it's your last.]

~ Meredith