So Far…

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School’s been very mean to me. It drones on and on and on anon and then suddenly, “please prepare for a test on section 4A.” Woah, where did that one come from?

To be honest, I’ve paid way more attention to news on A4– Avengers 4, that is… and…

The.

Trailer.

Is.

Out.

Today.

People.

*mind explodes* I’ve been watching it for at least the sixth time today and I have too many theories that will probably kill me.

I’ve also been waiting for anything on Album 66: Trial By Fire and my head hurts with all the possibilities of 1. Skint kidnapping Buck, 2. Buck being adopted, 3. a literal fire. Also, we do need to ask the question WHEN WILL JILLIAN DIE?

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Life’s been hard. There’s been so much tension and tiredness and homework and questions and times when I need. to. get. out and anxiety about the future and frustration and perpetually gritted teeth and always having to push yourself harder and harder even when nobody could care less or has to and screaming and fighting and praying and dying and I just need some peace today and tomorrow and for every second Sunday in May and it’s so hard to believe God is good even when He is and we’re out of bread and I gotta finish and I can’t remember the dratted reference and I’m okay with giving up right now.

Don’t we all? Something tells me I’m not the only one who’s had one or all of the above and much worse. And then I gotta re-learn how to trust again. I gotta re-learn that God is good and He is love and He won’t leave when the guns growl, which is handy because right now I’m afraid I’m short of ammo. So if you want to swap prayer requests, let me know.

And nobody wants to admit that. Nobody wants to admit they’re a quitter. Everyone wants to be the tough hero who gets the job done no matter what the cost. I really want that. I want to prove ’em wrong and wrong and so wrong… even when they’re right.

I guess I’m learning that burden was never mine to carry. That it was God’s all along.

Maybe some things shouldn’t be posted. I know I hate that long post that just lines on about how hard and sad life is, yet here I am writing one just like that. Why am I doing this?

If reading this can help someone, anyone, then it’s worth writing this drek down.

So yeah, that’s where I’m at.

I’m staying up ridiculously late to reads books and waking up ridiculously early to write them. I’m skating backward and falling forward and laughing. And mailing a letter or two.

Oh, and I got up at the crack of dawn for a lousy rendition of We Three Kings, so if you’re interested in notsogood and notsobad music, here you go.

Been wandering around taking random pictures, snapped this lovely one (ha!) and I guess I’ll leave it here.

It’s not Instagram worthy.

It’s not Pinterest worthy.

Good grief that mirror isn’t even the cleanest!

Well, it’s life. The less people feel pressured to display a perfect life on the screen and actually live, the better. The far, far better. And I know I’ve been tempted to do that. To show this aesthetic rose tinted life that’s full of roses and daisies and is just so Chikfila sweet tea wonderful. But it’s not.

That doesn’t mean my life isn’t wonderful. Or that God isn’t working in it. Because He is. More glory to Him, and less to me. I’m 110% okay with that.

Until next time.

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A Narrative

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There are too many assignments to finish. Wayy too much. *groans* Come winter break and save me!

Ahem. Anyway, one of the assignments is to write a narrative about a frightening experience from life… and publish it.

O_O

By BJU definition, apparently, “publish” is to put it out so people can read it. not just show it to your teach- mom after you’re done.

D’oh!

This wouldn’t be one of the first “school” assignments to pop up here, and it won’t be the last, lemme tell ya. I gotta write a newspaper article- or at least a good mock copy. *facepalms* So. uh. Here goes nothing.

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It was my uncle’s church’s camping trip, and my family decided to take all five of us kids, a giant tent, and drive over to Ajax, I think it was. I’d thought it was the coolest thing ever. Being a city kid didn’t give one enough safety or space to explore, so camping was as rare as hot dogs on a Monday night. We’d eagerly set up the tent, jumped on the airbed til the air leaked out, and changed into our swimsuits when Dad told us about the camp pool.

I can still remember what it looked like, though my memory needs to be jump started with old pictures to properly see the place. The cabin had a nice, oak scent to its lacquered wooden walls, but the pool had a different scent of its own. It smelled nice and clean and.. inviting. The water most certainly was, with the light from the wide glass windows glinting off the shimmery water. My sister and brothers jumped into the water without a second thought, while I stayed right at the edge, the water lapping my feet.

See, I didn’t know how to swim.

To a five year old such as myself, however, it was exciting enough to lightly hop into the clear blue water and paddle. But for my dad, well, he was pretty sure I could do more than wave my arms while my feet were securely entwined around the railing.

“How ‘bout you swim over to me?” Dad called from where he was. To my tiny one foot tall self, it seemed he was a gazillion miles away, when in reality it was probably one stroke. Talk about pathetic.

“Um, no thanks!” I chirped from where I was, much preferring to float inside my little safety vest. Just then my sister and oldest brother swooped past me, engaged in some kind of race. I suddenly wanted to join them, and let my feet go from the railing, my hands paddling to the middle of the pool.

And then I dropped.

It was fast, sudden, dark . I somehow plunged down into the deep darkness below. Well, it wouldn’t have been so dark if I’d trusted my goggles and opened my eyes. But no, I didn’t. The water surrounded me as I sank deeper and deeper, my ears only hearing things muffled and my heart pounding.

It was just a game at first, and I could play it. I shut my eyes and held my breath as I headed deeper and deeper into the pool. I thought it was exciting, fun, that I could propel myself up like in the stories and break into the surface, that until then I could blow bubbles out like Captain Hook. But then it got scarier. I couldn’t hear Dad, or Joseph or Jacob, I was running out of air to blow bubbles, and no matter how hard I flapped my arms, I couldn’t get out of the that horrible, horrible dark water. The water engulfed me, just like the paralyzing fear that I was gonna drown. And I couldn’t scream. That was the worst part. Besides from the fact I couldn’t breathe.

Quickly, suddenly, someone, something plunged into the water and pulled me out, and everything reversed. I could see light again- light! And I could breathe, and feel air. And scream my head off as I clung to my sister’s shoulders.

“I want to go home! I want to go home!” I cried as Dad wrapped me up in a little towel and sat me on the side, far away from the water.

I was never gonna do that again. Ever.

Then my sister and all three brothers offered to carry me on their backs like baby otters do with their mothers.

I jumped back in, laughing like my near-death experience never happened.

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If you’re reading this, you just read like 500 words of drek! Congratulations! As a reward you get the link to the 4th carol and me leaving you alone until tomorrow. 🙂 A lovely day to ya!