November 27, 2011

And that has made all the difference.

Essay from my creative writing class, slightly based on Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken."

I went to five different elementary schools. Because I moved around so much, I struggled with finding good friends. Being in the top of my class each year didn't help. When I began an accelerated program in 5th grade, I finally found a group.

For the next four years, my life was "Mean Girls." I was in the popular circle of girls in my class, but I obviously didn't fit in. They told me rules I had to keep. If I didn't, I was kicked out. I had to straighten my hair, dress a certain way, and act dumb so boys would like me. They told me which boys I was "allowed" to have a crush on.

I told my parents that I was happy and that my "friends" were nice.

We were rude and gossiped a lot. We never talked or cared about anything important. The two queen bees of the group would get in fights over boys. They forced the rest of us to pick sides. Things were very dramatic, and I was extremely desperate and insecure. I chose friends over confidence.

Things lightened up a bit in junior high. I still felt excluded and below them. I still felt like I had to be on my guard all the time. However, it was better to have friends, hating my life, than to have no friends and be lonely.

At the end of it all, one of the queen bees confessed that they were only friends with me to make themselves look better.

My crucial decision came toward the end of 8th grade, after four years of hell. I emotionally couldn't handle it anymore. I wanted friends who accepted me for me. I cut off all contact and am still working to move on.

I sigh now because it's a part of my life I wish I could forget. I recognize that the difference has been positive. I struggled for a while, trying to gain confidence from my nothingness, and wanting to make real friends.

I jumped around a bit between different groups until the end of 10th grade, where at a party, I met the cutest, brownest, funniest guy I've ever known. He's my best friend! If I hadn't left that group from hell two years previous, and spent time discovering who I am, then I wouldn't have been ready to meet him.

Looking back, those were my most formative years. I excelled in orchestra and academics. I took my first AP class, discovered a love for history, and tried debate. I've become extremely involved in religion and school.

Before, my "friends" controlled my life. Now, I know who I am and what I want to be.

A pearl is my favorite gem. A clam will take a grain of sand, and through much pressure, make it into a beautiful pearl. Judge me as you will. Say what you want about me. Think harshly of me for running into Alonso's arms, or that I'm crazy for trying to do all that I do. Or that my hair would look better straight. Or that my skin's too white, and I should try tanning. Or that I have no life outside of school. Tell yourself whatever you want, because you will never know me the way I know myself, and the way my Savior knows me. Through much pressure, I have become a beautiful pearl.

Things were hard, but I made a crucial decision, and that has made all the difference.


Also, as a quick analysis of the poem, many people just get it WRONG. It never once says that he chose the better path. He said he'd be telling the story with a sigh, knowing that the path he chose made all the difference. It could easily be interpreted to mean that he had taken the wrong path. He also says that both paths were equally worn. One wasn't significantly harder than the other. Just some thoughts. Love you all:)

November 22, 2011

Why yes, I did change up the blog.

I felt like the old blog didn't fit me anymore. Enjoy the new one! It's based on the song "Sarah Smile" by Hall&Oates. Dad used to play it for me when I was little.

November 20, 2011

Speaking in church next week:):)

Well, as you know, I LOVE debate! I also really enjoy talking in church. Today, while meeting with my ward's 2nd counselor, I informed him that it's been 1 1/2 years since I've spoken in Sacrament meeting. He was beyond impressed. Apparently, he's been looking for a young woman to speak next week. He explained that he typically makes calls 2 or 3 weeks in advance, but he just couldn't figure out who to call. He had free time, but no one felt right. I felt really good because not only am I relieving a burden of his, not only am I speaking in church, but I was led to this assignment! It's inspired!

Very pleased with myself right now:)

November 17, 2011

My Castle is Perfect

The blue lights illuminated the high, pink walls. Its turrets penetrated the speckled-with-stars sky. Royal drapes hung from the towers. Small, fluorescent lights were strung around the building, brightly flaunting the details: gilded edging, stone craftsmanship, and happiness. An arch stood in the middle, proudly holding the weight of the massive establishment. Grand windows were curtain closed; yet from the ground, I peered inside. Inside, where the sun really does come out tomorrow, and it’s comforting…but disregard my prediction of what I would find inside while I describe its majestic exterior in one word: perfection.

Everything about Sleeping Beauty’s Castle was sparkly and magical. It inspired me, and I let it. Its lavish decorations and particulars were refreshing. During daylight, the castle was inviting. When dark came, it was absolutely stunning: a sight seen from the entire park. Only a palace as magnificent as Aurora’s could be deemed the icon for the “Happiest Place on Earth.” 

My castle is likewise perfect. It is friendly, beautiful, and happy. Visitors look up to it, and make talk of it. Because of its size and reputation, it is easily detected. The details are similar: the same gilded trims, structure, and boastful happiness. Yet, as darkness approaches, lights, too, are shined upon my castle. As with Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, mine also lacks light within. Its curtains are closed, and the inside concealed. People can make predictions or assumptions of what is kept inside of my castle, but they don’t know me. I’m only perfect.

November 7, 2011

mi hermana Amelia:)

“Amelia? AMELIA?! AWW--MAY--LEE--UHH!”

She wasn’t answering me again. I knew that Millie was in the room next door, probably with music blaring. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number.


“Well that was friendly,” I said sarcastically, grinning at the sound of my 15-year-old sister’s voice. “I’m writing an essay about a family relationship. You and me, and me and you. I need a story. What’s something cool that we’ve done?”

“Uhhh…How about that time last week at Wal*mart, when the guy at the dressing rooms was a GUY! And we were BRA SHOPPING!” She giggled.

“Wow, Lia, like I’m really going to write an essay to my teacher about that.” Sometimes Millie can be so weird. “I need a story…some time when our friendship was strengthened.”

“When has that ever happened?” Now she had me laughing! “Really, we don’t do stuff like that. We go to dance class together and sometimes shopping. We work on our online classes in the same room, and you say that you value my opinion. That’s about it.”

She was right. Amelia and I have hardly anything in common. First off, she inherited my dad’s dark, Polynesian skin. Me? I’m as white as snow. We both have long curly hair, but Millie’s is more bushy, and mine, wavy. She likes anime and drawing. I’m more into politics and writing. She’s always had the best luck with friends, but I’d rather have a select few. I like sweet candy, and her, sour. Yet somehow, we get along just fine.

One reason why we’re so close is the age range in my family. I have 2 older sisters who are 1 ½ years apart. Then, there’s a 5 year gap before me. Amelia and I have always been the “little sisters.” It’s like we’re on the same team. When we were young, and the older 2 were at school, we would play with their pokemon figures, which was forbidden. We’d watch for the bus. When it came, Amelia and I would clean everything up before they arrived home. It was our little secret.

After our move to Utah, Amelia and I became even closer. We played stuffed animals, barbies, polly pockets, or all of those at once. We shared a room and bunk bed. Though we often argued about menial things, we quickly overcame those, strengthening our relationship.

Things changed as I grew up. No, Amelia and I don’t play like we used to. Instead, we talk and talk and talk! We support each other, learn from each other, and love each other. Because we’re so different, we can offer unique perspective and advice. Amelia is the sister I can go to for anything. Millie is, and always will be, my best friend.

And yes, if you’re wondering, we did go to Wal*Mart last week to go bra shopping, and there was a creepy, old guy in charge of the dressing rooms.

Exactly what I needed!

Last night after I prayed, as I was about to lay my head down on the pillow, when a thought came into my mind: "God loves you." It repeated itself over and over again. "God loves you. God loves you. God loves you. God loves you. God knows you. God understands you. That's why God sent Christ for you."

I've heard people tell stories about how they gained a testimony of God's love for them, and I thought I had a testimony of God's love for me, but last night was the confirmation I've been needing. Everything came to me so clearly. I'm sad...but I don't have to be. Last night, God made it very simple. All I have to do is ask Jesus Christ to take my pain away. He's already suffered for it, and he wants to take it upon himself. I have to let him.

I've been stubborn. I've been self-righteous and vain. I've assumed that this little problem is something I can take care of on my own...but now I know I can't. I've let my pride hold me down. My little problem with depression has consumed my life. It's going to take some time to change, but I'm ready to put my trust in Christ and be happy again.