tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154363342024-03-06T19:51:24.823-08:00Inside The Mind Of A Teenage Know-It-AllLeah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1156480833830235742006-08-24T21:22:00.000-07:002006-08-24T21:40:33.843-07:00The "Maneater"Tonight I had a really interesting experience with one of my friends that I thought was worth sharing, because it definately gave me a laugh. A bunch of my friends from last year that have left for college keep in touch with me and tonight one of them in particular told me a really funny experience that she had while she was away at college.<br /><br />She recently met this guy who we'll call Bob. Bob, to put it lightly, is somewhat of a girly-man. No offence to boys of the more feminine side...nothing against you, but this guy was REALLY off. He seemed to think that my friend was going to be the next Mrs. Bob. How do we know this, you ask? Simple - the wonders of the internet are endless.<br /><br />My friend said that one night she was bored, and googled her name on the internet. Lo and behold, up popped a sight much like this one...a site for the bloggers of the world. Bob, it seems, has a little time on his hands and likes to leave a daily journal on his blog site. Nothing wrong with that, except that it gets a little tedious to watch him calculate his test scores on the computer ("I messed up on these quiz questions..well, I missed two of them, which is 4 points..but I probably missed 15 points overall on the exam..which would give me a 60/75..an 80%..bah humbug."...yeah). Anyway, she went to the entry about the first night that he'd met her, and there it was. The boy was obviously very attracted to this friend, because not only did he have ALL of her good virtues written down, but he also had the LDS temple that they would be married in picked out. I'm not kidding. It went something like "She likes the such and such temple, but I prefer the such and such temple. Oh well, I guess we'll see how things go". Yeah. Nice. Anyway, my friend thought that it was high time that the poor sap realized that, as hard as it was to say, things were NEVER going to get that far. So what did she do? She sat him down and gave him the old "maneater" speech.<br /><br />Now, I think I should make it clear that this friend is by <em></em>no<em></em> means a "maneater". She does not "use and abuse" guys, and I'm almost positive she never will. Bob, however, didn't know that, and I see no need for him to. She sat him down a few days ago and tonight she repeated the conversation for my benefit. It went something like this:<br /><br />"Bob, a lot of my friends call me a maneater. See, I tend to lead guys on and then dump them." "Ok." (blank stare...obviously this guy has a few more years of school ahead of him. She didn't tell me all of the exact details, but I know that from his entry on the web, she didn't make it very clear, though in the end he seemed to get the general point. Now comes the best part....Bob had just been crushed. His future Mrs. Bob had given him the old heave ho and now he had to find a way to deal with that. Well, apparently, nothing says "moving on" to Bob except a half gallon of orange sherbet and the modern-day LDS version of "Pride and Prejudice". That's right. As Bob put it, he went on a "binge".<br /><br />Anyway, in addition to being an incredibly funny story (at least to me...I don't think I told it very well, and you kind of have to know the girl to appreciate the true hilarity of the story) this is a warning to all you poor saps out there that ask a girl to wait for her until you return from your mission after knowing her a week and get turned down....there are maneaters out there, and as she put it tonight, "Phase one was complete....now we were on the toilet!"Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1152123138559166542006-07-05T10:57:00.000-07:002006-07-05T11:12:18.580-07:00Summer BluesWhat is it about our school system that makes them think that three months of summer is good? Not that I'm complaining about the long break or anything, but...well...I'm complaining about it. During the school year it feels like the only breaks students really have to look forward to are Saturdays and Sundays. We get pushed to the limit all week long with long papers, math assignments, science experiments, and all other kinds of homework that is probably best not mentioned. Then, just when we're about to crack a weekend comes around. HALELUJIAH! But again, it's only two short days of rest before it's back to the back breaking, mind numbing torture we call homework. It's just not fair, I tell you!<br /><br />Students work hard. We have to, or we get pressure from friends, teachers, parents, and other sources. Those A's have gotta keep rolling in, and we try to make sure that they do. But it would be nice to have a week off every once in a while. I, for one, am fine with have only two months of summer as long as we get a break from all of that stressful work every once in a while.<br /><br />Not only do we get pushed to the limit throughout the school year, but then we get three whole months off. Now, after what I've said above, you're probably wondering why I'm complaining about the long break they give us. I'll be the first to admit that after a full year of working and working and working even more, it's REALLY nice to have that long break. But after a couple of weeks of waking up at ten (heavenly!) and having nothing to do all day (because I'm lame and can't get a job), I just get bored. And not only am I bored - I'm lonely. My friends have jobs or family vacations or whatever to keep them occupied. I've spent the last couple of days reading a book, which is exactly what I'll be doing in August at SCHOOL!<br /><br />All I'm saying: it would be nice to have a break every once in a while during the school year becuase it would solve both problems. The school year would be more bearable with all of the work we've got piling on top of us and the summer would be less boring and, yes, lonely. But what do I know...I'm just the student!Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1141601768058445232006-03-05T15:25:00.000-08:002006-03-05T15:36:08.093-08:00The Power Of MusicEver since the time I was just a "nugget", as my new Sunday School teacher calls her baby, I've loved music. Some of my earliest memories are of my sister putting on Abba and then dancing around with a duster in her hand, trying to get me to have a positive attitude about the fact that I had to clean. Let's face it - everything in life is better with a song. I second the motion the seven dwarves had when they say that whistling while you work is better than just working.<br /><br />This may sound more than a bit cheesy, but I truly feel that being in choir has made a positive impact on my life. I have friends that are faced with the same situations I am, and I can be just as mad as they are about them or feel just as bad as they do, but take me to fourth or fifth period and let me get involved in the music and I'll be skipping down the halls with a smile while my friends still skulk their wayst to class. I'm not saying that my friends are pessimistic by any means. I'm just saying that I have music that touches my soul and they have equations that fry their brains.<br /><br />I firmly believe that music makes a difference in life. I know people that listen to rap music that can't ever seem to force a smile, while others that listen to Mozart can't seem to stop smiling. I'm not saying that you have to listen to classical music to be happy, but I am trying to make a point here. I know that when I'm in a bad mood and I want to stay in a bad mood, I turn on X96 or some other similar hard, sulky rock station or CD and sulk in my room. When I don't want to stay in that bad mood, though, I turn on the MoTab or even upbeat country music or something like that. Life's attitudes can truly be altered by a simple melody.<br /><br />I believe that music touches your soul as well as your ears. Peaceful music brings peaceful feelings of rest and repose...unhappy people who record themselves scream with a drum beating in the background don't usually produce the same effect. All I can say is that I'm so grateful I have discovered the cure to almost any problem...a good, beautiful, soul-inspiring song.Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1136605949577722252006-01-06T19:20:00.000-08:002006-01-06T19:52:29.630-08:00Feliz Navidad...!(My writing skills are a bit rusty, due to the fact that it's been over three months since my last blog, so forgive me if this blog isn't interesting or whatever.)<br /><br />It's true! I, the girl that dreams of big places but has only occasionally gone anywhere truly interesting, can officially say I have left our country! And let me tell you...it was the most amazing vacation I've ever been on! For Christmas my parents took my sister and I to Mazatlan, Mexico. I have to say that it has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. Our hotel, El Rancho, was literally a little heaven on earth. We walked past the first two condos in search of our own temporary home and I stopped dead. It was like walking into a forest of tropical plants. Palm trees, flowers of every color known to man, and other large green plants were EVERYWHERE. But, sadly, I'm getting ahead of myself.<br /><br />The morning we left for our eight days of bliss, I had to wake up at three thirty AM after having gone to bed at two thirty AM so that I wouldn't miss our flight. After two flights (one from Salt Lake to Phoenix and the other from Phoenix to Mazatlan) were as good as airline flights can be, and everything seemed all right until we landed. As we moved from our gate, through customs, and to the luggage carousel, we settled down for the long wait that usually accompanies the process of retrieving luggage from an airplane. Much to our dismay after waiting for a while, we were told that our luggage hadn't been transferred from our first plane to our second in time. We were stuck without clothes in a strange and foreign country. Whoopdeedoo.<br /><br />As I said before, however, those little troubles were pushed from my mind when I saw our tropical hotel. After we'd dropped what belongings we'd had in our carry-ons off at our condo, we walked the thirty second walk to the little restaraunt beyond the swimming pool. I wasn't prepared for what happened next, so it's no wonder that the sight took my breath away. As we walked towards our lunch, I looked beyond the wooden staircase and saw nothing but a small area of green grass, white and brown sand, and then nothing but blue. The ocean was HUGE, spreading as far as my eyes could see, and from where I was standing, it looked like it went on to the left and right forever, too. I later found out, however, that there were two points about a mile and a half away on either side of us. But that was the moment when it first sunk in...I was in MEXICO!! I spent the rest of the week in one of five places. Either in the ocean with my newly purchased boogy board, lying on one of those white, long lawn chairs next to the beach in the sun with a book, playing on the beach, shopping or eating in the market or stores in downtown Mazatlan, or sleeping in my condo. Oh, and for the first time in my life, I'm TAN! Not sunburned, not completely white. TAN. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, miracles DO happen.<br /><br />My favorite part of the trip? As much fun as swimming in the ocean, tanning with a book, shopping for random treasures, eating octopus (yes, the slimy thing with eight tentacles), and watching the blazingly, breathtakingly beautiful sunsets was, my favorite part was the adventure my sister Mary and I had for only $20 bucks each.<br /><br />I'm one of those people who gets so bored that they do random things to keep themselves entertained, and I'm not ashamed to admit that one of those random things one day was making a list of the top 100 things that I wanted to do in life. Well, thanks to my Christmas present in the form of the ocean, I can cross off one of the items on that list. I got to go horseback riding in the surf. What was even better, though, was that as I was trotting along making myself as sore as could be, the sun was setting. YEP! I got to go horseback riding along the beach, in the surf, while watching the sunset! Oh, it was AMAZING!<br /><br />Seriously, if anybody wants one of the best vacations that's humanly possible, visit Mazatlan in December, when the temperature is still in the low eighties, and you will see how amazing life can really get. We got home on Sunday at midnight after having dealt with the American West Airlines, who had lost our luggage AGAIN (luckily, the first time they'd delivered them by late afternoon the next day, and the second time was kind of our fault....long story). We talked to our family members that were here waiting for us, and then I checked my email and went to bed. As I climbed under the sheets in my sisters bed, however (I had to stay with her because my sister and brother-in-law were staying in my room for the duration of their visit from california), I realized how much I really wanted to be back in Mexico, sleeping on the only flaw of the vacation (I swear those beds were wooden boards with sheets over them) and waiting for the next day, when I could walk along the beach with my aunt (who'd met us there) waiting for the sunrise.<br /><br />Still, I'm glad to be back in Provo, where I can actually brush my teeth with water from the tap. It was the best vacation I think I've ever been on, though, and it'll DEFINATELY be a place I'll be visiting again and again later in life.Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1127703076787974272005-09-25T19:28:00.000-07:002005-09-25T19:52:15.066-07:00"I love technology..."I admit it. I love technology. I love my computer. I love being able to write an entire paper, have everything spelled correctly, have it however big I want it in whatever style of font I want it, and printed out in my hand within a few minutes. People always tell me how spoiled I am during high school because of all the modern conveniences that I have. You know, the whole "Back in my day, I used a typewriter" speech. Well, to all those people, I have only one thing to say. If being able to use modern technology means that I have to have the title "Spoiled Brat" accompany me wherever I go, make me a sign!<br /><br />The inspiration for my blog came from my wonderful young women's leader, who, bless her heart, had to listen to my joyous cries of "I got a new cell phone! I got a new cell phone!" and said "Great, blog about it." Hehe! Now the entire blogging community can hear my joyous cries, because guess what? I got a new cell phone!! Not only is it a cell phone, but it's a CAMERA FLIP phone. AH!! With TEXT MESSAGING!<br /><br />This wonderful blessing came about from a very unlikely source....my sister's pet dog, Khai. Yeah, I know. Weird. Actually, the thought of getting a new phone plan has been something I've been trying to talk my parents into for a very long time. My old phone had only had 100 minutes a month, no text messaging, and it was a boring not flip phone. It was the worst phone plan I've ever heard of anyone having. My mom and sister, however, had really good plans. I found this rather unfair, and for the past little while my one wish has been to get a camera flip phone with text messaging.<br /><br />So how does Khai come into all of this? He came into the story last week, when my sister accidentally left her phone within reach of his mouth, and he thought it looked like a nice chew toy. Needless to say, my sister found herself in need of a new phone, and fast. Looking at phones on the internet, she discovered that if she bought herself a new phone, it would cost her $180 for the cheapest model. If our family decided to get onto a new family share plan, however, we'd all get great deals, and she'd only end up paying $175. My parents bit the bait.<br /><br />Friday night, after play practice, my sister came to pick me up and took me to the phone store to meet my mom. An hour later, I had in my hand my new, beautiful, shiny, CAMERA FLIP phone. Whoosh! I spent the night text messaging my friends and playing with all the fun gadgets that come with it. Within two hours of owning it, I had more pictures than my sister had previously had on her old phone.<br /><br />Basically, I just have to agree with Kip from Napolean Dynomite (dumb movie, but it had some good laughs) when he said, "I love technology...always and forever!"Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1126328813387461082005-09-09T21:34:00.000-07:002005-09-09T22:06:53.423-07:00The Worth Of TeachersIt amazes me how one teacher can have such an impact on a person's life. No matter what the subject you're taking is, who your teacher is <em>really</em> matters. The way teachers teach and treat their students really makes a difference. A teacher that genuinely cares about their students and shows that we mean more to them than just measely teenagers that aren't worth the crappy salery they recieve are the ones that make the biggest impact.<br /><br />For our nasty teachers, we have a fairly good example: I just finished a book by Mary Higgins Clark. Ohh, it was a thriller! The characters were all going back to their former high school for their twentieth anniversary thing. The main character, along with five former classmates, was recieving an award for being successful (Which, by the way, seemed weird to me because what does that have to do with anything? Oh well!). Anyway, among the six "honorees" was a man that had been the class nerd in school. Everyone had teased him for being the stupid kid in a family where every kid was a genius. The man had grown up bitter, friendless, and cruel. In the speech he gave, he teased one of his former teachers that had attended the reunion until he made her cry. He expressed no remorse however, because in school she'd always done the same to him.<br /><br />Now, I know that he was a fictional character, but that's beside the point. The point is, that one teacher could have made a difference in his life. Instead, she joined in the ridicule and he was a very bitter person.<br /><br />As for our amazing teachers, we have a non-fictional example: My english teacher this year is one of the most amazing teachers I've ever had. Even in the three weeks that I've known her, I love her class! The other night, I found out that I'm not the only one from my family that feels that way. My brother called from Arizona the other night and while he was talking to my mom, she told him that I had this particular teacher for english. My brother commented that there were only three teachers that he could remember that could ever get him interested in literature. For him, I guess that any teacher that could make him interested in literature as a kid was considered a miracle worker. Anyway, among the three names was my current english teacher. He said that when he'd ask her unexpected questions about a book they were reading, instead of brushing him off she would think about it and then do whatever it took to make him understand, whether it was just talking it out or giving him other examples in other books for him to read. Even now, he's never forgotten it.<br /><br />So I guess this is just a thank you to all of the teachers out there that take the time to care. This year more than ever I've realized the impact teachers have on student's attitudes towards school and life in general. So thank you to all the Mrs. Witt's and Mrs. Francis' of science/biology, the Mrs. Drussel's and Mrs. Pierce's of english, the Mr. Wilson's of social studies, and the Mr. Kyte's of math. You may never know the impact you have on your students, but your passion for the subjects you teach and/or your general interest in your students help to shape who we'll one day become.Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1125715737775143642005-09-02T19:36:00.000-07:002005-09-02T19:48:57.780-07:00TryoutsI'm slowly coming to realize that tryouts for the school musical are just like tryouts for anything else....the pits. You hear about whatever it is you have to try out for and you think "Hey! That sounds like a lot of fun! I should <em>totally</em> try out for that!" and then you sign up for it. You get all excited because you just know that you're going to make it (I mean, come on, who'd be the idiot that didn't let <em>you</em> in?) and you do everything you possibly can to prepare yourself for it with weeks to spare.<br /><br />After it's too late to go back, or even glance behind your shoulder at what would surely be the tiniest speck of reality, you realize something - what if that idiot really doesn't let you in? What if you go and you've worked for weeks to hear that you really, truly, undeniably <em>suck</em>? And then you realize that you were just caught up in the magic of the moment and that no matter how incredibly hilarious you would look in that Mrs. Pott's costume, you are not going to get that part? Thoughts like "You are such a moron!" and "What the heck were you thinking?!" and "Is it really too late to look back at that speck?" flash through your head as you realize....there's no hope!<br /><br />The people around you will try to calm your fears. They'll tell you that that idiot that isn't going to let you in will do what he thinks is best, but that even if you don't make it in, you're really the best, and he'll just be proving his idiocity by not realizing that. It doesn't really help.<br /><br />Still, there are those faint moments when you're practicing your song or monologue or whatever and you think "Wow, I rock! There's no way I'm not gettin' in!"...sadly, though, they vanish soon. I can only hope that as I'm standing there in the choir room looking at the suddenly ten feet tall, boot-shakinly terrifying judges looking down at me with forced smiles because all they want to do is throw in the towel and go home for the night I will remember what I remember now. It doesn't matter if I make it or not, because I <em>am</em> good, and even if I don't make it into this musical, I still have talent. I was blessed with the ability to sing, and hopefully at least a feeble ability to walk across the stage saying something without falling flat on my face. But no matter what, I have confidence in myself, and that's all that matters. So if I don't happen to make it, I can still look those judges, who will then look only six feet tall, into the eye and smile. Still....tryouts are the pits!!Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1125115772838561922005-08-26T21:46:00.000-07:002005-08-29T16:12:50.526-07:00Like A Bad Horror Movie....<p><span style="color:#ff0000;">Pain...it's such a horrible thing! It's like in those bad old horror movies when suddenly there's the EEK!!! EEK!!! EEK!!! sound and there are these stupid people sitting there doing nothing but half covering their faces with their spread out fingers while the camera zooms in and out on their looks of horror as something big and black swoops down on them. I mean, you'd think that they'd have the sense to at least try to run away or something. The worst though, is when they know something is in that big scary house and they go inside anyway! Don't they have at least half of a functional brain? Ok, so that's off the subject. Anyway, I've realized that sometimes the helpless, spreadfingered little saps often don't have much of a choice even though they know of the pain that's coming towards them at a very rapid pace. When I was placed in that situation, that's pretty much how it was with me....only slightly worse, because I thought that the pain wouldn't be all that bad.</span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;">I'm probably not making any sense, so let me clarify....<em>braces</em>. When my dentist said the words "Hmmm...maybe we should consider braces for you...." I actually said (as hard as it is to believe) "Yes!". I know. I'm a typical sap. The truth is, though, it had always been a hope - dare I even say a dream - of mine that one day I'd get braces. You know, to straighten out that incredibly annoying gap between my two top front teeth. I also liked the way people talked with braces and retainers....I was so young...so innocent....so unbelievably stupid. Braces as a whole experience weren't actually all that bad. Granted, getting them tightened was the pits, but really...what can you do? And my teeth are now beautifully, stunningly straight and white. Yay, right? WRONG! Because I knew that the braces were going to hurt, but nobody ever said that getting the stupid retainers were going to kill my mouth as much as they are!</span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;">I know what you're thinking. I've only had this rare form of torture for a total of about seven hours...give it time and you'll get used to it, right? I think it's a horrible thing that nobody informed me that after the braces the retainers were going to be the pits. So here I am with one retainer permanently (or at least temporarily permanently) stuck inside my mouth with what feels like rubber cement on my bottom teeth. On my top teeth I have what's supposed to look like a watermelon but, thanks to the shape of certain wires, looks like a ladybug that flew into my mouth and got stuck there. My teeth ache, my gums are sore, and the next six months appear (from this particular point in time) like they aren't ever going to end. And then after that six months of non-stop retainer wearing, I have yet another year of only "nighttime" retainer wearing. Gah! I dunno what I did to Dr. Barry, but I'm warning you right now....don't mess with him! He has forms of torture that you wouldn't believe. I'm telling you - BEWARE OF THE PAIN!</span></p>Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1124769377745314202005-08-22T20:27:00.000-07:002005-08-29T16:13:33.840-07:00Singin' In The Rain....Or Dancin'!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">This summer while I was sitting in one of my chemistry classes, (sigh) my teacher informed us that we were all going to have to write a short paper. After all of the many groans and protests, she told us that all we had to do was think of two questions about anything in the world that we didn't understand and that we wanted to know the answers to. We had to include a few short sentences about why we wondered this, so that she had some idea as to why we were asking that particular question.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">My question was one that I've wondered for a very, <em>very</em> long time, because, quite frankly, I don't think that it's fair. The question that I wanted to know the answer to was: Why is it, that here in Provo, UT, we never experience rainstorms? Now, I wasn't talking about the skimpy pathetic little sprinkle showers that we get occasionally. I know that we have those. I'm talking about the kind of rain that you see in the movies; the kind that you run out in and within seconds you are soaked to the bone. The kind of rain that you can't see further than a few yards in front of you. You know...actual rainstorms.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">My question never was answered in the chemistry class - I suppose that my teacher was as stumped as I appear to be. The rain is my favorite kind of weather, but only when you get that earth shaking thunder and the lightening that makes it looks like it's noon. Finally, after so much waiting since the last one, today I got a glimpse of that. Ok, so the actual rain only lasted for about seven minutes, but still! There was rain! I ran outside and just by standing on my porch I got wet. I stood down in the thick of it, and by the time it was over my hair was dripping and my clothes were darker in color than the manufacturers had intended them to be. No lightening, but plenty of thunder and that seven minutes of heaven.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">I pity the child that lives somewhere where he or she can't experience a thunderstorm like that, no matter how infrequently they occur, where they can just drop whatever it is that they're doing and run outside barefoot to dance around in the rain.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">That's probably why my favorite quote is the one that some wise old person said, "Whoever said <span style="color:#ffff00;">sunshine</span> is happiness has never danced in the <span style="color:#3366ff;">rain</span>"!</span>Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1124170877987975402005-08-15T23:12:00.000-07:002005-08-29T16:14:16.630-07:00Start Of School<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">How is it even remotely possible to dread something to the point of tears and yet be so excited about it that you feel like your about to wet your pants? The start of school never ceases to amaze me. I have exactly six days, eight hours, twenty three minutes, and fourteen seconds before I will be sitting in a cold desk wondering what my new teachers are going to be like and wondering just how much I'm going to have to suck up to them to get those hard earned A's. Just kidding.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But seriously, how can it be that school is starting in less than a week? My fellow summer school prisoners can agree with me that it is very not fair that we just got out of the classroom and are now forced back into it. Not that I'm complaining - at least this year I didn't have to suffer through the few weeks before school starts when you're almost tearing your hair out because you have absolutely nothing to do. Still, it's going to be a bummer to go back so soon.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">There's something about the first day of school, though, that is strangely exhilerating. It's a new start, a new beginning. In some ways it's like the year before never happened, and you're starting with a clean slate (or a new spiral notebook), ready to learn new things. In other ways, though, it's interesting to know that the kid that threw up on your desk in second grade is still going to be making frequent trips to the principal's office.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The one good thing that you can count on without fail, however, is the back to school shopping for school supplies. Maybe it's just me and my crazy, mixed up lifestyle, but there's something about the smell of newly sharpened pencils and a notebook that's just been opened for the first time that makes everything worthwhile. So even though I know that by the second week of September I'm going to be marking down the days until Christmas vacation, school is starting to look fun to me. I'll see all of my old friends, and, with a little luck, I might just be able to get by without running into barfer boy.</span>Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15436334.post-1124093725668819532005-08-15T00:07:00.001-07:002005-08-29T16:14:34.016-07:00"Wicked"ly Obsessed<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;">I have to admit that I have listened to the CD of the new broadway musical "Wicked" about a thousand times. It's one of those things that no matter how often or how loud the people around you grumble because they will simply DIE if they have to listen to Glinda's ditzy voice singing about how popular she is one more time, you just can't seem to turn it off! It's like in the movie "You've Got Mail" when Meg Ryan tells Tom Hanks that she's read the book "Pride and Prejudice" about two hundred times and every time she reads it she's in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy (who's first name still appears to be "Mr." no matter how many times I watch the movie hoping they'll slip out his real identity) are really going to get together! I have to agree with Meg that no matter how well you know the story, you still sit there shaking in anticipation to hear it unfold into all of it's amazing wonderfulness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;">I will proudly admit that some of my neighbors, friends and, yes, miraculously, even a few family members are now completely hooked on the story of Elphaba, the not-so-wicked witch of the west, thanks to my constant babbling. One of my older sisters even got so sick of my obsession with it that she finally consented to listening to it on the way to a family reunion. Much to my dismay, I rode home with my brother-in-law in a different car and couldn't retrieve the CD from her last night. She came over today, though, and when I asked her for it back when she came in to say goodbye the response was, "Dang it! I knew I should have just left. Do you really need it back tonight?" Yes, my amazing attempts at showing my family where TRUE happiness lies have paid off. Only two siblings and a grumbling father have so far dodged any attempts I've made at showing off the grand story. Still, I'm sure that in time, thanks to my excellent sterio and not so amazing piano skills, it's only a matter of time before it'll rub off on them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;">I had the grand opportunity of going to visit one of my "converted" sisters this summer to actually SEE the play, and, though I won't go into all the details because, knowing me, it would take HOURS, I will say that the person that dies without seeing it has my eternal pity. I still can't talk about going to see it without hyperventilating. It's only been two and a half weeks since I saw it, though, so hopefully within the next year or so I'll be able to tell it in a way that is coherent enough for people to pick out the major points.</span>Leah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07230147852318423078noreply@blogger.com1