I Don't Even Like Taylor Swift.

I'm not a Taylor Swift fan, but these lyrics hit so close to home I could feel the pain in my chest the first time I read them.



I’m so glad you made time to see me
How’s life, tell me how’s your family
I haven’t seen them in a while
You’ve been good, busier than ever
Small talk, work and the weather
Your guard is up and I know why
Because the last time you saw me
Is still burned in the back of your mind
You gave me roses and I left them there to die

So this is me swallowing my pride
Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night
And I go back to December all the time.
It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you
Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine
I go back to December turn around and make it all right
I go back to December all the time.

These days I haven’t been sleeping
Staying up late playing back myself leaving
When your birthday passed and I didn’t call
Then I think about summer
All the beautiful times I watched you laughing from the passenger side
And realized I loved you in the fall
And then the cold came and the dark days
When fear crept into my mind
You gave me all your love
And all I gave you was goodbye

So this is me swallowing my pride
Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night
And I go back to December all the time.
It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you
Wishing I realized what I had when you were mine
I go back to December turn around and change my own mind
I go back to December all the time.

I miss your texting, your sweet smiles.
So good to me, so right
And how you held me in your arms that September night
The first time you ever saw me cry
Maybe this is wishful thinking
Probably mindless dreaming
If we loved again I swear I’d love you right
I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t
So if the chain is on your door I understand

But this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night
And I go back to December
It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you
Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine
I'd go back to December turn around and make it all right
I'd go back to December turn around and change my own mind
I go back to December all the time
All the time.

I'm Stuck

It's always a shame when everything you go through is nothing like what you expected. It's not fair when one mistakes sets you back a whole lifetime. It's enough to kill you when the one thing that motivates you doesn't apply anymore...when everything you've been working for never comes. What do you work for then? Where does one find motivation when all muse disappears? Who can answer me? Why can't I move on?

I'm stuck. Every moment I'm there I can pretend things never changed. I feel happy, at ease and in love with everything again. I feel like myself. Why does reality have to hit so hard every time? Does anyone ever get used to it? Why can't I ever find these answers, and why do I keep allowing this to happen to me? Isn't the K.O. punch in the face every time my logic kicks back in enough to teach me anything? I guess not.

I wish I knew how to escape it.

How can I keep going?
How can I move on?
How can I do all of this and still keep myself sane...safe...?
How?

It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn.

This song sums up everything that I feel better than I could have ever expressed myself. But then again, it's always darkest before the dawn, so I suppose I'll keep looking towards the horizon.



I see our fate; I see our past
And all the things that could not last
It's heavy on these eyes, frozen as I hold this photograph.
It's all we're left that's of any worth
And it's so much more than a thousand words
Now in this frame is our only way we can endure.

I pictured you and me always
And in this photograph we're safe

All I hear in my head
Are all the words I wish I'd said
Sentimental thoughts are overwhelming me again.
As I stare through a lens of tears
At what remains of those fallen years
Now in this frame memories are held to persevere.

I pictured you and me always
And in this photograph we'll stay
I pictured you and me always
And in this photograph we're safe.

Coping with this loss has broken me.
I'm just hoping thing's are all as they should be.
I pictured you and me, you and me
I pictured

Did I Make the Right Choice?

Have you ever wondered if a decision you made was really the right one? What would have happened if you picked a different path to go down? Would everything be better? Worse? I've been asking myself that a lot lately. Would I be happier right now if it weren't for that choice, or would I feel trapped? Do I really want him or do I want the idea of us? I have no idea, but by the end of everyday, I find myself pondering on all these same inquiries.

Some days, I am sure I chose correctly. I couldn't be more positive that I don't want to be with anyone right now. Then, other days, it's the exact opposite. I realize I'm alone and nothing will ever compare. But are those just my emotions overriding my thinking, or do I really feel that way? If I were to go back, would I do it again, or would I stay? I can't let go, but I can't seem to get myself to go back. What the fuck do I want?

Everything is just another question that I can't seem to answer.

Where am I going to find another person who will eat the cherry out of my chocolate covered cherries? Who is going to risk their own comfort to put my freezing cold hands on their warm tummy? Who's going to come sit with me when I'm sick and make me food? When I have an extremely good day, is there ever going to be another person I want to tell first more than I want to tell him? What about bad days? Who will comfort me the same? Who else is going to take the time to learn all of my favorite things? Will there be another person that will put up with my bullshit? Who is going to surprise me with their shirts for me to sleep in? Who's going to bring me cereal in the morning? It all boils down to my one biggest fear:

Will anyone ever measure up?

Do I stick around to find out, or do I go back? I don't know if I can go back, but I know if he moves on I'll be lost. What am I supposed to do? I wish I knew...

Time Goes By Fast and Stops For No One

Not ten minutes ago, I was sitting at my computer desk, just where I am now, waiting for someone to comment on my Facebook status, asking for ideas on what to write about. As I sat there, my mind was completely blank. I got up to start my Spanish homework, when I looked down at my phone. To my surprise and confusion, my phone was flipping through dates on the calendar all by itself, going down through the months at an unusual speed. It could just be me, but I took it as a sign. It was then I knew exactly what I was going to write about.

The concept of time is a very wide subject, open to many different areas of discussion. Why does time pass more quickly when we sleep? Why does time pass more quickly to some people than others? Time is nothing more than another of life's matters of perception. Like colors, time could easily be different to every person. Maybe one person's day feels like the same amount of "time" as another person's hour. Who is to say. But that isn't what I'm going to elaborate on.

Time is as fragile as it is perceptual. No one can know just how much "time" they have left. While some believe time is endless, that there is an afterlife of some kind, what is left for those who do not believe? That is another controversial topic I will choose not to go into. However, everyone, regardless of their beliefs, can control what they do with their time.

Everyone seems to have this idea that life is about success, but what is success? Is it a well-paying job with a large house? Is it a family in a quaint neighborhood with a loving husband, three kids, and a dog? That, again, is merely perceptual. But more and more people these days are considering success to be traditional schooling, followed by college and the competition for a high-paying job that follows. To me, that doesn't sound like much of a life, but I've still been raised to believe that I am supposed to take that path. I feel as though if I don't, I won't succeed. There's that word again: success. I suppose, in the context I just used it, the word means my parents approval. If I take my own path and end up a bum, no matter how happy I am in that lifestyle, my parents would still be ashamed. I couldn't live with that.

My life and how I spend my time should be my business...my choice. But, am I choosing to spend my time pleasing my parents or pleasing myself? I don't know, and I'm not sure how to find out. These years with them seem to be passing so quickly. These times living with them, "adolescence", I know they won't last forever, or even much longer. Where do I go from there? How do I spend my life? How do I even WANT to spend my life? How do I figure it out?

Life has so many unanswered questions we are forced to leave to fate, random decision, and best guesses. It's utterly overwhelming. Seeing as the entire gist of this post was to ponder life's pending questions, I can't easily wrap it up as I would other free-writing projects. I don't know what I will make of my time. I have many things I want to do. Not all of them will be ideal decisions, but there are some things I will just need to learn for myself. But, can I still do that and keep my parent's love and respect? I suppose I will just have to hope so. As for everybody else, I hope they support me in my future decisions as well.

When I Was Little...(continued)

As I was telling a story today, I remembered some more funny stories from when I was little.

Enjoy :]

- Once in a grocery store, my mom and I were in line at the check-out behind a rather large woman. Being the innocent, naive child that I was, I simply pointed straight at her, looked at my mom and exclaimed, "THAT LADY'S FAT!" To which my mother replied, "Sammi, you can't say that!" Not understanding, I asked, "But why, Mama? She is fat." Ah, kids say the darnedest things.

- Being brought up during the O.J. trials definitely took it's toll on me as a toddler. One day, while out and about once again with my mother, I saw an African American man. I pointed at him, as I did with the overweight woman, looked at my mom, and said, "O.J!" She freaked out and started walking the other way, hoping the man didn't hear. After we got home and she told my dad about the incident, he had an idea. He held up the newspaper to me and pointed to an average African American man, and I called him O.J. He did it again with a different black man, and I said he was O.J. as well. When I was small, I thought every black man was named O.J. :P

That's all I've got for now. If I remember any later, I'll make sure to post those. :]

When I Was Little...

I was definitely full of surprises. Some of the things that popped out of my tiny toddler mouth...despicable. That being said, they were also tremendously amusing, at least that's what I've been told by those who remember.

So, for your reading pleasure, I am going to post a few lovely childhood thoughts and stories of mine.

Enjoy:

- When I was little, I thought that when people said "Shiitake Mushrooms" in order to AVOID swearing, that they were actually saying, "Shit, talking mushrooms." - Slightly ironic.

- I could not pronounce my "S" sounds, nor could I properly write the letter "S" when I was first learning to read and write. Therefore, I referred to myself as "Ammi" or "Manta" and wrote my "S"'s backwards.

- Once, when my mom was driving to work, I was sitting in my car-seat in the back. While merging onto a different freeway, another car cut her of and she started screaming obscenities. Then, when she was done, we sat in silence for a good five minutes before I stated, with perfect enunciation, "That scared the SHIT out of me."

- Whenever I used to get angry with my mom as a toddler, she would make me feel bad by saying she was going to cry and covering her face. I guess one time she made me really mad, and when she told me she was going to cry, I looked at her with annoyance and said, "CWY!" >:[

- I once climbed out of my crib, down the stairs to the first story of our house, through the living room, through the kitchen, through a small doggie-door to the garage and out another doggie-door to the backyard, all by myself. I then approached my dad who was sitting in a lawn chair drinking his coffee and said hello, causing him to spill his coffee on his pants. :]

- I definitely used to think the "hospital" was actually the "hostable".

- While singing an innocent carol one Christmas, I decided I wanted attention. While singing the verses to "Santa Clause Is Coming to Town" I was gurgling and making baby noises in the background, but nobody would stop to acknowledge me. Then, having seen that it upset people, I used the one word I knew would get people's attention - a particular racial slur starting with "N" - and strategically said it during the pause after the chorus. Needless to say, I stopped the show, and we still have the recording on tape. I was about one-and-a-half-years-old.

I can't think of anymore stories at the moment, but I will probably continue this post tomorrow.

Sleep well, everyone. :]

Sometimes I Wonder...

How many people genuinely care about me? If I were to get hurt or fall incredibly ill, who would be there worrying about me? Who would care enough to be concerned and check up on me? There are my parents, but those should be a given. As for anyone else, I honestly don't know.

The majority of my friends aren't that close to me, or aren't the type to be compassionate and troubled over injury or illness. I have a select few who would stand by me - Caroline, Michael, Vanessa, Ryan, and Brock to name a few. Other than those, I really don't know how many people care that much about me.

If I were to end up in the hospital, how many people would take the time to visit? If I was unconscious, who would stick around to wait until I woke up? Who cares that much about me? If you do please let me know.

At times, like now, I feel alone somehow. I have many people but I get the feeling like the majority are just fair-weather friends. How am I to know otherwise?

I know few people respect me, especially guys. I make it hard for people to respect me, because I don't take into consideration how closed-minded the general population is. I do what I please, and to those on the outside looking in, it may appear to be "wrong", but to those who actually know me and understand who I am, inside and out, it is nothing deserving of disrespect. Maybe I should stop doing the things I do so more ignorant people will respect me...but then I wouldn't be myself. I could just say "fuck it" and completely disregard everything anybody else thinks of me, but I'm not that kind of person. I wish I was, but I simply can't do that.

Bottom line: if you love me, please let me know. I feel I'm lacking support and respect from those I surround myself with. If you are one of those individuals who cares and worries about me, I'd love to be aware.

This Is My Current Obsession

Today Was a Relatively Good Day

Today was eventful, as most days are. However, today was full of favorable events rather than chores. At the end of today, I am left in a good mood. I haven't been able to say that in too long.

This morning I was ready to face a horrible day. It was the first day of cheer practice, starting off the next eleven months of summer camp, football games, basketball games, and competitions. I have grown quite tired of being a part of the team, and greatly considered quitting this year. However, I decided to try out, though I'm not quite sure exactly what possessed me to do so.

I've regretted it ever since I made the squad and summer practices drew closer. So, this morning I woke up cranky and ready to bitch all through morning and after school practice. Then, something else turned my entire day around. My coach, who I've been begging to let me fly all season, finally let me. She placed me in a stunt group and let me be the flyer. I tried not to act TOO excited, but I was. At first I was slightly terrified, but then the girls did a wonderful job, and now I trust them.

But I feel horrible. Flyers are usually these tiny, five foot, ninety-pound girls who are easy to throw and catch. I am far from that size. I am five foot seven and weigh about one hundred and ten pounds. These girls basing me are shorter than me, but they proved to be troopers. Either way, I felt really bad that they had been assigned to lift me.

So, what I decided to do, was bake them a cake! So as soon as practice was over, I went to the store, bought some cake mix and icing and went home to bake. They aren't aware of it yet, but I plan to give it to them tomorrow morning in first period as a little "thank you" for not dropping me or getting frustrated with my lack of experience. Hopefully, they like it.

Now that I've finally had a good day, hopefully I can get a good night's sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow and a lot of homework and projects to work on this weekend.

I hope everyone else had a wonderful day as well. Sleep well everyone. :]

I've Been Slacking

So that's TWO entries I've missed now and a ton of others I've written in about two minutes. That's no good. It's always going to be the same excuse: I'm just so damn busy lately. I've been studying for finals, working on getting my grades up, AND working on getting my license. I finally just got my permit yesterday. Yet another thing I've been slacking on.

Anyways, amongst all of my academic madness, I've made a small amount of time for some old friends I've been catching up with. One of these friends happens to be an ex-boyfriend, and while we were talking, something hit me. Not literally of course, but figuratively speaking it might as well have been an atomic bomb. I was shocked and confused and maybe even a little disappointed in myself.

On a few occasions in my past, one in particular, I've taken a boy and molded him into the perfect man for me. I've been known to chase after these horrible, low-life guys that put me through hell, but something about them intrigues me. If I happen to come across one of these guys, I'll strive to catch their eye. Once I go through all of the trouble to get their attention, I wait around for them and do all that I can until they realize that they want me, too. I'm like a pathetic little puppy dog for the duration of that time. I'd do just about anything for them. Then, when I finally do get them hooked, I spend all kinds of time and effort transforming them into the exact man that I want.

What I don't understand is, once I finally perfect them, I don't want them as much anymore. After that, often times I simply discard them, along with all of my hard work.

Why?

Maybe I'm not looking for the perfect guy. After all, it isn't out of the ordinary for a girl to want a little adventure. Maybe all the work it took for me to get them to perfection simply tired me out. It is not an easy job by any means. Maybe, I just use them for the challenge. That sounds horrible, but life gets bland when everything is handed to you on a silver platter. Working for things can be half the fun when the work is progressive.

What do I want if perfection bores me? For that matter, what IS perfection if "perfection" isn't good enough?

Who knows.

I'm a Die-Hard Writer

I go to great lengths for the people and things that I love. Writing is definitely of the utmost importance to me, and consequently is one of those subjects I'd go to extremes for. I say this, because I've been doing research and homework for the past six hours, it is now a quarter to two in the morning (yes, I know I cheated on the entry time, I've had this window open for quite a while), and I have to be up in six hours or so, and I am still making time to write. That is a love that outlasts any other, trust me.

However, all of that being said, I still have nothing in particular to write about, other than the fact that I can't sleep, but no one wants to hear about that. So, I'm going to be a horrible, irresponsible blogger, and post another song instead. That's what I get for procrastinating. Oops.

Word to the wise: DON'T DO IT! I don't care if that's hypocritical.

Now, relax and allow this intoxicating song to relieve your stress, even if just for a little while.

I'm Too Tired to Be Inspired

Unfortunately, after all of this time, I still am getting minimal sleep. This being said, I am forced, for the sake of my sanity, to leave you with yet another musical substitution so I can get some sleep. This song puts me in a happy, I-just-want-to-dance mood every time I hear it. That is why it's my ringtone. :]

ENJOY :D

Oh No :(

Yesterday was the first day I didn't post something since I started this a couple weeks ago! I'm extremely bummed out. However, it was only missed because I had a heart-to-heart with my dad last night for two hours. If you knew anything about my relationship with my father, that would stand as more than a valid excuse.

My father and I hardly ever have real conversations. I love him to death, but he's just not that kind of guy. However, last night we started talking about the past, which is really all we ever talk about. I've noticed we always have the same conversation each time we have a real, "sit down" talk. Every time the topic comes up, though, it gets more and more detailed. I am not at liberty, nor do I want to say, any of the contents of this little talk we relive from time to time, but I always learn something new from it.

Anyways, I didn't realize that I hadn't written an entry until it was already past twelve. I looked at the clock and got so mad at myself. I was on a roll! I guess I still am, just not as consistently.

So, tonight is prom, and I'm going to be gone from four in the afternoon to God knows when tomorrow morning. That's why I decided to write this entry now. I just woke up about twenty minutes ago, and I have to start getting ready soon. It's a LONG process, and I didn't want to miss out on writing for a second time in a row. Then, I'd really feel like crap.

I apologize for missing an entry, though I'm sure no one but myself is even the least concerned or even aware. I'll be writing again tomorrow, assuming I can get my ass out of bed. :]

True Friendship Never Dies

As corny and cliche as it sounds, I find it to be undeniable that true friends really are forever. Sometimes a friend can lose touch, but if it's a meaningful friendship, it will be rekindled. Other times, a friend is forced to leave. But even then, if they are a real friend, they will stay in touch.

I have an example of each of these situations.

Recently, though not too recently, I became close with an old friend once again. It's a nice feeling, as though we had never been separated. Honestly, it feels as though we've stayed friends since we met, judging by the way we act around each other now. It's like being a second-grader again. She makes me feel like a little kid, but at the same time, we try all kinds of new things together...be they good or bad. We have helped each other through the toughest of situations from second grade to present day, and though there have bumps in the road, I know I will always be able to count on her for support. There are no barriers or boundaries to our crazy antics whenever we are together, and our childishness flows freely, a feeling I can safely say we've both missed. I loved her then and I love her now. I just wish we hadn't wasted all of those years apart.

Another friend of mine moved away a couple years back. I remember the day she told me. I cried. She had been my best friend from fourth grade, and my only friend out in Palmdale, where my mom lived. We would have sleepovers every night, alternating from her house to mine. Our summers were spent together out in Palmdale, trying to keep ourselves entertained and being complete idiots. We were being ourselves. We had no insecurities around each other and she was probably the friend I felt closest to. We would watch "baby cartoons" and Disney animated movies on VHS on rainy days or when it was too unbearably hot to go outside. We were also quite fond of Sesame Street and The Muppets. I have yet to find another person anything like her. The thing that I find amazing is, she has been gone for a couple years now, and we still talk all the time. We have managed to stay in touch and connect through texting and Facebook and the occasional phone call. I love her and I miss her and I can't wait to see her when she comes to visit at the end of June.

I am so lucky to have found these people, because I know that if our relationships can survive long periods of separation, we can pull through anything we face. It is an amazing feeling to know that there are some people that will always be for you, no matter what. I wish that feeling upon every person out there, because everyone deserves to have at least one true friend they can rely on and go to, whether they've been out of touch for years or they moved to Washington. If they meant that much to you, they will still be there for you.

Look back on your friendships, past and present, and discover who you can count on.

Make Time For Things That Make You Happy

It is near impossible to write anything worthwhile with writer's block. Writer's block is nothing more than lack of inspiration, as I am so often plagued with. Using this piece as an example, when writing without purpose, nothing really gets written but a bunch of fluff. Filler. Nonsense. Bullshit that nobody wants to read.

So, I apologize for not having anything worth reading lately. All of my energy and life have been sucked out of me by school and projects and studying my ass off. There is simply nothing left in me to write anything meaningful this week. I sincerely hope that next week improves.

Creating an intellectual piece of writing legitimately makes my day.

Pouring my thoughts into this blog everyday sets aside a small part of each day for me to unwind. When the entry is finished, if my work is impressive and I'm happy with it, I just feel good for the rest of the night. Nothing else makes me feel that way.

Sometimes, I wonder if that's how artists feel when they paint something beautiful. I always used to wonder what that felt like. Lacking any artistic abilities myself, I dreamt of how it felt to be able to visualize and create something so pleasing to the eye...so beautiful. Then, one day, I realized that I achieve the same feeling of accomplishment and success, I just do it in a different way. My art is writing, rather than drawing or painting.

I've been afraid most of my life that I would never find my passion. However, most of the time I was searching, that passion had been right under my nose. Everyone has one.

What's yours?

I Need a Break

I've been unhealthily busy lately. I have been getting about four hours of sleep a night, and the rest of my waking hours are spent on school and schoolwork (and the occasional cheer responsibilities).

It never seems to end, and any possible end is far out of sight. This weekend is prom, the next weekend is my SAT, and the weekend after that is my ACT. After that, we have finals, kicking off the summer. However, my summer consists of summer school and cheer camps. Still can't catch a break.

Since I've been so ridiculously engrossed in my work, I have little time to write. This explains the shorter entries I've been writing, and also accounts for the few musical substitutions, including this one.

Enjoy.

I'm a Creeper

I found myself people watching once again this morning. There is no doubt that I'm a creeper, but I can't help but watch. If there is nothing better to do, I look all around me, and if anyone's around, it's entertaining to study them. It's the same concept as those people who enjoy watching reality TV shows like "Surreal Life" and "Real World". I just don't need a television to get my fix.

Anyways, as I was sitting outside of my school this morning, listening to my iPod, I watched as people walked past me and into the school building. As before, when I was watching out of my living room window, I saw people of all different shapes and sizes. Some were tall and some were short. Some were skinny and some were pudgy. Some were beautiful and some were...less fortunate.

Then I saw something odd. I saw this beautiful girl - tall, slender, with a gorgeous face - walking with this short, chubby girl with acne. I wondered, "why is that girl friends with her?" Then I saw it. This girl was smiling and laughing. She liked her friend for her personality and her conversation, not her outer appearance. She, unlike myself at the moment, wasn't shallow.

Needless to say, after this realization, I felt like a complete jackass. It shouldn't matter who your friends are, as long as they make you smile. If being somebody's friend makes your life just a little bit better, it shouldn't matter what they look like or what other people will say.

This epiphany made me reevaluate my self-image. That girl was so comfortable in her own skin that she didn't care what anyone else thought. I looked at myself, and realized I was being insecure thinking any differently.

Maybe today I've become a little less shallow than I was yesterday. :]

I'm Going to Hate Myself In The Morning

I have a horrible habit of sleeping past noon on weekends.

The way I see it, with school stressing me out all week, I never get enough sleep. Trying to balance homework, "me" time, and a social life isn't an easy task. Over the weekends I catch up on the sleep I've missed throughout the week, though sometimes I overshoot the mark. I often sleep until one o'clock on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. I very much enjoy my nightly hibernation. However, after sleeping that late on a Sunday, it's very hard to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, making getting up for school on Monday morning awfully difficult.

Take now for instance. I'm wide awake and it's almost midnight. I have to get up in about six hours. I'm going to be horribly cranky tomorrow morning. I'm guessing I won't be asleep until at least one. My brain is exhausted, but my body just won't rest.

Now all I have to do is sit up and think about the hectic week ahead of me. I have three projects to be working on for three different classes. I'm guessing one is due on Tuesday, and I don't even know when the other two are due. Not to mention, one of the days this week I'm due to pay a visit to the DMV. Wonderful. While juggling all of this work, I'm also going to be working my ass off to convince my mom to pitch in to buy me that candy apple red Mustang next door.

Days like these, when there is no inspiration but endless energy, I tend to write a lot about nothing, as I've been doing for this entire entry. Forgive my lack of purpose. This post has no hidden moral, just me regretting sleeping in so late and voicing my complaints of the week. There was no purpose to this writing but for me to whine. I have no problem with that, but I'm sorry if anyone else does.

It's all therapeutic to me.

As Long As You Love Someone They Will Always Be With You

I've never been affected before the way I was today. Before today I'd also never been to a memorial service. Unfortunately, this morning was the service for my best friend's mother, Janet. It was not any option in my mind NOT to attend.

I've never cried over a loss before. A few family members of mine have passed in my lifetime and I never shed a tear. Maybe I was too young or maybe I wasn't close enough to them. However, today I cried like a baby, both for the beautiful, wonderful woman lost, and for my friends, Amanda and Travis who lost their mother.

I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose a parent, especially so young. My best friend is only seventeen, and her brother, also my friend, is only a few years older. I love them very much. I also loved their mother. With no due disrespect, she was like a second mom to me I will also miss her. I know very well I could never relate to their pain and grief but I will always miss her, and I will always be there for them.

Once, in a time of need, this amazing woman let me stay with them, despite the fact that I was dating her son. She included me in their family for a week, feeding me dinner every night and driving me to school every morning. Though it wasn't a very good reason that I had to stay with them, it was a fun week. I got to stay with my best friend for a week and spend a lot of time with my boyfriend at the same time. They all made me feel very much at home, especially Janet.

Being her daughter's best friend, I was constantly over at her house. I would often show up without warning, and never once did she deny me entry into her home. I'd show up after school sometimes, and come to see Amanda when I would be crying or upset. No matter what the reason, Janet always greeted me with a hug; she always seemed happy to see me. Like her kids, I also called her "mommy" jokingly, because she treated me like her own, with so much love and compassion.

To tell the truth, Janet treated everyone with that love and compassion. Those were her trademark traits, and everyone loved her for that. All of Amanda's friends and all of Travis' friends loved her, and I'm sure it's safe to say we will all always love her.

We will always miss and remember her.

R.I.P. Janet Hayn. Forever in our hearts.

I Am Definitely My Father's Daughter

You win some, you lose some. The Dodger game tonight was amazing - I've never enjoyed a baseball game so much. Coming from the family background that I do, I, of course, was rooting for the Tigers. They lost miserably. The game, however, had my attention for once.

When I was little, I was dragged to countless ball games, fascinated the whole time with nothing but the food. I didn't want to sit down and stare at a game I didn't understand; I didn't have the patience and I didn't see the point. But now I really enjoy the game.

I've always enjoyed playing baseball, but being a girl, people always told me I'd have to play softball. I despise softball. Underarm throwing, though impressive to some people, is bullshit to me - no offense to anyone. I've always just preferred overhand. To me it was more powerful, and being a baseball players daughter, I love to show off the pitching arm I got from my dad. Both my sisters grew up playing softball, so I suppose that arm runs in the family.

Anyways, having a dad that once played for the Tigers, I feel I must remain loyal to my family team. So, even though I was at Dodger stadium surrounded by fans cheering for their home team, there I was, clapping and screaming for their adversary. Even the friend I was with and her dad were Dodger fans, but they tolerated me rooting for the losing team.

I've always wanted to follow in my sisters' footsteps when it came to their love of baseball. I never thought I would, but now I suppose I finally am. It makes me happy to love the game my father played and my siblings adore. I look forward to going to many more games, though I won't be seeing anymore Tigers games after tonight for quite a while.

Anyone who can should go see them tomorrow night or Sunday. Especially if you are a Dodgers fan. It's all in good fun. :]

Music Is My Die-Hard Inspiration

No inspiration today, so I leave you with this:

Favorite song of the moment and closest thing I have to inspiration right now.

Hold Tight to the Past

It's weird how a single sound can take you back to another time entirely.

As I was sitting in my room, studying for a Spanish test that I have to make up tomorrow, I heard my dad moving the barbeque in the backyard. Just that distinct sound of the metal legs scraping against the asphalt took me back about ten years.

It reminded me of summertime; I was a little girl, in her first years of elementary school, and life was for nothing but fun. Things were still new and carefree, and I thought my dad was the most important, coolest man in the world. That was before I knew anything about marital problems or health concerns. I was completely unaware of anything wrong in my world; everything was perfect.

On those summer evenings, when the sun was still illuminating the light blue sky but the twilight was fast approaching, my dad would barbeque. He'd get out the grill and the scraping sound would excite the dogs, who learned quickly that that that noise would soon mean leftovers. After the coals were lit, I remember watching the smoke rise, and getting upset when it would get in my eyes. I remember being absolutely fascinated by the way looking past the barbeque could make the yard look like it was melting; little did I know it was just gas rising off the grill that was also extremely dangerous to breathe. I was such a little girl, radiant and curious and loving my life.

I miss those days, back when the backyard was full of adventures, and my dad was the only man in my life. The days when all that mattered was playing with my golden retriever, or what I was going to do for my birthday. Back then, the biggest problems I had were being upset with my bedtime and wanting to grow up too fast. Such a mistake.

Being a "grown-up". It seemed so glamourous then...so promising. When I could decide my own bedtime, and no one could tell me what to do. I couldn't have been more wrong. All I wanted to do then was grow up, and all I want to do now is grow back down. I find a lot of my days spent remembering how easy it used to be and wishing so much that I could go back.

Though I value the knowledge I've gained through all of my life experiences, I miss the ignorance of being a child. I miss not knowing all of the horrible things people say behind each other's backs. I miss not worrying about money and how I had to spend and save it. I miss not having to stress and work my ass off, worrying the entire time that it would be for nothing; that I would be a failure.

Seeing as I can never go back, I value those memories. I value the good memories that remind me of what a lucky individual I was to have had the childhood I did. Despite any bad things that happened, overall, I couldn't have been luckier. I don't remember a lot of the bad times that I've been told about recently. I suppose I've simply blocked them out. I am thankful for that, and I am thankful that those lovely, vivid memories remained with me.

I hope they remain with me all of my life, to get me through the hard times ahead.

There Is More to Fear Than Fear Itself

It has been said that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. I admire people who say this, but I am not one of them. As an individual, I have many fears. Death, suffering, earthquakes, small places, ferris wheels, clowns. Some I admit are silly, but everyone is afraid of something, be it legitimate or illegitimate.

Fear. Concern. Doubt.

All different words connecting to the same meaning of being afraid. This feeling can be brought on by emotions, or past events, or over-analysis, but it isn't necessarily a bad thing.

In many instances, it is the fear in our lives that drives us.

Those who fear death often apply healthier habits in their everyday lives. Those who fear suffering avoid situations in which suffering may occur, though some grievances and pain cannot be bypassed.

While clowns and ferris wheels do not pose a serious threat, those concerns that do, such as death and suffering, can motivate those in fear to live better.

If there is nothing to fear, there is nothing to worry about. If there is nothing to worry about there is no motivation, and with no motivation, nothing will ever get done. We need that push. So don't sit and be afraid of things that can't hurt you, but prevent those that can.

I Have the Worst Luck

Have you ever met one of those people who just never seems to get sick? You know, that one guy or girl with the superhuman immune system, that could make out with a giant flu virus and still remain healthy. Well, to say I am the exact opposite, would be the understatement of the century.

I suppose I was destined to be a walking germ. There is not a month that goes by without some kind of cold, flu or infection that plagues me. I say this because today I went home sick, yet again, with some common flu symptoms. However, this time it seemed to be more of a blessing than a curse. The excuse to go home was a perfect chance for me to escape my own humiliation after making an ass out of myself this morning.

This morning was less than ideal, to say the least. Honoring a promise I made to my ex-boyfriend, I got up early to go see him before school started. I woke up early, despite the fact that I felt like shit, got dressed, and went out and waited for him. This morning, it was cold, cloudy, and raining. Being the California girl that I am, this weather might as well have been the next Ice Age. So, I went inside to wait.

After waiting about ten minutes, I figured I looked like an idiot standing around and decided to walk up to my classroom, assuming he wasn't going to show up. As I headed toward the class, I got a call from him saying he'd meet me at my locker soon. I wanted to see him, so I started to head over to my locker, even though it was across campus.

Now my school campus is built so that all of the different school buildings surround one wide open social area known as the 'quad'. Anyone who gets to school early sits in the quad and socializes with friends. I happened to be on the third floor of the building that opened up to the quad. The stairs from the third floor to the quad are outdoor stairs, and considering the rain, they were quite slippery.

I suppose some people could imagine where this story is headed.

Not being a morning person myself, I was equipped with a large Monster Energy drink. This took up one hand, while my other hand was busy holding my History notebook. Now, I wasn't lying when stating that I am a complete California girl. This being said, despite the rainy weather, I was wearing sandals.

As I started my way down the stairs, I remembered just how slippery these stairs tend to get when it rains. I also had just enough time to take into consideration how clumsy I am, right before I felt my little, size six, sandaled feet slip right out from under me.

Here's where it gets even better.

Feeling myself falling, my first instinct was to catch myself. This initial response sent my History notebook flying out of my hands, and all of the papers it held to scatter all over the soaking wet staircase. Hands free or not, my butt still caught my fall - pretty hard I might add. My tailbone definitely took one for the team on this one.

Luckily, a few nice coaches were nearby to help me gather up my things and ask if I was alright. I reassured them I was fine, just a little embarrassed, and continued to climb down the steps, clinging tightly to the railing this time. Railing or no railing, I was still slipping and sliding all over those stairs until I reached the bottom.

At the time, with all of the people staring and laughing, I couldn't find the humor in the situation. However, throughout the course of the day, I made a few amusing realizations that allowed me to laugh at myself.

I found the most entertaining thing I remembered later on, to be the fact that, while all of my papers flew across the staircase in my attempt to catch myself, my energy drink never left my hands. I was willing to sacrifice my work for my ass, but by God, that energy drink would remain unharmed.

I think maybe my priorities could use a little reevaluation. What do you think?

Either way, this seemingly awful start to my day, left me with another humorous story to tell and possibly some more knowledge of myself. I suppose that's a fair enough trade for having to use caution when sitting for the next few days.

Just One Compliment Can Brighten Someone's Day

Yesterday was a pretty good day, all things considered. I wish I could say the same for today. Today, I did nothing but sit around and watch Law & Order: SVU. Not a bad day, but not a very eventful one either. Yesterday, however, I went out to the Westfield Topanga Mall.

Having been my first time there, I was wandering around, exploring my new stomping grounds. That place has everything you could imagine! I was impressed to say the least. It'll take a few more visits for me to figure my way around and not get lost. I hadn't done much to look nice that day, but I was wearing my favorite black maxi dress, so I didn't feel totally horrible.

Now this may all seem quite superficial, but my point has yet to be proven.

Anyways, as I was walking around, surveying the different shops and kiosks, I passed by what I think was a some kind of cell phone stand. There, a nice-looking, Asian man was standing behind the counter, smiling at me from about ten feet away as I approached. As I passed by his stand, I looked up and he said, "That's a beautiful dress, Miss." I smiled back and thanked him modestly, waiting for some sales gimmick to follow this lovely compliment. However, to my surprise, all he did was keep smiling as I passed. As I walked away, I couldn't help thinking how lovely it was to have a stranger compliment me with no ulterior motive. I was also slightly embarrassed by the fact that he had called me Miss, though I'm not sure why.

Later that afternoon, forgetting which ways I had come from and where I had already been, I passed by that same cell phone booth again in exploring. I wasn't paying any attention to anything but the stores around me, trying to figure out where I was, when I glanced up to see the guy staring at me, confused. He had his finger up as if to say something, but just stood there with this "I've seen you before," look on his face. I laughed and nodded, letting him know I was the same girl as before. He then continued with the sentence I assumed he'd been thinking since before I reassured him that he had, in fact, seen me before. "I wouldn't have remembered any one person who had passed by before, except a beautiful girl in a beautiful dress." This, again, made me smile bashfully. I couldn't help but look away, which is odd for me considering I'm not generally a shy girl. I suppose I haven't had many encounters with such polite strangers.

Such kind words gave me faith in people and some extra confidence in myself. It honestly brightened my day. He wasn't trying to sell me something, and he wasn't a typical guy making some disgusting remark in an attempt to hit on me. Thinking about that one guy's compliments made me smile for the rest of the day. I wish I could tell that man how he affected me. Maybe it would make his day brighter, too.

Next time you go out somewhere, if you see someone wearing something nice, or someone who simply looks stunning, compliment them. It could make their day.

I Am My Own Person

I was watching out my living room window today as I ate my lunch, admiring the beautiful day outside, when I got distracted by all the different people who were walking down my street. Someone would pass by looking like they just stepped out of an Abercrombie catalog, while someone else would follow looking like Hot Topic just threw up all over them. Either way, I realized, these people intrigued me. I loved at least one part of every look that I saw. It was then that I recognized that, at one point, I had tried to be every kind of person that I saw walking down my street.

As I was searching to find out who I am these past few years, I have gone to extremes, rather than doing what felt right. Having gone from one end of the spectrum to the other - scene to preppy to tomboy and back again - it occurred to me that I cannot be defined by a single trend. It is impossible to label me. While others can fit into a single style, I cannot be confined that way. The way I look and act vary from day to day depending on my mood. I wear what I think looks flattering, interesting, or beautiful, no matter what 'stereotype' it may be considered as. I am not preppy. I am not scene. I am not goth, emo, nerd, or "popular"...whatever that means. I am my own person.

I am Sammi.

I am a cheerleader.

I am a writer.

I am unafraid.

I am unusual.

I am immature.

And yet...

I am beyond my years.

I am a fan of rock music.

I am a fan of techno.

I am bisexual.

I am lively.

I am an individual.

And...

I am who I want to be.

Who are you?

Today Was Tiring and Uninspiring

Today was one of those eventful yet meaningless days. I was constantly busy, seeing people and doing things, but nothing I did was of any importance. Not a single influential thing happened in the duration of the day.

Like any day, I went to school, which was nothing aside from average. After school, I had a friend over and relaxed for a while and then got picked up to go to a baseball game at Stengel Field to represent my high school. While there, I got in a heated argument with a cheerleader on a power-trip via text, all because I left the game to go climb trees with a friend. Great start to a lovely evening.

Like any other night out, I ran into some friends, had a good time, and was thankful to run into a cute guy. Average. Average. Average. No inspiration. Not even a perspective-changing thought. Not to mention, I lost about ten dollars while I was off galavanting in the park and climbing the trees. Fantastic.

So again, I am left tired and uninspired. I implore everyone: please inspire me. Excite me. Make a difference in my life. Be someone or do something I feel so strongly as to write about. That's my challenge for you.

I Simply Can't Understand Myself

I've never understood why I am the way that I am; why I feel the way that I feel. I've also never been able to grasp why my mind formulates things the way that it does. When I get insulted, why is my first instinct to apologize? Why, when I get a compliment, do I automatically deny it? When I get blamed for something, why is my first response one of defense? The questions I ask about myself are endless. I'm starting to believe I know virtually nothing about myself at all.

However, I'm most perplexed by one mannerism in particular: my instinctive need to defend myself whenever I am accused, wrongly or otherwise. Provided, if the accuser is doing so calmly or kindly, I'm fine. Though, if they approach me with hostility, even if I am at fault, I get pissed off. I don't know what causes this or how to stop it.

I also often find myself becoming extremely worked up over anyone who dares patronize me. That has got to be one of my biggest turnoffs/pet peeves. I find anyone who would be so condescending to also be an arrogant son of a bitch. That being said, people are entitled to their opinions, however, they can just as easily keep these opinions to themselves.

I'm not quite sure what my point was for this little rant. Nothing else really got to me or inspired me today aside from this mere annoyance.

However, I'd appreciate it if anyone who felt like confronting me in either a hostile, or condescending manner please reconsider that choice. It's highly unnecessary to speak to me in either of those tones.

I'm hoping tomorrow I'll feel more inspired than agitated.

You Only Live Once

Amidst all the studying and stressing over the AP exams the past week or so, I completely drowned out everything else. Monday was my AP Biology exam and today I finished up my AP English Language exam. Needless to say, I thought my hand was going to fall off, but I'm beyond relieved that all that is behind me. Though more than a little drained, my frame of mind is back to normal; no more obsessing and stressing over failing my exams. THANK GOD.

Anyways, being back in my regular state of mind it dawned on me: you only live once. Yes, I've realized this before; it is a well-known fact. However, this occurred to me today over something as superficial as a tattoo.

While browsing Facebook, as I often do, I came across a picture someone had posted on their wall of Megan Fox's tattoo. I'm not a huge fan of Megan Fox, but her body art is pretty interesting, so I took a closer look. There was a quote from her on the side of the picture that read, "Every time I get another tattoo, it's like a little F-you to anyone who told me not to." Not the classiest statement, but a valid point.

I've always wanted a tattoo, and it may just be my rebellious side, but reading this made it apparent to me that whatever I choose to do with my body is my choice. I hate to disappoint my parents, but life is about doing what makes YOU happy. You can't live to please everyone or you'll make yourself miserable. It is physically impossible to please everyone, therefore it is pointless, in my opinion, to try. If it makes you happy, and doesn't put anyone else in danger or jeopardize any friendships, you should go for it.

This entire revelation hit me in a matter of about a minute; it was a quick and unexpected epiphany. It didn't last long, but the message was clear. If I want to be happy, I have to do what I want, not what anyone else wants or expects of me. In the end, I know I will make the right choices and I won't screw myself over, so what difference would something as insignificant as a tattoo make in the grand scheme of things? It would be but a small smudge on a humongous canvas; no big deal.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: do what you need to do. Be careful, and use common sense, but in the end it's your life; do with it what you will.

Introduction

I've seen a few people's blogs before and thought I'd give this a shot.

I'm going to try something new; a project for me to work on. I'm going to post everyday regarding something I felt strongly about or encountered that day. Maybe it'll have an impact on someone, maybe not. At the very least, it will improve my writing, and that is something I can always use. I highly doubt anyone will even come across this, let alone read it. However, assuming somebody does, I'll also answer any questions and openly give my opinions on any topic anybody brings up.

I'll be back tomorrow with something that inspires me. :]