Mi Amigo...

You want an answer. Here it is.

You've known me for what seems like forever. Heard all the crazy things that just pop into my head. Watched me dance, watched me fall, and heard me hit a flat note. Thanks for all of that. It means alot that you're willing to endure all the, well not exactly crud, but every thing that comes with hanging out with me.

But I can't go through with this. Not when it feels the way it does.

I don't know what it feels like on your side but let me tell you mine. I've known you so long, it's gotten to the point where you aren't just my friend any more, you're a brother. And not the stupid street way. And everytime I think of it, it just feels wrong. I don't think it's something I could ever get used to. Going from you to you and that's not something I want to do.

So in very simple laymans terms, no.

I can't and I won't.

Don't think you can change my mind. Or that changing yourself will make a difference.

I thought something could, and it can't. And I'm sorry.

Don't lie about not being hurt, because it happens to everyone. With no exceptions.


Hmm, you want to know what the absolute crappiest part of this is, at least for me?

There isn't any going back to the way things used to be. Words have been said and actions have been taken. We won't ever be the same way we were. Hopefully, it won't be enormous, but it'll be there. And that's what I absolutely hate.

The Box

I have a box.

It's not very intimidating like Davey Jone's Chest. It's not sparkely or even colorful. It's just a box. A plain old, normal, so-dark-blue-almost-black, cardboard shoebox. And that's it. No one would argue that it is a very boring box.

Then you open it.

And you realize that this unordinary box is extraordinary because of the ridiculous amount of junk it holds. I'll agree that this boring box of mine holds junk, and only junk.

Unless you happen to be me. And if you're me, suddenly the bits of scrap paper and other items hold alot more value.

In my box, I have birthday cards from when I was 12 years old, maybe younger. I have funny cards, beautiful cards, handmade cards, and so many other types of cards bearing good wishes and the names of my friends and family.

In my box, I have letters. Letters from a friend I met when I was probably around 9 or 10 and haven't heard from in years. Notes from people I've met in 4-H that I hardly see or will ever see again. Get well letters from a baby sister who couldn't be more than 5.

Inside my box, I store away ideas. Written on and drawn out on scraps of paper, stories I didn't feel were bad enough to throw away and dreams that were worth saving. Childish schemes and teenaged musing, all jumbled together.

My box holds dozens of the cheap "buy one box, get eighteen cards" Valentines from my club members.

My box keeps art done by my family and friends safe from being lost or misplaced.

This humble box holds my room key from my first State 4-H Conference.

It carries ribbons from fairs and contests long gone.

There's a page of Halloween stickers in there, sent to me by a friend.

A message in a bottle, inviting me to my very first school dance, stays stowed away safe inside plain cardboard.

Maps from trips to Disneyland find a home in this box.

My name tag from my first event as a State Ambassador.

A note from my dad that I will never grow tired of reading.

So many things, with so many memories attatched like poststamps.

I have a box.
There is nothing special about my box.
It's worthless.
It's what's inside that is priceless.

Cheese!

I don't really enjoy taking pictures. I don't really like being filmed or recorded. If someone asks me to be in a picture, I'll do it. If people want me in their photos, it's cool. It's just that I normally won't volunteer to step in front of a camera.

I'm not camera-shy or anything. It's just that I manage to look ridiculous in every photo I take. No matter the pose, the setting, the clothes, hairstyle, whatever! I always look a little crazy, but that's just the way it is.

I don't nessesarily like taking group pictures, because they take so long to get set up in. And you always end up wedged so tightly together in order for everybody to make it in. Everybody's smiling just so they can stop pretending they're sardines.

I like group pictures when they come together on their own. When everybody is grouped so tightly together because of what you can't see. When you can't help but smile because of who you're standing shoulder to shoulder with.

My least favorite pictures: Pictures where you don't pose for a minute and a half before the flash even gets turned on. Pictures where you don't try so hard to make a good impression on the film.

My favorite pictures are honest ones. I don't know how you can tell an honest picture apart from the others. But you know when you look at one, you know? It's not something some one can say for you, but something you just see.

My Sisters Are Goofs

For some strange reason, they like to come and stand around in front of me. Sometimes they'll talk with me. Or maybe have a question they want to ask. But normally, they just sit around and talk with each other and make really wierd jokes that only they understand.

It's really funny. I know they know I'm there. Sometimes I wonder if they come looking for me. Sometimes I think they do it to try and include me or annoy me.

And then I realize that it doesn't really matter. They're having fun, and that's what does.

Posse or Not Posse?

I really don't mind having two little sisters. I don't mind them following me around most of the time. Heck, sometimes it's kind of cool. I don't really mind having people following me. It's pretty neat for the most part.

But sometimes it can get too much. Nothing against anybody, but sometimes, all you really want is a little space. Some people woud call me a social butterfly. I wouldn't, I don't think I qualify as ANY kind of butterfly. But I do agree with the social bit. I like most people for the most part, and there are only a few that I will do all and everything in my power to keep from interacting with.

But sometimes, it's nice to get a little time to do a few things on my own or do nothing. (However much the latter annoys my mother.)

I'm lucky in one aspect. That normally, my friends and family know when I want my space. And when they need to fear glomping.

Though, I will catch them off guard with the glomping thing every once in a while.

Holy Cows Flying Over Kentucky!

I am so tired. I'm ready to go home and take a nap. Unfortunately, I can't. I'm in Albuquerque for a 4-H planning meeting. Planning meetings are fun, don't get me wrong, but I am about to fall over. Not managing to fall asleep until after 2 doesn't really help.

We're gonna head back to the hotel in a litte while so we can get ready for one of the officer's Sweet Sixteen. I'm not gonna dress up too much. Just look nice.

Ninja, if you're reading this, don't forget to remember the moves. Other wise you guys will leave me all behind! I'll try to catch up with you when I can.

Ugh, I need caffiene. Dr. Pepper, you have a patient!

BELT TESTING!!!!!! Part 2!

Ok, I tested, I think, Saturday for my next belt level. This last belt test was really cool because I got to double test. So instead of moving from Orange to Yellow, I went from Orange to Yellow to Green. All in one go! I was the youngest in my class to test for Green and the youngest in my class to double test.

I really had alot of fun. There were a few things I would have changed:

1. Board Breaking: I don't know what my problem is, but I have the hardest time trying to break with my hand. I snapped straight through that thing with a spinning back kick, but it took me six or seven tries to break with a forward backfist. Something that needs to change.

2. Forms: I'm honestly really happy with these. Except my third form, which I messed up on. It was this one spot that I had been having trouble with. I didn't turn as far as I was supposed to so I was backwards for the final, maybe, third. But he let us do it again, and I got it the second time around.

Other than those couple things, I think I did really well. I managed to land a front leg hook kick on my sparring partner (Her name is Heather. Works at a prison, tested for her yellow belt. Really nice lady.) during our match. I am so proud of that hook kick. Practiced that all morning before the test and it paid off.

Now, I just have to survive all the Green belt stuff. Green is the first Intermediate level in our studio. Once you are a Green belt, you are not allowed to make mistakes over things you learned as an Orange belt. I think we're going to do more grappling now, and sparring. And more advanced kicks and strikes and forms and self-defense and warmups and weapons and all sorts of other stuff. Well, hopefully.


TO ALL NON-MARTIAL ARTS PRACTICING PEOPLE!!
If I've completely confused you with the terminology, just tell me. I'm more than happy to explain anything that doesn't make any sense. I've been thinking of doing a post with the definitions.