Drumfire.

The pulsing beat rocks through your body.
The lights electrify the sound.
The people around you pulse with a pounding
Hands up inviting the vibration down
Its a deep simple beat
Roaring through your ears.
It's something you feel
rather than hear.
The rumbling is constant.
Mimmicking thunder.
A beating drum.
A blasting speaker.
A screeching mic.
Rocking.
Rolling.
Reverberating through you.

Photo by: ceratosaur

No Longer Searching.

Here I am. Sitting right next to you. I can tell you have so many thoughts on your mind. I know you aren't truly happy. I know the problems you face. I have found you and I know how to help. I have the solution to every problem you have ever had. But you never look at me. You never ask for help. You look at everyone around me. But you never find what you are searching for because I have it. I have it right here as I sit next to you. Just turn your focus towards me. Just let your wandering mind rest for a moment. As soon as you take a calming breath, you will finally realize the truth that has been taunting me for so long. And as soon as you finally open up and receive this truth, the happiness you have been waiting for will engulf us with a joyful warmth.

Photo by Kevin Dooley

Your Courageous Moment.

The courageous moment when everything you have been fighting for suddenly becomes worth the fight. When everyone around you tells you what to do but you finally take a stand,
when you finally find the strength that comes in comforting silence.
The courageous moment when you let the offensive propel you away from the game,
when everything you know to be true, humbly slips through your lips.
The courageous moment when you accomplish what was once absolutely impossible,
when honesty really is the best policy.
Are you ready for your courageous moment?

Bursting

A burst of precious words
I pounding of excitement
Happiness pours from her every pore
She wants to talk and you can tell
But you don't dare ask her to speak
What if she says something about you,
What if all this excitement is contagious
and you begin to act like her?

Help.

Stranger than sadness is deceit.
The reason you keep trudging through the push and pull of an argument.
Hoping the end is soon to appear.
Nothing is quite like a day when once a loved one was near.
It's finally too tough to handle.
It's an endless pit of despair.
Nothing left to stop the babble.
No one there to help you care.
Suddenly through the thick tangible darkness he finds you.
A stable foundation, sure and true.
An honest hope and perfect example
Taking away despair you once knew.
A long time ago you took his name upon you.
Giving you a way out of the darkest abyss
 Just ask for his help as you follow his footsteps
To never again be caught in distress.

One Week.

In one week my whole world will change.

In one week my very best friend leaves on her mission.

My best friend Courtney means everything to me.

She is always the one to screw my head on straight

when I start to loose my mind.

She is always the one with a reasonable explanation.

Courtney loves everyone and everyone loves Courtney because of it.

We can always talk to each other no matter what.

No judgement just unconditional love.

She is the only person who will talk with me for hours

and hours about how much we love the gospel,

Which is a whole bunch

Courtney leaves in one week to share this gospel

that we love so much.

When she leaves she can finally let go of everything

that seems so important in this world,

she can finally be free of things

'that seem important but really aren't.

The reason for this, is a change of focus.

She will be looking to our Heavenly Father and Testifying of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

She will teach with the Holy Ghost and bring light to whoever she talks to

there will never be another time in her life

that can so fully surround her with the reality of the truthfulness of this gospel.

I love this church and I love her for being courageous enough to make this decision.

It will be hard.

It will be long.

It will be enlightening.

It will mean all the difference in the end.

Every day will be different, new challenges, new people,

but also new reasons to smile and laugh.

I am so blessed to know Courtney Giles.

I am so lucky to have a friend like her.

I am excited to share her with the people of Nashville.

Go on, Courtney! We will always be cheering for you!

This Should.

This should bore you to tears.
This should eat at your conscience.
This should force a laugh to burst out.
This should make you shudder with sadness.
This should light an angry flame in your heart.
This should make you feel like you can conquer the world.
This should confuse your muddled mind.
This should soften your stubborness.
This should make you pity me.
This should annoy you to no end.
This should be everything you want to know.
This should blow you away with surprise.
This should be pathetic enough to roll your eyes.
This should be more than you think.
This should sway your opinion.
Give me some kind of reaction.

To my Sisters in Relief Society.

I love Relief Society. It is an organization ordained of God. As the Relief Society we are not only standing for those close to us but for everyone through out this world. We are here to humbly pave the way for the 2nd coming. We are organized to lift others up. To be a light in the midst of darkness. We are something great when we work together and aim high. We are on the Lord's Side. Ready to heed his counsel and follow dilligintly. We are ready to help lead the way for any who may be lost. We are here to bring relief to anyone in our family, our ward and our community.
"We are going to do extraordinary things. We expect extraordinary occasions and pressing calls." (Emma Smith) The Lord is leaving the responsibility to us. He will help us as we heed his counsel. As Emma Smith prepared her women for extraordinary times to follow we are being prepared as well. Changes have already been made as the number of sister missionaries being called to serve grow.  You may be going through trying times but soon you will come out with more value than pearls or diamonds. Many will come far to see the works you have accomplished as a Relief Society.
We stand together, with love, charity and kindness in our hearts, humbly willing to serve the Lord. These are your sisters. These are the women who will impact lives. Look to them, learn from them, trust them. Heavenly Father is ready to work miracles through you. Be ready to stand before him ready to work hard. I love you because I have felt the love our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for you. They know who you are. They know what you need. They know your strengths and weaknesses.
We have repeated over and over again in young women's "We love him...We stand by him". We are ready to serve him. Open your heart and your mind. Listen to his promptings and trust the Lord your God, the All-Knowing, All-Powerful and All-Loving Creator. If you follow him, you can never go wrong. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Why I Blog.

Maybe I am not the best blogger.
Which might be because I don't exactly have anything important to say.
Anything worth hearing.
But hey,
At least I have a place to write my feelings.
I tell people what I write isn't about me.
It is just stories that I want to tell.
Words I thread together.
Although the more I read what I write,
the more I have realized that deep down
underneath the stories and the words
is a little piece of myself.
Writing is how I piece together what's in my mind.
Words never come out right from my mouth.
But they sure can form right on paper.

Little Things.

Nothing can quite compare to the feeling of accomplishment that comes when you make the right choice. Especially when that right choice is a hard one. These choices, whether seemingly little and unimportant, define our entire life. These choices construct our being, like the atoms and cells under a microscope, together they form you. Who you are and what you say, where you go and what you do. It's all in the little things.

Scars

A brutal cut after falling off a bike
A caterpillar bulge from yanking out a stitch
A burn from the curler
A mopey looking scratch
A story for every cut,
bruise and
burn.
 Keeps this
beautiful body interesting.
Is a reminder of every life changing moment.
Scars tell a story.
They tell us who we are
they remind us of who we have become.

College.

College.
A place full of beginnings
The one time you can truly start over and begin again.
A time when you can take hold of all the little things you love about your self and make them who you really are.
You can finally escape the grasp of a controlling friend.
You can finally escape the reputation surrounding you.
You get to make choices for yourself.
If you don't want to do your homework or show up to class you can do that.
If you want to start drinking or lose yourself you can.
If you want to skip church you can.
You can do anything you want.
But the same consequences always follow.
I have seen people make choices that cause them to lose their freedom.
I have seen other people make choices that cause them to rise up and be a great strength to others.
Here at college I can make my own choices.
My parents aren't here to protect me anymore.
But they prepared me since birth for this first semester, when I would come to college, and I would make my own choices.
As I grew they taught how to make my own decisions, and they always reminded me to think of the consequences.
Now here I sit looking back on my first semester of college.
And I know who I am.
I know that I still have a lot of room to grow before I am at the next step of life.
But I can look back and be proud of the decisions I have made.
I can talk to my parents and my siblings and tell them story after exciting story.
There is nothing in my life that I want to hide or need to hide.
I am not perfect, but I am trying to be my very best.
And that is what has made all the difference in college.

Writing words.

Her breath came out stuttered,
her lips were confused at the  phrase.
Her brain knew the words were right
But nothing came out the same.
Her mouth never got the words right
But her hand on the page
Took the words right out of her mouth
Decorating them to fit her ideas and mold her

Ice breaking Blue Eyes.

Sadly stumbling down the street
He knows what he’s been missing
His eyes droop from many tearful nights
The permanent creases of a frown
Sit loosely on his face
Hours of no return
He hangs his head low
His heart is torn
His lover won’t show
When suddenly a woman
Turns haughtily around the corner
Her hips sway selfishly
She teases with a knowing smile
A glance could be caught in her ice breaking blue eyes
He walks cautiously towards her
Determined and decided
Anger and greed pull it from his jacket
Quick black movement sparks fear in her heart
he clumsily grips it in his hands
takes a breath before aiming
then surely his silent shot is taken.
Stunned, she has no response
He quickly walks away
a chance with her now forever gone
no evidence of lovers left
but secretly he kept
that single moment on the street
captured by his camera
it sits contently on his wall.

Sweets.

The soft sweet taste lingers even after the small round candy is gone
Seconds before it lay gladly on your tongue
Now long gone you feel as though you are missing something important
Once the sweet candy leaves her mouth
Something so small and almost meaningless
Strangely starts to becomes a desperate need
Smaller than your fingernail it sits on your palm
A great and delectable treat.

Photo by ms.Tea

Childhood.

Sarcastically speaking
A large grown man
Tells the story of his small boy life
Laughter rings through out the halls
The joyful spirit shouts
A battle ax
A car full of road rage
A fishing child
And a broken garbage can
Lucky to have a fabulous childhood

The Difference

    I constantly watched the clock counting down every minute until it was time to go to recess. Every moment pushed me closer to a different world full of a once hushed and quiet class. The girls who failed in class were suddenly at the top of the pyramid and in charge of those around them; while the girls who had grades of a scholar were almost instantly at the bottom of the food chain. I was the girl at the bottom of the food chain, scraping the good off of the “popular” girl’s shoes. Back then I didn’t realize how much better off I was compared to them and I decided to walk down to their level.  My story begins when recess started as I sat on the monkey bars, one chilly day. Sitting on the monkey bars was not my usual recess activity but today I was sick of being the invisible girl no one saw hiding in the slide, wishing for friends I thought I would never have. Instead I had come out of hiding today and sat higher than the rest of the kids on the playground. I liked it up there because I could see everyone despite where they played their games. Behind me the crazy boys played soccer, to my right the softball and baseball players made-do playing kickball, to my left the goody two shoes swung on the swings, beneath me were the weird kids who didn’t have friends. Subconsciously the whereabouts of all the different people were obvious but my focus was elsewhere. Right in front of me the jock boys and pretty girls played revenge on the basketball court. I watched wishing I wasn’t so shy. Wishing I was more pretty. Wishing I had friends. Wishing people cared enough to talk to me. Wishing my only friend hadn’t become one of those girls shooting basketballs. Wishing I knew what I had done wrong.
    That day as I longed to change what “wasn’t good enough” about myself, I made a promise. A promise that I was going to become one of them one day. I was going to become cool; I was going to get at least a little bit of attention. At that moment the strong determination to change myself to someone who I thought was better than who I already was, began a change that would distort my entire life.
    The next day as I waited for lunch, I hardly paid any attention to the teacher. I was trying to gather every ounce of courage I had, so that I would be brave enough to sit by them during lunch. As the bell rang my stomach dropped but I knew what I had to do. I was higher in line than the rest of the girls I looked up to and got my lunch first. I took a steadying breath and sat down on the long table, that according to some unwritten rule, was their territory. Shyly I ate my lunch hoping they wouldn’t be angry for the intrusion. Each girl sat down and took no notice. It seemed like they didn’t mind me sitting there. When they threw their lunches away I followed them silently like a shadow. I stood around and watched as they played revenge again. Watching as they would laugh and cheer when they would out shoot a boy and shout with flirtatious anger when one of the cute boys shot them out. The first day seemed to go well, as in they hadn’t torn me apart and left my bones on the side of the road. I continued this shadowing craze every lunch, and it seemed that they began to accept my presence, it was almost as if they didn’t even mind it. I started to feel like one of the popular girls.
    Being in their presence changed how I did everything. They slowly tore apart what I looked like and I began to mold myself to their idea of “beautiful”. I started to straighten my hair, I bought different clothes, I wore more make-up, and I gossiped about the other girls. When I went to hang out with boys on the weekends I lied to my parents about who was there. When the few friends I once had talked to me, I acted astonished at their bravery to approach someone as high up as I thought I was. If only I had realized sooner that I was rude and that true friendship isn’t someone who tells you how to look, who ignores you when you aren’t pretty enough, and who is quickly angered by ridiculous rumors. 
I followed these girls and hid who I really was for years. I didn’t find out I actually had a personal opinion until early senior year. It’s all thanks to a boy named Scott. He was my very best friend, the only person to like me, not for what I looked like, but for who I was. Of course how I looked must have been what originally sprouted his interest, but to my delight, he only pursued when he noticed that I had a different personality than the others.

He saw me for the unique person I was, but I didn’t realize that until I broke up with my best friend. On the day our relationship ended, I found for the first time I had no one to tell me that I looked bad or good. At first I didn’t know how to deal with it, but in time I realized I could finally choose for myself.

Suddenly the influence of the media and a cultural idea of perfection didn’t matter to me. What I wanted to do or wear was much more enjoyable than what my friends liked or what my boyfriend liked. I realized that being weird and a little different was very fun. I also found the more I acted like myself the more people wanted to be around me and become my friend. For the first time I didn’t feel shy because I no longer cared what people thought of my words. These changes made me feel more beautiful than I had ever felt before. Whenever I heard anything as simple as, “I like your shoes!” to “Wow, you look beautiful today!” a smile beamed from my face, because for once they were complimenting the way I projected my personality.

I found who I am, and discovered how much I like the person that lives inside of this unique, little body. This realization made me bold enough to stick it to the society that had sculpted me for so long, I stopped wearing makeup. To most people that may seem small and ridiculous, and they might no even notice, or they just don’t think anything of my refusal to paint my face. But In my perspective it is a symbol of being myself, showing my face completely natural, and being proud of every freckle and the pale color of my eyelids.

If you are nearly done reading this and you still sit there and wonder what in the world was the point of this story about a shy little girl turned popular and then weird. Well the message I hope to share is an appreciation for who you are. I spent most of my life wishing to be someone I am not. Most girls I know are obsessed with how they wished they look, they see every single spot they think is wrong on their faces and instantly look over all the good that is there waiting to be acknowledged. They think that their personalities are too crazy, not funny enough, too weird, and too different. This is ridiculous! Why not take the time to find something about yourself that YOU like, embrace who you are and share your personality with the world! People will appreciate someone who has finally left the cloned population created by the media; a little originality is fun and interesting.

Mocha Brownies

It all begins when you look at the rich, mahogany colored, thin and smooth surface of the miraculous brownie. The color alone invites thoughts of eating into your mind, the smooth surface infuses an interesting curiosity. A precise square is formed as the knife sculpts and leaves a slightly moistened wake. The perfect shape is professional and appetizing. The cut releases an aroma, full of warm coffee beans and sweetened cocoa, a homely smell that brings people floating through the door, hoping for just a crumb.

As the Betty Crocker Mocha-Brownie is placed before you, you notice the colorful beads of chocolate sprinkled on top, immediately recognized as mini M&Ms. A wonderful, new idea for the common box mix brownie. My friend Jared smiles and graciously invites you to enjoy his treat.

    A Salivating mouth, waits impatiently to experience the flood of taste soon to come. Once a piece of brownie has taken place on the fork, it is guided to the mouth. As the scrumptious piece melts on the tongue a homely, comforting sensation warms the soul. A brownie that is perfectly moistened and fluffy, pleasing the taste buds with a desirable balance of mocha and chocolate.

Suddenly the crunch of the M&Ms adds a new dimension. The addition creates a relationship like that between a firm, hearty man and a calm, trustworthy woman. The pair unseperable, once they have found a comfortable place together.

After the short time it takes to create this remarkable brownie, a smile is found along with the feeling of accomplishment, despite the little nutritional value it holds. Surprisingly this fulfilling brownie was made from a box mix, although one might never be able to guess this single shortcoming because of the rich, fresh flavor. I would definitely recommend this delectable brownie to any who wish for a soothing, homely dessert.

It was tasted professional despite the informal setting of a small college apartment. This was a charming atmosphere that comfortably seated at least ten people with the stadium seating couches. The chef and waiters were kind and friendly, warmly inviting us back countless times for other delicacies. It was a remarkably cheap dessert, not even a penny was wanted in trade, rather a tip paid in kindness and a promise for cookies another day. The brownie was well worth the price. If you get the chance, visit my friend Jared to share this journey in eating his delicious Betty Crocker Mocha Brownies, with mini M&Ms.

Don't open the door

Dear Arthur Kipps,

When you are in a house that is silent, except a heart throbbing, mysterious pounding in the upstairs nursery, your first instinct might be to find what is making the noise. You might even feel as Edgar Allan Poe elucidates, “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” Were you possibly dreaming to see your long dead wife? I must beg you to come out of that wishful moment and look at the facts in front of you. There is that incredulous pounding coming from a room formerly thought to be empty in an old house. A house thought unoccupied just moments before.  A house left to be sold by an estranged mother who angrily committed suicide. After reviewing the former I would most definitely advise you not to open that door.

You have been in this bleak little town long enough to see people die, to glimpse a dark soulless ghost and to be at least slightly knowledgeable about the crazed mentally lost Jennet Humfrye who once lived there.

You should have been told enough to know that Ms. Humfrye is a mother who desperately fought for a child she didn’t have the mental stability to care for. If her child had stayed he could have possibly by emotionally wrecked and physically scarred in her care. The poor sweet innocent child was killed in the depths of a marshland. This child’s caregiver had been tricked into a visit like a rat eating craved cheese from a trap. This distraught mother couldn’t handle what had happened to her beautiful small boy. Dealing with the disparing loss led her to think of only one option; she hanged herself.

This relieving event caused the village to hope that this vicious woman would finally be gone but their desperate plea was shattered by a line of mysterious deaths. Village children were dying in simple painful ways and at every heartbreaking death a sudden glimpse of the heartless vengeful woman.

Shame on you if you don’t believe in ghosts, Ghosts roam the earth right next to the living. “The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” according to Mr. Poe.

Mr. Kipp, how could you be so mindless to open the door to the murderous queen. This wench thrives on the blood of children and you do in fact have precious son to protect. Your son is the only living person left to carry on your late wife’s heir. Holding him in mind at the very least should keep you from opening that door despite the curiosity coursing through your veins. When the door to death is shut, it is most important for that door to stay shut. Opening the door to the wicked Pandora’s Box is not the option to choose.

If  you continue to feel the urge to go through that door that holds a curse to haunt generations for eternity, you surely have an incredibly sluggishly selfish mind. I am clearly explaining shortly and simply why opening the door would be an idea that is as friendly and comforting as an atomic bomb. Here I sit writing this letter even though a wiser writer once said, “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality,” Maybe these next words will be enough to impress your mind.

After selling your soul to devilish Jennet, leaving your needy hands to shake and perspire, causing your mind to become torn hopeless, letting fill with bizarre, threatening voices causing your morals and dreams to be ripped apart you will see.

I can only hope that after realizing you have left your son to a gruesome and heart wrenching fate. After seeing him die with a blank look rather than a hopeful tear stained face. You will finally realize that block of wood acting as a simple sturdy door, is the only thing keeping you from this murderous tormenting woman with a flagitious mind.

Freedom.

The wind blows against her face, an ecsatic laugh bursts from her lips. Amazingly low below, the hard sturdy ground seems like only a dream. The power of the push towards the sky and the fright of the chance that gravity will wins takes presence in her heart. Her heart pounds uncontrollably, fear poisoning her veins for a slight moment but the feeling of freedom conquers the fright. Happily she finally finds her place. The soaring blows a smile onto her face. The beam of happiness radiates to the world before. She plans to never come down and soars along the clouds away from all the sadness she once knew, never to be bothered again. But to live on in true glory.