In regards to my last post, when I told my grandpa I was going to Los Angeles for school, we were helping him move into our cabin at Johnson Lake from his house in the town next to the lake, Lexington, Nebraska. He said to me, "Well, you go out there and you'll forget where you're from!" My mom (who people often mistake me for sisters with) and two aunts were standing there with us.
     "How can I forget where I'm from?" I asked. "It's all right here. Daily reminders!" I gestured to the lake, the house (including all of his boxes of crap we had just packed and moved the last 2 days) and my mom and aunts. "Additionally, I'll never forget where I'm going either because it's still all right here!" Gesturing to my family again. Below is a picture of my mom and me and one of my brother, mom and me.

     When I was younger, I hated how much I looked like my mom. Now, I think it's great because I know I'm going to age well haha! It's a wonderful thing to know where you came from, even if you don't have the best circumstances in your past. Looking back tells us how far we've come, or what we have to fall back on if we need it. Don't be afraid to ask for help or forgiveness. The past is behind us for a reason. We cannot change it, but we can learn from it and move on. The past is behind you, think of it as your springboard to jumping off into the world.

     Where you are going in the future is a beautiful thing to look forward to, but don't be like me and get too caught up in where you are going to enjoy where you are now. The future is out of our control and never certain. The only thing we have is today. From the girl who had to give up obsessing about the future for Lent this year: Live it up TODAY!

     This is how I will be living it up today, lifeguarding at the Olympic Swim Trials 2012. Yesterday I got to see Nathan Adrian, Jason Lezak, Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, Allison Schmitt, Cullen Jones, Missy Franklin, Brendon Hansen, Janet Evans and many others. It was amazing!

My new life mantra: It doesn't matter where you've been, nor where you are going. Embrace today.

     Great snippets of conversation I've heard today:

1. A woman I do yoga with talking about her 4 year old grandson: "Liam said, 'Red means stop. Green means go. Pink means princess crossing.'" She proceeded to tell me he asked for (and received) a princess costume for his 4th birthday and wants to know why girls get to wear sparkles and boys don't. I agree, it's just not fair! What a cool kid--with great parents!

2. While I was riding my bike to the gym to work today a cute old man called to me while he was walking: "Hey! You're riding right into my heart!" He was old and may or may not have been homeless, but it was nice either way!

3. Today was my first day back at work since LA and I was so excited to see my people! They were excited to see me too (I think!) and one of my guys in my classes asked me if I'm going to be leaving them soon to flee to LA. I said no, I actually finally decided that I have a bit of a plan and hope to stay around for the next two years. I told him how I'd like to travel some and find out where I want to end up. He asked if I'll be moving to LA in two years and I said probably not, while I have to be somewhere by the water, it doesn't get hot enough there. Larry then proceeded to tell me, "Well, Erin, when you fall in love and get married, you can't make that be a stipulation on your marriage. You can't say I won't marry you unless there's a lake or the ocean nearby. You just have to be happy and in love." I don't know how discussions of my future always end with me having to get married, but it's nice that he thinks I'm marriage material haha!

4. I follow Chad Johnson on Twitter. Love him. Tonight he tweeted: "PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: YOU CANNOT AND WILL NOT FIND YOUR WIFEY THRU TWITTER! #stopit. My response: Word. 


5. Crap! I forgot to add, before asking me if I'd be leaving my job for boys in California, I met the guy from my class on the way into the club. I had rode my bike and had a dent on my nose from my sunglasses. He asked me what happened to your face?! Did your boyfriend beat you up? Not that domestic abuse is funny, and no, no one beats me up, but I did think it was funny that he said that and then was worried about me falling in love. 

In one of my lectures yesterday, we were given a writing prompt to write down five things in which we are experts. They had to be kind of strange things though. I listed six. This exercise was kind of disturbing in what it reveal about me and my classmates. Here is my list:

1. Knowing all 50 states in Alphabetical order.
2. Cutting a pineapple how Tanner likes it.
3. Getting really excited, then obsessing, then totally freaking out about my future.
4. Kicking butt in a SWEAT class.
5. Saying way too much about myself.
6. Lying without lying--telling a story to get out of things without lying.


Then we had to write about that thing in the most authoritative voice we could. I chose to do my number 6:

      The easiest way to lie without lying to get yourself out of crap is to tell the truth. Just don't tell the whole truth.
      You have to start with something that is true, like, "Oh, my little cousin has a dance recital that day. I won't be at your graduation party." It's true, your cousin does have a recital, but that doesn't mean you are going to it. All that you have said is that she has a recital. Period. And you won't be at the party. Period. See? It's not a lie. Do not say, "I will not be at your graduation because my little cousin has a recital." That is a lie. Unless you plan to go to the recital.
     Late for an appointment? "I'm so sorry! I had to take my dog to the vet!" Had to implies past tense, however, it tells nothing of how far in the past that event was. You could've taken your dog to the vet weeks ago, but, yes, you had to do it. Lying is saying, "Sorry, I'm late because I had to take my dog to the vet."
     If someone shows you their ugly-ass baby and you don't want to lie, but you can't say, "Wow, that's an ugly-ass baby," find something else to say, like, "Oh, he's so big!" (only if he is bigger than you thought he'd be) or "What a cute little shirt!" (only if you do like the shirt) I tend to think commenting on babies clothing is good, because most of it is so teeny tiny that it is in fact cute just because it is so small.


What I think would be more interesting and revealing about myself would be to write about number 3: Getting really excited, then obsessing, then freaking out about my future. This is what I free wrote last night:

     Two years. This is a two year plan. Four years ago, I had told myself I would stay in Omaha until summer 2012 so that I could lifeguard for the Olympic Swim Trials. Next week, that goal will be accomplished, but then what? I need to see more of the United States. I have no idea where I want to end up. Everyone says I should move to California, but really it doesn't get hot enough here for me. And I just found out that I get paid to teach fitness classes almost as well in Omaha as I would here. It's 90 in Nebraska and a freezing 65 here in California for God's sake! In June. And renting an apartment here is, like $1,000/month vs. my $350 in Omaha (with a roommate).
     Additionally, I need funds. In Omaha I have a place to live and a great job that I love. I really love my job. I'm terrified I'll never leave Nebraska. Ideally, I'd live in Nebraska May-January and in, like, Mexico teaching fitness classes at a resort January-April. That would be Heaven. Teach for a university's low residency MFA program and then the fall semester at UNO or Creighton so I get Nebraska summer and fall (football duh!) and keep teaching my fitness classes here so I don't get bored then I get to peace out for the awful part of the year. Plus I get great practice on my Spanish.
     What about love? I want to fall in love more than anything. Really, I just need a partner, a buddy. I want to always have that person to do things with and someone to support me and my craziness. Someone who likes to read my writing. Probably someone who's not a writer though. Maybe, I don't know. Someone to go on bike rides with or run or travel or just go to the movies or out to eat. I don't have to fall in love. Maybe. I could just have a best friend. I need a dog. A dog and a buddy to do everything with at the drop of a hat. If I fall in love someday it will be with someone who who loves me like a song. Even if they can't sing or write a song, it'll be like that.  Like, I don't know, "Something" by the Beatles (that's what I'm listening to right now). Not settling for lack-luster love is a good plan. I am pretty decent on my own. I could just have an awesome friend to do everything with, a workout/travel/eating/conversing buddy. And a dog.
     Anyway, my plan. I have to have a two year plan. I have to travel. I'm going to New York City in August. I doubt I want to live in New York, but I have to go so that I can live a day in Amy's life, so I can write her day there. In October I'll go to North Carolina to visit Darby and Courtni. Maybe I could live there in two years. In December I come back to LA, back to Antioch--Yay being around writers!
     Next year I need to see some places. And write. And join Girls Inc. or become a Big Sister or something to get me around some young people so that I can be a better writer for young people--also part of my contract for this semester at Antioch. I need to do that sooner than next year though. I need to do that as soon as I get back to Omaha.
     Travel, travel, travel, work and write as much as I can so I can pay for my travel. When am I going to get a dog?
     I have to get Racists, Boys, Butthole and Old Lady Water Aerobics published. Surely someone will publish it. Everyone who reads it loves it. And that story got me into the 5th best low-residency writing program in the nation. Maybe I have to trash it. Maybe it's my first novel that sits in a desk drawer and never sees the light of day. No, it's good. Someone will publish it.
     After next year, I'll be ready to start my post MFA Certificate in Creative Writing. That is when I have to have a decent idea of where I want to live. In two years I'll get to start my student teaching in a college or university anywhere in the US. Antioch will help place me in any city I want to be in. Where do I want to be? I don't know, because I haven't been anywhere!
     Plan: live in Omaha and continue writing and working at my fabulous job and commuting to LA for two years. Travel as much as I can (which probably won't be much since I am using every last penny I've saved for the last 10 years to pay for grad school). Then that traveling will maybe show me what city I want to do my teaching in and then I will move and have a secure job for my semester of student teaching. And I'll finally get a dog sometime.
     Then I remember it's stupid to plan because some unexpected opportunity (everything is an opportunity even when it seems like a setback) will fall into my lap and my course will be altered forever. Hell, maybe in two years I'll just throw at dart at a map of the US and whatever city it lands in I'll go there for student teaching. As long as it gets decently hot there. And then I'll get a dog.

At Antioch we do 10 day residencies in June and December, then go home and work online with an advisor and a student group for 6 months. I committed myself today, in my project period contract (a plan we make with our mentors), to visiting New York City for the first time. Amy goes to NYC in my novel and I need to go on my character's journey, especially to experience NYC's art museums. Here are my Project Period Goals:

1. I have voice, now I need to develop storytelling and plot with that voice.
2. Go to NYC and live Amy's journey in the city.
3. Explore avenues for developing and publishing my personal essays.
4. Read the news and search for real life stories for inspiration like Greg Neri.
5. Get involved with Big Brothers, Big Sisters or Girls Inc. or something of the like.

I signed myself to this and I'm publishing it online for the world to see. Hold me to it!

Here is what has come of my Gary Frogmother story. It is now condensed to 451 words, not as few as I'd like, but 200 words shorter than I started with! I had no idea the complexity that goes into a children's book. You have to fit your story into 32 pages with pages 1-4 being taken up by title pages, publishing info and a dedication. You usually get assigned an illustrator who gets 14 illustrations that help tell your story. An illustrator that would work on my story, for example, I would hope would draw Milton doing something rotten other than putting gum in someone's hair, hiding a bone and saying mean things. The illustrator would probably draw something else to show additionally how awful Milton is.

Gary Frogmother

     Milton was a bully. He put gum in Sally’s hair, hid Griswald’s bone and told Henry he stunk at football.

     Milton was rude. He stuck his tongue out at the teacher, talked with his mouth full and never helped his mom with chores.

     Milton was selfish. He hid crayons, stole his sister Molly’s dessert and never passed the ball.

     One day, Milton’s librarian read Cinderella to Milton’s class. Milton demanded that he should have a Fairy Godmother.

     Poof! A man appeared. “Did someone call for Gary Frogmother?” he asked.

     “Gary Frogmother? I thought Milton wanted a Fairy Godmother,” Sally whispered to Betsy.

     Gary Frogmother appeared by magic so he must do magic, Milton figured. “I did,” he told Gary.

     “You must be a rotten little boy,” Gary Frogmother told Milton. “Nice boys and girls get Fairy Godmother. Meanies get me.”

     “Milton is mean!” Henry bravely said.

     Milton pushed Henry. Gary Frogmother pushed Milton. “Ow!” Milton cried. “You can’t do that!”

     “You pushed Henry. Treat others the way you want to be treated, Milton,” Gary said.

     “You’re dumb!” Milton shouted at Gary.

     “You’re dumb. Treat others the way you want to be treated,” Gary said.

     It was time for recess. Gary followed Milton outside. Milton kicked a ball at Gretchen. Gary kicked a ball at Milton. “Treat others how you want to be treated,” Gary said.

That hurt, thought Milton.

     At lunch Milton thought he would open his lunch box and find his turkey sandwich, an apple and both his and Molly’s brownies. Instead, it was empty. “Treat others the way you want to be treated,” said Gary, between bites of Milton’s brownie.

     When he got home from school, Milton wanted help with his homework, but Gary told Milton his mom didn’t have time to help him. Gary Frogmother even hid Milton’s pencils.

     At dinner, Milton belched without covering his mouth and didn’t use his fork. Gary Frogmother burped right in Milton’s face!

      "I can’t take it any more!” Milton cried. “You made fun of me, pushed me, ate my lunch and belched in my face!”

     “Isn’t that how you act every day?” asked Gary. Milton’s family nodded, even Griswald. “Treat others how you want to be treated.”

     Milton realized Gary Frogmother was right. He did hurt others, take what wasn’t his and have poor manners.

     Milton decided to treat others how he wanted to be treated. He helped his mom with the dishes and she helped him with math. The next morning he gave Molly a hug and she shared her waffle with him. At recess, he took turns shooting baskets with Henry and Milton made his first friend.

     Milton was much happier when he decided to nice instead of nasty. 

     What I miss about Nebraska: my heat, my job and my bike.
     What I will miss about Antioch/California: being with other writers, the overwhelming drive to write and my hotel room--can you say king sized bed with half a dozen pillows, a 42in tv with cable and HBO, time to read, write and blog and a maid service?! Holla!

     I'm now on Twitter to promote my writing some more! Follow me @ErinDarbyGesell!

     I went to a presentation on Saturday for my Writing for Young People tract at Antioch University. All of us in W4YP had to go and it was one of the coolest things I have attended as a writer. G. Neri, (http://www.gregneri.com/) a writer who has had immense sucess with his Children's and Young Adult stories, was receiving the Horace Mann Upstanders Award. This is an award given to writers who have written for social justice and are upstanding members of the world. I had read three of Greg's books before the conference, so I was very excited to see him speak.
     He won the award for his book Ghetto Cowboy which is about cowboys in the poorest part of Philadelphia. He had seen a story in Life magazine that there are people in urban ghettos who save race horses from slaughter houses and care for them in abandoned, run-down areas of cities. He thought the same thing I did: What!? How have I not heard of this and how are there not already stories about it!? He began to do research.
     My favorite parts of Greg Neri's work is that he writes about things he sees in the world that interest him: the truth is stranger than fiction. He dared me to break one of the rules frequently pushed on me in my undergrad. As a young writer everyone told me to "write what you know." Greg said however, "write what you don't know. That's what is interesting; what will inspire you. What you don't know can fill books." I thought this was awesome, because I also like to take bits and pieces of things I experience or read or hear about in the real word and apply it to my fiction. I love being able to research for my work--learning keeps me interested in a piece I am working on. If I just wrote and never experienced something new and interesting why would I be entertained enough to keep going?
     My other favorite thing about Greg's work is that, like the award shows, he is an Upstander for social justice. He talked about going to readings at schools and detention centers where he met kids who had never read before they encountered his books. Some of these kids told him that his story Yummy, about an 11 year old pawn in a gang war, saved their lives. There was another student Greg told us about who had never read before finding Greg's book, Chest Rumbler, a work of poetry-like prose. The student began asking the school librarian for more books like that one. Eventually the student was reading Shakespeare, writing his own poems and being accepted into a high school for the arts. How cool would that be to know that you had provided the catalyst for a kid to go from not caring about school or reading to being a poet and reader of Shakespeare?
     I hope someday I'll be reading in a classroom. This is truly why we write: so that someone somewhere will read what we have written and maybe, if we're lucky, even if it's just one person, someone will love our words, our ideas.

Today in we were asked to write a 500 word children's story for tomorrow's workshop. I wrote the story below in a couple of hours this afternoon. Tomorrow we will be cutting it down to about 300 words and storyboarding it so it can be made into a picture book. Not my best writing, but I want to put it up so you can see how the cutting process goes and just how few words a person gets to use in a Children's book!

Gary Frogmother

There once was a boy named Milton. Milton was a bully. He put gum in Sally’s hair, pinched his sister Molly, hid his dog Griswald’s bone and told Henry he stunk at football, which was Henry’s favorite game.

Milton was rude. He stuck his tongue out at the teacher whenever she turned around, never covered his mouth when he burped, always talked with his mouth full and never helped his mom put the dishes away when she asked for his help. He didn’t have time to help, he said.

Milton was selfish. He hid all of the best crayons, stole Molly’s dessert from her lunch pack, never passed the ball in gym class and always had to be first in line.

One day, Milton’s librarian read Cinderella to Milton’s class. Milton, being the rude, selfish bully that he is, demanded that he should have a Fairy Godmother.

Poof! A young man appeared right in Milton’s library. “Did someone call for Gary Frogmother?” he asked.

“Gary Frogmother? I thought Milton wanted a Fairy Godmother,” Sally whispered to Betsy.

Well, Gary Frogmother appeared by magic so he must be able to do magic, Milton figured. “I did,” he told Gary.

“Well, you must be a rotten little boy,” Gary Frogmother told Milton. “Only the nasitiest children get me. Nice boys and girls, even so-so boys and girls, get Fairy Godmother. Meanies get me.”

“Milton is mean!” Henry bravely said.

Milton pushed Henry. Gary Frogmother pushed Milton. “Ow!” Milton cried. “You can’t do that!”

“You pushed Henry. Treat others the way you want to be treated, Milton,” Gary said.

“You’re dumb!” Milton shouted at Gary.

“You’re dumb. Treat others the way you want to be treated,” Gary told Milton.

It was time for recess. The kids went outside and Gary followed Milton. Milton kicked a ball at Gretchen. Gary kicked a ball at Milton. “Treat others how you want to be treated,” Gary said.

That hurt, thought Milton.

At lunch Milton thought he would open his lunch box and find his turkey sandwich, an apple and both his and Molly’s brownies. Instead, it was empty. “Treat others the way you want to be treated,” said Gary, between bites of Milton’s brownie.

When he got home from school, Milton wanted help with his math homework, but Gary told Milton his mom didn’t have time to help him. Gary Frogmother had even hid Milton’s pencils.

At dinner, Milton belched at the dinner table and didn’t bother to use his fork. Gary Frogmother belched right in Milton’s face!

“I can’t take it any more!” Milton cried. “You made fun of me, pushed me, kicked a ball at me, ate my lunch, made it so I didn’t have help with my homework and now burped in my face!”

“Well, Milton, isn’t that how you act every day?” asked Gary. Milton’s family nodded, even Griswald. “Treat others the way you want to be treated.”

Milton opened his mouth to argue, but he realized Gary Frogmother was right. He did hurt others and take what wasn’t his and have poor manners.

Milton decided to treat others how he wanted to be treated. He helped his mom with the dishes and she helped him with math. The next morning he gave Molly a hug and she gave him her cookie from her lunch. At recess, he took turns shooting baskets with Henry and made his first friend.

Milton was much happier when he decided to nice instead of nasty. 

     This is the first writing I've done in my Graduate career. I am in Los Angeles for my 10 day residency at Antioch University where I am getting my MFA. Today was our first day of work/class. My Writing for Young People workshop advisor gave us a writing prompt for us to write about our neighborhood in a 7 minute free-write this afternoon. This is what I wrote, no edits:
   
      Sunset Avenue, named for being on the west side of Norfolk, Nebraska. Someone told us your porn star name is your middle name plus the street you grew up on. Darby Sunset. That's me. First house on the corner. You know, my garage is where that stop sign everyone blows through on eighteenth street is? The stop sign everyone hates, but we think is essential so we can get out of our garage, but really; that's probably stupid because no one actually stops at it, even though we live next to an elementary school.
     Five houses down is Carrie's house, she'd be Lynn Sunset in porn, right next to Bob and Boob's house. Bob and Boob? Oh, they're ok. Barb (now Boob) used to live with Mark, but they got divorced and she got braces and new boobs and Bob.
     Nineteen houses down is where Mandy lives. On the cul-de-sac. She'd be Jo Sunset.
     Behind our houses, on the south side of Sunset Avenue, is The Field. In The Field we play baseball and tackle football with the boys. No boys live on Sunset Avenue. In The Field most of our games end in fights.
     Behind The Field is The Meadows, the old folks home where we girls pretend we have some old relative so we can get free soft serve ice cream. Carrie did have Mary Mills, a great-great aunt's sister's niece's cousin of some sort, but Mary died and we kept going for ice cream.
     The Meadows where the the sprinklers come on at 10:11 on summer night, something we learned when I was finally allowed to stay out past when the streetlights came on. The streetlights on Sunset Avenue, which is across the street from Westside Elementary School, where the three of us girls are best friends one day, fighting the next, but always, always in detention, every day in sixth grade writing the school creed over and over:
               "I will act in such a way that I will be proud of myself and others will be proud of me. I came to school to learn and I WILL learn. I will have a good day."
Eventually the three Sunset girls will get their own paragraph since the school creed evidently doesn't sink in.  That will come from Lynn and Darby Sunset skipping down the halls of Westside singing "Pretty Fly for a White Guy."

     The month of June, normally a glorious month (because it's a summer month!) will be one of the most trying months of my life. We shall start with June 1. On June first, after swim practice, I had training for a new exercise teaching position I decided to take on. When I first became a group exercise instructor four years ago I swore to myself, never, ever would I teach Kickboxing, Step, Zumba or anything else that involves rhythm. I have no rhythm. Girl can't dance even after taking dance for 10 years, ok? It's never going to happen.
     Well, I started this extra job and they need a kickboxing person. They assured me I can do it and they'll have someone work with me. Ok. I'll give it a try. The girl who worked with me was so wonderful and nice and encouraging I actually feel I could survive teaching this kind of class. So Friday, June 1, not a bad day, just hours and hours of kickboxing. That night then was ladies' night (a potluck some friends and I do) and then my roommate Laura had her last night in Omaha. This was sad and fun as we all got together and worried about what our futures will bring. Most of us are slightly without direction and not really where we thought we'd be at this point in our lives, so I drew this picture on a napkin at the bar to assure everyone that we'll all be ok:

I really believe anything and everything can be fun and worth doing if you're with the right people. Life is about who you spend it with, not what you do. 

     Saturday, I had my training to lifeguard for the Olympic Swim Trials then I drove home to Norfolk and had a bridal shower and bachelorette party for my best friend growing up. It was so much fun seeing girls from high school! The next morning my mom and I cleaned house, because she is trying to move and then I had to drive back to Omaha.

     This week I move in my friend Kerry's house while also lifeguarding for the Swimvitational, the pre-meet before the trials. I'll move all of my stuff to Kerry's basement Friday, then live at my aunt's house out of a suitcase until Thursday, June 14 at which time I will go to Los Angeles until the 24th for school. While in Los Angeles, I'll be in workshops, conferences and lectures from 9am until 8pm every day for 10 days. When I get home, on top of teaching all of my classes and working my normal job, I will also be lifeguarding 8 hours a day for the Olympic Swim Trials from June 25-June 29. On June 30, I'll go home for my friend's wedding that I am in and then come straight back to Omaha the next day to finish out the swim trials until July 2. 

     Come July 3, if I survive, I am headed out to my family's cabin to do nothing but nap in the sun and recover from the entire month of June. 

     While cleaning out the last few things I still have at my mom's house, we went through boxes of my writing kindergarten to my senior year of high school. I found so many wonderful treasures, however, two particularly apply to this post. 

     The first is from my 6th grade graduation bulletin. Each student in my class graduating from 6th grade at Westside Elementary School in Norfolk, Nebraska had a little diddy about them in the bulletin, our name, our hobbies, what we wanted to be remembered for, stuff like that. For the section that said where will you be in 10 years all I wrote was: I hope to have a high paying job. My first problem with that is how sad that at age 12 I was only concerned with making money not actually enjoying my job. I think maybe I was still counting on my owl being lost in the mail, and that I really wouldn't need a Muggle job because I was going to Hogwarts. My second problem with that is that 10 years from then would put me at 22. I have an crazy awesome job that definitely pays the bills just fine, however, I don't know any 22 year olds with a "high paying job" most aren't even out of college yet. Disillusioned. 

     The second piece of writing was from Junior High, 8th grade. We had to do some "Zoom into the Future" thing and, among other things, I thought that at age 24 I'd be putting in to adopt my first of four children, because I knew the adoption process was lengthy and if I put in at age 24, I'd probably get a baby at age 26, a great time to start a family. I will be 24 in just over two months. I will not be putting in to adopt a child. I'm single, about to be homeless and still on my dad's insurance. Basically, my goals right now at age 23 are to survive the month of June. I also no longer think 26 is a great age to start a family. Maybe 30...oooor maybe 35. 

     Anyway, now that I have reached these times of "10 years from now," I think I need to write a new one. In ten years, I'd like to be married and have a job that pays well and I love, but mostly I think all I need in life is good company, good food, good stories and naps on the beach. Lots of naps and reading on the beach. And a big sweetie dog. 

     

     I always thought the Disney princess I was most like was Belle. She's dorky and smart and loves to read. Doesn't fit in, but doesn't want to fit into the normal boring life of her town, doesn't want to settle down and have babies with a douchey dude even though that's what is expected of her (not that that's what's expected of me, however, girls are generally expected to want to have babies). She also is out to make those around her better; she "fixes" Beast.
     However, packing up my room today and listening to Disney Radio on Pandora, I realized I am actually much more like Tiana. Girl is just working, working, working for the future and doesn't ever stop to be in the moment. Tiana and I both need to be more like Baloo or Timon and  Pumbaa and look for the simple Bear Necessities and live Hakuna Matata--no worries. Who knows what the future will be like? Who knows if there is a future tomorrow? Hakuna Matata be happy now with what you have.

     Waterskiing is probably my most favorite thing in the world to do. I've been skiing since I was 4 or so. I can still remember what it was like my first time. I had little wooden skis that tied together. My mom held me in the right position while my dad waited for the signal to take off on the boat. I just popped right up and buzzed around the lake. As I got older (taller) it got a little harder (farther to fall), but I honestly live for skiing. I learned to drop a ski (and just go on one) when I was 12 and then next summer I learned to slalom (get up on one ski).
     I don't think I've wiped out skiing for, probably, close to eight years. I know everyone has off days, and I am definitely no master skiier. However, I always ski with my sunglasses on. People make fun of me for being cocky skiing in shades, but I've never, in all my 23 years of going to the lake, I've never, ever, lost a pair of sunglasses even while wearing them to ski.
     Well, like I said, everyone has off days. Yesterday, wearing my shades and Husker bikini, I popped right up on my slalom ski and was buzzing around the lake, zipping in and out of the wake, no big deal. I skied for 20 minutes or so, took a 40 minute lay out/nap/read break then went back out. Same thing--cruising, having a great time. Then we hit a rough patch, normally, no big deal. My mind was off in some day dream about impressing some dude with my skiing skills (this is not why I fell. I spend my life in a constant day dream. I am a storyteller, day dreaming is my life) and WHAM! I totally ate it. Lost my shades, my ski, my dignity and my swim suit bottoms. The bottoms literally ripped right off my butt. Luckily, I grabbed them before they sank. Not so lucky with the shades.
     My dad pulled the boat around and I held up my ripped-at-the-seam bottoms. I told him I'd swim to shore. He kindly drove to the other side of the lake to "check something" while I did my swim of shame.