ordinary.

I'm just an ordinary girl
in an ordinary city
in an ordinary home
in an ordinary school
with an ordinary desire to change the world somehow.

Because everyone wants to leave a mark on the world that will stay long after they are dead. To be immortalized in any way is to be remembered always. And to be remembered, in a way, is to live again.

Just a little something from about a year ago...

If you could stop time, would you? Or let’s say that you could go back in time. Even better, right? But what if you could go forwards in time? You’d know what was coming.

You’d know the beautiful things before they happened, and be robbed of the sweet surprise that comes as a part of such things. You’d know of all the terrible things before they happened, and you’d be burdened with the curse of knowing and waiting and wishing you could change the future before it happened.

But you’d know to brace yourself. You’d be ready for the storm before it came, and you’d be prepared, or however prepared you can be for your heart to rip in half.

And maybe you’d have cried yourself dry before it happened. And perhaps the tears wouldn’t be able to come anymore, and you’d face what was to come the way you always wished you could—dry-eyed and straight-faced.

Of course, that would be assuming that time would let you move around as you pleased inside it. And that will never happen, I’m afraid. But isn’t the very thought of it chilling? Imagine that you knew what was to come. That you’d experienced it already.

For you, the future has lost its brilliantly obscure beauty.

Truth.

The truth is beautiful and powerful and so darkly, strongly terrible. The truth is fragile and soft and whisperingly, wistfully gentle. The truth is what it is, and the truth will never change.

The truth hurts, though. Sometimes, the truth will crush your dreams and break your heart--sometimes, reality stings. But sometimes, the truth, like it's been said many times before, will set you free, because there is nothing left to hide.

In the words of Albus Dumbledore, "The truth... is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.". Because sometimes, the truth will burn you like a flame. But sometimes, the truth truly will set you free.

pastpresentfuture.

We are teenagers. We are the ones with unused potential, with untapped energy. We are the ones with boundless imaginations, the ones who still hold tight the idealism that governs our thoughts.

We have years and years and years of life stretching out before us. What we do with those years, though, may depend on what dreams take flight in us. We are the key to the future.

We are today's future. We are the embodiment of the past, the adults-to-be of the present, the hope of the tomorrows yet to come. Do not underestimate us--and do not let us underestimate ourselves.

Life goes on.

No matter what's happening, life doesn't stop. It's funny, when you think about it. When you're deliriously happy, life goes on, and eventually that happiness ends. And when you're hopelessly unhappy, life goes on, and at some point you are not sad anymore.

Life goes on. Feelings change. Honestly, pretty much everything changes, because try as we might... we can't stop time.

Read.

Tumble down, down, down, into a world you've never seen before. Watch as your imagination builds a nation, brick by brick, as your mind crafts the face of a man or woman, as your heart becomes the heart of the protagonist. Because when you read, you lose yourself for a while. You become the main character of whatever book you're reading, whether you're casting spells or fighting battles or falling in love. Whether you've done it before or not, you experience it all.

To read is to catch a glimpse into another world. To read is to expand the horizons of your imagination, and to broaden the reaches of your mind. To read, in short, is to grow.

Go.

Do things that scare you--because afterwards, they will not scare you. We, as humans, fear the unknown. We fear not being in control, not knowing what will happen next. We are afraid of being afraid--of putting ourselves in a position where we do not know what the outcome will be. We value the comfort that comes from knowing exactly what will happen at any given time. But sometimes, it doesn't do to hold on to that desire for comfort. After all, how else will you grow? Learn? You do not become a better person by waiting for experience to come to you. Instead, you go to where you will gain experience.

Do things that scare you. Do things that you've never done before. Push yourself. And become a better person through it.

Melodies.

The young girl's fingers danced across the black and white keys, releasing the sweetest and richest of harmonies into the stillness. And she smiled, because already she knew that this was what she was born to do. The realm of music was hers for the taking, and there was all the time in the world in which to explore it.


The young woman fingered the glossy keys almost reverently. It had been so long since she was a little girl; since her hands had flown joyfully up and down the keyboard. "For you... the silence, it was all for you," she whispered to someone who was present only in her heart as she gently teased a soft melody from the piano. It was her first sweet taste of music in a long time, and the silence would never reign again. She would never again be broken by anyone, man or boy. The music slowly reawakening inside her was worth so much more than that.

Because it ends.

Life is precious only because it ends. Think about it--it's true. If we lived forever, life would eventually become mundane and boring and worthless. But since life is so fleeting, so impermanent, we value it with everything we are. In a sense, it is everything we are.

There are very few things that truly last forever. Take love. It reputedly is undying--however, people spend much their lives in worry that the person they love will one day no longer return the same feelings. Thus, love is treasured. Take time, or family, or even roller coaster rides. These things would not matter as much if they never ended.

But they do end. These things will most assuredly end.

Value what you have now. You never know when it will be gone.

This is important to me, by the way.

I am a Christian. I want to bring God glory in everything that I do, in everything that I am. I fall short often, as I know far too well, because I am not perfect. As long as I'm here, I'll never be perfect. It's just a matter of waiting and trying until I get to heaven. :)

I want you, whoever you are, to know this--I am a Christian. God's in control of my life, so by extension he's in control of this blog (since it's a part of my life). I'm trying to post entries that point to him in some way or another, because I want my whole life to point to God. That doesn't mean that I'm going to start posting huge sermons on here every night. I simply want you to know where my focus is. I'll fail, I already know. But I'm going to try. That's really what matters.

Sparks.

Because sometimes, it's those nights spent reading conversations with that special person or special people that make you reach down and start pulling the real you back together. Especially if those conversations are all you have left of them now--the words, and the memories. Because those words, those memories, are the sparks that can light up your world, if only for the briefest of times.

Nameless.

I am nobody. To you, that is.

I am alone. After all, I am only the girl who sits behind you. I doubt you even know my name. Perhaps you don't even look behind you to know that I exist.

I am trapped in my own little bubble, watching the people around me laughing and talking. I wait. I have the only private bubble, but I don't see that as a good thing.

I am alone.

I am the girl who sits behind you.

Remember me in black-and-white if you must, but don't forget me. Because perhaps one day you will be the girl who sits behind me, alone.

Things change.

To dance in the rain.

It is so tempting to be the girl who dances in the rain.  The kind of girl who wears vintage skirts and jean jackets and her mother’s perfume.  The kind of girl who everyone knows, but no one understands. 

            This is just one side of unique.  The reaches of “unique” stretch far and beyond this one image planted into our minds.  To be honest, any girl who tries to fit within this one definition of uniqueness is not unique, for she is only copying the generations of such girls before her. 

            To dance in the rain, to laugh, to be different—none of these things are bad at all.  What you do is important, yes.  But even more important are the reasons behind those actions.

             

Faceless.

Inspired by a conversation with a friend. :)

---

On the Internet, you can say whatever you want. There is a code of anonymity, of facelessness. What you say and who you are can be two completely different things, if you wish. There is safety behind the mask of obscurity found on the Internet. Behind this mask, you are safe from the judgements and objections of the rest of the world.

Online, you can speak the truths that you could only dream of speaking in real life. You can use your anonymity to express the ideas that no one else might care about. Or, you can use your anonymity to tear down others' shelters of self-confidence. It is your choice.

But online, you are faceless. You are free. And how you use that power is up to you.

Coeur.

I obviously cannot create quality titles--something to work on this year :3 I wrote this story during the summer... Enjoy!

~~

In the city of Coeur, there was peace and beauty. It was a lovely place, filled with lush gardens and grand buildings. All the people lived in happiness and peace, and it was good and beautiful. Coeur was a special place--everyone knew that much. Nobody was quite sure why it was so special, but everyone wanted to live there. Reaching such a perfect place was not simple, though. For Coeur was hidden inside a huge range of mountains, a tiny city dwarfed by the giant grandeur of nature.

But one day, to this small city of Coeur, there came a traveler. Although the journey to Coeur was long and difficult, he came looking as if he had simply taken a leisurely stroll along the city streets. He wore a mask, and clothing dark as the night. Behind the mask, though, was a handsome face--that much everyone could tell. His genteel manner and kindness to all quickly won over the inhabitants of the city. Why shouldn't this well-mannered traveler live out the rest of his days here, in perfect peace and happiness?

So he became one of them. Spoke like them, acted like them. But he kept his dark clothes and mask, so that nobody really knew who he was. At first no one was willing to trust him. They said, "He hides himself with a mask! His clothes are darker than the night! If he does not see fit to share his identity with us, why should we give him our trust?"

But his refined ways eventually won them over. "Perhaps we do not really know who he is, but he is a good man," they began to say. And they accepted him as one of their own.

One day, many years later, he became the mayor of Coeur. The most powerful person in the city.

But everything changed one night. One night, the city woke up to flames. Bright golden fire, devouring all the beautiful buildings and homes and everything that made Coeur lovely. And the masked mayor was gone, along with everything beautiful in Coeur. The city was burning, in agony and chaos. Surely this must be death itself, because nothing in life could hurt this much.

This masked man, the one whom everyone had trusted--he had, in one stroke, destroyed every good thing in Coeur.

This masked man had destroyed the heart of the city's beauty. The city of the Heart, broken beyond repair by a single man in a single night.

{Coeur means "heart" in French}.

Hello out there.

If you're actually reading this post/my blog, you're an amazing person :D

Anyways, I understand that my ramblings about the meaning of life and such may not necessarily interest you forever. I've been trying to come up with other things to post here, and have been failing miserably. However, do expect an influx of short stories/poems. Hopefully. :) Enjoy, and again, thank you for reading!

To all those affected by 9/11/01.

I could argue that this entry applies to anyone. However, I am choosing to speak to those directly affected--who lost a relative, a friend, or who has suffered because of that day.

I cannot possibly know what it would be like to be you. I cannot feel your pain or your sorrow. I cannot know what it must be like to have a hole in your heart that may take decades and ages to fill. If this is not you, and you have healed and moved on, I congratulate you. To those of you who have not, I wish you only the best.

September 11, 2001, was a terrible day, and this sentence is a terrible understatement. It rocked America to its core. Yet it brought this country together in a way that nothing but a disaster of that scale could. And so perhaps those lives lost and scarred were worth it, but only in the long run. It's too bad that to benefit only in the future means a time of suffering in the now.

And so I wish you the best and only the best. I wish you healing and comfort and joy in life, and I pray that God will mend you. I have never known what it is like to suffer that deeply--because of what heroes have done, both on 9/11 and on every other occasion necessary. I am blessed. We all are.

mirror.

and you carry everything inside 
black inside, gleaming white outside
the disguise is all for everyone else. 
because you can only look back and you
wonder what went wrong. 
because something changed
something's broken.
your heart, you think.
something isn't right and you don't know why
but you wish you did
because then you could fix it.
you could make it all right again
but you only have the memories now. 

Once upon a time.

Once upon a time, a younger version of you lived in the past.  And it was pleasant and good, but you didn't realize it at the time.  You wanted to be older--to grow up and to enjoy all the wonderful things that would come with growing up.  You wished that you could be older than you were, that you could be in the future already, that the wonders of the future could be yours right now.

And then you did grow up.  You reached the future that you had dreamed of, and you realized that it wasn't as amazing as you thought that it would be.  You realized that life was sweeter and simpler in the past.

Once upon a time, you wished for the past again.  The present is not quite as lovely as one might imagine.

Because I'm a cynic.

"Be yourself!" the clamoring voices all shout. "Be unique, be individual, be free!"

They don't ever give you so much as a hint though... who exactly are you?

I'm not quite sure what this is about.... but here goes anyway.

Success is the name of the game of life.  That's what we all want, isn't it?  To succeed, to make something of ourselves.  To be the best of the best.  Because apparently, just doing your best isn't enough anymore.  Oh, no--you have to be the best.  Yoda had it right: "Do or do not.  There is no try."  And there is no try in this world.  No one really cares if you try your best but fail anyway.  It's all about getting things right the first time, or working at whatever it is until you do.  It doesn't matter much if you work at something you don't understand, but still don't understand it afterwards.  

Don't you wish that it was okay to fail sometimes?  Don't you wish that it wasn't the end of the world if you weren't perfect?  Or perhaps these things are true, and you simply don't realize it.  Perhaps it's only about dreaming bigger every time.  You can't fail every time--sooner or later, you'll succeed.  I suppose that's what's supposed to happen.  You fail, then you fail bigger, and then you might fail even bigger, but at some point, you'll succeed the biggest.  Atrocious grammar aside, that's the game of life.  You lose a lot of the time, but eventually?  You'll find what you're searching for.  It's just a matter of looking in the right places.

I wish...

that when people got mad at you, they'd take it up with you personally, instead of complaining to everyone except you. I wish that when little issues came up, people would tell you instead of telling everyone else all your faults. I wish people understood just how important it is to communicate. I know that putting your feelings into words can be impossibly difficult--believe me, I've been there. But please, realize that by speaking your mind now, you'll save having to deal with the wondering and what-ifs in the aftermath of an argument. You'll know that you put your cards on the table and spoke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And you'll know that sometimes, the truth hurts. But lies hurt even more, don't they?

Limitless.

I want to master the art of words. 

I want to make you feel.  To think deep thoughts, to dream grand dreams, to smile and laugh and cry all at once. Such is the power of words.  They can touch your heart, if only for a moment. 

They take you places. Places where you've never been before--places you've never dreamed of before. They tell you of things that might happen today, tomorrow, or only in your wildest dreams. They are the doorway to the lands beyond imagining. 

Words can heal your heart or break it. They can make you laugh, or make you cry. They can be twisted, turned, pulled, bent out of shape, and misused. They can be honest or misleading, sharp or sweet. Your words are not always who you are. They are a cover-up for your flaws and for your fears. 

Words are beautiful. Powerful. Terrible.  Words are foundations and weapons, the solid bricks and the sharpened steel of our world. Without them, there would be no tomorrows worth having. Without them, today would not shine nearly as brightly as it does now. For the masters of words, there are no limits. 

The Balloon Man

Okay, so the title needs a little work. But anyways, I hope you enjoy this story. I'd really love to hear any feedback you might have, and thanks for reading!

-------

On the corner of Broadway and 27th stands a wizened old man.  His gnarled hands are wrapped around the wooden handle of an old cart, and a faded brown felt hat is planted firmly on his head.  But the important thing is the balloons. A giant flock of balloons rising to the sky in a flurry of translucent wings, tethered to the cart by shimmering plastic threads. The rainbow shadows they cast on the sidewalk dance merrily every time the wind blows. 

A little boy with black hair, wearing a rumpled red shirt, stands across the street.  As he eyes the balloons longingly, he tilts his head side to side as if weighing an important decision. His eyes light up for a second, as he nods, satisfied with himself. 

And then in a blur of red and black, he darts across the stone-paved street to the balloon cart. He swipes at the string of a red balloon as he passes the cart, running as fast as he can. The old balloon man watches through sleepy eyes, and it seems that the boy must surely escape. 

But the old man's hand whips out, grabbing the boy by the wrist and holding tight. The red balloon bobs back and forth on its string as the boy stumbles, yanked backwards.  

"Whaddya think yer doing?" the balloon man demands roughly.  "Nobody steals my balloons. If yeh've got money ter pay for it, the balloon is yers. Elsewise, yeh're comin' with me."

The boy stares at him, wide-eyed with fear. "I ain't got no money, sir," he says in a small voice. 

The balloon man says nothing, but begins to drag him along by the arm. Behind them, the balloon cart clatters noisily along the pavement.  

They walk and walk, and slowly the pleasant cottages and businesses are replaced by shabby buildings, the windows darkened by metal screens. 

"Mister, me mum'll wonder where I am," says the boy very quietly. 

The balloon man doesn't reply, just keeps walking. 

"Mister, I've gotta get home, it's gettin' dark," the boy says, a little louder. 

Still no reply, no sound at all but the clack of the cart on the stones of the sidewalk. 

"C'mon, mister, I'm sorry I tried to take the balloon," the boy begins. "I--"

"Well I'm sure yer sorry, now that I've caught yeh," interrupts the balloon man gruffly. "Now be quiet until we get to where we're goin'."

Dusk falls on the town, and the dim glow of street-lamps illuminates the streets. And still the boy and the balloon man walk, the cloud of balloons bobbing along behind them.  

The balloon man stops in front of a darkened house, and kicks down the stop of his cart.  "Sit down," he tells the boy, flipping on the porch light as he fumbles with his keys. 

The boy's curiosity has been awakened--he can't leave, not now that something's about to happen. So instead of running away as fast as he can, he obeys the old man and sits down on the stone curb. He kicks a stray pebble. He pulls a bit of string from his pocket and ties knots in it. He drums rhythms on the pavement with his fingertips.  

And then he looks longingly at the balloon cart. The red balloon that he had tried to take floats a little higher than the others, its string hastily tied to the handle of the cart. 

It would be so easy to take it and run... The balloon man was old. He'd never catch up. But still, the balloon man had also trusted him not to take anything...

The little boy makes up his mind. It is truly dark now, and the man obviously isn't coming back outside--the lights in what appear to be the kitchen have been turned off, and a dim glow emanates from an upstairs window (the bedroom, perhaps). Had this been some kind of test?

"Thank you, sir!" he calls as he stands up to leave.  He runs off into the darkness, happy. 

***

Early the next morning, a stooped figure wearing a battered felt hat shuffles to the cart.  The old balloon man smiles a little to himself as he releases the single red balloon flying a little higher than the others. It floats up into the sky, the tiny bit of color soon vanishing among the clouds. 

I'm opinionated. Or anyways that's what I like to think.

I'm crazy. At least, that's true part of the time.

I'm searching for who I really am, and who I really want to be. That's true all of the time.

Who you are changes with the people you're with. I suppose that that's one of the uncomfortable truths of life. You are not the same person with your boss as you are with your friends, or with your teachers, or with your parents, or with random people you pass on the street. To each one of them, you present a different version of yourself. Perhaps some of the versions are quite similar--but nobody ever meets the exact same version of you.

People all have something to hide.

People are ever-changing, ever-thinking, so that the person that they are is the person you expect them to be.

If you ever meet someone who is completely genuine... value them. Treasure them, because they have learned what the rest of us cannot--the art of being themselves.

Because I grew up.

Every time I realize that I'll never be seen as a little kid again, I wish that things were different.

Every time I realize that in the world of childhood, limits don't even exist, my heart breaks a little. Sometimes I wish that I were very young again. I wish to be innocent and carefree and ridiculously happy.

Then I think back to when I truly was young, and I wonder why my greatest wish then was to grow up. You see, growing up isn't everything it seems. Grown-ups don't always have the answers. Grown-ups are not unfailingly perfect. Grown-ups try and try and try, but they fail and they wish they were young again because then it wouldn't matter that they failed.

But when you're young, you don't know any of that. To be a grown-up is to be free of the rules and limitations that come with being a kid. Growing up is the ticket to freedom. Only when it's too late do you realize that you were better off where you once were.

But you can never go back.

Erised.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

I show not your face but your heart's desire.

This has to be one of the most powerful sections in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. This mirror, the Mirror of Erised, is the Mirror of Desire. It reflects the viewer's deepest desires, laying them out and playing their secret dreams on its glassy surface. This mirror sees more clearly than any human. It sees the heart and the heart's deepest desires alone.

Honestly, the rest of the world would do well to follow the initial actions of the mirror--to look not at a person's exterior, but at the inner chambers of their heart. Who are they, what do they value, what makes them them?

However, the mirror also creates a hold on the viewer so strong as to pull them from reality and into the dream-world of the fantasies of paradise and happiness that it creates. Here lies the danger--if you see a place where you could be utterly happy, wouldn't it be so much easier to simply stay there?

Reality is painful. Yet the only grim advantage that it has over the perfection of fantasy is that it is always, always undeniably present.

Review: Just a Dream (cover)

Just a Dream (Nelly), performed by Sam Tsui and Christina Grimmie with Kurt Schneider on piano/keyboard/drums/I'm not even sure what else.

This video.... I don't even know where to start.  It's lovely in so many ways.  Let's start off with the instrumentals, because it's ridiculous how often they're ignored.

Kurt Schneider is an amazing instrumentalist.  I can't even name just one instrument, because he plays them all. While I haven't heard the original version of this song yet (heh heh...), the introduction to this one sucked me in right away.  I love piano openings.  Case closed.  But the video itself is awesome--the shots of each individual forming one giant picture reminds the viewer that a song is made of many parts.  There is a vocalist (in this case, two vocalists), and so many different sets of instrumentation going on at once that I ended up watching most of this video with my mouth open.  Loved it, loved it, and LOVED IT.

The vocals were surprisingly good.  For YouTubers, these people are insanely talented.  Honestly, for the human population in general, these people are insanely talented.

However, I felt that Sam's vocals could have had a little more "pop" to them.  While he's undeniably an amazing singer, I found myself starting to take his sound for granted and focusing more on Christina's voice.  By the way, I love Christina's voice.  I did feel that this song fell a little outside of her optimal range, but she did an excellent job.

I loved this song.  Have I said that already?

So, my URL is "living a soundtrack."

I'm going to explain that.  Because honestly, this doesn't seem like a blog that would go with that URL.  :P So, originally, I intended this to be a music blog.  However, circumstances changed (read: I can't make up my mind ever), and this basically turned into the place where I ramble about things that people would normally not listen to but might bother to read. Hence my blog description.  To be quite accurate, I wanted to use either my old blog name (Life is Beautiful) or my current blog name as a URL.  They weren't available.  I decided to check those URLs out today.  They yielded a blog that hasn't been updated in eight years (eight years!  I could be using that URL!), and then, for sealedwithawish..... "The blog you are looking for does not exist."  WHAT.  NO.  *evil soundtrack of doom*  It didn't exist earlier.  Whyyy. :O

Um.  Anyways.....

I'll try living up to my URL every once in a while.  I'm not quite sure how anymore.  Maybe I'll start posting some YouTube videos again.  Or maybe I'll try something a little more exciting... :)

People change.

Obviously.

But people change more than you might realize, and more quickly than you might believe. Take a look at who you are now. Think about who you might be in a few years. There's the hopes of what you could become--prettier, smarter, cooler. And then there's the vague whispers of what you hope you never become--uglier. Less confident. Less of a person than who you are now. Change happens. Change is unavoidable, inescapable. Change is for the better, they all say. But is it?

Imagine meeting your best friend four years from today. One of you has changed--perhaps both of you have changed. But you greet them with a smile and they quietly observe the floor. Like you weren't even there, like you had never been there. Never been their best friend. Never shared laughs or memories or Popsicles on a hot day.

You sigh and leave, because what else can you do? You think to yourself, Wow, they really changed.. But that little nagging voice in the back of your mind makes you wonder if they weren't the one who changed at all--if it is you who is the different one.

falling.

that feeling of not being good enough. falling short of expectations that you've got everything.

when the world's spinning and your heart'a breaking just because perfection is a place just a little farther than you can see.

and you wish you were skinnier or prettier or smarter or just somebody that you could like. because honestly, if someone said they were in love with you, you would not believe them.

just because perfection's a place where people cannot go.

I wish.

I wish that we never made mistakes.  That we, as a human race, were infallible.  If I had my way, there'd be no heartache, no fighting, no wishing you could go back in time to fix your mistakes.  There would be no mistakes, no misjudgements, no regrets.  No regrets.  Isn't that what we all want?  To be able to look back on life and say that we lived without regrets?  That we held back nothing in the pursuit of happiness.

But if there were no mistakes then there would never be reconciliation.  That beautiful, beautiful feeling when you reunite with someone you love.  That moment after you say "I'm sorry," and they say, "I forgive you."  Life would be so much easier without worrying about whether you did the right thing, but life is so much more beautiful in its imperfection.  For out of that imperfection come such sweet moments of resolution, when you right the wrongs you've done.  

I suppose my way would be much easier.

But I suppose the way life is now is the best way.  Although it hurts so much more than perfection, it can be so much more beautiful.  After the rain, the sun always comes out.

Because of my last post....

....I felt like I should write something happy, or at least something normal.  Just so you guys don't think that I'm hopelessly depressed or something. :P

This past week has been really hectic.  With only one more week until finals, all of my teachers are concentrating their efforts right now.  In other words, we're learning everything that we should've learned at the beginning of the year but didn't have time, and we're doing it right now.  As in, I'm taking a test sometime this week, and it's not my final--it's a legitimate test.  Like, an I'm-going-to-die-because-this-teacher-gives-hard-tests test.

Well, this made me feel better:

not quite sure where this came from....

i see the leaves.
spiraling downwards
spinning through a dance of death.
carried on the wind so happily
only to be crushed.

i see the little girl
watching
who doesn't see the leaves dying
only dancing to a new life,
leaving in style.

i wish
i
could see that way.

mean girls :D

Oh yes.  Ohh yes.

"That's why her hair's so big... it's full of SECRETS."

Awkward aardvarks. And cake.

A recent chat transcript:


me: (awkward silence)
  
(made even more awkward by the fact that i labeled it as awkward)
7:53 PM 
(or maybe i'm just awkward)
  
(awkward is a fun word to say)
  
(awkwardawkwardawkwardawkward)

(it looks kind of like aardvark.)

(aardvarkkkk).

My friend: wow lol

I was getting cake.

Me: Well this is how I entertain myself.

I went to Starbuck's yesterday.

It was good. :D

I thought people might enjoy this video ^^ (posted in honor of Disney day, which is coming this Wednesday for Spring Spirit week!!).

Isn't it amazing?  One of the best YouTube pianists out there. :)

Welcome!!

Hi :) this is very obviously my blog, entitled 'Life is Beautiful.'. I know that there are probably a million other blogs with that title, and that I should try to be original, and blahdy-blahdy-blah. However, like the tons of owners of other blogs with this title, I don't care that other blogs have the same name as mine. There are various reasons, but my main reason is that I really do believe that my life is beautiful. I would like to state up front that I'm a Christian, and that I'm trying to live my life for the glory of God. However, I'm not perfect (who is?) and fall short of that goal all the time.

I'm also a music junkie :) I love, love, love music. Except screamo and death metal and all that other cool stuff. (cool, yes; my taste, no). I play the oboe and the piano, and a litle bit of flute (and of course a little bit of harmonica, recorder, kazoo, and all those kinds of instrument).

Anyways, I'll be linking up with YouTube videos that I think you might enjoy, as well as posting about random snippets of my life. Enjoy! :)