Monday, October 25, 2004

The day had finally arrived...

They day they all had been dreading and at the same time anxiously awaiting... that cold day was one in which they were going to BJ festival.
The weekend before, although supossed to be spent working ahead on homework, had been spent studying for Monday's tests, packing, memorizing and for one stressed out girl, dancing.
Juggling all those things had been a challenge, but she still managed to keep one small step ahead. The hybernating bats, closing their dreary eyes in sleep as the room grew lighter, beheld the girl stretching her cold limbs while feverishly clutching Microbiology notes, and then later pounding the pink canoes on her feet (used to dance on pointe), to the rythm of fairy queen (from the Nutcracker) whilst desperately attempting to recall a self-written speech on Embryonic Stem Cell research. The same day, yet hours later, found the girl, soaking her sore, blistered feet, while rehearsing Number the Stars, a dramatic and narrative literature. Still some hours later, when the rest of the house lay quiet in wait, found the girl, (after stretching some more) curled up in bed for her favorite part of the day (or well night). Her mind lost track of the hour, once she emerged into the wonderful land of a book. She agonized with the protagonist and hated the antagonist.
Still more hours later, and the girl was up again warming up her voice, in preparation for her female vocal solo, and then grabbing her books she was off to school, to run through the rat race, and practice for yet some more entries for this competition. But today was finally here, and as the girl sat in the computer lab pouring out her thought, anxiously awaiting the coming day and days to come, she relized "Well, this has been over 100 words and I have to practice speech."

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Back in the Days of....

I prefer not to act old (yet), by refering to myself... so, Back in the days of when Europe was at her prime there lived a servant girl. She hadn't always been a servant. She was born the daughter of a normal farmer in England, when the king of the time (who's name has been lost in the passing down of this ancient tale) sent some servants to go around and collect small children to come and be trained to serve the king. Well, this girl was taken from her home as a small toddler and had grown up waiting upon the spoiled princess. The servant did not like the princess, but she knew that she would get in trouble if she voiced her opinion, and so every day she woke up at dawn and prepared the princess' royal bath, started and fire and made sure her room was clean, even though the princess was very messy. As soon as the princess' room was clean, the servant girl would spent the rest of the morning in the stables, with the horses. She was SUPPOSED to stay in the princess' bedroom till she awoke, but the princess was often hungover from the night before, and slept a long time. So every day, the servant went and cared for the horses, whom she loved, and was often met by her friend Tom, who was the stable boy. They talked and laughed until, the girl heard her bell, and she had to run swiftly up to the princess to attend to her every need. She would have to clean her room all over again, help the princess dress, and hear her every complaint while she piled her ever-changing hair up on top of her head.
One day, the girl decided she was sick and tired of the princess, so she took a horse, and her and her friend Tom, ran away from the palace, got married, and they lived happily ever after.
(OK that was a really dumb story, but the bell's gonna ring and that's more that 100 words).
Oh, and of course the servant girl got to wear pretty, long dresses till the day she died, and even then she was burried in a pretty pink dress with silk and flowers on it.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

My Favorite Bible Character...

I don't think I've ever really thought about my favorite bible character before. I love hearing the stories of many of them, but I've never really chosen one as a 'favorite'. I'll never tire of hearing the story of Joseph and how he did what was right even when he was put in jail for it. I also enjoy the story of Jacob. Even a man so decietful, was used for God's purposes. I also love the how God used Mary Magdallene, although she had been such a sinner. It's so easy to look back on all the great bible stories and say, well because God talked to them in person, it must have been easier to obey him, or because I know the ending of the story, I think, of course I would have responded the right way and rejoiced always in God even in jail, but in reality I probably would have struggled, w/o knowing what God's plan was, and I have the bible. I don't have to rely on dreams etc.

Thursday, October 07, 2004

A Psychiatris would diagnos me as...

...One who suffers from random tears. I'm sure he or she would not say it exactly like that, it'd be something more like a leak in the tear duct, caused by an imbalance in the emotional system. Those of you who know me are probably laughing right now, remembering the countless times of having to ask: "what's wrong Tirzah?" only to hear: "nothing!" fruitlessly betrayed by the tears sliding down my face.
I cry at everything: when my grades aren't doing so well, when someone has corrected me harshly, when I'm frustrated, or even just tired (:)).
I still remember Freshmen year: I was just getting used to my schedule, when they rearranged it and I walked bawling into Mr. Lambeth's Biology class of two seniors, three Juniors, and a freshmen. I spent the whole class, misreably sniffling in the back corner. Everyone else attempted to hold a lesson, while i sat red faced, trying to hide behind the tissue box. (it didn't work).
Another crying memory, includes at my 15th birthday party. I had gotten one hour of sleep and the next morning a Mark Kay rep. came. Out of frustration that my eyeshadow looked like I had just recieved a black eye, I ran crying to the bathroom, as peels of laughter of my amused friends was heard behind me. I was thoroughly embarrased, as I tried to wash off my black and red splotched face, and my Mom has never let me forget the incident.
The psychiatrist would probably perscibe some drug to me, but a better solution would be to always get enough sleep, and pray when ever I think I'm going to cry. (this has worked before!) But crying does actually make you feel better! It even says in the bible something to the effect of : sorrow is but for the night, but joy comes in the morning!