The Sound of Snow Falling

Words cannot describe the beauty of snow. Especially when it is falling in your own backyard!

For those of you who see snow more regularly, you may not understand what the big deal is. Allow me to explain. We live in Arizona where there is not much snow. Some parts of our city get snow occasionally because of the slightly higher elevation, but in our area, we have never gotten snow in the five or six years we have been here. It was so exciting to have it right there! 

Pat looked like he wasn't sure what to do with it.

My reaction to it was a little bit delayed because I had a coaching call scheduled five minutes after we realized it was snowing. For the first half of the call, I gushed to my coach Stephanie while gazing dreamily out my window at the gentle white flakes fluttering down. It was so beautiful!

 Dad came home for lunch and we went on a cactus Crusade to find a saguaro cactus with snow on it. It was a bit more challenging than we thought it would be since it was fading fast. However, one of the criteria for the cactus was that it had to have arms and there are few saguaro cacti with arms in our neighborhood, due to the fact that a cactus generally doesn't grow arms until it is 75 years of age, and then each arm represents approximately 50 years of life. But our cactus couldn't not have arms! Arms are the epitomy of cactus-ness!

Once I got off my coaching call, I was texting all my friends like crazy! I got on Facebook to post about it and my entire newsfeed was all about snow. It made me feel so happy inside to see all of Tucson lighting up the internet with their joy over the white fluffy stuff. Words I used to describe it: *rainbows coming out my mouth* *hyperventillating* and *running around in circles like a dog* All of which, if not true in real life, were definitely happening to the person that inhabits my mind.

The snow this morning lasted about an hour and then it snowed again this afternoon/evening! Gigantic snowflakes! We all rushed outside and mom stuck out her tongue like a little kid! And we were squealing every time bits of it fell down the backs of our necks.

The snow is so beautiful! I couldn't help marveling at the beauty of God's design.

In addition, one wonderful thing about snow is that it makes no sound as it falls. I wrote once (I forget where) of its muffling qualities. Now I really wish I could remember where I wrote it and what I said exactly, but I believe it was something to the effect of muffling the world to sound and our hearts to pain. It's interesting because I've been thinking about sound a lot. It's become a bit of a seasonal theme for me: trying to describe the different sounds I hear everyday, or just being conscious of them. The white noise of my family puttering around the house on Saturday mornings, the crackle and hiss of wind through the grass and how similar it is to the fire that consumes it, the scrape of my skis digging into the snow. The sound of my heart when I cry out to God in my pain. And the sound of the silence. Or the sound of snow falling through the air. It is so gentle for being so icy cold.  It's amazing.

Heartbreak Happens: Valentine's Day

I hesitated to post this, since this is so public. (I know, me and all five of you..) But, I just want to put it out there. I broke up with Christian about a month ago. In fact, it was a month ago, almost to the very day. And now, instead of Valentine's Day, I am celebrating Single's Awareness Day (SAD). All in jest though. I still adore Valentine's day and all the frills, pretty colors, and sweets that come with it. There is something about Valentine's day that just feels like a ray of warmth in the middle of winter. Somewhere between New Years Eve and the thawing of Spring that precedes Easter. And my birthday. :)

I know this is probably a shock for you, especially considering that Christian has been a huge part of my life for almost 3 years. You might be wondering to yourself, "But why?" I'll admit, it was a difficult decision for me to make. I got to a point where I felt like we were going in two different directions. Naturally he disagreed, so I shall say that I am going in a different direction. I have my life planned out. I'm almost 18, graduating highschool this spring, and receiving my college degree soon thereafter. I have dreams and goals of traveling and teaching English abroad, moving around, and experiencing life to the fullest. He's 16, also graduating highschool this spring, but afterward? He doesn't know. Not that being uncertain about your future is a bad thing. I certainly wouldn't expect every highschool graduate to know their plans for the future; and many do not. But I do. And I am going to chase it down to the ends of the earth.

I think this decision was a long time in coming. The idea had niggled at the back of my brain for six months or more. And in many ways, I had already moved on from the relationship before I broke it off. Several of my friends who'd talked to me in the months leading up to it said afterward that they saw it coming, though it was still surprising. Kind of like when Grandpa died. We all knew it would be any time now, he was so ill. But when it actually happened, it was still a shock.

There were a few instances that led up to my decision. Various conversations with my friends. My pastor told me, "Some people dream big dreams and never reach them, but I can tell you're one of those people who dreams big dreams and is gonna go get them. God is going to do big things through you." Then I was reading a book for school called A Northern Light. It's a historical mystery, but it's also the most beautiful story about a girl who lives in 1906 and dreams of going to college to become a writer. (Sound familiar?) But she has all these things stopping her: cultural expectaions and sterotypes, poverty, family obligations, promises, a fiance. And you know what happens in the end? (Spoiler Alert!) She walks away from all of it. She leaves it all behind and goes to college to pursue her dreams. She worked all summer and saved up the money and the final scene shows her boarding the train for New York. That story was so beautiful, I cried. I cried because I felt like a small part of me had given up a dream to be with Christian.

I began to realize that I couldn't let anyone or anything hold me back. I felt tethered in the relationship and un-supported in my endeavors. He didn't "get" me or the things I really cared about, like my art, or my poetry. An example that comes to mind-- I saw a super cute love poem performed at the local poetry slam and I really loved it. I thought it was so cute and it made me think of Christian, so I sent it to him, trying to do something sweet for him. Reaching out in my own way. He watched it and texted me afterward, "I don't get it." Trying to explain it killed the sweetness like explaining a joke kills the funny. Talking about my future plans was met with a lukewarm response. Roadtrips and Africa met with simply, "You're leaving me?" I don't know what I wanted him to say. Maybe an "I'm so happy for you! I know you will love it!" Or is that too selfish of me to ask?

These thoughts nagged my mind. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I grew. Perhaps it was some of these conversations and realizations that caused me to distance myself more before I ended it. In the midst of a double throat and sinus infection, I was losing sleep at night thinking about it. I would be dreadfully alone without him. There would be a huge hole in my life for a while... But, and I am somewhat ashamed and sad to admit this, there was also the sensation of greatest freedom. My spirit is wild and restless and eager to fly. To soar through the clouds, unfettered by everything. I just think it's unfortunate that such a wonderful feeling should result from the end of a relationship, but such is life, sometimes.

My friends have been so supportive of me during this time. Though some have said things that really weren't the most helpful. Like, "Don't worry, the same thing happened to me when I was 19, and I am happily married to my husband for 10 years and I wouldn't ever go back. You'll find someone." (Someone actually said this to me.) I was a bit irked because at this point, I'm not really concerned about finding someone. I actually believe I would be perfectly happy to be single (an idea I explored back in September) as I declared to my mom, "I will be single forever and adopt African children!"

I don't know what the future holds for me, but I am so very excited about it! Words cannot describe the explosion of excitement I've experienced this week. I just feel filled with a sudden passionate vibrancy and enthusiasm for life. I have often been known for this enthusiasm before, but I feel like it has come back in full force. I feel so excited to live life and whatever God has planned for my future! I was reading in Ecclesiastes recently. It is a very depressing book of the Bible, proclaiming, "Meaningless! Everything in life is meaningless!" (I questioned my decision to read this book more than once in the initial chapters, because it was not very uplifting..) But, as it reached the end, right around chapters 7-9, it starts to shift and the attitude starts to change. In chapter 9, Solomon begins talking about death and how that is the fate of everyone. he says,

"Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun--all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in lif eand in your toilsome labor under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom."

At first glance, this doesn't seem like it's saying a whole lot, but I found so much encouragement in it because I realized that he's saying that we should be living this life that God gave us to the very fullest because this is all we have.

Breakups are hard. There is no denying that. Even when you are the person who is doing the breaking up. But I really feel like this has rekindled a passion for life and sparked a spiritual revival for me. It's funny how God uses tough situations to draw us closer to Him. It's hard but effective. I can definitely mourn the absence of someone who has been a very important part of my life. But on the same note, I move forward with such a vivid excitement for the future and an eagerness for what God is doing that I know everything's going to be okay.

Watercolor Crazy

"After a thousand water colors you will find you have fallen in love with paper and paint"
-Rex Brandt

Arguably, truer words have never been spoken, at least in my case. Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of participating in a single art class on the topic of water colors, and I found it to be so engaging and fun that I wanted to give it a shot. Last night I had my chance. I pulled out my cheap watercolors and I made such masterpieces as these:

Please, by all means, bask in their glory. They are just gestures done in 2-3, 6, or 10 minutes.

The first gestures (2 minutes)

Because I didn't have anyone to pose for me, I stole pictures off of the internet to copy, taking the more interesting poses. The above gestures are from a series of prom pics.

After a bunch of 2-3 minute gestures, I tried 6 minutes, adding more colors and tones:

This was the first 6 minute gesture I did.

The above actually was from a picture of myself!

And finally, after I'd gotten down the 6 minute gestures, I did one 10 minute gesture:

Since the letter was to Jake, I decided to do a gesture of him using his graduation picture. I love the way it turned out. I hate doing the face because I feel like I always mess up the eyes by outlining them, but this one turned out okay. It gives the impression of it without me having to do anything!

There are many flaws, as these are just the first ones I've done. I look at them and see this line is too long, those lines should have connected sooner, there's too much white space (Especially in my first 2-3 minute gestures) But not bad for my first attempt on my own. I'm pretty pleased with the results! And now, of course, I really want a set of nice watercolors. For now, I'll settle for the cheap ones, since that's what I have.

Vampire Cat Strikes Back!

This evening, I was minding my own beeswax and chillin on my bed and my cat makes a little mew sound at me. (But it did not sound nearly as cute as the word "mew" implies. Rather, it came out as a kind of half-hearted meow, as if he is tired and old and already starting to give up on life.) And I follow through with the usual routine--which is to ignore him until he meows loud enough that it gets to a point where we can't ignore him anymore.

This time, instead of growing steadily louder, he decided to skip that whole stage and he bit my hand! I snatched it away from his angry jaws exclaiming, "Hey! Not cool! Leave me alone!" and returning back to whatever article I was reading on Bernard. (Probably an article about vampires or dangerous cats or animals that eat cats...)

And then! Next thing I know, I had a cat flying towards me, jaws open wide, and he bit my shoulder! My cat literally attacked me, completely unprovoked! Needless to say, I was shocked.

From the picture, you can see two vertical fang marks on the right side and a red line sweeping to the left. There are matching puncture wounds on the other side (not shown in the picture). And this was taken an hour or two after it happened!

Who knew... who knew that THIS:

could be capable of such malice and anger!

I am now convinced that my cat is a vampire who needed to satisfy his thirst for blood. Now, I will be looking up anti-vampire solutions and home remedies. If you know any, shoot me a note. In the meantime, this cat will be sleeping outside tonight. *angry face*

Reminders

This is a short-short story (less than 500 words) I wrote for my creative writing class. Following it is an analysis I had to write for it. Clocking in at approximately 462 words, this story shows a girl who takes a deeper look at her surroundings to find God. I would definitely encourage you to read the analysis at the end. Even as the author, it gave me an incredible insight into what the story is really about.


“Reminders”

            I’m not a bad kid. No, sometimes, I just feel compelled to do… questionable things. Maybe I’ve just become restless; or maybe it’s “senior-it is” finally getting to my head (I can think of more than one occasion where I used, “Hell, I’m a senior!” to justify actions I wouldn’t normally do, like riding the elevator of a healthcare building 23 floors up into the air on the class trip! Needless to say, I wasn’t supposed to be in that building and I got in big trouble for it, but looking out across the city lights and how they twinkled like stars… God, it was worth it.); or maybe, deep down, I really do have a naughty streak—a demon clambering to get out.
            All I know is that nothing stopped me when I got that text from Josh at midnight,
            New message from: Josh.
            hey. u wanna go 4 a drive 2nite?
            I hesitated for a second, but reason gave way to a deeper instinct for adventure. And that’s how I got here—driving around town with Josh at one in the morning. He got his license recently; I think he was just itching for a little freedom. He has a restless spirit, like mine. As the car ducked in and out of the dirty light of street lamps, we talked about everything to the sky and back.
            After a while, all went quiet. Josh cocked his head, listening. He turned the dial on the stereo and Switchfoot’s voice came out louder, singing, “When I look at the staaarr-arr-arr-arrs, I see someone else!” He turned the volume back down.
            “Why do you think God gave us the stars?” he asked, “He certainly didn’t have to.”
            I didn’t know what to say. My gaze drawn heavenwards, I tried to make sense of my thoughts. The simple answer is, “because He loves us.” Or He wanted to give us something that would always point us to Him. Or maybe… suddenly an answer appeared before me. I know why it’s there. Not just the stars, but the whole universe, I mean. God gave us the stars, the galaxies, the universe, to remind us—humanity, prideful humanity—that no matter how much we master the earth, there will always be some things we can never master. Some heights we can never attain…
            I waved when Josh dropped me off at my house. The back door opened with a tiny click. I tiptoed across the threshold, stepping out of a divine world and into my old realm.
            As my head hit the pillow, I prayed, “Why did you give us the stars, God?” and drifted off into celestial dreams, where behind closed lids I saw tiny pinpricks of light--the stars. Such beautifully simple reminders.
 
Analysis:

How does the author create tension? What is the climax and resolution of the text?

            The author creates tension right at the beginning of the story when the main character questions her own actions and the reasons behind them. The initial references to demons and hell also add tension to that first paragraph. Josh and the main character’s restlessness also contribute to the tension.
            The climax of the story occurs when the character realizes the “real” reason why God created the stars. It is a humbling realization that eventually brings the character closer to God as we see her praying in the last lines. Though the story ends on an uncertain note, there is still a sense of peace and finality at the end of the story, even though the question is not fully resolved.

What is the main character’s relationship between the other two entities mentioned—Josh and God?

            There is nothing in the text to suggest that the main character has a romantic relationship with Josh. When he texts her late at night, there is a hesitation, or apprehension, but it is not clarified if she is apprehensive because she is afraid she will get in trouble or because something inappropriate could occur in the car, alone with a male. In fact, this is the only hint in the text that would confirm the main character to be female (because a male might not experience that kind of apprehension.) Whatever the exact reason for hesitation, the instinct for adventure is stronger in the end. It appears that the two characters are friends, perhaps on a d eeper level than most friendships. We see this in the similar restless spirit, their talking together about “everything to the sky and back,” and the philosophical nature of Josh’s question. We also see that they are at least on friendly terms when the main character waves to
Josh at the end of the venture.
            In the beginning, the main character seems very out of touch with God, as evidenced by her senior-rebellion, and suggestion that there is a demon inside her. This idea is also implied by her usage of “Hell, I’m a senior” and how she uses God’s name, “God, it was worth it.” She isn’t exactly swearing, but we don’t get the sense that she is addressing God either. We also see in her hesitation, that the “instinct for adventure” wins out over any sort of moral grounds she might have for not driving around with Josh. At the height of the story, she wrestles with the concepts of God and the stars, knowing the answer, but not really understanding them until she realizes that the stars are reminders more than anything. She still doubts herself and the world, suggesting that “maybe this is hell.” But in the final lines, we sense a return to God as she addresses him more directly as a result of her humbling
realization.

What symbols does the author use? How does she use foreshadowing in the story?

            Throughout the entire story, the author uses references to heaven/hell and the stars/sky to tie the piece together. She also uses words like: up, deep down, deeper, down, and heights to describe vertical space. The character entertains ideas of heaven and hell, demons, and divine worlds. These elements combine to create the foreshadowing and atmosphere in the story. In addition, the author uses the Switchfoot song to foreshadow the main character’s revelations. “...I see someone else.” This line foreshadow’s the character’s realization that God gave us the stars to point us to himself.

What is the effect produced by ending on an unsolved/uncertain note?

            In the end, we see the character praying, and asking God, “why did you give us the stars?” She doesn’t ask this out of doubt, but out of curiosity. It is this curiosity that lends the note of finality to the story, even though the question is not expressly answered. Leaving the question unanswered let’s the question make its mark on the reader’s mind. It makes the reader wonder the question for himself or herself. If the end had been more certain, providing an answer to an unknowable question, the reader would have no need to think about the answer to the question. It would squelch any curiosity the reader might have had and discourage them from seeking their own answers to questions.

The Past 3 Months: An Allegorical Adventure Narrative

I have grown tired of apologizing for not posting and feeling overwhelmed by the amount of writing it would take me to catch up. So, instead, I am going to tell you a fictionalized account of everything that has happened over the last 3 months or so. So sit back, relax, and enjoy my allegorical adventure.

50,000 words. What a crazy, daunting experience. What was I thinking? Somewhere in the depths of my mind, someone, my conscience, answered me, "because you've done it before." While this is true, never before has I had so much...distraction. So much pressure. Never before had I felt so behind... I had abandoned my first love for another. I could still see their faces--one old and creased with the age, the other fresh and young. They knocked on my door, begging to come in, out of the cold and the rain. But I cast them out. Back into the street. "Come back another day." I heard my low, cruel voice say. I hadn't meant to be cruel. It just wasn't the right time. I was in the midst of a storm! And the frenzy had already begun, like sharks at feeding time, except this time, I was not on the winning team. I fumbled my way through the first few days until desperation set in. And when desperation set in, that's when I began to eye, my mandolin. I loved that instrument. It had been so long since I'd played though. Did I even remember the chords? Could I dreg up my memories of how to tune it? I picked it up and closed my eyes. My fingers found their way among the delicate kitestrings along its neck. Plucked them ever so softly. The veins of its lifeblood. And a song rose inside of me. A story. It didn't flow at first, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the music that came out fo my mandolin. With this music, I would be able to sustain what could become my greatest lifework.

I shut myself in for days,. I had no rest. No sleep. I ate rarely. Candlelight danced across the walls of my small room while my pen danced across the page, never ceasing. Scritch Scritch Scritch. Not the sort of elegance as ballet, more like tap, I would say. But after the initial burst of speed, I began to lose hope. Where was the energy and enthusiasm I'd held onto for the entire venture? Every so often, my glance fell upon the mandolin that started it all. I would pick it up and pluck the strings. For a tiny second, the magic would come back once more. But it was not enough to keep the fire burning. After 23 days, I finally threw my pen at the brick wall before me. "I give up!" I cried. "I can't do it." A deep sense of failure filled the pit in my stomach. I tried to do too much. I realized. It was difficult to forgive myself in that moment. For that wasn't the only thing I gave up on during that time either. My studies, which had previously kept me so enthralled, suddenly became tedious. Life became a massive piece of clockwork. Do this. Do that. Wake up. Go to sleep. Eat. Drink. Sleep. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tickticktickticktick. A constant, mesmerizing pattern that became the drum beat of my life. They were dark days. Dark days indeed.

Winter brought with it, the cold emotions that characterize the landscape during this time of year. Lonely. Empty. Wasted. Tired. An ache that no amount of warmth could relieve, lingered in my bones. Christmas came and went. Cheerfully, but quietly. Friends dropped by throughout the day, with gifts and Christmas greetings. Mama gave me a particularly lovely scarf that she made herself and I immediately wrapped it around my neck with pride. It was a good day, not altogether unlike past Christmases-- spent in good company with great food. And yet, in some ways it didn't feel like Christmas. Perhaps it was the lack of anticipation once the gifts had been opened. Or that none of the food tasted quite like my mama used to make. Or maybe the day just ended too quickly, I do not know. But Christmas came and went and life moved on.

January brought its own heartache and, conversely, sense of renewal. For reasons I cannot explain, I felt a sudden surge of passion for my studies. I was excited to learn again! I was grateful for my education and the bounty of opportunities it seemed to bring with it.. But this was the only sun that shone on my wintery landscape of a life for a while and it was the kind of sunshine that made everything brighter harsher sharper. Like an image that is too much in focus. We got a letter--it is the kind of letter one dreads to receive but half-heartedly expects to hear any day now. My grandfather, who had been poor in health for several years passed away in the southlands. The letter didn't bring the tears one expects to feel in grief, instead, an icy numbness, the way snow fall muffles sound, this iciness muffled pain. I felt nothing. I dared myself not to think about what would never be. Willed my mind to ignore the reality. Don't succumb to the pain. During that time, I became very ill, bedridden for two weeks. It was one of the most miserable times I have faced in many years. Helpless. Hopeless. Hurting. And terribly terribly...bored.

In my feverish dreams, an angel from heaven came down. She whispered encouraging things in my ear and waited beside me. I told the angel everything. I poured out my heart to her, desperate for someone to reach out. There were times when silence fell over the room, but it was the most peaceful silence there is. I used to be somewhat afraid of the silence, always compelled to fill it. But I am learning more and more how to be at peace with it. It has been a wonderful journey of self discovery. The angel stayed with me five days. I was sorry to see her leave, ascending into heaven, but I hold on to the hope that I will see her again someday.

I am well now and everything has been put to rights. Every now and then, my heart still burns with the pain of death. The pain of ending. The pain of closing a final chapter. And I cry out to God, asking Him, "Can you hear this? Can you HEAR this? The sound my heart makes?" I am sure He can, though it does not take away the anguish. But, as the weather warms up, so does my heart until the pain that was there turns into only a memory. Everything will be better once the snow fully melts and when the sun shines, the world will no longer seem so sharp and overly in focus. But rather, it will appear blissfully perfect and this dark time will only be remembered with a very small sigh.

To Be Continued...

I hope you have seen the threads of my life intermixed with imaginary settings throughout this story: among them, my experience with NaNoWriMo, my flagging motivation toward academics that I hit this winter, Grandpa Terry's passing, a wicked sinus and throat infection, and some quality time with a good friend. Times have certainly been tough, but I am learning to be grateful and see the beauty on the other side. More to come.

A Conundrum

Unfortunately, this conundrum is not as simple as figuring out what the word "conundrum" means, or how to use it in a sentence. This conundrum is much much bigger, and it is this:

NaNoWriMo is coming. O_O

These words are enough to strike fear into the heart of the unprepared writer, myself not withstanding. Not only am I not prepared for this massive noveling event (see sidebar for more posts on this topic) but I am terribly, dreadfully....busy.

Which is partly why the blog has been so quiet lately. Between schoolwork, testing, driving now(!!), church responsibilities, redoing my room(!!!!!), impending job opportunity, and everything else, the blog has fallen to the wayside. But I have not forgotten it!! I would LOVE to post pictures of my newly painted room, but it's not quite finished yet. And I really want to put in the finishing touches before I take the pictures. It will look very...designer. I've been super excited about the whole project over the last few months.

Back to NaNoWriMo. If the last few months are any indication of the next few, my life shall be hellish indeed. Not that busyness is a bad thing. I enjoy every single one of my activities, but there is simply no rest. As my friend Maike puts it so nicely, life is like the sea pounding against the shore. Over and over and over like one great rhythmic heartbeat that never stops beating. Powerful. Constant. Mesmerizing.

I have much on my plate between youth and government (which my research for my bills is sadly lacking) and my schoolwork. I'm expecting to be taking three online language arts courses through BYU this semester, which means lots of reading and writing for school. Will participating in NaNoWriMo be setting myself up to fail? Will it be too taxing of a challenge to undertake? I already feel a little overwhelmed. Mom is urging me not to do it this year...

And I wasn't. Or at least I wasn't--until today. Today, I had the pleasure of spending some time with Kristin and Sabina in the Starbucks at the mall. We didn't get much work done, but it was so refreshing to be with them, to laugh, to brainstorm. And I came up with a plot.

I suppose, it would be cruel not to tell the plot. A genius in the making must keep their secrets carefully, but I think that an exception will be alright. Just this once. ;) It started with two elements. Art and Dance. I wanted to write a novel about one of these two things... but what? And how? I thought of a couple different scenarios. Then I browsed through Wikipedia's 36 dramatic situations and wrote down which ones stuck out to me. Two characters: a struggling art student and a mad painter.. All combined into this, the plot of my story:

A genius painter, mad and alone, sacrificed everything for his art; but when he takes on a struggling art student to model for his paintings, they find they have more in common than meets the eye.

I admit (confession time!) that it will probably be a love story--but not of the kind that makes you want to gag. It will be cute and sweet, and the model/budding artist will teach the seasoned painter how to see the beautiful things in life. See? Doesn't that sound sweet already? It will be a Scrooge-like transformation, I think.

I'm still not sure how the whole story will go, but I feel like the possibilities are endless. I don't have an era or any particular sequence of events. All I know is that the student is female, and her role will be similar to that of a modern internship. She poses for his paintings in exchange for lessons in art. <3 I'm in love with it already!

AND, now that I have a handy dandy keyboard for Bernard, everything will go much much smoother. I can write in a more comfortable position, take it to starbucks. All I need is a little stand for Bernie and I'll be good to go! Mom doesn't want me to do this, but I feel like I can't not. Such frustrating feelings. Sometimes I do not understand myself. What a conundrum.