A True Fan

 I finally read Harry Potter for the first time.

(This was actually during the school year but I needed something to blog about)

And of course, I absolutely love it. 
I am now and forever will be a Harry Potter nerd. And by nerd, I mean this:

      Now, I know there's a lot of people who have been with Harry since the very beginning. Of course these people are true fans. I wondered for a while if I could be a true fan or not if I haven't been in it since the beginning, or if I still haven't seen all the movies, or even if I don't absolutely understand everything that I read in the books. While I wondered, I thought to myself I probably wasn't a true fan. And I'm sure many of those that HAVE done the things I haven't wouldn't consider me a true fan either.

But what does it mean to be a true fan?

      True in this sense is defined as loyal, genuine, or sincere in feeling. A fan in this sense is defined as an enthusiastic follower, supporter, or admirer of something. Put them together, and a true fan is someone who genuinely admires, sincerely supports, or loyally follows something. 

Who's to say I'm not a true fan? 

• I genuinely admire the inspiration found within the pages of these books. The words of wisdom mixed within this incredible story make it truly breathtaking. I admire the saga Rowling strung; she weaved an amazing tale in seven separate stories.
• I sincerely support the whole shebang now. I'm in the process of finishing the movies, I've signed up for Pottermore, and I have my own wand sitting in my room.
• I now loyally follow any and all Harry Potter ongoings. 

    

     As silly as this post may be, it still means something to me to consider myself a true fan of something I really love, that makes me so happy, and that inspires me. I hope everyone has a chance to become a true fan of something that does those things for them that Harry Potter has done for me.

.

(goose-bumps, every time.)

Productive?

I like to think so.

        Well, not to sound cliche or anything, but a lot has been going on. This summer alone, I have been able to do a lot of what I like to call "firsts". "Firsts" are things you've done for the very first time. 

Making sense?

So, here are some of my firsts:

• cracked a whip
• shot three different guns
• tried an Indian Paintbrush
• hiked the North Butte
• watched Star Wars
• played the Ocarina of Time
• dominated at spider soccer
• read a self-help book
• went to a drive-in
• hung upside-down on an inversion table
• made sign conversation with a random car on the highway
• discovered Butter Cake, the best cake ever
• completed a whole word-search book
• completed summer school courses
• free-fell 60 feet

        I love firsts. Really though, I've only been busy because of work and school. Yeah, summer school. I've got to make room for all of the stuff I want to do next year! Sometimes, I think I do too much, but really I'm not. My last post? Yeah, I've failed at changing any of my habits. Oh well. All is not lost, because the good thing with habits is that there's never a deadline as to when you can change them. The only deadline on habits is death. So, I'm trying not to stress too much over those.

I'm a bit of a worrier.

        That's alright though! It's just another thing for me to work on. Anyway, I'm rambling now.

I'll just end with this.

It's a Phineas and Ferb kind of summer.

Another Something I Thought Would Never Happen

My last post about my pen-pal started with the sentence, 

"Something I never thought would happen to me is happening in my life."

Well, another something I never thought would happen to me happened in my life today.

A bomb threat at my high school.

        Here's my story; I was sitting in seminary and student council had been in there passing out forms to fill out our votes for next year's council. Brother Williams walked in and said the school was in Code Red, and therefore we wouldn't be able to leave at the normal time. No big deal right? Just another drill in the life of Rigby. So we sat there, finished the lesson, and we were just talking and waiting to be released. Some kids were gathered at the window looking out, but I didn't think anything of it. Well, when Brother Williams came back the second time, we figured we could go. However, he announced that the school was still in code red, and all the seminary kids were to go out the back doors and wait there so we could head to the busses. 

        This is the part where all the kids turn to look at him and say "IT'S REAL?" And he calmly announces there is a bomb threat and we are supposed to go out the back doors. So we do, and we stand there waiting. Luckily for me, I had a good friend in that class with me. We went out the back doors and were standing out there, when my friend realizes that a cop is waving us over. So the two of us start walking to the busses, with the rest of the seminary building following. 

Then the man with the big gun tells us to hustle. 

And so we run to the bus.

        From here, it's pretty uneventful. You can't get much more eventful than that anyway. The busses took us to the junior high, where we waited in them for an hour hearing rumors about shootings and hostages and houses around the high school being evacuated and so on. Finally, we were allowed to go inside the gym and wait for further instruction. The junior high was still in Code Yellow at this point. One of the thoughts that had been running through my head this whole time was, "what is happening with my brothers???" I knew I couldn't do anything about Matthew at Jefferson, I had already texted my parents about it and they were in Idaho Falls, (apparently I was 40 minutes faster at getting the message to them than the school was), but I did know that I could probably do something about Michael seeing as I was at his school. 

        So I set off, trying to find a way to get to him. I found out for sure that they were in Code Yellow, so I knew that he couldn't go anywhere. Then, they made the announcement that kids who normally walk home could go ahead and leave at 3:35. I knew right then and there that he would try to walk to my dad's office at Community Care. I needed to find him fast if I wanted to at all. And I did. However, the main office totally ignored me. I left the office and stood outside, telling that same good friend that they wouldn't listen to me. Almost at that same time, my friend is looking over at the doors. I glance that way, and see Michael walking by. So I hurry over to him, and when he sees me he gives me a big hug. 

I don't blame him. I hugged back.

       After this, we walked to my good friend's house, where his mom took Michael and I back to the high school so I could grab my car. I dropped Michael off at home, made sure Matthew was fine, and headed off to my first day back at work. So. I'm not traumatized. I was scared, but I'm pretty proud of the fact that I didn't panic. I texted both my parents, I kept tabs on my siblings, and I had a good friend to keep me company and keep me calm through it. I'm not scarred for life. In fact, I'm smiling as I type this. Oh, and the bomb? Turns out the threat was a fake, the caller was a fraud, and the school was not going to explode at all. What I have to say is this; in the words of Betty Meeks, 

"All in all, it's been a real unusual day for here."

My Perfect Pen-Pal

Something I never thought would happen to me is happening in my life.

I have a legitimate pen-pal.

And she is perfect.

Meet TAYLOR BEVAN.

          In other words, my Australian sister. She was here in Rigby for a few months as a foreign exchange student, and at times it saddens me to think that I only knew her for the last two of those months that she was here. BUT THEN I THINK AGAIN. Because it would be even more sad for me to not acknowledge how lucky I am to have known her at all. And now that she is back in Australia, I've had all these moments where I think, "if Taylor were here I'd be talking to her about this right now."

Pretty much goes without saying that I miss her.

          But I despair not! Why? Because back around Valentine's Day, I sent her a surprise letter in the mail to start our pen-pal-ship. And just recently, she sent me back a notebook that contained her reply, along with the explanation of her brilliant idea of us keeping a pen-pal journal to send back and forth. Starting to see why she's perfect? Soon, I will be sending my reply back to her, and we will continue on until we fill this journal, and many more to come. Thus begins our pen-pal journey.

What an amazing thing to have in my life. 

          This girl has inspired me so much. And she never fails to amaze me in all that she does. She is magnificent, remarkable, kind, beautiful (obviously), intelligent, wise, caring, fun, hilarious, inspiring (as I said before), talented, heartfelt, and a joy to all those who know her. Honestly, I could continue that list on for quite a while, but when I start thinking of how to describe her... well words just don't really do her justice. They are such small things to describe such a great soul. She is so incredible. And now that I've been able to express a small portion of my feelings for her, I just have one last thought on my mind...

Who gets to keep the journals?

Life's a Dance

You know, things don't always go as planned.

One can't possibly plan ahead for everything in life and expect it to go that way.

I'm learning to be okay with that.

        Sometimes, I just get into this mindset where I think, "okay, I've thought out every possible way this could go, I've planned for everything that could possibly happen, there is no POSSIBLE WAY this could not go how I have planned it out." ..... and I am almost immediately proven wrong. Well, not always. In fact, I'm usually pretty good at planning. This is probably one of the reasons it shakes me up so much when something goes other than I had planned it. 

       Why am I blogging about this? I just tried answering a boy who asked me to the dance in a creative way. Emphasis on TRIED. To make a long story short, I'll skip to the climax of him walking in on me still setting it up. Not cool. It worked out, it just didn't run as smooth as I had hoped it would. There were many complications which just continued to increasingly frustrate me over and over again. I'm still frustrated about it to this moment. 

        But, I'm learning to be okay with it. 

There's a song I really like that refers to life as being a dance. 

This is my favorite part of it:

"The longer I live, the more I believe
You do have to give if you want to receive.
There's a time to listen, a time to talk,
And you might have to crawl even after you walk.
I've had sure things blow up in my face.
Seen the long-shot win the race.
Been knocked down by the slamming door.
Picked myself up and came back for more.

Life's a dance you learn as you go,
Sometimes you lead, and sometimes you follow.
Don't worry about what you don't know,
Life's a dance you learn as you go."

I really love this song. It sends a message I'd like to follow. 

I am going to try to be less frustrated with failed plans.

Life is a dance I'm learning as I go.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

I Can Easily Wreck

"I watched them tearing a building down,

A gang of men in a busy town.

With a ho-heave-ho and lusty yell,

They swung a beam and a sidewall fell.

I asked the foreman, “Are these men skilled,

As the men you’d hire if you had to build?”

He gave me a laugh and said, “No indeed!

Just common labor is all I need.

I can easily wreck in a day or two

What builders have taken a year to do.”

And I tho’t to myself as I went my way,

Which of these two roles have I tried to play?

Am I a builder who works with care,

Measuring life by the rule and square?

Am I shaping my deeds by a well-made plan,

Patiently doing the best I can?

Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,

Content with the labor of tearing down?"

Are you a builder, or a wrecker? 

"I can easily wreck in a day or two what builders have taken a year to do." 

How powerful a statement. 

              At times, we don't really think about what we are doing or saying, or about the impact we have. We assume that one word here, and one word there, can't really be such a terrible thing. Do not think you are this powerless. Never underestimate the power of a kind word. Or your ability to destroy thousands of them with one unkind word. Turn from harmful words, to helpful words. Do all you can to be the best you can for others. "Men are that they might have joy." Who are you to take that away from someone? Who are they to take it away from you? Think about the times when you needed help, and how much one kind thought could lift you up. Think about those who need your help the most. Yes, it can be tiring to constantly build someone up who has a hard time accepting your encouragement, it can be hard to build anyone up. But you may not know how much it means to them, until you stop. Be a builder, who can, brick by brick, help someone reach their full potential. 

Wouldn't you want someone to do it for you?

Police at my Party

It has been quite the week.

Since last sunday, I've gone to bed between the times of 1 and 3 a.m. every night.

This equals a very sleep-deprived Jessica. 

            It was completely worth it because of the Scarlet Pimpernel. This was the first musical I have really ever been in, and it was AMAZING. I'm not even kidding you, it was great. From my one solo line, to my one spoken line, to all my ensemble numbers, to holding my arms in the air for five minutes, it was incredible. It was an amazing musical put on by amazing people. 

Now to my point.

I was having a really crappy day Friday. 

          As I said before, I was running on hardly any sleep. By second hour, everything just bubbled over and I started to have a breakdown. Emphasis on started, because I didn't let it completely happen. Anyway, by show time I was alright and excited to do our last performance and it was GLORIOUS. The crowd was laughing at everything and we were all amazing. Then, it was cast party time! It was the epitome of a party you would see in a show. We sang at the top of our lungs to Adele, kids tried to put together the cream of 71 Oreos between two cookies, people were drawing permanent marker tattoos on each other, we played Mafia and Curses and Capture the Flag. The police even showed up...

Don't freak out. I kinda did.

        I was in my backyard hiding behind a bush and I see everyone going inside. So, I got up to see what was going on and started heading to my house. A guy standing in my yard shines a bright light at me and asks if I live there. I slowly said yes and got closer to see it was a police officer. Wonderful. He said that since I lived there, he could tell me what was going on. I guess the singing and screaming and someone honking they're horn forever trying to get out of my driveway was too much for a bunch of my neighbors, because he said pretty much the whole neighborhood complained about the noise. 

(If you are one of those, I am incredibly sorry. Really, I am, you have no idea.) 

       So he said everyone needed to get inside or he would start writing tickets. He also informed me that if everyone didn't get their cars out of the road they would start being towed. I guess it turns out I talked with the grouchier police officer, because the one my dad talked to seemed more relaxed about everything. In fact, everyone was relaxed about the whole thing, including my parents. Well, it freaked me out! That will be the first and last time the police will ever to show up at one of my parties. Ever.

       I'm alright though.

I got to stay up until 3 skype-ing with Taylor about my day,

which I hadn't told anyone else about,

     so it was good to get it out. 

      It was a great time.

     Wow.