Only a Man: "I'll give you what you need."

There's a song by Jonny Lang that always reduces me to tears. It's called Only a Man and essentially it's a man, talking about his life leading up to a point where he breaks down and realizes that he's nothing more than human and rededicates his whole being to God. At the end, he and God are having a conversation. He's somewhat doubting the whole thing and after the man promises to give God his desires, God says, "I'll give you what you need." That line inspired this post.

            I’ve got a lot of obsolete things in my life. I’ve got selfish ambitions. I’ve got this sense that I’m better than some people (I think you call that pride). I’ve got a truck that needs a little work. I’ve got a bunch of blog posts where I whine about ridiculous things while maybe only one where I talk about God. I’ve got a bunch of songs about heartbreak, all suggested from a friend that refuses to talk to me anymore. I’ve got a lot of ironic things that I’d love to whine about too. I’ve got two cats that are more trouble than their worth, both of whom I let outside on occasion in hopes that they don’t come back. I’ve got regrets that hit me like a brick every time I attempt to go to sleep. I’ve got thousands of pages of unfinished novels, cluttering up my hard drive, stories that I’ve given up on because I got bored. I’ve got the keys to my house and truck that I don’t go anywhere without. I’ve got eighty bucks in the bank and a wad of dollar bills in my wallet. I’ve got clothes in my closet that I’ve never worn but can’t bring myself to give up. I’ve got a lot of burnt bridges (and a matchbook just in case I need to ignite anymore). I’ve got air condition and a nice cozy room. I’ve got a lot of great story ideas floating around in my head. I've got Candle (Sick and Tired) by White Tie Affair playing on my stereo. I’ve got bottled water in the fridge, and of course the tap if that runs out. I’ve got respect from people that I probably don’t deserve. I’ve got oxygen in my lungs.

            The list goes on and on, only I’m too tired to continue. The past several weeks have been a bit trying, but I’ve learned something tonight.

            Everything, all of this is obsolete  and you don’t need any of it. When you really think about it, a lot of this stuff is hard to get. I spent one night on a curb waiting for a toe truck to come and pick up my truck to take it home. A couple years back, I spent maybe an hour tumbling around in a bush trying to capture my favorite calico kitten from the litter that had been born down the street. And if I could get back all those hours spent on failed manuscripts (“chasing plot bunnies” as a dear old friend would say) I’d have too much time on my hands to spend on things that would eventually matter. And while breathing is typically easy, tell that to an asthmatic.

            I don’t know if I’m getting off topic here or not and I’m too emotionally exhausted to go back and reread this to figure it out. What I wanted to say is that it’s easy to tell your mom that you need a new pair of shorts because it’s summer finally, and it’s just as easy to tell God that you need a social life because summer's two weeks in and you've spent your days googling octopi because you're so. dang. bored. But sometimes, it’s good to take a step back and realize that you don’t need to tell God about all these things that you are in dire need of. Because He knows.

            And there’s something that we too often seem to forget. We don’t really need any of this at all. That’s right guys: despite what Mrs. Harbin told us in second grade, we don’t need shelter or food or water. Or even air. Yeah, we do essentially need it to keep from keeling over, but we don’t need any of it in the grand scheme of existence.

Indeed. There’s only one thing we truly need. Can you guess what it is?

God. Duh. (I’m not trying to sound smart, that’s just about what it sounded like in my head when I came to the conclusion.) We only need one thing, dead or alive, and that’s God. He’s all we’ll ever need because God's pretty dang good at making sure we get the things that keep us alive and happy. (Because God wants you to smile and live your life silly.)

            And the beauty of it is this: while sometimes it’s hard to acquire all these obsolete things, it’s not hard to embrace God at all. He’s been there since day one, right by your side, waiting for you to take up your own cross, leave behind all the things that don’t matter, and follow him. In the words of the Rolling Stones, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.” God’s all you’ll ever need, from right now until the end of time. The rest is just a bonus. Divine blessings. Call it grace.

            Besides, breathing’s so overrated compared to Jesus anyways. ;)

-Shelby

Update: I never seem to remember to address this before I've already posted the rest, but there's a pretty picture for you, courtesy of me, barreling down the highway in Houston at 70 miles per hour. It doesn't have much to do with the post, but I feel the need to have a picture in my post because when I post the link on facebook it probably makes it look more interesting. Who knows? Maybe you're one of the few Texas history buffs on my friend's list and the sight of Sam Houston gave you the butterflies so you came to read my blog, all the while thinking you're going to read about the big fella' there but instead got to share in my epiphany instead. It's possible. Anyways, you're welcome.

Update: I feel the need to put a disclaimer since I decided to do a Christianly post. If I've gone completely blasphemous with this post and you've noticed and I'm too dim to notice, let me know please.

Just Set Me Free- Dreams Are Like Balloons

Dreams are like balloons. I swear.

So I looked at my previous posts tonight and I almost shut down the computer and went to bed. One post that really got me was where I wrote how I was going to finish my book by Spring Break and if that didn't work out, I'd at least have it done by summer. That's funny because I gave up on that story months ago. Saturday, I gave up on the story that followed the first (and by first, I actually mean thirteenth in a long line of stories that I've started over the past two years.) And after typing that out, I just want to cry. I know I'm sixteen, but I feel like I'm constantly failing at the one thing I'm actually good at. Now we're on lucky story number fifteen.

So the past couple of days haven't been fun. Like I said, I gave up on another manuscript, feeling I'd overcomplicated my whole project. I'm all too afraid that I'm going to be the girl that talks about writing a book all the time but never has anything to show for it. I know I'm just a kid, and I know this crazy, obsessive, I'm-going-to-take-over-the-world-by-eighteen-just-to-prove-teens-can-change-the-world-too mentallity of mine can induce some eye-rolling. But it's nights like tonight that I know I can do this, just to prove to others that I can. And not only will I prove it to the naysayers; I'll prove it to myself before the show's over.

It's nights like tonight that I realize what's important. It's nights like these that consist of runny eyeliner and playing songs like "Home Sweet Home" on repeat. It's nights like these that, through this mess that's become a tragedy in my teenage mind, I can see the things that truly matter so very clearly.

After I wrote the other post where I plastered my raw dreams all over the wall of my blog for all of the three people who actually read this, I got a text. It was midnight and my Dad told me to go listen to "Home Sweet Home." I did. It hit home. Last night, I bought Carrie Underwood's version on iTunes. I've been listening to it ever since.

I've also talked about home in my blog before. I'm revisiting that theme tonight, seeing as the word "home" is repeated about thirty times in this song. Thinking about it now, home for me is less of a place than it is a time. To me, home feels like a time in the near future when I've actually written something worthwhile. When I've actually made it to where I want to be. See, to me, home is the epitome of happiness, as I bet it is for a lot of people. Home is that day when you smile, look back, and say, "Hey. I did it. This is what I've wanted. This is what I've worked for. I did it. And I'm proud because I am who I always wanted to be. And nobody stopped me."

So here I go, ranting about my writing again: I'm starting a new manuscript Wednesday. I'm giving myself a month to finish it. Make it or break it. I won't second guess myself. I won't  over-complicate things because I don't think my writing's good enough. And I won't worry about the people who don't have the time for me. I won't let them pull me down. I won't.

"I'm on my way. Just set me free. Home sweet home."

So I'm encouraging you, whoever you are, to believe in these, your dreams. They are the greatest things you have. A dream is like a balloon. Instead of helium, it's filled with potential, your potential, so much in fact that it's going to float right out of your hands if you don't hold onto the end of the string tight enough. And that string? That's a chance. Everyone's got one, and even when it slips out of your hands, if you swipe at it again, you might just find yourself a second chance. You hold onto that string and believe that your gonna' be just fine and pretty soon everyone who didn't believe in you will look like ants. You'll reach the stars before the night is over.

I'm going to hold onto my balloon until I find the utter happiness and satisfaction of making my dream come true. Then it's home sweet home.

-Shelby

P.S. Big thanks to the one friend that was there for me tonight. You showed me the truth. And God is good.

P.P.S. Disregard the part where balloons pop when they get too high up in the atmosphere. That kind of kills my whole metaphor.

P.P.P.S. That's my picture, I took it at the drive-in a couple weeks back. That night was nice. It was before a lot of things went crazy. Still, I look at that picture and feel better. I'm proud. hahaha.

Tattered Sky: A Story

I thought I'd try something different in my blog this time. Tonight I wrote a short story. I had actually written something like this a long time ago, but I revamped it tonight and started all over. It's sort of a metaphor of one of your love story archetypes. It's kind of long and poorly written, or so I think. I had a real issue figuring out how to tie in the metaphor at the end, so I just came out and said what was what. But then again, it's like eleven right now and I'm falling asleep at my laptop. Anyways, a lot of things have changed lately so I figured it was cool to change up my posts by writing a story this time. A song I'm liking right now is When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sky by Panic! At the Disco. It goes along with this story and strangely enough, I stumbled upon it after I had already written this. Enjoy and feel free to correct any of my spelling mishaps. I know there's one or two. No matter how many times I read over something, there will always be one or two...

They fell in love a long time ago. It was long before you, or your father, or his father, or his father even. She was older than him, just old enough to be out of his reach. He was a boy, she was practically a lady. That didn’t stop him though.

One night, he found himself following her. She was beautiful, brighter than anything he’d ever seen, and just close enough to touch. She turned around and smiled at him, and he merely lit up. She rendered him speechless and went about her life. She put light into his life and gave him a reason to shine throughout the night.

She wasn’t entirely oblivious of him. From the corner of her eye, she caught him once or twice. His cratered face didn’t deter her nor entice her. She went about her daily routine, as did he. Someday, she said. Someday, in her mind she might give him a chance. Sure, the timing wasn’t right. Not then. Someday, though. Someday.

            Many days passed. He remained just as dedicated to her as he was from the start. But he could never quite get the timing right. He missed her every time. Always a little late. Story of his life, right? But he didn’t give up.

            She began to pay him more attention as time went on. They’d spend rare evenings together, just enjoying each other’s company. These times were uncommon only because they could never time it right. She always came too early. He was always too late. Sometimes, he even got swallowed up in the darkness when she was unaccounted for, and hid his own face completely for a day or two.

            Then, one day, something amazing happened. It was a glorious thing to those who saw. Something came in between them, something amazing. For just a few moments, someone else eclipsed his view. Instead of the erratic fiery headed girl, he saw a livelier, calm one. She smiled up at him, and he wondered how he could’ve ever loved another.

            The sun came out again, and he was blinded. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He just kept moving on, seemingly in circles. Always rotating around the lively girl, running circles as he chased his first love. Chasing her was all he had ever known. A few other eclipses past, and his eyes found their way back to the livelier one every time. She shared the dark with him, each and every night. He shed some light onto her dim face and they talked for a little while.

            The next, unconventional time that the lady caught him, she was surprised to find that he had fallen in love with someone else. And she had fallen in love with him. It was a strange thing.

            When the eager to please Moon fell in love with the levelheaded Earth, the hotheaded Sun lost herself.

            The Sun began to chase the Moon, and every morning she found she was too early and yet, somehow too late. Every night, the Moon played with the Earth’s waves and it was sickening. By day, the Sun soaked up the water into her heated rays in her vain attempts.

            Even the people of the Earth, the same people whose food she grew and whose faces she warmed by day, refused to look at her. They couldn’t. They simply couldn’t gaze up at the sun’s rays without being blinded. The Sun wondered how the Moon could ever have bothered to see past her perpetual fire. By night, the people looked up at the Moon and became infatuated with him the same way their planet had.

            And everyday, the Sun gets up early and tries again. She tries to meet the Moon and give it that chance she denied so many summers ago. She tries to catch him with each changing phase. Sometimes they share the same sky when she is setting on the horizon. They say nothing, just look at each other. She’ll never give up. Not until her own light burns out. The Earth goes on all the same, caught up in their orbital torment though too naïve to realize what she missed.

            He still borrows the Sun’s light every night, but she’s too engulfed to notice. And maybe he still loves her. Maybe it’s meant to be. Too early or too late. No one can tell now. Until then, it’s unclear as to who’s chasing who. The Moon? The Sun? No one knows. For now, the night gets later.

            And the Sun almost always comes too early.

And I think I'm gonna' be feeling this whole not sleeping thing I"m doing right now when morning hits. Goodnight.

Tell the world that I'm coming home...

So I've decided lately that music is my bandaid. Not that anything terribly horrendous has happened in my life lately. I've just found that whenever I'm feeling ehh, music picks me up.

I don't have any epic rhetoric for you tonight. I just feel like writing, so here it is: my thoughts thrown up into my blog.

I spent the week writing. All in all I wrote sixty-one pages, and that's single spaced, Times New Roman, 12 point, and on regular sized typing paper. So who knows what that translates into in the book world. I feel like I'm getting close to finishing though it's probably at least a hundred or so pages off. I had seventy-five pages done before Spring Break, and that took me five months. I buckled down and I'm sort of proud. Oh yeah, and I have a short little first chapter that I need someone to read and give me their opinion on. Let me know if you want to, I really need feedback because honestly the beginning is the sketchiest part of the whole story.

I spent most of the week in Dallas with mi padre. I got beat up by the cat. I saw I Am Number Four, which pretty much butchered the book... (Don't you just hate those "the movie was so much different than the book" nerds? I do. But let me tell you: the movie I Am Number Four was so much different than the book! Why?!) I also sat in Dallas traffic snapping pictures with hipstamatic, which I posted in an album on facebook. I had lunch with my aunt and cousins on my mom's side yesterday. I spent today at my cousin and aunt's birthday party, which consisted of sitting at the end of the table with my cousins chatting about whatever. I love them and I loved seeing my family this break. I never realize how much I miss them until I get home after spending hours with them. Like right now. I really miss my family.

I also got a job working with my aunt's party business in Houston. So that's exciting.

I bought two new cds. The first was Mumford and Sons, which I am very much obsessed with. The other bought was Civil Twilight, an alternative band from Cape Town, South Africa (I think). The lead singer sounds like Bono, but everything they write is really soulful and emotional and chill. I love it. Easily my new favorite.

Another song I've been listening to is Coming Home. I don't know why. I guess I've just realized lately that home isn't some distant place in the future. That's always been a delusion of mine. I've found though, that it's right here, right now with the people that you love. I realized that tonight. So I guess my home is where my family and friends are. That's where I'm happiest I suppose and nothing else really matters. And I guess that's what this song means to me.

I'm coming home.

Sleepyhead: Change

Change.

I keep bumping into that silly little word, stumbling over it in the darkness every night. Every time I see it, it snags me, and begs me to read into it, as if I should analyze its denotation. We all know what change means right? Good, then we’re on the same page. Think about it a second… what does change mean to you right now?

First let’s start with my connotations; these are the first things that come to mind whenever I see that worn out word. It typically depends on my mood. If the day has been so rough that I curse the very date I see on the calendar into oblivion, my initial thought borders along the lines of hatred. On days like those, I think of change as a rocketing train with no conductor, ready to jump the tracks at any moment with no obligation to recognize the innocents it would crush in its derailed path of destruction.  Change is the unstoppable factor that barrels past the present day. All you can do is watch as it destroys everything you had just begun to appreciate. On bad days, change is always remembered as the force that destroyed the good old days in a revolution you couldn’t control.

Some terrible days are different, at least for me, in that they leave me feeling determined. On days like those, I refuse to give up so easily. I’m convinced that things will get better. Thus, things have to change. It’s that it-can’t-possibly-get-any-worse mentality. I always figure that something’s gotta’ give eventually, that something really has to change. When you’re in that state of mind, things can get better, things can become great even. However, they can also get worse. Change is a two way street. Better or worse, change is going to happen.

“If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change.  If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change.“

-John A. Simone, Sr.

That quote is painfully true. Of course, it’s great news for those of us that are currently wallowing in the way things are. And, if taken bluntly, it may seem like bad news to those who have it great now. You’re blessed if life is good currently, but don’t dismay! Just because things are going great today doesn’t mean they are, for sure, without a doubt going to suck soon. That’s not the point. My advice to those who are currently enjoying living it up is to appreciate it. Whether you like it or not, things will change. For better or for worse.

That’s not to say that everything is going to change. There’s at least one thing that we are sure will always remain constant. Ten points to whoever can guess what that our mystery constant is…

For Jesus doesn't change—yesterday, today, tomorrow, he's always totally himself.

Hebrews 13:8 The Message

If you guessed Jesus or God, you got it right. I’ve never written anything biblical on my blog before. Then again, since I first posted at the beginning of the year, I’ve been avoiding God. And there’s a reason for that, though it isn’t a very good one. I’ve been angry at Him for changing things for the worse, time and time again. It really seems like as soon as things even begin to look up, they change all over again. And that is the most irritating thing in the world. But from day one, I was expecting God to change it all. I guess I never guessed that maybe this was a test, and that maybe I was the thing that was meant to change all along.

Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

Romans 12:2 The Message

I wouldn’t really call what I’ve been doing “fitting in” but I’ve certainly been trying to squeeze into the mold society wants to push me into. I just want to belong somewhere, and if that means hiding my religion in my pocket, then so be it, right? God says, “nu-uh,” according to that passage. Maybe if I had been focusing on God all along instead of asking him to change my situation and let me “fit in” I would’ve been happy a long time ago.

It’s kind of amazing what I’m learning as I’m writing this. Up until about fifteen minutes ago, I thought my relationship with God was great. Up until fifteen minutes ago, I forgot that I had forgotten about God altogether. Hmmm. It explains so much. Why did I think I could do any of this alone?

My aunt got me a book for my birthday that she said was flying off the shelves at the bookstore. It’s called Do Hard Things and it was written Alex and Brett Harris, two Christian twins that are nineteen (I believe). They mention something they call a “rebolution” which they define as a “teenage rebellion against low expectations.” That’s sort of a different subject, but around the same time, we covered historical revolutions in my World History class. All of this got me thinking about revolutionaries and what it meant to be one. Let’s get the definition of that one…

Revolutionist -person who advocates or takes part in a sudden, complete or marked change in something

Lately, I’ve been focusing a lot on my dreams. Last year, about this time, my biggest dream was to work at Six Flags during the summer. I sort of scoff at that now seeing as my aspirations are so much larger. One of the biggest is to be a revolutionist. I want to change my world in any way I know how, but that’s proving harder and harder each day seeing as I can’t even seem to change my life.

This whole post has sort of ranted and rambled, but I don’t really care. I have a point, I promise. And that is this: whether things are going great or not, they’ll change. And sometimes you have to be that change; sometimes you have to be your own revolutionist. Sometimes you’re the thing that needs to change. And all in all, we can change our world, God willing. It’s amazing how a God so unchanging can change our world so easily.

So, my very dear friends, don't get thrown off course. Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all his creatures.

James 1:16-18 The Message

If things aren’t going great, trust in God that they’ll get better. Draw closer to him so that if you’re the thing that needs to be changed, He can make the shift within you. Don’t just amble along, waiting for things to get better, whining until they do as you stubbornly believe you’re perfect the way you are.

If things are going great, thank God for it. Take the time to grow close to Him so that you can have a firm foundation if things do get tough eventually. You were never promised that life would be a cake walk, but you should enjoy it when it’s beautiful.

I didn’t have a song specifically set for this blog to be about, but after I searched my ipod for any music with the word “change” in it, Sleepyhead by Passion Pit came up. I imagine it’s because the album is Chunk of Change but whatever. At first I thought, “yeah, this song has nothing to do with this post.” But in actuality, on further examination of the words I realized it kind of does. You can interpret them the way you like, but after a google search I found someone that pointed it out as having the vague meaning of giving up your troubles. The words are pretty sporadic and confusing, so I guess it really is open to interpretation.

Nevertheless, I have a single memory tied to this song. It’s a short one though. One night, I was listening to this song and I made a vow to myself to never stop writing and take change as it comes. That was two years ago, and though I’ve resisted change many times since then, I’m proud to say I’ve never stopped writing.

This song is also very appropriate as I really need sleep right now.

P.S. The pic is once again mine. I took it on the front lawn in Oak Cliff this weekend. The hula hoopers for the Mardi Gras parade started showing up about three hours before the actual thing started. They looked colorful so I snapped a picture with hipstamatic. I love that app.

Hope you enjoyed my rambling. Goodnight!

Wake Me Up When September Ends: The Delusional Dreamer

There are a lot of things I refuse to let go of. My delusions are one of them.

Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day

I have a secret: the real reason I post vague quotes and lyrics as my status because I’m not bold enough to say what I’m really feeling. And for whatever reason, I don’t always feel comfortable just telling someone I’m sad about whatever because then I feel too whiny. So I spew it to the facebook world through words that aren’t mine, because I also have no idea how to say what I am really feeling in my own words. I remember several months ago, I got the idea for a character in the mess I call my novel to speak in quotes because he was too unsure of his own words. I later had the epiphany that essentially that character was turning into me.

Today wasn’t very fun. Not gonna’ lie. However, for every not so amazing day, there’s always a sad song. This is tonight’s anthem and tonight, I’m doing this for myself.

***

An unenthusiastic applause rose from the risers in the square little music room. A brown-haired girl handed the microphone over to a smiling woman with wavy hair. I clutched the side of the top row, perched on the edge in apprehension. Angelica looked up to me, wide-eyed, and swallowed hard. I let out a shaky breath as we nodded at each other. Mrs. Atchley smiled at us with her broad beam.

“Angelica? Shelby? Do you two wanna’ go next?” she asked.

We rose from our seats as all sixth grade eyes turned to us. I for one was thankful that there were only fifteen or so in the class. Since our portion of the choir was relatively small, we all knew each other. However, when I turned around to face each of them at the front of the class, it suddenly wasn’t so comforting anymore. Mrs. Atchley the microphone into my hand. I glanced around; apparently there was only one mic. I shoved it into Angelica’s hand and told her to hold it. We both took a deep breath and prepared ourselves mentally. I eyed the door.

Before I could consider bolting down the hallway, the music started. It was an acoustic riff that reminded me of all the times my dad used to sit on the coffee table and play his old guitar. We had decided to sing Wake Me Up When September Ends several weeks before, though I really don't remember why. It didn't hold much significance for me then. Another deep breath and the first note rang out and all I could hear was Angelica’s voice. Her confidence was drowning out my meek tone by the end of the second line. I had to step it up. I began to match my volume, but my intensity wasn’t the same. I didn’t care. By the time the electric guitar stepped in for the old acoustic, I felt the drum beat in my heart. I suddenly forgot everyone else in the room except for me and the girl I considered my best friend at the time.

We sang the words that suddenly held truth in our eyes. For me, I wasn’t just singing the same tired lyrics from the radio anymore. I actually listened to the words of an anthem about dreaming of a better future. They say that that's the epitome of an Aquarius and I had learned long ago that I was a Water Bearer.

When that last chord rung out, we looked at each other and everyone clapped. Angelica and I exchanged a smile and reluctantly gave up the mic before returning to our seats. I remember Angelica sang another duet with some other girl, but I didn’t care. I was happy. I had conquered my fear and suddenly, that song had me thinking of September. It must’ve been May at the time because Mrs. Atchley assigned us solos and duets towards the end of the year, well after our spring concert.

Little did I know what September would hold. It was probably the pivotal point in my life when I began to grow up, and actually started worrying about the future. Whether I met unknown tomorrows with eagerness or anxiety, I forevermore would be looking forward. When September Ends, goodness, what a thought! I wondered what fall would be like.

 My summer would be mostly boring and if I had known then what I know now, I would’ve wished to fall asleep until October. Things were great at Bebensee. I had built up a lot of great friends over the seven years I had spent there, and I never would’ve dreamed of it getting any better. However, when I look back at the times I had in those seven years, they were nothing compared to what was coming once the September of 2007 ended. Don’t get me wrong, that little elementary school produced some pretty amazing people I’m lucky enough to still call friends. You know who you are.

In the fall of 2007 I left Arlington Independent School District for good and began going to a private school in Forth Worth. Three years later, I found myself listening to this song, wishing September would end already. I was starting a new school again, and I wasn’t really nervous, I was just ready and looking forward to the better tomorrow I expected. I had spent an entire summer at Six Flags, and I still really felt like I didn’t know anyone yet (people actually started to know who I was in the fall). I wasn’t in the mood for anymore new people, and that was a kind of cruddy mood to have but nonetheless... Last summer, I was ready for September to be over because I had this stubborn delusion that things were just going to be absolutely wonderful past then and I wasn't going to have to lift a finger, at least once I got into the sing of things. And when they were simply okay and not totally amazing, I got frustrated.

It’s now March. March Fourth, two-thousand eleven to be exact. And suddenly, this song is my anthem again. More delusions I suppose, but this is something I can do something about. Today, I found a picture online that said “This is a wake up call. Do whatever it takes to get where you need to be. There’s still hope. Wake up.” I think that's going to be my new philosophy. In the song Blue Skies by Noah and the Whale, the third or so line says, "I'll do anything to be happy, because blue skies are coming." I've also been listening to that one a lot. I definitely recommend it for all your grey days.

Ever since two Septembers ago, I’ve been writing. Well, that’s sort of a lie. I’ve been writing since kindergarten, but never has it been this intense and constant. I always used to write in spurts, suddenly deciding on sporadic days that it’s time to pump out a short story or whatever. But ever since that one September that got me writing again, I haven’t stopped. Over the course of almost two years, I have started about thirteen different novels (and that is not an exaggeration, I counted) and failed miserably at finishing any of them. It’s hilarious really. And last year my new year’s resolution was to write a book, but I didn’t do so hot on that one either, seeing as just that year I changed the story I was writing twelve times.

In November of 2010 I like to think I struck gold. I spent a weekend in Washington State and that’s when the words started coming. I remember the first sentence that flew into my head, seemingly out of nowhere, the Sunday we were driving to the airport to go home. I wrote it down then glanced out the window at the passing forest and trees like nothing you would ever imagine here. I had found my muse; Washington was like something out of a dream. More words kept coming; plots and characters were coming out of nowhere! The craziest thing has been the dialogue. I guess it’s kind of insane to hear voices, but periodically my character’s dialogue just flies into my head. Conversations from nowhere. Maybe it is pretty insane, but I figure if I write it down, it’s just being creative.

I’d like to think that this is the novel I’m actually going to finish because I’ve been working on it for about four months now and I have more text for it than any of my previous works. I haven’t gotten bored yet, though my thoughts are in serious need of reorganization. What began with one sentence morphed into my greatest idea yet.

And there’s a reason I’m playing this song on repeat right now. My goal is to finish my book over Spring Break, God willing, of course. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but if I buckle down I bet I can do it. I want to finish up my draft by summer break. During summer, I want to get a literary agent and start working towards getting my book published, if it isn’t just really horrible. Maybe it's silly, but it's my goal and I don't plan on giving up any time soon.

This is my biggest dream right now. It’s everything that I’m clinging to, and I’m too stubborn to give up now. I’m adamant on making this aspiration into reality. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and nothing is going to stop me. Even if I never get a page published, I plan on writing until the day I die. I want to inspire the world with my words. I want to make my mark on this world, and it seems writing is the best way I know how.

So whenever times get rough, like tonight, I listen to this song and wonder if I can make my biggest dream come true by September. I often wonder where I’ll be by then. Who knows? Though I hope wherever it is, I’ll be happy. And if that’s a delusion, well get over it. I'm remined of another lyric from 1999 by Prince. "I was dreaming when I wrote this, so sue me if I go to fast."

I’m a dreamer. I’m not denying it. But I'm more than just that. I’m a determined, resolute, adamant, stubborn girl who believes in the beauty of her dreams and has faith in a Lord who is making her paths straight, I’m gonna’ make my dreams come true. I’m gonna change the world. And you are free to join me.

Btdub, the picture is mine. I took it in Downtown last weekend and I must say I'm pretty proud ;) And please excuse any horrific typos. It's currently one in the morning and I've been up since six.

I’m going to sleep now. Wake me up when September Ends.

May all your dreams be sweet, those that compose your sleep and those that make your aspirations.

-Shelby Dyan Scheuchl

Summah: If We Ever Meet Again we'll Rock & Roll

To the tune of If We Ever Meet Again (feat Katy Perry) by Timbaland and Rock & Roll by Eric Hutchinson.

This one is dedicated to everyone I met this fateful summer from the guy that always confessed his undying love to me to the girl that couldn't stop talking about funnel cakes and stole all my baseballs from catrack. I'm sorry I can't remember any of your names right now...

Some of my family members worked at Six Flags back in the seventies. My aunt and uncle always reminisce about their days at the park. The way they portrayed it, it sounded like a never-ending party that paid you, enticing right? For a good year after the first time my parents toted me out to the park, we would pass Six Flags on 360 and I would sing “that’s my Six Flags!” Yeah, I was a cute kid. When I was nine, I decided I wanted to work there one day and began counting down the years until I was old enough. Fifteen. It once seemed such a distant age. Regardless, working at Six flags was always one of my dreams.

So this summer, I went up to the human resources department, filled out heaps of forms and endured about three shaky interviews. Games was my department of choice and sure enough, one day in June I was offered the job. I happily accepted.

I got a job at Six Flags this summer. And it was an experience I will never forget. Wanna know what a typical day was like? Well, I’m gonna’ tell you anyways.

***

I barreled down the highway in the passenger seat with Katy Perry and Timbaland flirting a melody in my ears. “I’ll never be the same, if we ever meet again. Won’t let you get away, if we ever meet again.” My headphones were stuffed in my ears and my mom didn’t typically protest. I didn’t have to be a morning person yet; no one would bother me to sell, sell, sell or shove a microphone in my hands for a short while.

It was the same everyday. Roll up to the employee parking lot. Make it through security without getting griped at to tuck in your shirt. Walk in to the office. Badge in. Take your time slip. Leave the office. Look up at the Giant. Think “wow that drop looks steeper than yesterday.” Walk over the train tracks. Enter Mexico. Walk through Spain. Pass the canteen. Listen to Rock & Roll by Eric Hutchinson as it played over Six Flags Radio (and they played it every morning). Wind up in U.S.A. Pass a couple rides. Duck behind Top Glo (that’s the water gun game for those of you that aren’t devoted enough to memorize the names of all the games). End up in the game’s office where everyone is milling about. Hand over your time slip through a little hole in a window. Chat. Head to your respective area. Find your supervisor. Start cleaning counters. Scream at the kids running into the park to be the first in line at whatever ride. Get your positions. Start spieling.

And that’s just the first twenty minutes. Working in games definitely brought me out of my shell a bit. I’m still a bashful chap, but I’ll scream at you to play my game without a second thought. All in all, working games was pretty amazing. I got to make people laugh with the random things I would say over the microphone. Sure I got darts thrown at me by children but it was all good because I had safety goggles! No worries right? I also got shot with the water guns all the time.

Funny story about that. One of my favorite tales from this summer happened my second week on the job. I was talking with my supervisor, Matthew, at Top Glo about whatever. Another supervisor walked past my game, stopped, and turned back. He glanced at me through his red Ray-Bans and he couldn’t have been much older than me. Before I could say anything he leaned over, flipped the switch for one of the guns, jumped into my booth, turned on the game, jumped back out and took aim from the other side of the counter. Matthew grabbed his cowboy hat and ran. Next thing I know, this supervisor had turned one of the guns on me and was shooting me with freezing cold water! I laughed and screamed and shut off the game. And then he disappeared. I didn’t complain though. It was over one-hundred degrees outside as it typically was.

Another time I was working gun-ball, the game where you shoot foam balls at three cups in an attempt to knock them over. The prize for gun-ball was a guitar and people refused to believe the simplicity of that silly game. I argued endlessly with people that the plastic cups were not magnetic and I would often hand them the little things to prove that there was nothing special about the stupid plastic cup. One time a group of guys came up and began discussing whether or not they wanted to play. I convinced one to give it a try and he paid for three shots. He knocked them over in one. I was shocked but handed over his guitar gladly. Next thing I know the rest of the guys are shelling out their money to play too. They told me they were going to start a band now and write a song in honor of me. That was probably the best day of work apart from the day that the guy that always claimed he was in love with me told me, sincerely, that my smile was pretty. I was flattered both times. And I am still waiting for my song to show up on the radio.

So this summer was life-changing for me. I made a lot of friends and when I returned in the fall, I found that people were beginning to know my name.. I was finally starting to belong. And then, things ended on a sort of sour note. My last day was in November. For Holiday in the Park, half of the park closed and the fifteen-year-olds weren’t scheduled. I told them I would reapply, but I never went back to do so. Oh well. Point is there will never be anything like this summer. I’ll never forget any of the amazing people I met and the experiences had. I haven't signed up to go back this year. I don't think I will. Thing would be different and I'm just fine with the way I left things. This summer was probably the best yet.

So if you know me as the quiet kid at school, I promise I can be anything but. Just ask me to start spieling and I will never shut up:

“Hey! How ‘bout y’all right over there? You guys wanna’ give it a shot? Aww

come on all I need is just two

players- only two players

-to start the next race!

Aww come on up!

Give it a shot!!!!

There’s a guaranteed

winner everytime

which means

you’re walking

away with a

prize every.

Single.

Time.

You.

 Play."

And it goes on and on. As they made us say, “Have a six flags day!”

Gee. I miss summer.