tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76049544423543840682023-12-31T11:17:14.747-08:00The Word CrafterBekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.comBlogger307125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-69655530811096086722012-03-12T07:58:00.000-07:002012-03-12T07:58:27.678-07:00things change<div style="text-align: center;">It's so funny how things change. People change. Friendships change. And we can't do anything about it. We can try so hard, we can say all the right things, we can say so many words, but change is irreversible. Maturation can't be halted. Time can't be convinced to stand still. Every second that passes, we're changing. Growing. Maturing. We can't possibly be like "hey stop that, let's just stay exactly the same as we are now."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And as people change, friendships change too. We have to adjust our friendships to fit these strange new people that are within them. And sometimes we make mistakes; once we grow so close to each other that we feel comfortable saying anything, some hurtful things can be sad, some hurtful things done. And then even though this friendship has been around all my life, its always been something I can count on, it's fragile and these careless words can break them. Did break them. And suddenly, I don't even know her anymore, she doesn't know me. Who cares that we've been best friends for years? Suddenly we're strangers.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I could have sworn just six months ago that this girl would be my best friend forever. That we would live next to each other, go to the same college, have kids at the same time so they could be best friends, visit each other every day, have our husbands be best friends. And all of sudden, she's gone from my life, just like that. Doesn't all this history have something to say, some pull to bring in reviving this friendship? It feels like it's dead, and no matter how vivid it was when it was alive, it can't be woken. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Life's a strange thing. And since she's probably reading this anyway, I'm going to share some pictures of my best friend. I don't care if we aren't talking anymore, or if we are ever going to talk again, but she was the best friend I've ever had and probably ever will have. She knew me better than I knew myself. That might be a cliche saying, but it was 100% true for me and her. My family was her family, her family was my family. I'd walk into her house, say hey to her mom, and open the fridge. And I miss that.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span id="goog_633782235"></span><span id="goog_633782236"></span></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-38646431777165227412012-02-25T09:13:00.001-08:002012-02-25T09:15:05.178-08:00the first time I've received flowers from a boy; or, the awkwardest moment of my life.<div style="text-align: center;">Imagine every single awkward moment you've ever had in your entire life, combined into one, times 1000000000000000000000000000000 to the 100000000000th degree, and you won't even be close to imagining last night.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was asked to prom, with flowers and chocolate truffles, the expensive kind in the box with the ribbon and the gold seal. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Awwwhh! you might be thinking. That's so sweet! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Um yeah....no. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He was terrified, I was mortified, it was awful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll break it down for you.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'd heard some rumors that he was going to ask me that night, so I was wearing jeans, my hair up, in a t-shirt with make-up on and contacts in. Sounds casual? When I'm at my house, I'm in sweatshirts, sweatpants, with no makeup, glasses on, hair everywhere. So I was looking pretty good for being at home. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The doorbell rings, my mom answers it, and yells for me. I come down and he's standing there, holding roses and chocolate. He looks like he's about to pee his pants. I act surprised, "Ohh heeeey ____!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He doesn't even say hi, just blurts out, "Willyougotopromwithme?" and sticks out the roses and truffles with this frightened half-grimace on his face. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I take them, and I said thank you like a million times because I didn't know what else to say...and then I was like "hey could I let you know about prom? I'll think about it and talk to my parents and stuff, and I'll talk to you at school sometime." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And then we have this split second of just standing there. And believe me, that was the longest freaking split second EVER.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I move toward the door to open it for him, he moves toward me, we do this awkward bobble thing, then say our farewells and he leaves and I start freaking out. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Even though it was the awkwardest thing of my LIFE, I was happy to receive flowers from a boy for the first time ever..and the truffles are soooo good :)<br />
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hahah boys are silly.<br />
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</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-7241418129498110402012-02-19T12:30:00.000-08:002012-02-19T12:30:15.663-08:00A Post About Homosexuality<div style="text-align: center;">Homosexuality. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's a word banned in typical Christian conversation; and if this frowned-upon word somehow sneaks into a church sermon or Christian dialogue, it's expressed with distaste, disgust and repulsion. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For example. I went to my grandparent's church this morning, and the sermon happened to be on marriage. The pastor discussed the biblical view on marriage and divorce, and homosexuality was also mentioned. I was shocked by what I heard the pastor say about homosexuality. This pastor, standing up there before hundreds of Christian individuals, <i>completely </i>bashed homosexuality and anyone that was homosexual. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He said that God loathed anyone that was homosexual, that He could neither forgive nor love a homosexual person, and that homosexuality was an "abomination unforgivable by man and God." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I sat there, and I was shocked and pretty angry as well. I don't know what your specific beliefs are, but I'm going to tell you mine. I believe that God did specify marriage between a man and a woman, but I also believe that God stressed not standing in judgement about other people. I believe that God loves EVERYONE, regardless of sexual orientation. I believe that God forgives EVERYONE, regardless of sexual orientation. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not here to discuss whether or not homosexuality is a sin. I'm here to discuss Christians' reaction to homosexuality, the world's reaction to homosexuality. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not gay, nor would I ever be gay. BUT I don't believe it is my place to sit here and be like "Oh my gosh, gay people are soooo evil and they are for sure going to hell and God hates them and they're horrible people!" I don't believe anyone has any right to have that attitude towards homosexuals.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">To me, when Christians sit there, and preach that God loves everyone and we should love everyone, one minute, and then turn around and say "Homosexuals are going to burn in Hell", is extremely hypocritical and reminds me of the Pharisees so detested in Jesus's day. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So basically, this is what we're doing. We are condemning people publicly because of who they love, when there's a good chance they can't help who they love. One homosexual individual put it this way, "It doesn't feel like biology, it feels like love."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How can Christians be like that? How can we do that? God loves homosexuals just the same as heterosexuals. I firmly believe that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did you know that gay and lesbian youth are three times more likely to try to commit suicide than straight youth? Did you know that at one nationwide camp of homosexual youth, 84% of the participants reported being verbally harrassed and bullied because of their sexual orientation?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We are killing kids. That's what that pastor was doing when he stood up there and bashed homosexuals. That's what kids are doing to other kids by using words such as "fag," "dyke," and "gay" to describe one another. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As Christians, we need to take a stand. We need to treat homosexuals with the same love and forgiveness that we treat everyone else. They are a minority in the United States, they are a group that has been through incredible persecution, they are people that have been bullied, made fun of, rejected, hated, but still have the courage to be honest about their sexuality. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">STOP bashing homosexuals. STOP shuddering whenever you here the word. STOP treating them like sub-humans, like sinners. Because guess what?! We ALL have sinned. Heterosexuals are NO better than homosexuals. So get off your high horse, stop judging, and start living your faith. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not saying you have to go turn gay or anything. I'm just saying you have to be loving toward them. Act like Jesus toward them; God knows they need it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm going to leave you with this video...watch it, think about it, and think about your attitude toward homosexuals. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdkNn3Ei-Lg</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-40970768907067096872012-01-03T17:52:00.000-08:002012-01-03T17:52:40.556-08:00You! Yeah, you! Guess what? You're beautiful.<div style="text-align: center;">We all have those days where the world seems against us. When, for no particular reason, everything everyone does just discourages you or annoys you. Where every glance, every word, builds up until your day is an agglomeration of disappointment, discouragement, and pain. Maybe it was a comment someone made. Maybe it was an attitude someone had towards you. Whatever those things are that discourage you, I'm sure we've all been familiar with them. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would like to just write a post about you. You. You know who you are. You're the one reading this post.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You were just scrolling along your blog newsfeed and the title of this blog post caught your eye. You decided you'd like to read my blog, so you clicked on over to The Word Crafter. You've been through a lot and you've had a hard day. Just close your eyes and let that fatigue, that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, that sadness, let that all wash over you. Yeah, you've had a hard day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But you know what? You are the most beautiful, unique, smart, kind, talented person I've ever met. You have a way of touching other people's lives, that wherever you go, you leave a trail of good-feeling behind you. You are strong, so strong. You set an example for everyone around you. Even though you stumble sometimes, we all do. You're not alone in this struggle of yours. There are millions of people all around this globe that are feeling the same emotions you're feeling right now, and even though it might be hard to realize right now, you can be certain, as surely as the sun rises every morning, that you will overcome this tough stage in your life, and you will be the bigger and better person because of it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You know that person in your life, that person who's life goal it is to tear you down and make you feel horrible about yourself? Maybe it's a boyfriend, or a best friend, or maybe even a family member, like your mom or your dad, or maybe a brother or a sister. I know it's ridiculous to even think about, considering everything bad they've done to you, but you need to forgive them. Think about all those things they've said to you; and just let it go. Hard day? Yeah...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would like to tell you how much I appreciate you. You are such a blessing, to everyone around you, even if you don't realize it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I wish I could make you realize just how wonderful you are, just the way you are. And I wish I could make you also realize how much God loves you. Our minds are so small that we can't even imagine it. Even though we fail, and we sin, and we screw everything up, and we ignore Him, and we are arrogant and think we are in control of everything, He loves us. And just because of that guarantee of His perfect love, we should be singing and smiling and praising and dancing until the end of our days. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hard day? I know a little bit about those. But so does He. He has seen every day in every person's life every since the beginning of time. And you know what? He cares about your day. I encourage you to talk to Him. You'll find the best friend you'll ever have. And even though He seems far away sometimes, I promise you He's not. He knows you better than you know yourself; after all, He created you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Stay beautiful.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"You is kind. You is smart. You is important." -<i>The Help. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If you ever need someone to talk to, just shoot me an email or leave me a comment with yours, and I'll get back to you. I'll be here to listen, if you need someone to. </i></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-54437517884524473042012-01-02T08:03:00.000-08:002012-01-02T08:03:12.311-08:00the only one we have to please<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Fat. Ugly. Annoying. Weird. Loud. No one likes me. I'm not good at anything. I'm not going anywhere with my life. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Does any of that sound familiar? That voice that always present in your mind - whispering that you're not good enough. That despair when you start to believe those whispers. That hatred that builds up within you - not hatred towards anybody else, but hatred towards yourself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That feeling of incompetence, inability; that feeling of <i>I'm just not good enough. </i>Yeah, that feeling? It's been a constant companion for the past three years, or longer. It's just always been in my life. As long as that demon has clung to me, I've been insecure, clinging to meaningless compliments, stretching those compliments as far as I could before I discarded them. Instead of appreciating the opinion of others, I lived for it. It was the only way that I could feel good about myself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This happens to a lot of us girls. I already see that spirit of dissatisfaction starting in my little sister, and what hurts the most is that I feel like I planted it there. I was always complaining about how I looked, I was always trying to lose weight, or buy more clothes, or perfect my hair and makeup. How could a little girl be happy with what she looked like when her older sister was constantly showing her that it's not okay to like how you look. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2012? Yeah, I'm changing that. With the help of God, I'm going to leave this demon behind me. I'm not going to be cocky - but confident. I'm taking the opinion of others and throwing it in the trash, because that's all it is. Junk. I don't care if the opinion of others is positive or negative, because there is only one person we need to please and He couldn't care less what kind of clothes we wear, or how pretty we are, or how athletic. I'm laughing because of how pathetic and childish I've been these last couple of years. I got so caught up in Satan's lies, I didn't even realize it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My generation's identity is on the opinion of others. Think about it, girls. When was the last time you looked in the mirror and didn't think "oh crap my hair sucks today..." or "wow my makeup is awful" or "why am I so ugly?" When was the last time you looked in the mirror and was like "I may not be perfect, but <b>God made me in His image and He loves me. So I'm going to keep my head up, not listen to the chitter-chatter of this world, and be confident. Not because I think I look good, but because the only one who matters loves me more than I can imagine.</b>"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I challenge you, ladies. As Christians in this twisted generation, we are the lights, we are the salt. We have to stand up, we have to set examples, for our friends, for our younger sisters, for strangers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Our identity is not based on what we look like. </b>You can't take credit for your beauty. If you're pretty, it's because <b>God made you pretty</b>. What you look like has nothing to do with you. The beauty we should be concerned with is our inward beauty, which to me is so much more important than our outward beauty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's repulsive that my generation (including me!) is so obsessed with outward appearances. Obsessed. We're obsessed, possessed, whatever. Satan has a pretty strong hold on our generation, girls. We have to see that, recognize that, and change that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My new years resolution? I have a few...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To stop basing my identity on the opinion of others.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To stop the feeling of <i>I'm not good enough.</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To stop looking in the mirror and hating what I see.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To stop obsessing over compliments.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start setting an example for my little sister.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start setting an example for my friends.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start building others up.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start seeing God in others.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start showing God to others.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start making my actions louder than my words.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To start being unconditionally rooted in God.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To not saying God I'm ugly but saying I am made in God's image.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To realize God's incomprehensible love for me.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To understand my responsibility as a young Christian girl to bring the light to the people around me.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>To live this year WITHOUT the demons that have haunted me for so long.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcig0d4wVPTsZOVBJ-GhCSgSJKj7y1FS8Rs2RY9-YUV0JCRCg3kMi23KLifdXvQHd-zNnEz-mAmpA_TwD69KBjqNEEgkVghsqCDQGPyJkRRsx6zFOIzACC70thwAxQ3ojmMJyjMXffRag/s1600/eh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcig0d4wVPTsZOVBJ-GhCSgSJKj7y1FS8Rs2RY9-YUV0JCRCg3kMi23KLifdXvQHd-zNnEz-mAmpA_TwD69KBjqNEEgkVghsqCDQGPyJkRRsx6zFOIzACC70thwAxQ3ojmMJyjMXffRag/s400/eh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's me. I look at that picture and see all of the imperfections in my skin, my smile, my hair, my eyes, my eyebrows. And that has to STOP. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Who's with me?</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-38452094969316544662011-12-29T15:08:00.000-08:002011-12-29T15:08:22.270-08:00I'm sick of all the insincere<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFWxZV2aHTuef4JlDOsDr2O_rfMk1st0N5bXGUcvN9vLcZRAqQDwO-lXNQR6NNKcpkuuceFHRlI_rbEi6N5eNwBZ4FssztaHNCw5skiRUXoMBgiAFoZPh2bV4EKa54iZBYjj5rbjte4U/s1600/MistFirstLens6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFWxZV2aHTuef4JlDOsDr2O_rfMk1st0N5bXGUcvN9vLcZRAqQDwO-lXNQR6NNKcpkuuceFHRlI_rbEi6N5eNwBZ4FssztaHNCw5skiRUXoMBgiAFoZPh2bV4EKa54iZBYjj5rbjte4U/s640/MistFirstLens6.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Destination unknown. Surroundings unfriendly. Alone. The path under your feet is the path already tread by the people who have gone before you and set their expectations for you before you. You're trying so hard but the snow is just too thick, too deep. Your boots keep getting stuck, the ice finds its way into your socks to pierce your skin, sweat on your brow despite the frigid environment. Life around you is nonexistent; this frozen wonderland looks so beautiful but when you venture out in it you find that it's cold, that you're alone, and lost. In the rush to enter this seemingly wonderful place, you've forgotten to put on proper clothes; the wind is roaring against your face, stinging your face, your ears, your lips. You look down at the footprints, remember that your ancestors have already walked this path, and that you should be able to do the same. So instead of turning back, you push on; you don't know where you're going, but you know that you have to continue otherwise you'll elicit the crushing disappointment of the ones whom you love. The sun starts to dip below the horizon. The shadows lengthen, dusk falls, the temperature plummets. You're hopelessly caught in your own folly, and this world that once beckoned you now rejects you. Its beauty to you is gone forever. You've lost the naivety once so precious to you. You're weary and exhausted. A tear slips down your cheek and freezes there. You ask yourself, why did you ever leave your warm home to brave this unfriendly place? Why did you ever leave the ones who you love to enter this world that hates you? Despair seizes your soul, and you watch as the last of the light leaves. And then you realize: you're completely alone in this freezing darkness that threatens to snatch your life away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Does that sound familiar to anyone? Is anyone else in that dark place of your life in which you wonder what you have gotten yourself into? I hope I'm not as alone as I feel...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've progressed a little. Picked myself up a little. I admit, I'm being melodramatic. I tend to be that way...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I know you all don't know what's going on my life, and I don't know what's going on in yours. But let's make a promise to each other, shall we? Let's promise to be kind to the people we pass by on the street. The hardest battles anyone ever fights are the ones they keep hidden. The same people you see smiling throughout the day are the same people who cry themselves to sleep at night. Everyone is fighting a harder battle. So be kind. You never know what a kind word or a listening ear could do to someone who desperately needs it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not saying I'm one of those people, I have a wonderful family, supportive friends, and a bright future. I have everything looking up for me. But I'm so scared that the mistakes I'm making now will affect my life forever. I'm afraid people will find out that I'm not as strong as I make myself seem. I'm so scared that my inability to trust will just grow worse as I grow older, and soon I will be truly alone, having rejected the only people who truly love me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm just rambling now. So I think I'll stop. Thanks for reading. </div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-26447629884598850232011-12-27T09:27:00.000-08:002011-12-27T09:27:38.962-08:00chasing shadows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEpqKPXm62d00FIJXTQrTG2sl8uLvh2sQ2TLq6wctSmLKvaJG_PmiATmpYvZ9lb6wOMMMp-DnvBQrcAM_4eZZu0XxrZ7wdaqDdUSR4f-uie2N9a9Sij5qpjbh3NTWfCdM-WKFb4TPXBg/s1600/weird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEpqKPXm62d00FIJXTQrTG2sl8uLvh2sQ2TLq6wctSmLKvaJG_PmiATmpYvZ9lb6wOMMMp-DnvBQrcAM_4eZZu0XxrZ7wdaqDdUSR4f-uie2N9a9Sij5qpjbh3NTWfCdM-WKFb4TPXBg/s640/weird.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"It's always darkest before the dawn."</div><div style="text-align: center;">-Florence and the Machine</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Before I start writing anything, go listen to Florence and the Machine. I'm obsessed with her. </i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbN0nX61rIs&ob=av3n" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbN0nX61rIs&ob=av3n</a> <i>Go.Do.It.Now. I promise you'll fall in love!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">So hey guys. It's been a while, I know. I haven't been very faithful with keeping up this blog. The last post was in what, August?<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas, by the way! I hope everyone had a happy holiday.<br />
<br />
I'm just jumping all over the place, but go listen to this:<br />
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uR5IFlKY-_k&feature=related<br />
I'm in love...<br />
<br />
What's been going on in my life lately? I've just been doing the same old same old, but a big step for me this December was that I got rid of my phone and had my dad change my password for my Facebook so that I've been really isolated from the technology that used to be pretty much my life.<br />
<br />
That's really helped me focus on the things above, ha that sounds funny but it's true. I read Einstein by Walter Isaacson and The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, both in the same week - both are really good, I recommend them both! I'm about a third through The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William Shirer (I think thats how you spell his last name, ha) , and considering I started it two days ago, I think that's pretty good progress! Ha.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading, just thought I'd drop by and write something, since I haven't for about 2398472398 years!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7a7g3IUIbXaIjM_EcJsxrjGW_3n0OvDi4AWgBb7d6se2XH_kQ9qPUsYULI6GY70-AoFU_Ois9ZfHRAvOeumBvQ7nBIFhSmSy2H1-Ju2AXHG4B_SGV0yOI91XhaDiBL_qPbEG6eLm7rQ/s1600/Photo+on+12-27-11+at+10.55+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7a7g3IUIbXaIjM_EcJsxrjGW_3n0OvDi4AWgBb7d6se2XH_kQ9qPUsYULI6GY70-AoFU_Ois9ZfHRAvOeumBvQ7nBIFhSmSy2H1-Ju2AXHG4B_SGV0yOI91XhaDiBL_qPbEG6eLm7rQ/s320/Photo+on+12-27-11+at+10.55+AM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i>just amused by my brand new Macbook pro web cam :)</i><br />
<br />
Love, Bekah<br />
<!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?--> </div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-9664482862858320812011-08-11T17:45:00.000-07:002011-08-11T17:45:48.790-07:00does anybody hear her?<div align="center">"she is running a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction."</div><div align="center">-casting crowns, does anybody hear her.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">So, I've been realizing some things. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">One: I've changed a lot. Reading this blog can clearly show you that. Last summer, I was a different girl. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Two: This change that I've gone through is not good at all. I'm thinking things, saying things, that I would not have thought or said a year ago...</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Three: Something needs to change. I was hoping that it would be this summer that I would really re-adjust my focus, but it hasn't really happened.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I've always been a sort of nostalgic person, I've always been aware of how fast time is flying by, how fast I'm changing, etc. But I look at this picture, and I sort of want to cry.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPWD8Cu35l5zOSPyAejQ-9-lSrEFNzbLvE_Tr_PqD5bE1l-viExk79jAJbP8_4hdKz0Kj8tYI1E9fcpGAO3oLtAGlG3-GMqPPoVYCYBqM2WIKY-ZXRATzqO1yyPT4e6RFyZb-FrGT0g4/s1600/Friends.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPWD8Cu35l5zOSPyAejQ-9-lSrEFNzbLvE_Tr_PqD5bE1l-viExk79jAJbP8_4hdKz0Kj8tYI1E9fcpGAO3oLtAGlG3-GMqPPoVYCYBqM2WIKY-ZXRATzqO1yyPT4e6RFyZb-FrGT0g4/s640/Friends.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Look at us. Look at me. I'm dressed in a t-shirt, my hair is atrocious, I have no make-up on, braces; overall I look disgusting. But look at how <strong>happy </strong>we all are. We dont give a crap about what anybody thinks, we're just happy to be around each other. There's no boundaries between us; we're all innocent, carefree, and just plain <em>happy.</em></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Look at me, just last year.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrb5nQPkEK3E1AS36hf4s0imaC3pgex8Vx1ayJTlbewVJJfj6c8Nplr7Sa50iYv40MR_duVobMMx3o3aIJ86zjHAOfhMLr34zPbwhTzSInaaFdJd5W4K1-x5o4YrpEufSCggsdo4BtEI/s1600/BekahArcade.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrb5nQPkEK3E1AS36hf4s0imaC3pgex8Vx1ayJTlbewVJJfj6c8Nplr7Sa50iYv40MR_duVobMMx3o3aIJ86zjHAOfhMLr34zPbwhTzSInaaFdJd5W4K1-x5o4YrpEufSCggsdo4BtEI/s640/BekahArcade.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Look at me now.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgKa1BG5JS9iiqnoSSqIdnKp-aqqLs9Sw0KsfHdCfhuYzeDZivOrwhQg_7UKP0OinalVtNEs52fRHq0UkmCEgbwCxB1JGyMZMzo6cEChKcL9IKefi1l8qaY9PUAQxzGJ1WZztGeETa-k/s1600/ugh3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgKa1BG5JS9iiqnoSSqIdnKp-aqqLs9Sw0KsfHdCfhuYzeDZivOrwhQg_7UKP0OinalVtNEs52fRHq0UkmCEgbwCxB1JGyMZMzo6cEChKcL9IKefi1l8qaY9PUAQxzGJ1WZztGeETa-k/s400/ugh3.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Do you even see a resemblance? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah, the second girl looks more like the stereotype pretty. But to me, the first girl is more beautiful. There's something in the first girl's smile that's geniune. The second girl's smile is superficial...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The first girl. (on the right)..again with the dorky braids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14eghDCmw38yY2SJLbor_jijZp0it6lf18-q3_dwEl29Ln2J-aZpTnhjf29_A41cQUpfHaxvQVpl6dpQZxcdU9D7rg6IqN9oMRvKgiOPgSkW0P2nJW9Hm8A-ZaH6dRN0EvSbUjclrSlQ/s1600/BFFs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14eghDCmw38yY2SJLbor_jijZp0it6lf18-q3_dwEl29Ln2J-aZpTnhjf29_A41cQUpfHaxvQVpl6dpQZxcdU9D7rg6IqN9oMRvKgiOPgSkW0P2nJW9Hm8A-ZaH6dRN0EvSbUjclrSlQ/s320/BFFs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the second girl.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFj_LpllNFfKMhzwlFd4End7ESpyWcGFmU6yUbXeCCe4EEMkh5MeMl3mzLcMhZquY9fB82L6V3v10QKp-Cw6anpSuI-BQAaNjGfR8kXVQr8yXKyacOZt2eyDi13AwBuXAcmTa_aXDQsYU/s1600/sideways.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFj_LpllNFfKMhzwlFd4End7ESpyWcGFmU6yUbXeCCe4EEMkh5MeMl3mzLcMhZquY9fB82L6V3v10QKp-Cw6anpSuI-BQAaNjGfR8kXVQr8yXKyacOZt2eyDi13AwBuXAcmTa_aXDQsYU/s640/sideways.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There's really no way to explain this. You can just see it...everything about me has become more shallow. I've become more "normal". Which is exactly what I do NOT want to be. Sure I don't want to look like the first girl for the rest of my life. But there's this element about the second girl that is so <em>fake</em>..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't really know what to say, except to apologize. I'm sorry for changing? That's not awkward at all...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Can I make a request for anybody who's reading this (if anyone..)? Could you pray for me? That's a hard question, and even more awkward for me than the apology...I'd really appreciate prayer. I'm a prideful person, and thats a huge flaw in me that I'm trying to work out. I know you're probably sitting there like, <em>I have a million things to do, i'm not gonna remember to pray for a girl I've never even met. </em>But I'd not only appreciate prayer, but I need it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Could you pray for specifically four things?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wisdom, to be able to find my way back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Discernment, to be able to know what is wrong and what is right.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Strength, to be able to say no when I know something's wrong.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And humility, to be able to accept my flaws and want to change them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can't believe I'm quoting hannah montana, but:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>"you can change your hair and you can change your clothes; you can change your mind, that's just the way it goes. You can say goodbye and you can say hello; but you'll always find your way back home."</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's all for now. Thanks for reading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-Bekah</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><br />
</em></div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-83134427190342243982011-08-07T17:50:00.000-07:002011-08-07T17:50:02.539-07:00Sorry my blog is extremely boring...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bjX1hAkcKqd4fscDOn0XHJEneftJsMEWlB0B1SBrBSWI_hl107W0DkAZc7HAEUB06plut6aHnPRw5KosvGe0zNXBfNKMOYj8DV9VWb7sfPpziB2hVZsNnqdDr-kdMOC-hZ0QYpTBVPc/s1600/hah4smaller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bjX1hAkcKqd4fscDOn0XHJEneftJsMEWlB0B1SBrBSWI_hl107W0DkAZc7HAEUB06plut6aHnPRw5KosvGe0zNXBfNKMOYj8DV9VWb7sfPpziB2hVZsNnqdDr-kdMOC-hZ0QYpTBVPc/s640/hah4smaller.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
^^^that's me...I edit pictures when I'm bored, and blog when I'm bored. Maybe that's why my blog is so boring. I apologize. I assume you're bored because you're reading this...so I'm gonna do a tag and 100 truths, just for kicks. (:<br />
<br />
1. When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, what’s the first thing you say?<br />
<br />
When I look at myself in the morning, I'm usually pretty tired and don't have a ton of coherent thoughts but the majority of the time it's "ugh...." hahah :)<br />
2. How much cash do you have on you?<br />
None ON me, but in my purse I have about 90 dollars in cash and 50 in checks .<br />
<br />
3. What’s a word that rhymes with “TEST”?<br />
<br />
best..?<br />
<br />
4. Favorite planet?<br />
<br />
um...mars..duh. (;<br />
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?<br />
<br />
Jenna <3<br />
6. What is your main ring tone on your phone?<br />
<br />
i always have my phone on vibrate.<br />
7. What shirt are you wearing?<br />
a t-shirt i got from a race I was in.<br />
<br />
8. Do you “label” yourself?<br />
<br />
no, not really. i'm trying to break out of the whole stereotyping thing. <br />
9. Name the brand of your shoes you’re currently wearing?<br />
<br />
none..who wears shoes in their house ?! :)<br />
<br />
10. Bright or Dark Room?<br />
<br />
bright<br />
<br />
11. What were you doing at midnight last night?<br />
<br />
watching tv at my neighbors house, hahah<br />
12. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?<br />
<br />
"heyyy" <br />
13. What’s a saying that you say a lot?<br />
<br />
i use the word "like" a lot...as in:<br />
<br />
"yeah, she was like wow and i was like omg and then we were like freaking out."<br />
<br />
hahahahahh . i crack myself up...sadly.<br />
14. Who told you they loved you last?<br />
<br />
my best friend :)<br />
15. Last furry thing you touched?<br />
<br />
the carpet...? hahah i dont know. <br />
16. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?<br />
digital babyyyy .<br />
<br />
17. Favorite age you have been so far?<br />
14..? hahah im so young. -__-<br />
<br />
18. Your worst enemy?<br />
selena gomez...justin bieber's girlfriend. She's stealing my man. <br />
<br />
19. What is your current desktop picture?<br />
<br />
me and my friends hannah, janaye, and tessa<br />
20. What was the last thing you said to someone?<br />
<br />
"i know" <br />
21. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a major regret?<br />
<br />
a million bucks, just because I really don't have a major regret.<br />
22. Do you like someone?<br />
<br />
At the moment, I'm gonna have to say no.<br />
23. The last song you listened to?<br />
<br />
Cody Simpson, On My Mind. <333333333333333333<br />
<br />
<strong>100 Truths.</strong><br />
<br />
1.Real name: Rebekah Grace Shaffer<br />
<br />
2. Nicknames(s): Bekah, Bekster, Bek-bek, Piglet, REbekah (my friends call me that when they're pissed..), hahah etc.<br />
<br />
3. Zodiac Sign: no idea and I'm wayyyy too lazy to go look it up.<br />
4. Male or female: i'm secretly male, guys....hahahah female.<br />
5. Elementary School: my basement..(;<br />
<br />
6. Middle School: my couch<br />
<br />
7. High School: Rogers High School<br />
<br />
8. Natrual Hair color: blonde<br />
<br />
9. Tall or short: on the taller side..<br />
<br />
11. Sweats or Jeans: jeans<br />
<br />
12. Phone or Camera: Phone<br />
<br />
13. Health freak: Oh yes. but give me junk food, and I swear to God I will eat it all.<br />
<br />
14. Orange or Apple: orange, but it really depends on my mood.<br />
<br />
15. Do you have a crush on someone? Not right now .<br />
<br />
16. Eat or Drink: drinkkk<br />
<br />
18. Pepsi or Coke: ehhh neither.<br />
<br />
<strong>HAVE YOU EVER? </strong><br />
<br />
19. Been in an airplane: Yes<br />
<br />
21. Been in a car accident: No<br />
<br />
22. Been in a fist fight: No<br />
<br />
23. First piercing: 1st ear hole<br />
<br />
24. First best friend: Krista :)<br />
<br />
25. First award: hahah no idea. probably a dorky little homeschool ribbon or something...hahahahah.<br />
26. First crush: too long ago<br />
<br />
27. First word: Mom? hahahah i dont know.<br />
<br />
29. Last person you talked to in person: MY SISTA.<br />
<br />
30. Last person you texted: Hannah<br />
31. Last person you watched a movie with: my sista.<br />
<br />
32. Last food you ate: pineapple.<br />
<br />
33. Last movie you watched: The Last Song<br />
<br />
34. Last song you listen to: Cody Simpson, On My Mind. i'm obsessed with that boy.<br />
<br />
35. Last thing you bought: a bebe belt <3<br />
<br />
36. Last person you hugged: my grandma...hahah awk. :) <br />
<strong>FAVE: </strong><br />
<br />
37. Food: that's a hard one...I'm a living garbage disposal. Put something in front of me and I will eat it.<br />
<br />
38. Art/Band: At the moment: cody simpson, justin bieber, rihanna, one republic, gym class hero & SO many others. <br />
<br />
39. Bottoms: In the summer? running shorts. in the school year? jeans <br />
40. Flower: roses..lame I know. <br />
<br />
41. Animal: ehh idk, some sort of cute dog :) <br />
42. Colors: Yellow, pink, blue..<br />
<br />
43. Movies: I like WAYY too many movies to give you specific titles, but I like romance, action, drama. I HATE scary movies. <br />
<br />
44. Subjects: English and science. <br />
<br />
<strong>HAVE YOU EVER:</strong><br />
<br />
(Put an X in the brackets if yes) <br />
<br />
45. [] fell in love with someone. <em>i dont know enough about love to answer this..hahah</em><br />
<br />
46. [X] celebrated Halloween. <br />
<br />
47. []had your heart broken...<em> once again, i dont know..yes and no. </em><br />
<br />
48. [X] went over the minutes/texts on your cell phone. <br />
<br />
49. [] had someone question my sexual orientation. <br />
<br />
51. [] got pregnant. <br />
<br />
52. [] had an abortion. <br />
<br />
53. [x] did something I regret. <br />
<br />
54. [x] broke a promise. <br />
<br />
55. [x] hid a secret. <br />
56. [x] pretended to be happy. <br />
<br />
57. [x] met someone who changed your life. <br />
<br />
58. [X] pretended to be sick. <br />
<br />
59. [X] left the country. <br />
60. [x] tried something you normally wouldn't try and liked it. <br />
<br />
61. [X] cried over the silliest thing.<br />
<br />
62. [x] ran a mile. <em>haha too many..</em><br />
<br />
63. [X] went to the beach with your best friend. <br />
<br />
64. [x] got into an argument with your friends. <br />
<br />
65. [X] hated someone. <br />
<br />
66. [x] stayed single for 2 years. <br />
<strong>DOING NOW:</strong><br />
<br />
67. Eating: nothing<br />
68. Drinking: nothing <br />
<br />
69. Listening: cody simpson all day <3 <br />
<br />
70. Sitting/Laying: Sitting<br />
71. Plans for today: get off and do violin and watch a moviee :)<br />
<br />
72. Waiting: for the music video to load so i can watch cody simpson <3<br />
<strong>YOUR FUTURE: </strong><br />
<br />
73. Want kids? yes :) <br />
<br />
74. Want to get married? Duh <br />
<br />
75. Career: english professor/writer or maybe an editor <br />
<br />
76. Live: Happily<br />
77. Piercing: cartilage, tragus, belly button, and i want my nose pierced. doubtful on the belly button and nose, tho, but i def want cartilage and tragus, and probably some more ear piercings. <br />
78. Romantic or spontaneous: romantic <br />
<br />
81. Hook-up or relationship: Relationship <br />
82. Looks or personality: both :) but personality is definitely more important. <br />
<strong>HAVE YOU EVER: </strong><br />
<br />
83. Lost glasses/contacts: yess <br />
84. Snuck out of a house: No<br />
<br />
85. Held a gun/knife for self defense: No<br />
<br />
86. Killed somebody: hahah duh...all day errday. i just go around murdering people. <br />
87. Broken someone's heart: maybe..?<br />
<br />
88. Been in love: no <br />
<br />
89. Cried when someone died: Yes <br />
<br />
<strong>DO YOU BELIEVE IN: </strong><br />
<br />
90. Yourself: not really <br />
<br />
91. Miracles: yes<br />
92. Love at first sight: it can happen<br />
93. Heaven: Yes<br />
<br />
94. Santa Clause? duh...hahah KIDDING. (; <br />
<br />
95. Sex on the first date: noooooooooooooo <br />
<br />
96. Kiss on the first date: sure? hahaha idc <br />
<strong>TRUTHFULLY: </strong><br />
97. Is there one person you want to be with right now: yes <br />
<br />
98. Do you know who your real friends are: thank God, yes<br />
99. Do you believe in God: Yes! <br />
<br />
100. Do you want to grow up?: No<br />
<br />
sorry...my blog sorta sucks...alright. hahah . I promise I'll post something good soon...Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-2686316009043365372011-07-31T14:57:00.000-07:002011-07-31T14:57:51.086-07:00it's a smile, a kiss, a sip of wine, it's summertime ♥<div align="center">Summertime.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gj7BAOMkdYvX5DmZF7sGn0uHpwv1eQp0YWyvfh_EAmTPqON8lpL8x31LUwZynY_KK3KZnUOfgzed7HuGk1_64LF-MJgDhy4tYvpwHcUqVg72FsBHYLCJKRaSJaN2VzGr5sObGsg9jwU/s1600/281560_213411475378283_100001282969255_661893_7910104_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gj7BAOMkdYvX5DmZF7sGn0uHpwv1eQp0YWyvfh_EAmTPqON8lpL8x31LUwZynY_KK3KZnUOfgzed7HuGk1_64LF-MJgDhy4tYvpwHcUqVg72FsBHYLCJKRaSJaN2VzGr5sObGsg9jwU/s640/281560_213411475378283_100001282969255_661893_7910104_n.jpg" t$="true" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
That short, sweet, unforgettable breath of the good life that comes every year but continues to retain its magic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBdfBKDzFZ4fQJ2eqfy43uWbH5q8ATQPVo6DOrBbQDoZk3kOTNupzgyi0FRnDblr0xuEOK8BFHeM_pcCL0Z91jqQMHmVuxxDj340y0-FGXKkeOy9yRhb-hpd8JQp2q41g3YRxKjzKS98/s1600/fourr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBdfBKDzFZ4fQJ2eqfy43uWbH5q8ATQPVo6DOrBbQDoZk3kOTNupzgyi0FRnDblr0xuEOK8BFHeM_pcCL0Z91jqQMHmVuxxDj340y0-FGXKkeOy9yRhb-hpd8JQp2q41g3YRxKjzKS98/s640/fourr.jpg" t$="true" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Late nights. Laughter. Chatter. Food. Beaches. Shopping. Running. Sunburn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N7StL_jCoR-x0Cp82nvgjfGwvfZRLPmtW-njbhuxP3AYdE6FnnZx0EnM_Wz_rt1Yy4ajO29LAeo7aPT7f4e18qA0NpMEYoM7YX0TTWr7vgFK2ZdGmAw8-EL2oQ3dF6Tylto4uuYWs64/s1600/gradd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N7StL_jCoR-x0Cp82nvgjfGwvfZRLPmtW-njbhuxP3AYdE6FnnZx0EnM_Wz_rt1Yy4ajO29LAeo7aPT7f4e18qA0NpMEYoM7YX0TTWr7vgFK2ZdGmAw8-EL2oQ3dF6Tylto4uuYWs64/s640/gradd.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Only surrounding myself with the ones who I love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kZfZFRu3qxHfa49F515SwP8jnWd6gWIoNr57kdqOiwlEnmAIVgvP-b8i9zO17JaCIoyp0T1htJ33DcWgMs_5RzYWte9iNaMT8-eY_3mBNwF00fg2nV3fKBdp5B7im_mWVRBuQmvpmkc/s1600/_DSC0404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kZfZFRu3qxHfa49F515SwP8jnWd6gWIoNr57kdqOiwlEnmAIVgvP-b8i9zO17JaCIoyp0T1htJ33DcWgMs_5RzYWte9iNaMT8-eY_3mBNwF00fg2nV3fKBdp5B7im_mWVRBuQmvpmkc/s640/_DSC0404.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dear summertime, please don't leave too soon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ijGchDpUUY0b4xOKQPT3LRpvvkc-NYioC7Bb0Ncop3FFGmFjf7dZEt-O-2Y803TIhDzJw_t4bbiDmwtKAJ38USnxOLSXV5RzFQRaQdswKJE0xEDMA7JvN8Lgtw7TVerRls1yUjTt5Bg/s1600/185337_213465612039536_100001282969255_662148_3644451_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ijGchDpUUY0b4xOKQPT3LRpvvkc-NYioC7Bb0Ncop3FFGmFjf7dZEt-O-2Y803TIhDzJw_t4bbiDmwtKAJ38USnxOLSXV5RzFQRaQdswKJE0xEDMA7JvN8Lgtw7TVerRls1yUjTt5Bg/s640/185337_213465612039536_100001282969255_662148_3644451_n.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Don't fly by so fast, dear summertime. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6TOq7LeGa2Js3NIdXahnWcYxpTI-L9l1DPs24B8JwMMPT4h4GDUD4qHarx56CVWk0wwdUX-FT2lZ4LWsismEhXlTofc9R9cAR0VT-Xddcc0bEknEJ02MhfP9VKiVyyfoX6INZ6dleHU/s1600/basement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6TOq7LeGa2Js3NIdXahnWcYxpTI-L9l1DPs24B8JwMMPT4h4GDUD4qHarx56CVWk0wwdUX-FT2lZ4LWsismEhXlTofc9R9cAR0VT-Xddcc0bEknEJ02MhfP9VKiVyyfoX6INZ6dleHU/s640/basement.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Life's short, but summer's shorter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zkGMbgjN7ZhTcT_sFBXfoN77NtXDLBM7FZRXRXQi5IsNOAdNvMJN8BWheQhC31rblBmgsXgYlCJKy7uRx1n_7XAffyHRgNizZwKvk58jQyvI5AgXBUEZd4OWe3Buw05YJpJT7jss6SE/s1600/262900_213466625372768_100001282969255_662185_4422080_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zkGMbgjN7ZhTcT_sFBXfoN77NtXDLBM7FZRXRXQi5IsNOAdNvMJN8BWheQhC31rblBmgsXgYlCJKy7uRx1n_7XAffyHRgNizZwKvk58jQyvI5AgXBUEZd4OWe3Buw05YJpJT7jss6SE/s640/262900_213466625372768_100001282969255_662185_4422080_n.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Savor it. </em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqy-PPuHEUNcreu5JYhkBWltw3K5snjBW4M1brRgLcCE8GG4IDwo-ORWEe2QHIAVt3sJn6_glmDWloI0xzrR6pzC5atbUCP_oGihD62EiF9GXD0Iheq_qchUlbG1C1ar8UHXWWpsmUfVU/s1600/224468_213465642039533_100001282969255_662149_3349995_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqy-PPuHEUNcreu5JYhkBWltw3K5snjBW4M1brRgLcCE8GG4IDwo-ORWEe2QHIAVt3sJn6_glmDWloI0xzrR6pzC5atbUCP_oGihD62EiF9GXD0Iheq_qchUlbG1C1ar8UHXWWpsmUfVU/s640/224468_213465642039533_100001282969255_662149_3349995_n.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>♥ <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSoUJfkrbiZCgQ8kHOUWswDJcyD6pY6x7voTVh_glug-iET42C_MpfkaOEah4lGtlUmoxiyeVfdKlP3Dleoi_mLdvD-d7SI3I_jbtIBfZpPJ3LF6XjpkqmZ_UVEUJDPZ8I-PAnN9qnqE/s1600/216779_213466278706136_100001282969255_662170_6302610_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSoUJfkrbiZCgQ8kHOUWswDJcyD6pY6x7voTVh_glug-iET42C_MpfkaOEah4lGtlUmoxiyeVfdKlP3Dleoi_mLdvD-d7SI3I_jbtIBfZpPJ3LF6XjpkqmZ_UVEUJDPZ8I-PAnN9qnqE/s640/216779_213466278706136_100001282969255_662170_6302610_n.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-34015909290944836782011-07-04T12:43:00.000-07:002011-07-04T12:43:13.260-07:00An Agglomeration of Nothing Particular<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ofMADqglwTazbsDokvoDDvWJi418wFbokk4UtYZst5JEYbPm0T3FHBJdMa7l4lV8H9-CAhz56w0bZ8Z8Zx37V8VPLMoZlaugqYpBqWuUarByyeLWt5swI9EECRLe8BuI4MTsT1oYEoc/s1600/_DSC0136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ofMADqglwTazbsDokvoDDvWJi418wFbokk4UtYZst5JEYbPm0T3FHBJdMa7l4lV8H9-CAhz56w0bZ8Z8Zx37V8VPLMoZlaugqYpBqWuUarByyeLWt5swI9EECRLe8BuI4MTsT1oYEoc/s640/_DSC0136.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><strong>6-18-11</strong><br />
<br />
Today, we went to visit a guy that makes electric violins, because I'm looking into buying one/getting one for my birthday <strong>(note: decided not to buy one this year)</strong>. I am obsessed with the one he let me borrow for a week. But I don't know how to play any really cool pieces on it. Like Canon Rock. I'm just not good enough to be able to play it. And I'm so frustrated...I literally sppent 4 hours today fiddling with it. I can't get it. <br />
<br />
I haven't run in two days. I haven't really written anything for about an infiniti longer than that. I haven't prayed, I haven't read my Bible, I haven't read a good book, I haven't done anything that makes me sit down and really think. In longer than I can remember.<br />
<br />
What have I done? I've hung out with friends, I've texted, I've sat around on Facebook, I've laid in the sun for hours on end, I've obsessively exercised, I've binged, I've painted my nails, I've taken naps.<br />
<br />
Are any of those things mind-stimulating? Are any of those things worth the time that I've spent on them?<br />
<br />
I have to say no...and once again find myself disappointed in myself.<br />
<br />
I'm never able to commit myself to anything of substance. I've never put in the effort to overcome the writer's block that's been smothering me for almost a year. It's so much easier to click a button and go on Facebook instead of sitting, staring at a blank word document, grasping at words that always seem to elude me. How have I gotten so lazy? Too lazy to spend time and effort in any area: writing, reading, learning, developing, growing, playing violin, spending time with the family, praying, reflecting. These things require too much, and I start them and then quit when I'm forced to start using my brain. <br />
<br />
Laziness. A sin that I never realized I could be guilty of.<br />
<br />
I've been told I'm extremely smart by almost every person I've met throughout the school year. It hurts to admit this, but it seems as if I subconsciously resented the mental gap between me and others my age, and started dumbing myself down in order to be more like everyone else. I care <strong>way </strong>too much about what other people think of me. A sin that I have no idea how to confront. A trait that I have no idea how to change.<br />
<br />
Everything in my life that's wrong right now is because of me. I am blessed by an amazing family and friends. The only area of flaw in my life is myself.<br />
<br />
Too cocky. Too arrogant. Too self-absorbed. Too prideful. Too lazy. Too concerned.<br />
<br />
I need a serious outlook readjustment...everything needs to be changed. Tomorrow I will spend time with my family, with my Bible, with my violin, with my diary, with God. Tomorrow I will spend time without my cell phone, without my make up, without my ipod, without my computer, without my Facebook.<br />
<br />
I have to start somewhere otherwise I'll get nowhere. And that thought frightens me.<br />
<br />
-Bekah<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFGTeFxwWSsrn59l4mmtkMYh_W8yo1Wfmhyfg5qqnGvShUaOARbLp5ttvVje0NMT5wX85nt3oB7XmUxnNaFuNwZ2GiHafAfB0QKxToyP9EtjJslXn1bT6IsDlo8POu1oycuXLaNE9KOU/s1600/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFGTeFxwWSsrn59l4mmtkMYh_W8yo1Wfmhyfg5qqnGvShUaOARbLp5ttvVje0NMT5wX85nt3oB7XmUxnNaFuNwZ2GiHafAfB0QKxToyP9EtjJslXn1bT6IsDlo8POu1oycuXLaNE9KOU/s640/love.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><br />
<strong>6-26-11</strong><br />
<br />
Tomorrow's my birthday. In like three hours I'm going to be 14...such a weird thought. We're at this cabin that we rented for a week. I sorta wish we were at home...there's nothing to do in this small dingy town. There's not a movie theatre, or even a mall, and only two tiny grocery stores! Tonight's Sunday night. We got here Saturday, about 11-ish. We unpacked, got situated, and then went on a 2 hour hike in the intense heat, got DQ ice-cream (<3), sat at the beach a little, went to the deserted grocery store, ate dinner, watched Chariots of Fire (lovelovelove), then went to bed. This morning, we sat around and read books and did nothing, then we went into "town" and fished (didn't get a single bite..), then I went for a run (felt soo good <3) came home, roasted hot dogs, ate DQ ice-cream AGAIN, watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding (hilarious), and now me, Peter and Abs are sitting here reading/writing. On the hike on Saturday, we got SOOO many ticks...I had 10, Abby had 13, and us as a family had well over 50. -__- I hate ticks.<br />
<br />
I haven't texted since the 19th...almost 10 days. Freaking amazing. <br />
<br />
Me, Abby & Grandma Sally went shopping at the MoA last Thursday for my birthday. I got an ADORABLE pair of jeans at Wet Seal (they make my butt look half-way decent <3), expensive Steve Madden sandals, a lace Charlotte Russe top with a bright yellow lace cami & bright blue cami that could go under it, with blue earrings to go with the blue cami. I also got round floral diamond-studded earrings and rhinestone black-feather earrings at Wet Seal. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow's my birthday...doesn't even feel real. I'm so ready to be done with 13 and embark into 14. <3<br />
<br />
-Bekah<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZ-4yurrrd-vyz-mlldv2GTHo-UuliWVX5WW5vLXdJjq488XU_6DCraa3An5DWaZ_Qqrl9YzRDTDNEo1VQeD3Qnso17TpSLiPuFWUEaed-sO7SwclptlY0j3XNUU0AHvEU06ArthOg4E/s1600/_DSC0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZ-4yurrrd-vyz-mlldv2GTHo-UuliWVX5WW5vLXdJjq488XU_6DCraa3An5DWaZ_Qqrl9YzRDTDNEo1VQeD3Qnso17TpSLiPuFWUEaed-sO7SwclptlY0j3XNUU0AHvEU06ArthOg4E/s640/_DSC0002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><strong>6-27-11</strong><br />
<br />
I'm fourteen!! Wow...time goes fast. Dear God, help me not to waste a single second.<br />
<br />
-Bekah<br />
<br />
<strong>6-29-11</strong><br />
<br />
Today, on the boat (yes, we rented the boath again), Mom finished Keith Green's biography (No Compromise) written by his wife Melody Green, and I was bored and it looked interesting so I picked it up. I was hooked after the first chapter. It is a 500+ page book, and I finished it in 3 hours. I'm listening to his music right now. I'm sorta obsessed with him. <br />
<br />
Anyway, the book really struck me. Keith and Melody dabbled in drugs and occult cults before finding God, and their lives were instantly transformed. Keith went from smoking grass to pouring himself out in front of sprawling crowds and bringing thousands to Christ in a single alter-call. His life suddenly had purpose and joy, and in the short 8 years he had before he died, God used him to minister to countless people searching for truth. He was a warrior, a prophet, a genius, and completely, utterly, 150% dedicated to God. He was so open to God's convinctions, so humble, so ready, always, to accept God's discipline and so willing to change, so eager to cast off every sin and vice, so committed to serving, so unselfish of every belonging (material and non-material) he called his own. He was an incredible person and I wish I could have been alive when he was. He's so inspiring to me. When God entered his life, he was <strong>utterly </strong>transformed.<br />
<br />
<strong>*then I went on a long, personal rant about how I need to change. it was like 8 pages long. hahah. </strong><br />
<br />
-Bekah<br />
<br />
<strong>7-1-11.</strong><br />
<br />
Hi. This pen is awful. We're home(: . I'm so tired. I like don't have a coherent thought. Jenna's getting a pool. I'm gonna like live at her house once she gets it. We're going to Chicago in two weeks. We're staying at the (family friend)'s house. I want to take a picture in the shiny bean thing. I'm listening to les Miserables music. I'm reading Bonhoeffer right now, but I'm gonna read Les Miserables net. I am in love with the music and story (literally<3), I should read the book. I haven't run in a long time...Hannah's in Australia. So jealous.<br />
<br />
Me and Mom went shopping today. I got a short white floral skirt that I'm in love with and a white floral & rhinestone tank top from Maurices, and then a neon pink tank top and a light blue tank top from American Eagle. Dad and me and the sibs went to Mr. Popper's Penguins, BEST MOVIE EVER <3 . <br />
<br />
Obsessed with Les Miserables.<br />
<br />
-Bekah<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziQ836FQhxqdwhI7qTfdiGQKofGBbbBq6FoiiZCZUEv03vPadzf4PLjjYOOaNoAsNZnB_0lPpXmXM0Su6DQYks_410PE4Q2ej46yLL8N9lwtdalZ0x_h1VWj8zMfBzoO_3eAQumjVTl8/s1600/lightgraffiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="406" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziQ836FQhxqdwhI7qTfdiGQKofGBbbBq6FoiiZCZUEv03vPadzf4PLjjYOOaNoAsNZnB_0lPpXmXM0Su6DQYks_410PE4Q2ej46yLL8N9lwtdalZ0x_h1VWj8zMfBzoO_3eAQumjVTl8/s640/lightgraffiti.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-14086399441386874952011-06-07T13:47:00.001-07:002011-06-07T13:47:40.342-07:00who am I?Who Am I?<br />
<br />
<br />
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Who am I? They often tell me<br />
<br />
I stepped from my cell’s confinement<br />
<br />
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,<br />
<br />
Like a squire from his country-house.<br />
<br />
Who am I? They often tell me<br />
<br />
I used to speak to my warders<br />
<br />
Freely and friendly and clearly,<br />
<br />
As though it were mine to command.<br />
<br />
Who am I? They also tell me<br />
<br />
I bore the days of misfortune<br />
<br />
Equally, smilingly, proudly,<br />
<br />
Like on accustomed to win.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Am I then really all that which other men tell of?<br />
<br />
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?<br />
<br />
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,<br />
<br />
Struggling for breath, as though hands were <br />
<br />
Compressing my throat,<br />
<br />
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,<br />
<br />
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,<br />
<br />
Tossing in expectation of great events,<br />
<br />
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,<br />
<br />
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,<br />
<br />
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Who am I? This or the other?<br />
<br />
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?<br />
<br />
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,<br />
<br />
And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?<br />
<br />
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,<br />
<br />
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?<br />
<br />
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.<br />
<br />
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!<br />
<br />
*this is perfect for me right now...i am obsessed with this poem.Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-9776839278400767852011-05-06T15:57:00.000-07:002011-05-06T15:57:55.688-07:00let it go<div style="text-align: center;">I am a perfectionist. If you know me at all, than you know that much. I berate myself constantly if I fall short of any goal that I set for myself, whether it be in school, sports, or music. Everything gets me down, honestly....like I just got back from a track meet. I am extremely unhappy with my time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">See, I have this best friend named Hannah. We're in track together (she's the girl in the picture from the previous post). It was both of our first year in track. We're both decent, she's just very much better than me. Today her time was a good 20 seconds faster than mine. Her time was spectacular (beat the lettering time by 2 full seconds) and mine just wasn't. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I could be jealous of her for so many reasons. She was snow queen for our grade, everyone who knows her adores her, she's hilarious, she's so easygoing and friends with literally everyone, and a better runner than me. I'm struggling now with it, but I just gotta let it go.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There's always gonna be someone better than us, at everything we do. It is sorta depressing to think about, but no matter what we do or where we go, there will ALWAYS be someone that can do whatever you can do better. Doesn't that bother you? Doesn't matter if I run a 6 minute mile. There's always someone who can run fastaer. Doesn't matter if I graduate college at 19. There's always someone who's graduated earlier. Doesn't matter if I can play Vivaldi's Concerto number something-or-other. There's always someone who can play better than me. Doesn't matter if I get so many commments on my default. There's always someone who's prettier than me. Doesn't matter if I work so hard on my faith. There's always someone who is a better Christian than me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You get what I'm saying? Gah it just goes on and on. I have to break that cycle. I have to accept me for who I am. I HAVE to. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I do feel better now that I wrote that out. Sorry that my post didn't move you to tears....I know there's so many better blogs out there. But thanks for reading mine...it helps to get my thoughts down. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9xSnJ7W2e_XhMIKhOVRXFscl3YJ8WBzuHvJpaU72UEud4RKno_jD6m0AH58YMeTtd0fWjcMYNUn81QLEcQhItEzF3p2volq77_vFoKPeyViy8sMQ51nCdMjRF2UpUgzbKQKfQUs7y8Y/s1600/grins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9xSnJ7W2e_XhMIKhOVRXFscl3YJ8WBzuHvJpaU72UEud4RKno_jD6m0AH58YMeTtd0fWjcMYNUn81QLEcQhItEzF3p2volq77_vFoKPeyViy8sMQ51nCdMjRF2UpUgzbKQKfQUs7y8Y/s400/grins.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-30954097548053499152011-05-01T15:15:00.000-07:002011-05-01T17:24:40.524-07:00so...up for a normal post ? (:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPt-Qus_28IBvGTwDmQrByTIQ3ZXbxVhACGYtVYNgwex1eY4blAw3MfVncpioMupgJqcOOJLuqxARHujkW2NH17A88qCvnLDDHDkQVhtK1nHSdd6MI35I73uWQ0gba-F3ODYdAGy8qNg/s1600/colors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZPt-Qus_28IBvGTwDmQrByTIQ3ZXbxVhACGYtVYNgwex1eY4blAw3MfVncpioMupgJqcOOJLuqxARHujkW2NH17A88qCvnLDDHDkQVhtK1nHSdd6MI35I73uWQ0gba-F3ODYdAGy8qNg/s640/colors.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Hey guys....its been way too long since I've written a normal, happy, teenage-girl post. I've kinda just blogged when I'm feeling emotional, and I don't want my blog to be a vent.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So I'll just kinda share some pictures, some thoughts and we'll see how this goes. (: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just took literally like a 30 minute bubble bath; I lovelovelove relaxing things like that. This morning at my church we had a flash mob dance sort of thing; during the offering song, the whole NextGen program (the mentoring youth group) had a dance planned out, and it was, needless to say, incredibly fun. If there's a video or anything I can put up here, I will.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow's Monday.....yuck. It's so close to summer that it sucks to be sitting in school when it looks gorgeous outside - even though we haven't been having the greatest weather lately. (:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycJiaA2A1F_76OWlEYElDKpVJbIZefD-ji6ow2mS8Y4QfCNQq5XwtQdcbiFfK1RtDUExa5GqoRxvLhzsyYUtx8KnlYtw_HW0VCTeWOQ1pJDcRlA4SJ5FHfd0KM6RgTayTHETVKvWLRL4/s1600/ummmm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycJiaA2A1F_76OWlEYElDKpVJbIZefD-ji6ow2mS8Y4QfCNQq5XwtQdcbiFfK1RtDUExa5GqoRxvLhzsyYUtx8KnlYtw_HW0VCTeWOQ1pJDcRlA4SJ5FHfd0KM6RgTayTHETVKvWLRL4/s400/ummmm.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> ^^^^^ I get bored .</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTK5mCZmh3MY98DNJbdz2S5br_5DWYuc-7rIlbZp8F1Q8FQ1EL4wWkx1EtBBJfRkjAVeCHQD5rtYouQfNsBlvWiLzsHRG-5_eMhM6DluFEwI-AOnlucw2KMxYmSbRo9w8HC_-vEAyNJYI/s1600/violin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTK5mCZmh3MY98DNJbdz2S5br_5DWYuc-7rIlbZp8F1Q8FQ1EL4wWkx1EtBBJfRkjAVeCHQD5rtYouQfNsBlvWiLzsHRG-5_eMhM6DluFEwI-AOnlucw2KMxYmSbRo9w8HC_-vEAyNJYI/s320/violin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTkXR9znSFvmPRtyYOJ7SghLmX4a-o5mnbk3VlBO2t3w3PdnHCo98m2Dldg2rKeVS2yzFaBpWsaPGMXIQ57PjMAy1Qh5Gih-DuNmHT4YPRiRi_tGGYulz39ETy8AmTROpR5SDa7p2-Mc/s1600/bored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And I like playing the violin.... (:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiyCX1WVx35qjaMmhp1t4A8k1SDzw4f7UCuLj20wH7Y1GtpL_9t1vaF4O0eFCbW3uVpU2mZcJNUrEx2v9ZXa7s_blXBOwsQsioTUbiyYTDNcMUEkscl4N63ylJiUsXM1l-Q_YMj759Gw/s1600/217270_1932162114834_1565719370_32076287_8000046_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiyCX1WVx35qjaMmhp1t4A8k1SDzw4f7UCuLj20wH7Y1GtpL_9t1vaF4O0eFCbW3uVpU2mZcJNUrEx2v9ZXa7s_blXBOwsQsioTUbiyYTDNcMUEkscl4N63ylJiUsXM1l-Q_YMj759Gw/s320/217270_1932162114834_1565719370_32076287_8000046_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">AND I LOVE PEOPLE <3</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIyfJNhzi4OS5DMQ4_p7xpv3R6E6B64idZ9rgbYIBiQNSCBlGlyAUe9_ExgRUXjqyBR4uMLz-lqCOpCUjkd0xn0KcGuJfS9ewollZP_b3j-wWV4SymCcY4LNzT24lfsdxYJTl_OQHlOo/s1600/jeans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIyfJNhzi4OS5DMQ4_p7xpv3R6E6B64idZ9rgbYIBiQNSCBlGlyAUe9_ExgRUXjqyBR4uMLz-lqCOpCUjkd0xn0KcGuJfS9ewollZP_b3j-wWV4SymCcY4LNzT24lfsdxYJTl_OQHlOo/s400/jeans.jpg" width="197" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And also jeans (:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hahah...I know this post sucked, but oh well. I tried. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, my dad ran a half-marathon this morning, and I made varsity track. (: Kay bye. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">-Bekah</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-88185421203739612932011-03-14T11:03:00.000-07:002011-03-14T11:03:33.994-07:00perfect imperfections<div align="center"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHetc3yv9PgQY_9ufqPOVSEPMkz7j7DuzlaCwcxfF8Fi7YCH5miq5uqsgrqwQQU3ltOv5qFqodObTZyXgPRCMZOE4KO54vYlGBwYQ80ykQ6aaPcOs55XuctoiGNXURbr12dLhsidWskY/s1600/blackandwhite2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHetc3yv9PgQY_9ufqPOVSEPMkz7j7DuzlaCwcxfF8Fi7YCH5miq5uqsgrqwQQU3ltOv5qFqodObTZyXgPRCMZOE4KO54vYlGBwYQ80ykQ6aaPcOs55XuctoiGNXURbr12dLhsidWskY/s640/blackandwhite2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
It's so easy to make little excuses for little mistakes. It's so easy to say, "Hey, God, don't get on my case, I only said it one time," or "Hey, God, what would you have done in this situation? I'm pretty sure I acted like anyone else would have acted, I didn't do anything wrong," or "Hey, God, I yelled at Peter today cuz I was crabby, I don't usually act like that, give me a break."<br />
<br />
It's so easy to let the devil get a foothold, as they say. It's so easy to conform without even knowing you're doing it. It's so easy to change unconsciously, to be like everyone else.<br />
<br />
When I was homeschooled, I didn't know anything about "the outside world"; if you're homeschooled, that happens. When I entered public highschool, I learned rapidly what was cool and what wasn't. <br />
<br />
I changed how I did my hair. I changed how I did my makeup. I changed the way I dressed and the way I walked. I changed the way I laughed and the way I wrote. I changed the radio station I listened to. I changed the books I read and the music I bought. I changed my ideas of what was acceptable and what was not. I changed the things I talked about. I changed the way I view myself. And the list goes on..<br />
<br />
You want the gist of it? I changed myself. Bit by bit. It started with my music and ended with my morals and now I've lost myself. <br />
<br />
I've been a Christian on the good days. I've prayed when I remembered to, but my prayers are dead and meaningless...just words. But I feel like I <em>am</em> a good girl. I dont swear, I dont date, I dont make dirty jokes, I dont skip school, I dont do drugs, I dont smoke, I dont drink. So on the outside, I <em>am</em> a good girl. I'm respectable. <br />
<br />
And that's exactly where the problem is. Society TELLS us who we are, and we HAVE to live up to that expectation. I HAVE to be skinny. I HAVE to be pretty. I HAVE to be popular. I HAVE to be smart. I HAVE to be funny. I HAVE to be athletic. I HAVE to excel at EVERYTHING I do, otherwise I am a FAILURE. I have to be able to wear size two jeans, otherwise I am a BAD person. I have to wear the cutest clothes otherwise I am a BAD person. I have to have a million cool friends, otherwise I am a BAD person. I HAVE to make varsity, otherwise I SUCK at life. <br />
<br />
<strong>I have to be<span style="font-size: large;"> PERFECT</span>, otherwise I am <span style="font-size: large;">WORTHLESS</span>. </strong><br />
<br />
That is what society tells us, as young women. WE HAVE TO FIGHT THAT. That is NOT the truth, that is lies. We CANNOT believe what they tell us, because we are SO much more than that. We CANNOT let that lie define us. We MUST look beyond what is smothering us, and know that we are MEANT for a different world. We MUST know that this world full of lies and deceit and crap is NOT all there is. We must TRUST that there is more to life than the constant battle for perfection and fitting in. <br />
<br />
JUST BECAUSE society thinks that it can TELL us who we are, that DOES NOT MEAN that we have to listen to it! Today, girls, lets STEP ABOVE that, lets REFUSE to re-mold ourselves to fit into the world's patterns BECAUSE GOD MADE US FOR A DIFFERENT WORLD. <br />
<br />
<strong>If you weigh 150 or 110, IT DOES NOT MATTER.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If your face is blemished or unblemished, IT DOES NOT MATTER.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If you have a ton of friends or not that many, IT DOES NOT MATTER. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If you struggle with school or you dont struggle with school, IT DOES NOT MATTER.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If you make everyone laugh or just a couple people, IT DOES NOT MATTER. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>If you can run the mile in six minutes or fifteen, IT DOES NOT MATTER.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>You DO NOT have to live up to the world's standards, because it will fade away, and YOU will be left standing in front of God, and NOTHING ELSE WILL MATTER. Those jeans you spent all your money on? GONE. All those friends you had? Gone. Does God care how much you weighed? Does He care if you made varsity or JV? Does He care if you were popular? Does he care if you were funny? </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>NO.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Everything that the world tells you matters, DOESNT. As young women, we have to IGNORE the pull of the world.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Because guess what?</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>This. World. LIES. It does not tell you the truth. God is the only truth, and I have to GIVE my life to Him, otherwise I wasted it. I have to spend it GLORIFYING HIM, because He is the ONLY THING that matters.</strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. -Hebrews 12:1</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you <em>out of the world</em>. That is why the world hates you. John 15:19</strong></span><br />
<br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-45691339511033497932011-02-19T13:00:00.000-08:002011-02-19T13:00:07.515-08:00The Loves of my Life<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">#1. Running.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love running more than anything else right now. I love pulling on my spandex underarmour tights, squeezing into my compression shirts, wiggling my fingers into running gloves, covering my head with a nike knit cap, tying up the laces of my shoes, stretching the muscles of my legs until they cry for mercy, twisting around until the muscles of my entire upper body are loose; and then opening the door and stepping out into the frosty winter atmosphere, hearing the snow crunch beneath my feet as I take in a deep breath and feel the sharp air bite my lungs; and then setting off. The wind chaps my nose and lips until they bleed and after the first one or two miles I lose all feeling in my fingers and toes. My body, my mind and my soul get into a rhythm, a groove, and I don't pull out until every particle of my mental and physical body is so exhausted that continuing on is not an option. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">After a hard day at school, there is <strong>nothing</strong> that makes me feel better than lacing up my faithful tennis shoes and going for a 6 mile run.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>#2. Shontelle & The Script.</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">What am I gonna to do when the best part of me was always you?♥</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">-the script</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"T-shirt" - Shontelle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Breakeven (Falling to Pieces)" - The Script.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Impossible" - Shontelle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">#3. Black and White.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Photography.♥</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiky5psw9xwSFncsXCkzVAt6ChtBNSD7nby7Hux2seOtpqApGcnd1kQNSNDJrsifcxuxSeCOTvyrlZXPjfm_c-P2nl1dEHhKmmONHbQvjTbYRcdjSIsqkddueBs689d4xqwSqIk561kB7Q/s1600/studying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiky5psw9xwSFncsXCkzVAt6ChtBNSD7nby7Hux2seOtpqApGcnd1kQNSNDJrsifcxuxSeCOTvyrlZXPjfm_c-P2nl1dEHhKmmONHbQvjTbYRcdjSIsqkddueBs689d4xqwSqIk561kB7Q/s400/studying.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0O_kCJgS3MhQPYw7k5N72I5Q7fCjOMbR1EShtxqQx2OBFnqImb63UvyC9SHaBMoPNEpoirF-cSoR77melyCtCiOHz19DGaoBx5TWbTEHB9u-aMqBK913nXq7n1cax-Eqt2-QZsN6kRo/s1600/Hairspray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0O_kCJgS3MhQPYw7k5N72I5Q7fCjOMbR1EShtxqQx2OBFnqImb63UvyC9SHaBMoPNEpoirF-cSoR77melyCtCiOHz19DGaoBx5TWbTEHB9u-aMqBK913nXq7n1cax-Eqt2-QZsN6kRo/s400/Hairspray.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH07lyYubakGf0EhHxh7LgQboZmiExtrg0gW52wT5-NaxIvVi5A8rsynUy_XR_Mfn0x_jum401TOxhfPhieCuQnc_ZbZbyTrYcxsFFjdIhyphenhyphen4SRfacT86GMYjduz1U1gjhq2HIimQJgaiA/s1600/chemistry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH07lyYubakGf0EhHxh7LgQboZmiExtrg0gW52wT5-NaxIvVi5A8rsynUy_XR_Mfn0x_jum401TOxhfPhieCuQnc_ZbZbyTrYcxsFFjdIhyphenhyphen4SRfacT86GMYjduz1U1gjhq2HIimQJgaiA/s400/chemistry.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOlixq8jhLA2V0ms-8SX0_emB5J62b7gfReyrQnITAYGFHB339TIaOziWiF5o8099LwGTwPUHAA9pwpQnQMevDMh7I0tHHxbVuK5x3wvsLdpO44LdHtsjo4yM8F2_6e6a06FWPlXwfMQ/s1600/biochemistry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOlixq8jhLA2V0ms-8SX0_emB5J62b7gfReyrQnITAYGFHB339TIaOziWiF5o8099LwGTwPUHAA9pwpQnQMevDMh7I0tHHxbVuK5x3wvsLdpO44LdHtsjo4yM8F2_6e6a06FWPlXwfMQ/s400/biochemistry.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a-3m6lYM4Zkk1l0JFJzRBRjO1KJ4Etz7uqj9SO9QpZA95w48PwnMF-3o1s95nqmuhRVyW3fvqRN1us2mQpVxjPteXfsNuMH-2IxGIpIwsmLLsXcU7qq2kvHN5hrgPG7V1ZmtEIQgJA4/s1600/theloveofmylife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a-3m6lYM4Zkk1l0JFJzRBRjO1KJ4Etz7uqj9SO9QpZA95w48PwnMF-3o1s95nqmuhRVyW3fvqRN1us2mQpVxjPteXfsNuMH-2IxGIpIwsmLLsXcU7qq2kvHN5hrgPG7V1ZmtEIQgJA4/s400/theloveofmylife.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(why is this picture sideways?? I dont know how to fix it. )</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZq0qZper4BR-40cYEedpO_EcgK_2-8gJkdH5pFHkzL44VxV5g19MZJQIXmevpQqzW99BkXL4_AdKFnr07ihQUkIFn4EyszATj__svAc82GZvz5Or0LaAtZDZFFaJhv6rK8oLhPH0qxY/s1600/notes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZq0qZper4BR-40cYEedpO_EcgK_2-8gJkdH5pFHkzL44VxV5g19MZJQIXmevpQqzW99BkXL4_AdKFnr07ihQUkIFn4EyszATj__svAc82GZvz5Or0LaAtZDZFFaJhv6rK8oLhPH0qxY/s400/notes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAhIsVjltx5cE3ksLeIQpQxxqijbIb0A5-Ih19SGbIa6Bxkzxj_9YWWl7b03W8mj_GA6P67cKgS3i36-g-_Y_XzJdJtu_191bjRk6LHl4wo5Qd5tSkHt81sDon5-FCJhipg_I-IDUoP4/s400/mirror.jpg" width="267" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(^^^^the picture above was taken around the holidays, when I still had that 15 extra pounds sitting on my torso.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE2OjJlI1MyYfhakRQrJsWDkr9ts6ZA587yzwzk0vTsE8dZT6S5Pbzc9pRAXy2XkZddfFKA2Um8JCC3A40qkVnDirs7sXLNhri3t5Rvi5RhDeXjSMXGI5ShOTI0n4Vm2E8qeNvry6whM/s1600/mybestfriend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE2OjJlI1MyYfhakRQrJsWDkr9ts6ZA587yzwzk0vTsE8dZT6S5Pbzc9pRAXy2XkZddfFKA2Um8JCC3A40qkVnDirs7sXLNhri3t5Rvi5RhDeXjSMXGI5ShOTI0n4Vm2E8qeNvry6whM/s400/mybestfriend.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPA6zS2u3GYwnXsGSIMBXPiIQ5dTkY13psuGvJfMpDxcw0WXjDq-1gnJbfL8jBGl_7xQRIl4qgbs7OwphkZ1rxkG_LANiV1haMBNN3whb7aprX9fD69zbzC_T-qbUNY9VaKNpYW7OMGA/s1600/snoowww.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPA6zS2u3GYwnXsGSIMBXPiIQ5dTkY13psuGvJfMpDxcw0WXjDq-1gnJbfL8jBGl_7xQRIl4qgbs7OwphkZ1rxkG_LANiV1haMBNN3whb7aprX9fD69zbzC_T-qbUNY9VaKNpYW7OMGA/s400/snoowww.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-Bekah</div></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-28336431726308786012011-02-01T16:16:00.001-08:002012-03-03T06:46:58.662-08:00my life be like, ooh ahh.<em>To give you a break from all those morose posts I've been writing lately, I'm writing a post when I'm happy. So, enjoy, because the mood's not gonna last long. :)</em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMniMNm-9vbZxoNhGiP8LJf9mfCqyoCwy6RM6K2qFiL1ZJEuhAkdld-Ln7Pfp70tdEhVZE8x4Ud3OBF12ymfqV7D4mkWtEXKIKRO9G1sJRFMox0TZspDDNUZ9I7Ak_ScFOnkgSql86qs/s1600/studying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMniMNm-9vbZxoNhGiP8LJf9mfCqyoCwy6RM6K2qFiL1ZJEuhAkdld-Ln7Pfp70tdEhVZE8x4Ud3OBF12ymfqV7D4mkWtEXKIKRO9G1sJRFMox0TZspDDNUZ9I7Ak_ScFOnkgSql86qs/s320/studying.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I love school.<br />
<br />
Before you start clapping with joy, let me explain. I love school, as in honors chemistry, AP english, AP geography. I love school, as in the subjects, as in learning.<br />
<br />
I already have my whole life mapped out. Of course, I went those stages in my life where I was thoroughly convinced that I was gonna be a famous actress, then a singer, then a painter, then a photographer...you know all those dreams that we become rapidly fixated on and then discard just as quickly. But underneath these passing fads, I've always clung to Teacher as an occupation, and its becoming clearer and clearer that this is what I want to do.<br />
<br />
If I do PSEO after sophomore year (which I am going to do), which would be when I was freshman age (15), then I would graduate college at 19, get my Masters in English at 21, and then phD at 23 or 24 and then I could start teaching college immediately. When I think of this, I know this is what God wants me to do. Sure, I'd be teaching kids just a year or so younger than me...but when have I let age hinder me from anything I want to do? My friends have always been older than me. I honestly don't have a good friend who is younger or even the same age as me. And now I'm in classes with sixteen to eighteen year olds. Who cares? Age doesn't matter to me anymore. <br />
<br />
I love learning more than anything...I know that sounds incredibly nerdy, but its true. I read Biochemistry textbooks in my spare time. And now I'm beginning to love public school as well. Like sincerely. Yeah, obviously there's stuff that's hard for me. Like waking up at 5:00 AM every morning. Like leaving my house every day at 6:30, and seeing my little siblings growing up and not being there at home to experience it. But that just makes me want to spend every spare second I have with them, and I never felt that way before. My family was always a nuisiance to me, or at least something I took for granted...and now all I want to do when I get home is spend time with them. That is a gift straight from God and it's healing relationships faster than I ever thought possible. <br />
<br />
I know this has nothing to do with anything, but I think it fits into the whole theme of happiness. I lost <em>10 pounds </em>in the last <em>month</em>! I've always been insecure about my weight, always wishing I was skinnier. Then about a month ago, I went to the blood doctor for some tests, and they weighed me on their big official scale. <strong>133 pounds. </strong>When I'm only 5'6". I <em>freaked</em>...133 lbs to me is overweight, or at least chubby. <em>(I'm definitely <strong>not </strong>saying that if you weigh 133 that you are overweight.) </em>So I got down to work. I cut about half of my daily intake of calories, and I started exercising obsessively. Sometimes I would only eat three eggs, carrots, and salad all day. For lunch, instead of bringing a whole bagel peanut butter sandwhich, energy bar, granola bar, apples, fruit snacks and raisans, I brought two hard boiled eggs and carrot. My friends tease me about those eggs, but I eat two every day for lunch, and thats it. I'm very proud of myself, I've kept up that diet almost all this month. For breakfast, I have some form of egg, usually a fried one with a little bit of salt. For dinner, I like salad, sometimes a soup or a small serving of pasta. I usually eat some sort of green with dinner, like broccoli. I am down to <strong>123 pounds</strong>...and still dropping! I've started speed and strength with my friends after school and I'm starting track soon. I feel incredible. (:<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sorry this was a short post. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of posting regularly. Not promising anything, but I'll try. I'm off to running. (:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Until later,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Bekah</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>PS. Got asked to the winter formal! (:</strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-63706031000470588912011-01-02T11:18:00.000-08:002011-01-02T11:32:32.135-08:00You Can't Define My Worth<blockquote>I'm not the shoes I wear, <strong>I'm not the clothes I buy</strong><br />
I'm not the house I live in, I'm not the car I drive<br />
I'm not the job I work, <strong>You can't define my worth</strong><br />
By nothing on God's green earth,<strong> my identity is found in Christ.</strong></blockquote>Everything in this world is upside down. The things that should not matter, suddenly occupy my every moment. And the things that do matter, are cast aside, are left behind, are subconsciously shoved into a dark corner of my mind and forgotten. It's a new year, but nothing seems to have changed. Nothing is different, but everything is different. I changed...and I've been entombed in this new Bekah for so long that I can't go back to the old Bekah. Nothing has changed, but everything has changed. Nothing is different, but everything is different. <br />
<blockquote><strong>Identity is found in the God we trust</strong><br />
<strong>Any other identity will self destruct.</strong></blockquote>Writing used to be, quite literally, my life...I would live in the worlds I created, I would breathe the air that I produced, I would act the characters that flowed from <em>my </em>fingertips. How can something that used to be everything to you suddenly mean nothing to you? I try to write, but I've lost it. I've lost the way with words that I used to have. I wrote two pages yesterday, forced myself to write them, forced myself to pretend the way things used to be.<br />
<blockquote>They wont like me if I ain't in them J's or them brand new Nikes,<br />
Lets dig deeper inside my pysche<br />
<strong>When it's all said and done even I don't like me</strong></blockquote>When things are going my way, I'm happy. When I go shopping, when I have a good day at school, when I'm hanging out with a friend, I am happy. But my mood goes up and down, up and down, constantly in flux, never steady. The little things matter the most to me. I get more upset over the fact that I didnt get to see a friend than the fact that day by day I am spending less and less time with my siblings....Everything is backwards, upside down. I'm lost, I've fallen down the rabbit hole and am in a strange world in which I know nothing about. Without my Jesus, nothing makes sense, nothing gives me joy, I am constantly preoccupied with chasing dust bunnies while my soul is crying out for something more...something deeper. Some people might be content with following the wind, but I long for somewhere I can call home. Life seems so meaningless, I need Jesus, I need hope that this is not all there is. <br />
<blockquote>Got her hair done, toes and nails<br />
Is that Her? well it's hard to tell<br />
Cause she's so caked up in so much make up<br />
<strong>It's like she's tryna make up for what she ain't.</strong></blockquote>Silver jeans, a Guess sweater, Ugg boots, Charlotte Russe earrings, all those things are nice, <em>but they cannot be my identity. <strong>I AM NOT THE CLOTHES I BUY. </strong></em>These things are so trivial, so unimportant! <em><strong>So why are they my life??</strong></em> Why do I spend so much money and energy and thought on clothes, on appearence, on my hair, on my friends?<br />
<blockquote>How do I gauge success, <strong>why do I say I'm blessed?</strong><br />
Is it the car that I drive or the place that I rest or the way that I dress?</blockquote>Dear Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for how childish I have been. Forgive me for how much time I have wasted, forgive me for how I have ignored you. Worshiping you is the only reason I am on this earth, and yet I have let everything distract me, pull me away from the purpose of life. I want to be a part of your kingdom, I want to be yours...<strong>FOREVER. </strong><br />
<blockquote>To live is Christ yeah that's Paul I recall<br />
To die is gain so for Christ we give it all<br />
<strong>He's the treasure you'll never find in the mall</strong><br />
Your money your singleness marriage talent and time<br />
<strong>They were loaned to you to show the world that Christ is Divine</strong><br />
That's why it's Christ in my rhymes<br />
That's why it's Christ all the time<br />
My whole world is built around him He's the life in my lines,<br />
<strong>I refuse to waste my life</strong><br />
<strong>He's too true ta chase that ice.</strong><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">all quotes by lecrae, "identity" and "dont waste your life"</span></blockquote>I don't want to be a part of something I don't believe in. I don't want to do the same old every day...I want to be real, deep, new. God, I'm so sorry for taking this long to realize that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQp0T_qEWha0V5RTs3JJABD_TS4Zh4sxSpFhx_rr3QFdoNs2Kc7TKZnhbjM8qLICtxb3YJ0OMIKPN-2OoYEDQ-hMSXoWcvJ2f6puShs1yO16HwACiRwAGm6PnigiTE-zzsjngOTdnMlR0/s1600/AbbysBible4Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQp0T_qEWha0V5RTs3JJABD_TS4Zh4sxSpFhx_rr3QFdoNs2Kc7TKZnhbjM8qLICtxb3YJ0OMIKPN-2OoYEDQ-hMSXoWcvJ2f6puShs1yO16HwACiRwAGm6PnigiTE-zzsjngOTdnMlR0/s400/AbbysBible4Edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-32460707023142526992010-12-18T07:45:00.000-08:002010-12-18T07:45:12.781-08:00that other half<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eHBmMnm5ops-Krpe6eyRmD_lKF1cJ2A6_VV0IgIKoGUoZW5GKByGRrHYNm_ETHFcy74jeuEdlrQ_E8p9dVtKxIZGtNRKuKMgOySXWsMKeBMLhrTQxzkREmWvF7-XVtjnZuoil-Ehi7g/s1600/165247_184527241562397_100000153662142_726696_2163772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eHBmMnm5ops-Krpe6eyRmD_lKF1cJ2A6_VV0IgIKoGUoZW5GKByGRrHYNm_ETHFcy74jeuEdlrQ_E8p9dVtKxIZGtNRKuKMgOySXWsMKeBMLhrTQxzkREmWvF7-XVtjnZuoil-Ehi7g/s640/165247_184527241562397_100000153662142_726696_2163772_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQT6-iTKdvgFIaD4qd6JNotoHGqLtqyzbXK0XI9rhw-nLVRYHlebR2aUFwinEgYRvR1ioONPXr-celZjvMyymmne4WMe086o-KKgWlzGj_bAI6HKpTouz63J9ksUnj4EJnoJy2qL3Ww0/s1600/63666_184528714895583_100000153662142_726705_1292233_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQT6-iTKdvgFIaD4qd6JNotoHGqLtqyzbXK0XI9rhw-nLVRYHlebR2aUFwinEgYRvR1ioONPXr-celZjvMyymmne4WMe086o-KKgWlzGj_bAI6HKpTouz63J9ksUnj4EJnoJy2qL3Ww0/s640/63666_184528714895583_100000153662142_726705_1292233_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvPF8FgJKMyKh9hyphenhyphenupfjwZqgVhSWDMoodci29GWevzmjc_mHPKczIiLqTQPtLoQU-vbWER5TLo6jvvtB_aAwdn9Gy49CzTxvZ43EQ3zcbsHZholdXbLD2l3Et4al_FDwmrxie7df4T2U/s1600/%2528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvPF8FgJKMyKh9hyphenhyphenupfjwZqgVhSWDMoodci29GWevzmjc_mHPKczIiLqTQPtLoQU-vbWER5TLo6jvvtB_aAwdn9Gy49CzTxvZ43EQ3zcbsHZholdXbLD2l3Et4al_FDwmrxie7df4T2U/s640/%2528.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQs6rS01Zo3e5Lec4cEA0xaLFP0Cgij0UuGPMOeeprO2A8RlyI34KewIVoZx0le1khTJaa_497C_ZPqnllFOyISAHbK5hf0Fc13hVJa_N4-2WbxfmxGfCbDPZ6stc5D_pHUVfGF-pN_4/s1600/%2528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQs6rS01Zo3e5Lec4cEA0xaLFP0Cgij0UuGPMOeeprO2A8RlyI34KewIVoZx0le1khTJaa_497C_ZPqnllFOyISAHbK5hf0Fc13hVJa_N4-2WbxfmxGfCbDPZ6stc5D_pHUVfGF-pN_4/s640/%2528.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUN1ruv8RaMYszEtNOVsfQOzK-pQUC2Gur4W5MNoBn7gpPabhyphenhyphenib7gZ7-FrvokgOJj2xNnz3mZ_1A3-uTAvMiY4ALb_1bxP2Ayav4yyPqypPCQMRIy0ibCFqT6nkCEJEs6KmHlQvM8nrc/s1600/haha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="429" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUN1ruv8RaMYszEtNOVsfQOzK-pQUC2Gur4W5MNoBn7gpPabhyphenhyphenib7gZ7-FrvokgOJj2xNnz3mZ_1A3-uTAvMiY4ALb_1bxP2Ayav4yyPqypPCQMRIy0ibCFqT6nkCEJEs6KmHlQvM8nrc/s640/haha.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPSLSZdfIjMvx_A5B6co8R4mk-6VTDQ2ZQzwJMvW2Jo-3hcUeY68DzyBcnsLyvhTrzCTRbRknLY86VIm7f6GnMl0W0NvvrwCoMkAjlmxY7uhlaKm7Qp5jGYslsJor1NE_FOwrCo6BAr4/s1600/62013_161145423900579_100000153662142_564871_1883517_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPSLSZdfIjMvx_A5B6co8R4mk-6VTDQ2ZQzwJMvW2Jo-3hcUeY68DzyBcnsLyvhTrzCTRbRknLY86VIm7f6GnMl0W0NvvrwCoMkAjlmxY7uhlaKm7Qp5jGYslsJor1NE_FOwrCo6BAr4/s640/62013_161145423900579_100000153662142_564871_1883517_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
Dear Jenna, my other half. My best friend for as long as I can remember. The one who knows me better than I know myself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jenna, life is hard - I don't know why God has given you and me our seperate burderns, but I know that he has given me you to help me get through.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not saying our friendship is perfect. But it is the best friendship I have ever had, or will ever have. in fact I can far enough to say that it is more than just a friendship: you are my family.You are my sister and I love you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">God's given me you to help me laugh when I want to cry. He's given me you to listen, to help me carry my burdens with perserverance. He's given me you to punch me when I need you to, to wrestle with me, to mess up my perfect hair-do, to remind me that the simple joys in life are the ones we choose to overlook. He's given me you to help me see through the lies and barriers that I put up around myself. By simply being there, Jenna, you have saved my life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were little third graders, awkward around each other. We were maturing fifth graders, shy around each other. We were seventh graders, with our ridiculous hair. Now we are eighth graders (well..you are:), and I want you to be my best friend until I die. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you...for everything. You've helped me hold on to myself and to God when all I wanted to do was let go. Love you, Smee. </div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-30378004250579597022010-11-21T13:55:00.000-08:002010-11-21T13:55:04.583-08:00me. my life.So often, we lose sight of ourselves. Like, you know. "Conforming." That word that big Christians use to describe something that everybody does: Changing. Not maturing, not growing up, but changing in the sense of unconsciously making your life look like someone else's life, making your quirks like someone else's quirks. You know how that goes. We've all done it. Conforming. Comparing. Changing. <br />
<br />
I'll use a simple example from my own life. All my life, I've always left my hair down, done nothing to it. I've always let frizz control it, because I never knew anything other than that. The only variety I had was sometimes I pinned back my bangs, with the bobby pin dorkily sticking out from my head. And you know what? I didn't really care. And my hair was so healthy - true, it looked rather unattractive. But like I said I didn't care. Now I tease my hair to ridiculous heights; I bouffant it; I french braid my bangs instead of clamping them flat to my head with a bobby pin; I curl it; I straighten it; I crimp it. This is definitely not a bad thing. I thank the good Lord that I finally know how to do my hair. I can use another example that's not good, how I've tried to change so I'm more like everyone else.<br />
<br />
But Regina Spektor explained it quite well: <br />
<blockquote>everybody's features have somehow started blending, and everything is plastic, and everyone's sarcastic, and all your food is frozen, it needs to be defrosted.</blockquote>If everyone is like everyone else, then there's no such thing as freedom. If the world's definition of <em>normal </em>is <em>fake, </em>and everyone is obsessed with being <em>normal, </em>then there's no such thing as <em>real. </em><br />
<br />
I just can't do fake anymore. I've been down that road, and it leads nowhere. <br />
<br />
But you know, there's two sides of the spectrum. Faking fake, and faking real. Faking real is just as bad as faking fake; worse, maybe. Painting yourself as a person who you want everyone to see as perfect. Perfect religion. Perfect life. Perfect emotions always perfectly in control. Always with a perfect smile on your face, always with the perfect verse on your lips. <br />
<br />
I've also been there, and it only results in hopelessness, emptiness and desperation. <br />
<br />
When I try to be someone I'm not, whether it be the perfect Christian or the perfect Fake, everything gets screwed up. I get screwed up. I guess God just made it so that we are who we are, and we just have to accept that.<br />
<br />
Maybe I don't have enough money to have as many clothes as this girl does. Maybe I don't have enough hairspray to rat my hair into a brick wall. Maybe I'm not the skinniest, or the prettiest, or the funniest. There's <em>always </em>someone that in our eyes is "better" than us. Maybe they're five pounds lighter. Maybe their family is five dollars richer. But <em>so what. </em>I just have to learn to not care anymore. <br />
<br />
The only way to be real is to be me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0lEGHu_HLj4FNC5SdF-s_HHbt1AYmrySFEuXY_Ch4bqW9q3GhombBC95ifIcMeovI0BVYIR1OWPlYdf1l6aNXROnmRslgs7Uc5JeLYv5yBi1i6YtFdAArDtgUXmN3wa_tDCfQikGyKE/s1600/light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0lEGHu_HLj4FNC5SdF-s_HHbt1AYmrySFEuXY_Ch4bqW9q3GhombBC95ifIcMeovI0BVYIR1OWPlYdf1l6aNXROnmRslgs7Uc5JeLYv5yBi1i6YtFdAArDtgUXmN3wa_tDCfQikGyKE/s320/light.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">old picture.</span></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-62871794619017351282010-10-24T16:35:00.000-07:002010-10-24T16:35:56.070-07:00a point?<div align="center">What will I be doing twenty years from now? Where will I be? More importantly, who will I be?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Will any of this stuff that seems to take up my life even matter anymore? Will I have forgotten the drama that seems to be everywhere? Will I be able to look back on the things that made me cry and be able to laugh, or even smile?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Who are the people that will be surrounding me, twenty years from now? Will any of the friendships that I am investing in now last that long? </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Will I still be doing the things I'm doing right now twenty years from now? Am I spending my time doing the right things, the things that will stay with me?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Am I focusing on the things that should be focused on? Am I spending time on the relationships that really matter versus the ones that don't?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Sometimes you just gotta stop and ask, what am I doing that's worthwhile? I think we get caught up so easily in the things that are so pointless - drama, for instance. The whole she-said he-said cycle. Dont you just kinda get sick of that? Some people just love that, though. No offense, but I have never been able to stomach drama. Its stupid, and pointless, and half of the time it's completely ridiculous. You just gotta laugh at how immature some people can be. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"> I've mentioned my old diaries before - I read them and re-read them a lot. I used to be so obsessed with Webkinz. You know those cute little furry creatures that took over the world for a brief period of time? They were everywhere. Everyone had them. I was so caught up in saving up money so I could buy a Webkinz - then when I got my first one, I immediately started pooling my money so I could buy another one. I spent almost a hundred dollars on Webkinz. Now, just a year or two later, I've completely forgotten about all of my Webkinz - I lost them all. My account has long expired.<br />
<br />
See, I was so engrossed in Webkinz, it was like practically my life. There was one specific entry where I was completely flipping out because my mommy hadnt let me go on Webkinz for three days. Like I was saying I hated her because she didn't let me go on Webkinz. <br />
<br />
Pathetic? Yeah, I know. <br />
<br />
But it was just a phase. Webkinz: I thought it was life or death. But a short while later, I forgot about it. <br />
<br />
What if everything I think is important is really trivial? What if everything I spend my time on is pointless because a year later I will be doing completely different things? And how do I know what is important and what isnt?<br />
<br />
And that's rhetorical. I do know what's important and what's not.<br />
<br />
But it's so easy to get caught up in that, you know? Its so easy to <em>know </em>but to just not care anymore.<br />
<br />
Sorry for all the heavy posts lately - it's good to sit down and <em>write </em>after all the ditzy things that I do all the rest of the day. <br />
<br />
I do love you guys. Have a great Sunday night. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0RLVMJBnD9ew87YRv8wclz7ZE58TMr8fjEb_o6lACRPPTVcAEGXhgiz3JJOk5cMMMJyk3JWbtyX8Ie23Z6Fr47s117fth6XDZUzpZa5sJ3jHt2s1MxFuV2hnl8trNYK0x6AsksPVfYs/s1600/(.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0RLVMJBnD9ew87YRv8wclz7ZE58TMr8fjEb_o6lACRPPTVcAEGXhgiz3JJOk5cMMMJyk3JWbtyX8Ie23Z6Fr47s117fth6XDZUzpZa5sJ3jHt2s1MxFuV2hnl8trNYK0x6AsksPVfYs/s1600/(.jpg" /></a></div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-64095531309090253832010-09-30T17:08:00.000-07:002010-09-30T17:08:29.497-07:00thanks for messing up my mind<blockquote>whats wrong with the world, mama? -black eyed peas</blockquote>What do you do when people around you twist everything you say into a cruel or wrong or bad joke?<br />
<br />
"The bottom of this stupid pizza is crunchy"<br />
<br />
My "friends" turned that into something they laughed about for ages.<br />
<br />
What do you do when people talk about stuff that shouldnt be talked about and they do it as casually as if they were discussing what they are gonna have for lunch?<br />
<br />
What do you do when your "friend" tells you she french-kissed her boyfriend over the weekend, when you havent even held hands with a boy?<br />
<br />
What do you do when you show up at school wearing a scoop-necked t-shirt and then you see all the other girls parading around in short skirts and strapless tops?<br />
<br />
What do you do when you realize the people that hang around you are not good people and they are bad influences? <em>(I ignored them over lunch and ate with a different group of friends. They swore at me afterwards. Its uncomfortable to have someone hate you, did you know that?)</em><br />
<br />
What do you do when you get so fed up with the crap around you that you want to throw something or bash someones teeth in?<br />
<br />
Do you, can you, throw something or bash someones teeth in?<br />
<br />
Of course not.<br />
<br />
So what do you do?<br />
<br />
Hide it behind a grin, a forced laugh?<br />
<br />
Isnt this supposed to be getting easier, God?<br />
<br />
Because news flash...it isnt.Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-86702923266063644552010-09-22T15:05:00.000-07:002010-09-22T15:05:55.353-07:00a silent scream<div style="text-align: center;">Its funny how one place can feel like a second home, and another place not so different from the first place can feel so foreign. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Its funny how easily people judge other people not so different from themselves.<br />
<br />
Its funny how someone's day can be going great and then a single comment can completely ruin it.<br />
<br />
Its funny how thoughtless people can be. <br />
<br />
Its funny how fast words can pour out of a persons mouth when they're not thinking about what they're saying.<br />
<br />
Its funny how condescending people can act towards someone just a few years younger than them.<br />
<br />
Its funny how words - mere verbal syllables - can wound someone so acutely, how sounds can cut deeper than a knife.<br />
<br />
Its funny how someone can be so repulsed by someone else's behavior, but act that way themselves.<br />
<br />
Its funny how everyone tries so hard to be like everyone else. <br />
<br />
Its funny how cruel people can be to other people different from them.<br />
<br />
Its funny how a person can be so incredibly nice but has no friends because people judge him because of his weight.<br />
<br />
Its funny how I can write that sentence but still feel almost ashamed walking with him through the hallways.<br />
<br />
Its funny how people talk to someone, laugh with her, maybe even flirt with her - but completely back off when they find out she's two years younger than them.<br />
<br />
But its funny how some people couldnt care less if that someone was thirteen or fifteen.<br />
<br />
Its funny how vital appearence is<br />
<br />
Its funny how someone can live in a world and not understand any of it.<br />
<br />
Its funny how someone is forced to go from extreme shelterdness to extreme exposure and is expected to thrive.<br />
<br />
Its funny how someone can go their whole life without hearing a swear word and then grow accostomed to hearing curses as a casual part of conversation.<br />
<br />
Its funny how empty someone can feel.<br />
<br />
I dont understand. I go to school and I sit in classes and walk through hallways and get taught things by teachers, and I notice things. I write them down. I study them like I study chemistry. And after two and a half weeks I have more questions than I have had my whole life.<br />
<br />
This has nothing of substance in relation to this post. But sometimes people write things out of pure emotion even if it doesnt make sense, and thats what I'm about to do right now. I apologize.<br />
<br />
I've mentioned before how much I hate chemistry. Not the subject. The class.<br />
<br />
Well today a boy walked up to me and looked at my worksheet and saw my name printed on the top.<br />
<br />
Rebekah Shaffer.<br />
<br />
He said to the girl beside him, "what if you changed the 'a' to an 'i'? Rebekah Sh*tter." The people around him cracked up.<br />
<br />
And I turned around and I'm like, "It's Rebekah <em>Shaffer</em>." He and his friends are almost in tears because they were laughing so hard.<br />
<br />
And he goes, "Aren't those ts?"<br />
<br />
And I say, "Fs." And he goes, "Oh well they look like t's. Cya, Rebekah Sh*tter." And they all laugh again and walk back to their seats.<br />
<br />
That hurt. It hurt that they called me that, but it hurt more that they were laughing so hard at me. I have a lot of pride. I felt so angry. Yes, call me sensitive. but I get bothered by this stuff. That experience put a pain in my chest that hasnt gone away yet.<br />
<br />
And the little things people say hurt too. When someone calls you a b*tch cuz you accidently bump into them, that hurts. When people refer to you as as "you" because nobody knows who you are, that bothers me too.<br />
<br />
You know what I <em>cannot </em>stand?<br />
<br />
People treating me like I'm a child.<br />
<br />
Yes, I may be three years younger than you, but you do NOT have to treat me like I go to elementary school and sharpen crayons all day.<br />
<br />
And you know what, jerk? I may be three or four or maybe even five years younger than you. But YOU'RE the one who got a C- on the chemistry test. And you know what I got? An A. <br />
<br />
I'm NOT stupid. <br />
<br />
I dont understand. Any of this crap.<br />
<br />
Help?<br />
</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-82917403458682174632010-09-16T18:21:00.000-07:002010-09-16T18:21:50.122-07:00I have to say...God pulls through.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="267" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEqc91QTWADFS2fL8krhr5Ioa5ZPp7pbmR4c6_OGU1MLCzmXOmG_GQumN_YkKKjzYBLeAX_x2ukW72a_jlUrtCaiEaCPUlkSaLVmdaumQE26wvV5HHeYLYMNQuAQRYSCv10vg5feE6tI/s400/UGH.jpg" width="400" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yes. That's me. Still smiling. After two weeks of public school.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It didnt kill me, did it? In fact...I like it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Scratch that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I <em>love</em> it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love seeing my friends every day. (you read that right. I have friends!) I love the shiny halls. I love laughing so hard I can't breathe during lunch. I love the teachers. I love my classmates. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well, most of them. I hate chemistry. I'm in classes with people sixteen, seventeen, even eighteen years old and most of them are cool about it. But the honors chemistry students? Not so cool with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">First day, second period. Honors Chem. I walked in, and knew I would be in trouble. It got out in the class that I was thirteen and technically in eighth grade. The whole class interrogated me about why I was there. Literally, they asked, "Why the h*** are you here?!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nice choice of words, classmates-o-mine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyways. They haven't forgotten it. I can feel them watching me during quizzes and lectures. We correct quizzes by giving them to our partners to check. I know that my partner shares my quiz scores with everyone in the class afterwards. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because they're all so intent on watching the thirteen-year-old eighth grader.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel the pressure. I cried yesterday after school. I cried today. I will cry tomorrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the truth is, I love it. But its hard. I hate the pressure. I hate feeling like everyone is watching me. I hate that all the juniors and seniors know about me and my "smartness". (by the way. I'm not smart.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just today on the bus, I was hanging with my bud Brian and I met a whole bunch of his friends, one of who was in my AP English class. He asked me, "Bekah, you're a new junior?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I hated to say the words that came out of my mouth next, but I couldnt lie. "No, I'm a freshman."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He swore. Not surprisingly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But what he said next stuck out at me- "Wow, thanks for making me feel stupid."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wish that I could be his age, so that I wouldnt cause that kind of feeling in people. Because who likes to hang around someone who makes you feel stupid? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the rest of my classes I love. I love the people in my Algebra II class. Oleg, Jessica, Natalie, Shae. Love, love, love. Funniest teacher ever. Geometry. Not so much. They're all older and think they're so cool cuz they can add numbers in their head. AP English. Amazing. Tons of amazing people. Epic teacher. AP Geography. Ehh. Not bad. World History Reading with Mr. Haropat = funn (: .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wrote this down for the sake of rememberance...I remember how scared I was. I remember how terrible the first day was. I remember how many hard days I had. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it's only gotta get easier from here. Thank God. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Doesn't mean I'm not gonna have hard days, and I'm gonna cry some more...but for now. I need sleep. (:</div>Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7604954442354384068.post-90708465115401508452010-09-06T07:45:00.000-07:002010-09-06T07:45:36.571-07:00be brave? ehhh.Ever done something you dont want to do? No seriously...I'm not talking about doing the dishes when you want to hang with a friend. I'm talking about something a little bigger. Even having a sleepover with a friend you don't really like, and listening to her when you just want her to leave. That counts. <br />
<br />
How about a new school? How about skipping a grade? How about starting a new highschool as a young freshman and enrolling in classes with juniors and seniors? Does that sound fun? Does that sound enjoyable? Hmm?<br />
<br />
No? Yeah. It doesnt sound fun to me either. <br />
<br />
Huge school. Tons of kids - over three hundred in the ninth grade. All of them know each other. I'm dead serious. <br />
<br />
I dont have a ton to say right now. I overthink everything, therefore I'm extremely nervous. <br />
<br />
Its so much easier to stay within your comfort zone then do something hard. But I feel like God <em>wants </em>me to do this. He has been giving me little signs, little pushes. Homeschooling has nothing for me anymore. It might be the right way for some people. But I'm tired of the shelter, I need the real world in order to <em>be </em>real. I'm not saying homeschooling isn't the real world. But it definitely isn't a realistic world. Its too good.<br />
<br />
So...you are just sitting there reading this, maybe feeling a little sympathy. Maybe. But I'm sitting here writing this and feeling a lot of fear. So yeah. We'll see how this goes.Bekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863187635579987957noreply@blogger.com13