(The Duke and Dauphin)

The play was simply spectacular: I'm so happy I decided to try out for it. The cast became my second family, and I'm going to miss spending hours with them after school every day. It's been a long journey, but a rewarding one. The play could not have gone better. Three of the performances were completely sold out. This kinda raised the stakes though.

I had one nervous break down the day before opening night. During the one of the songs, I have to jump off of a flat that is four feet into the air. Did I mention there are four of us on that flat? Plus, we're jumping over someone who is pretending to be asleep. I wanted to practice jumping off before we did a run through, but I couldn't do it. I just stood up there freaking myself out. I had K come up and jump with me, and even then I couldn't do it. Then J. came and kinda gave me a pep talk. The three of us were supposed to jump off together, but, once again, I couldn't jump off. By this time I was so nervous about not being able to do this simple thing once the time came. Eventually my director came over and was going to help me jump off; I fell apart. I ran off stage crying. I felt very embarrassed. My director found me and offered an alternative instead of jumping, but I wasn't ready to take the easy way out. The good news is I jumped off for every performance.

I loved being the Duke; even though, it meant I had to be a man. The makeup artist had fun trying to make me look more manly, and when she was finished she would say, "You look so pretty...I mean handsome." I couldn't take myself seriously in the makeup until I put on the costume. The side burns were hilarious though, and ripping them off was even better. I even dyed my hair to match them. I didn't know how great it was to be somebody different on stage. Once I was on stage it wasn't me who was acting: I was the Duke.

The cast had so much fun back stage. We would mouth the words to every song and dance if we knew the choreography. Of course, then there were the numerous "dance parties" we had while getting our makeup done. Did I mention how many inside jokes we started? I would share, but I'm afraid none of you would get them haha.

Some of the time E. and I had to pretend to have conversations until our lines came, so we would start talking about what we were going to do once we bought the pixie dust, and how we were going to steal Billy's watch, then it turned into us mouthing, "Watermelon jello chocolate peanut butter." One of us would respond, "No not the chocolate. I can't eat that." Both of us are lactards.

(product of one of the inside jokes)

(We're home!)

(Stroking the facial hair)

After the last performance, the guys take down the set, and the girls take care of the costumes. While the guys were still working, a bunch of us stood around talking and having a great time joking around. I think at one point we all broke out into the hokey-pokey. Of course, by then it was midnight. I met one of J's friends, Stevie (I'll use his nickname because it's nowhere near his actual name). We actually hit it off and spent most of the night talking. I drove with him to the school and then to Denny's. At Denny's, I crashed: The endorphins completely wore off, and I wanted to go to sleep so bad. But then the food came, so that made everything all better. Who knew breakfast at 2 a.m. could taste so good? Stevie came over to sit with me; I ditched him shortly after we got to Denny's to go sit with my sister. Well I wouldn't say ditched: I was sharing food with my sister, and I hate eating in front of people especially guys. Around 3 we all decided it was time to go home. Hugs and good byes were exchanged (multiple times I might add), and then T. drove my sister and I home. I almost fell asleep in the car.

So now I find myself having MakeBelieve withdrawals and talking about group therapy with the cast. It's hard to believe the sort of attachment and bond that forms during rehearsals. All the years I wasn't in the play, I hated everyone who was in it. The reason for that was mostly because they had what I wanted. They were a family and had so much fun together. This year I finally got the chance to be apart of that, and I loved every minute. I got to know the cast so well and developed friendships I never thought possible. It also gave me a chance to show them a side of me that no one has ever seen before. I just wish it wasn't over yet.

I feel so ugly lately. I have my good days, which are few and far between. But the more I look in the mirror, the more I hate how I look. I just feel out of place with everyone else. I look at my sister S., she's absolutely gorgeous, and she knows it. She's so confident. So perfect. Perfect hair, perfect body, perfect face, perfect smile, perfect everything. I keep telling her she's the one who got all the looks in the family; she just laughs. But she knows it's true. She's the one every one's after (especially guys). Just an example, there was this one guy I talked to a lot and really liked. One day we were talking, and he mentioned he like my sister S. That hurt. I'm tired of trying to keep up with her.

Let's start talking about the girly stuff. If there are any guys reading my blog, I'd turn back now.

There's a lot of talk to days about being fit, and what the perfect body shape is. My body is around model skinny, which goes great with my height (yeah...right). For awhile it hasn't really bothered me, and I'm not really interested in gaining a lot of weight. But, let's be frank, with a skinny physic I have no assets. Yes, girls, you know what I'm talking about. It's so annoying, especially when my sister makes fun of me for it: This, at least, I manage to laugh off. The jokes aren't really jokes; they speak the truth.

Let's move on to my smile. My teeth are horribly crooked: It's ridiculous. I can't tell you how many people especially little kids make comments about them. "Why don't you get braces." I've heard that so much it's not even funny. You want to give me the money for that? Go ahead, be my guest. I've pretty much stopped smiling with my teeth showing. The only time I do is if I'm far enough away from the camera, and I can look straight on.

How can you look at me when I can't stand myself?

I can't tell you how glad I am that P. has really only seen pictures so far. I'm so scared that once we're in person, he'll realize how horrifying I really am. They say you're your own toughest critic. Does it really matter what others think if you're not comfortable with yourself? I'm ready to put a paper bag over my head and call it an instant makeover.

How do you start being confident and comfortable with how you look?

How many of us use words like these to bring others down? How many of us hear these words on a regular basis? Maybe they aren't these exact words: Maybe they're little comments, a look someone gives us, or the angry tirades of friends and family members. How far are we willing to go to make other people feel worthless? No one likes feeling worthless. No one. Making people feel worthless has an affect on how they view themselves.

I was standing behind the couch watching The Hills with my sisters M. and S. My phone alerted that I just received a text. I look down, and it's from P., so immediately I have a huge smile on my face (I can't help it). S. looks over at me and asks who I was texting. Oh come on S., like you can't tell. The smile on my face totally gives it away. I didn't respond, and just kept smiling. Somehow my smiling set her off: Don't ask me how. Right away I was being accused of being a skank. I stood there. Then she started bring up my past to the point where I couldn't just stand there anymore.

I started to defend myself, which only got M. involved. She sided with S. I felt so attacked by them; they didn't know anything, and here they are accusing me of stuff and bring up my past. "Oh my gosh Lonely Heart, don't take things so personally. I was only teasing." Excuse me?! Oh so I was supposed to just laugh this off while you call me a skank. Sure, S. Sure. There was nothing in the tone of her voice that would lead me to believe she was teasing. And what she was bring up was not teasing material. She crossed the line and thought she could cover things up with the lame excuse of teasing.

You don't bring up some one's past for the sake of good-old fashioned-humorous fun. I'm sorry, but in my book that's not the way things work, so I beg your pardon for defending myself.

I stood there for another minute or two. She gave me a smug look and turned her attention to the TV. In the solitude of my room, I shed a few tears, took a deep breath, and tried not to let what she said bug me so much. It's hard not to let things that my sisters say not get under my skin especially when they gang up on me. And my futile attempts to defend myself always fail. It's like nothing I do or say can make them stop. Do they enjoy making me feel like nothing? Like I'm worthless?

Why do people feel the need to say horrible things about others? Ever heard of what goes around come around? Is it really that fun to pick on other people?

I have to speak up about something that has been bothering me a lot lately: Abortion. I know some people are tired of hearing about this and just want women to have their own choice and be done with the matter, but I'm not about the stand here and let millions of children die. Since when do we have to right to say who is human and who isn't? Who the hell do we think we are? That a woman can get pregnant and decide the baby isn't worth keeping. What's worse is if the woman finds out her child has a disability and decides to abort the pregnancy. What is the world coming to?

If you're going to engage in premarital sex, then you're going to risk getting pregnant. I hear abstinence is a great way to avoid getting pregnant if you don't want to have kids just yet. Why not put the baby up for adoption if you really don't want him/her that bad? It's way better then killing the child because, let's be honest, abortion is murder. I don't care how many reasons you have justifying abortion.

The newest form of abortion is the partial birth abortion. This sickens me.
http://www.nrlc.org/ABORTION/pba/diagram.html
Here are some diagrams detailing what happens during a partial birth abortion. Or here's the latest way to murder your child: Telling a nurse to go put the newborn baby in the morgue. The baby is left there for hours until he/she dies. How inhumane is that? Here's a link on the negative effects abortion has on women. http://www.abortionfacts.com/literature/literature_928YC.asp. Personally, I think many people over look the effects of abortion. Just because a woman has the choice, doesn't mean it's the right thing to do.

I wanted to find this one article written about the legalization of murdering unwanted wives. It was a satire on abortion and took it to the extreme to show how wrong abortion really is. But I will just have to settle with giving you all the link to A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.
http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html


On March 31, my sister and I participated in Red Envelope Day. An empty red envelope was to be sent to President Obama. Each red envelope represents a child that died because of an abortion. On the back of the envelope, we were supposed to write, "This envelope represents one child who died because of an abortion. It is empty because the life that was taken is now unable to be a part of our world." Together, my sister and I went to the mailbox, prayed over the envelopes, and put them in.

Think about this, how would you feel if you were unwanted?

Tagged by Alayna Whisper

Flashback Time:

I was born on May 26 at 4:00 in the afternoon. I almost died in the womb (see my post Take a Walk With Me for more details). I'm the middle child with two older sisters and a younger sister and brother. To be honest, I don't really remember much of my childhood.

At age 7 or so, I remember wanting to play with one of my older sisters, and she told me, "I hate you. Go away." At that point in my life, my family had been living with my grandparents for a couple years. I remember my dad force feeding my peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Little did he know that when he left the kitchen I threw it away. I discovered my left eye wasn't really "working," so I had to get glasses and wear a patch to make my left eye stronger. We bought our first house.

At age 9, I went to PCCS after two years of homeschooling. I started as a 3rd grader and ended up in 2nd grade. My parents decided 3rd grade was a little too hard for me. I was the only girl until after Christmas, when M. joined my class (she's the one in the bright blue dress from my last post).

Skipping ahead, ages 11-15 can be summed up in one word: Drama. Let's have three cheers for the teenage years =/. I had the problem with being impulsive and too opinionated, which caused three girls to hate me with a passion. And at least two of them still do. One notable thing about age 13 was a little thing people like to call depression. That affected my life so much, and there are things I wish I could erase. In 2004, my Uncle lost his battle with leukemia at the age of 32: The funeral was held just days after my family moved into the house we're currently living in.

Nothing special about age 16. I didn't feel any different: I didn't even have a party. I found out I was lactose intolerant aka a lactard. I decided on massage therapy for a career. Oh and I got my permit.

Now for the amazing year when I turned 17. A lot has happened both good and bad. I kinda don' t know where to begin --friend problems, guys, school, etc. Life in a sense blew up in my face so to speak. The best thing I did was get this blog. I "met" P. over the summer as you all know. Yeah I could go on, but that would be boring.

Well this was probably an epic fail, but it's really hard to remember things. And I'm sure once I post this a million memories will come flooding back.

Without further ado I tag: Lenore, Jocelyn, Roxy Motion, and Wandering Child

http://twitter.com/LonelyHeart17

I just got a twitter, so if you have one let me know.

On March 28, my school had an event called Protocol. I usually end up describing it as like Prom just without the dancing. But in reality, it's nothing like Prom. We go out to a nice restaurant and then out to a play. Sounds like good fun right? Here's the catch: We get assigned escorts. After all, it's not meant to be a dating situation. It's nerve wracking standing there and seeing the envelops being handed out to the guys. Who know's who you'll end up with. This year I was fortunate enough to have O. be my escort. He was great!

We all went out to eat at the Georgian Room and then to see Hello Dolly. The food was simply amazing, and the play was hilarious. Compared to last year, my night was perfect. I've known O. for awhile, but I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him one on one. It wasn't awkward at all (he's usually pretty quiet). We shared some good laughs and talked about random stuff.

I didn't want the evening to ever end: It all seemed to surreal. When I got home, it was so hard to take off the dress, wash the makeup off, and brush out my hair. A bunch of us go to the same church, so we had the crazy idea to where our dresses and tuxes. I had the time of my life, and if I could relive one day of my life this would be it.

So here are some of the pictures that were taken throughout the evening. Enjoy = ]

The tenacious Three - Junior girls

"The Great Gatsby"

I was going for the 1940s look (R. and I)

O. and I at our table

I haven't had a lot of time to get on here, so I'm sorry. But I have Spring break next week = D. I'll will hopefully be blogging a little more: I have a lot to talk about.