Revamp

And....its official.

I'm a crazy person.

This. This is what happens when I can't sleep and my brain wont shut up.

Since if I do ANY more English catch-up my brain will explode, I revamp my blog.

I know I mentioned something about moving to Livefyre, but since I'm a cheapskate and spend practically my entire paycheck on shoes or food (notice how I didn't say 'and'. Yeah. I would choose cute shoes over food any day), I don't have the money to spend on a domain name. So I'm stuck here on Blogger, because I cannot for the life of me figure out how Wordpress works...

So here it is. I like it. It doesn't look quite as dark and depressing as it used to, a bit more modern and professional.

I'm going to try to get to the next part of my NYC trip, but Mock Trial started back this week, so I'm not sure when I'm going to have anymore free time.

New York City, Empire Invitational -- Part One

This is the view from the Kings County Court house in Brooklyn. My mommy took it.

Here we are, a month after Empire, and I'm just NOW getting around writing it up. There is SO. MUCH. I'm talking, 6 days worth of amazing-fantastic-ness. We'll take it day by day, yeah?

Wednesday, Day One: The 17 Hour Road Trip

I honestly don't remember a lot from this day.... Most likely because I was so jacked up on Dramamine so I didn't hurl in the back of anyone's car. I remember getting up that morning, at 5 FLIPPING A.M., throwing what I thought was my stuff in my car, and driving over to Scott's house (in the freezing rain, I might add) only to be shuffled into another car, and we were on our way. Thats when I got out my Snuggie, Smartwater (I really dont think it tastes better than regular water, it just hold more), and Dramamine. And I was out like a light.

The first stop was...Well, I have no idea. I vaguely recall it being McDonalds, and still wet and cold, but thats really all. Oh, and I had to pee. I really, REALLY had to go pee.

Back in the car, back to sleep for me. Now, let me just explain something here. I was in the all boys car. Except for Miss Sue, who was driving. I can handle them on a good day. Usually. Well, at least one of them.

But you don't touch my teddy bear and live, buddy. NO. Harvey is sacred. And yes, he is a stuffed panda bear who wears a suit-vest. I know, I have problems. So naturally, when said boy decided he thinks it would be fun to try and grab Harvey out of my arms...He gets smacked around a bit.

What? I blame the drugs.

That's really the last thing I remember until we hit Pennsylvania. And may I just say, I don't know how those people survive. THERE IS NO FOOD WHATSOEVER IN PENNSYLVANIA. Nowhere. Especially up near the Jersey state line, you know, Quakertown?

On that note, did you also know they have buggy parking at Walmart in Quackerville? It was an experience.

After roughly 12 hours of pretty much straight driving, we decide we have to eat, or else we will die. So, we start looking around for ANYTHING except McDonald's, as we've been to three already that day. Now by that time, my drugs had worn off. And I was starving. Really, really starving. I mean, I'd been dead asleep for the entire 12 hours we'd been driving, except for when they managed to drag me out of the car and into a gas station or whatever. At one point, I don't think I even bothered to put on shoes.

Me + Car Sickness Drugs = Hilarity for everyone around me.

Where was I? Oh yes. Food. We got off on EVERY SINGLE EXIT around the state line, and we could not find food. At all. And then, it starts raining. Again. So, you know, more fun.

And FINALLY, 2 feet from the state line, we find this little...I guess you could say town, but that's not the word I would use. And we think, "SURELY, somewhere in this town there's a place to eat."

So we park, get out of the cars, in the rain. Now, let me just say, that when I'm hungry, coming off of sleeping drugs, wet, and cold, I'm not exactly a fun person to be around. I just wanted food and out of the rain. Huddling under Stephanie's umbrella with her, we start out. And we pass by quite a few businesses, a post office, ATM machine or two, and about 16 different dive bars and 3 Irish pubs. But no restaurants. By this point, I couldn't tell who was more irritable, me or Stephy. So we're bringing up the rear, in the pouring rain, mostly completely soaked.

I don't recall the exact details, but I think Michelle finally sent Scott into a campaigning office to ask for directions.

And so finally, we get to this tiny hole-in-the-wall diner. Well, more like a pizza shack. If you've ever been to a city, you'll know what I'm talking about. When you first come in, there's the kitchen and where you pay, with only enough room to squeeze by the counter in a single file line? Think "Pizza My Heart", and then think smaller.

So, we get in, get to a table in the side part of the pizzeria, and sit down. After about 2 seconds of being in the place, you could tell we were almost in Jersey.

"SYLVIA, YA GANNA STAND AROUND AND YACK ALL DAY, OR ARE YA GANNA PICK UP THE ORDERS?"

"ALRIGHT VINNY, I'M COMIN'! DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS INA BUNCH!"

Add a heavy south-side Jersey accent, subtract EVERY SINGLE "r" sound, and there you have it.

I nearly DIED laughing.

After we wait around for 15 minutes, we finally get our order taken. I don't remember what I got, or if it was any good, but at this point? Food was food. I do, however, remember there being dirt in the water. Yeah. Welcome to New Jersey, where nothing's actually "new".

After that, it was back on the road. Vivian and I switched, so I could sleep. I knew after eating, the boys would be off the wall with energy, and I figured she would be too. So there was the fun car, and the sleeping car.

I bet you can guess which one I was in.

A few hours (okay, 4 or 5 or...I have no idea), I wake up to the stopping car. Apparently, when entering New York, you have to pay a toll. I didn't know this, so I wake up, freaking out that I'd missed the New York skyline. I look outside and see...smog. And industrial buildings. We're still in Jersey. So I make Scott promise to wake me up when we get close. And back to sleep I go.

Now, let me just tell you this. If you've never seen a New York skyline, make sure you put it on your 'To Do Before I Die' list. Because even at midnight, covered in a bit of haze, its amazing.

Then we entered the city. It really is the city that never sleeps. People rushing everywhere, vendors, taxis, sirens. I fell in love.

I am a New Yorker. Every pore, every fiber of my being is a New Yorker. I love the noise. I love the dirt. I love the smell. I love crazy people. I love every single thing about New York. It just makes me, me.

Taxi drivers, yelling, honking, policemen breaking up various fights, neon lights of open signs, everything about it screams "LIVE HERE". But that's another story for another time.

We finally got to the hotel, drug out stuff in, and stood around in the lobby while someone checked us in. You know whats really nice about posh hotels? Airline pilots that stay there. Because they are REALLY cute.

Morning after the great hunt for ice. We suck at taking pictures.

Moving on. After we got checked in, we went up to our rooms. And of COURSE, went on late night adventures hunting for an ice machine that actually works.

Next time, we talk about Day Two. Practice, hotel hallways, and exploring the city.

The Day We Realized Her Love, and Smiled

And here it is.

The final chapter of my segment on Meaghan.

When I say final, I don't mean I'll never talk about it again. I'm sure I'll mention her many, MANY more times through my entire life. And I can pretty much guarantee I'll devote some more posts to this amazing woman.

But for now, I think it's time I let Meg rest.

On August 29th, 2011, Meaghan Rhea Jones passed away. That week, She Went To Heaven, and the World Cried. September 2nd was The Day I Lost It, and The Day I Got It Back. 

Today is October 12th.

Today is the day that I have finally gained acceptance. I dont like it, but I've accepted it.

Today is the day that I realized that even after death, life goes on. Meaghan will always be remembered and loved dearly, but she's in a better place now.

Today is the day, that I smiled.

I smiled at the memories she and I have made. Sure, maybe we don't have as many as most people, but I revel in the fact that I have any at all. So many people's lives weren't touched my Meg. And for that, I am truly sorry.

I smile when I think of her, up there in Heaven, having the time of her everlasting life.

I smile when I think that someday, we all will be with her again.

And I smile when I see someone else remembering her too.

I love you Meghan. Forever, and always.

Suits, Ties, and Road Trips Yet to Come

Its been a month now. A month since Meg, a month since I've written. But it seems like forever.

I meant to write, I really did! I just got really caught up in life, and everything. And by life, I mean chemistry. And by chemistry, I mean Chem 1 is kicking my tush.

Seriously. 

But I wont lie, I did find time to write. Just...not on here. Lately, I've found a new love of my life. No, there shall never be anyone who can take the place of David Tennant or Doctor Who, but let me tell you.

Its a close second. Really close. 

I, of course, and talking about Gabriel Macht and "Suits". I love him. And I will marry him. AND YES, IN MY MIND HE ISNT ALREADY MARRIED WITH KIDS, OKAY????

Creepy stalker moment over, and on we go.

The reason I'm selling you on Suits, is to explain the reason why I haven't been writing on here. I've been busy writing not only in my own novel, but...FanFiction. I finally broke down, and wrote a fanfic.

And, you know, maybe someday, I'll let someone other than my editor (who by the way never sent me back the edits and corrections, just saying) read it. But for now, its personal and private.

In other news, I would just like to take this opportunity to point out, that, in less than two weeks from right this very second, I will be entering NEW. YORK. CITY.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As you can tell, I'm very excited about this. Actually, the English language has yet to invent a word to describe how I'm feeling about this. Though they have come close...Elated, ecstatic, BLOODY BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS WITH JOY, you get the jist.

A twelve hour car ride might just kill me though.

Moving on.


A while back (a good long while, actually), we Mock Trialers held a dance. A homeschool dance.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.

Though, you have to give us homeschoolers some credit. Not all of us are backwards and live on farms, and treat women as if they should be sheltered from everything in life.

We are not mormons.

Most of us know how to have fun. A lot of fun. A WHOLE lot of fun, actually.


As you can clearly see.

The dance was a fundraiser of sorts to help us get to New York. And we raised a considerable amount of funds.

The dance was dedicated to Meaghan. Which made it all the more special, because she loved dances. And we loved her.

In closing (yes, I'm wrapping it up, mainly because I haven't written anything this rubbish in a while), I would just like to say thank you for making it this far. Because this post...Well, it sucked.

The Day I Lost It, and the Day I Got It Back: Part Two

Yep. That's my Meg. Wearing my scarf as a turban. :)

 Day Five: Friday, Part Two


"Remember where we are now.
Open your eyes,
& take it all in.
Remember where we are now.
This is where your life begins."

 When you're at a Celebration of Life for one of your closest friends, a lot goes through your mind. Mostly, memories.

"Remember when she talked me out of trapping the Signal Mountain team in the stairwell at state?"

There was a table, that had tons of stuff from her room on it. A poster of Audrey Hepburn, Chick-fil-a cups, Starbucks cups, her leopard print trench coat, her Aldo heels....Silver sparkly TOMS that matched both mine and Viv's. Mine were $12 knock-offs, of course. I loved hers, and of course I had to be just like my Meg. I walked by it 4 or 5 times with Viv and Seth, just...Taking in all that was Meaghan. Scarves, boots, heels, and Hepburn. We were going to have Breakfast at Tiffany's on 5th Ave when we went to NYC in October. Just like in the movies.


"Remember when we made that crazy dance-rave video at 4 a.m. at the Marriott?"

After everyone had mulled around for a while, the service started. First off, we sang. "I Can Only Imagine." And I. Lost it. Have you ever cried so hard you couldn't breathe? That your entire body shakes violently with every sob, and you have to hold on to something, anything, to keep from ending up in the floor with your skirt over your head?

I do now.

It took both Vivian and Amanda to hold me up. I just...lost it. I broke down. After 5 days of pushing it to the back of my mind, trying to make myself believe that it wasn't real, that it was all just some sick joke, or a really bad dream...Every emotion I had been suppressing over those five days, and the past 4 years of my life, just came pouring through all at once.

And I couldn't control it. Me. For once in my life, my emotions controlled me. And you know what? That's okay. Everyone has to let go once and a while. And I did. I cried for 8 minutes straight. And it felt amazing.

After the songs were all over, I got it together. No more gut-wrenching sobs, just silent tears. And thats okay too. I let them fall. I let them fall through the service, through the prayer. I clenched onto Viv's arm and we cried together. No one should have to cry alone.

And then came Josh.

"Remember when she sang "My Fair Lady" with us in the conference room?" 

Meaghan's oldest brother came onto the stage, and he gave his speech. But first, he read us a letter. A letter from our coach, Scott, who was currently stuck in the middle of the Caribbean. And it was beautiful. I don't remember a lot of it, just that he missed her more than she knew. And he and Michelle were both so sorry that they couldn't be there. "...The tears are flowing freely now, and I fear that they will never stop. We love you Meg."

As were mine, Scott, as were mine.

Then Josh gave his speech. He talked about how Meg would always beat him up when they were little. "...She had this tactic, you know. When ever she wanted to fight, she would fall back on her back and kick the living daylights outta me! She fought dirty...I never could bring myself to tell the world that my little sister beat me up!" He talked about her love for her family, her love for her friends, her love for God. "She was a student first. To some of you she was Meg, the crazy redhead who wasn't afraid of anything. To others, she was a daughter, a granddaughter. Some, she was a best friend." And then he looked over to me, Hannah, Steph, Abby, Amanda, and Viv. "And to you guys, she was 'Mommy'. And she loved you guys. More than you can imagine." We all lost it here. For those of you who don't know, allow me to explain.

Meg was our rock, in Mock Trial. She was so much more than a coach. She was your best friend, and your worst enemy. You did NOT want to cross this redhead. She did our hair, taught us not only how to give an opening and make your cross witness cry, but she taught you about life too. How to walk in 4" Loubioutins, what color lipstick you should wear, and the best way to get downtown when you get lost and try to drive to Bryan College instead of regional competition. She always used to joke that we were her adoptive daughters, and she was our "Mommy".  And let me tell you. We loved our Mommy.

Part Three is coming soon. Promise.

The Day I Lost It, and the Day I Got It Back: Part One

This is the picture I'm sketching of Meg.

Day Five: Friday, Part One

"Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother.
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and,
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no,
Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby."

This was the day Meg was buried. 

10 a.m. I got to the chapel in the cemetery where she was to be buried.  I sat with my team in the front, and I realized I had never heard all of us so quiet. No one was laughing, no one was crying. Not yet anyway. The only thing you could hear was the click of the fan above us, and the occasional coo of a baby.

It was a small chapel. There was plaques all up and down the wall, with names and birthdates followed by death dates all up and down the entire room. And silence. I couldn't help but think about Doctor Who in that moment; how Meg had to explain to me that SILENCE was a monster/alien thingy, not actual silence. She loved Doctor Who. She's the one who introduced me to it...I digress. They'll be a few more posts in this series on Meg, and thats the place for the fluffy fun stuff.

About 15 minutes passed. More people filed in. And then came the casket. Inside that casket was my Meg. I still didn't loose it. Following the casket was her family, inner and outer. Her mom, dad, grandparents. Uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews. Then her brothers. Josh was holding it together, and Seth just looked....Hollow. Empty inside. He made eye contact with me for just a second, and gave a small, sad smile. I didn't loose it. Once they were all filled in and seated, the pastor started talking about Megs life. Her beautiful, wonderful life that had abruptly come to a close. While he was talking, Hannah grabbed my arm. None of us were full out sobbing. This wasn't the time nor the place, so we just silently let the tears flow.

After the pastor was done speaking, friends of Meaghan were asked to leave, as the actual graveside was for family only. So, we all trod outside where we stand around, hug each other, and ask if someone other than yourself is okay. I swear, I was asked that more times than I can count. 60 or so hugs later, my team and I decide that we'll go to Megs favorite restaurant for lunch. Chick-fil-a. I remember when she smuggled an entire large sweet tea from Chick-fil-a into the movie theater when we saw Captain America.

While we were there, it seemed like everything was back to normal. Laughing, joking, smiling. Oblivious to the sadness that had yet to fall.

"So put on your best boys, and I'll wear my pearls.
What I never did is done."

The Week When She Went to Heaven, and the World Cried

"If I die young, bury me in satin.
Lay me down on a, bed of roses.
Sink me in the river, at dawn.
Send me away with the words of a love song."

I suppose its about time that I tell all of you the story of Meaghan.

My Meg was just 20 years old when she died.  Monday, August 29th, 2011, my Meg was just...Gone. My mommy, my closest friend, my sister, my mentor. The story from my point of view is lacking. Nothing in comparison to the P.O.V. that her family is going through. But this is what I know, what I've lived through, the week I've had. 

Day One: Monday. 
A normal day. Hadn't talked with Meg since before she went on vacation. I regret that. But I had been to Mock Trial that night, and expected to see her there. I had even brought my empire outfit to receive her seal of approval. But she wasn't there. Her mom said she was sick, and since she had been out for the past week sick, I guess none of use gave much thought to it. That night, at 1:08 a.m., I got a call from Hannah T. A call that I missed. I missed it because I was stupidly watching the Late Late Show. But Han left me a voicemail. Now if you know me, then you know that I NEVER check my voicemail. But for some reason, that night I decided to (I guess a phone call after midnight can do that to you). And I heard...Oh God, what I heard.... "Hey girl...Meg...Meaghan...um...was feeling sick tonight and they took her to the hospital. But...she...she didn't make it. Meg passed away, Zae. If you have any questions just call me back okay? I just didn't want you to find out on Facebook. I love you." That message is permanently burned into my brain. Her voice was so shaky. I didn't believe it at first. You know how in the movies, they always ask the person to sit down before they give them the bad news? I never got that. But now I do. Because if you don't sit down, you fall down. Hard. You start shaking all over, and your legs just...Give way. Like they aren't there anymore. I'll never forget the first time I said it out loud. I walked downstairs to tell my mom.
"Mom...." I guess my face gave something away.
Silence for about 2 minutes. She didn't say anything.
"Meaghan...Meagan's dead."
I never want to feel that ways again. Openly admitting to yourself and the world something like that, is like accepting it. Taking defeat. And I was NOT ready to give up on hope yet. After explaining that I knew nothing to my mother, I called Hannah back. We only talked for a few minutes, discussing what we both didn't know, and wondering how we were going to get in touch with out Mock Trail coach, Scott, and his wife, Michelle, who were both stuck in the middle of the Caribbean. After hanging up with Han, I can honestly say that all I remember is combing though Facebook for anymore information, and finding none. The rest of the night was a blur.

Day Two: Tuesday.
Nothing really happened that day. We got more information. The medical examiner was performing some tests, none of which were conclusive yet. We found out some more events that had taken place Monday night. Meg was only in pain for a few hours before God called her home. She died en route to the hospital in the back of her family's car. They had stopped at a fire station to try and get help when she stopped breathing. Her dad said that the doctors thought she died of either lymphoma or possible leukemia. They didnt know for sure yet. I had yet to cry by this day, but on my way home from the grocery store, I made the horrendous mistake of turning on the radio. "If I Die Young" was playing, and I lost it. I had to pull over. I was crying too hard to even distinguish the yellow lines and the white ones.

Day Three: Wednesday.
This was the day we finally found out the diagnosis of her death. "She was a victim of a very rapid, all inclusive form of leukemia that overwhelmed her body. It was literally in every part of her including lungs, heart, liver, spleen and even into her bone marrow. We are so blessed that the Lord took her home. But we are also so thankful that since this was not known and undiagnosed, and that she did not have any symptoms, that she was able to live the final days and weeks enjoying life as she always did and that we as a family were able to spend this last summer traveling and enjoying her company. We also have been told that even if we had known and diagnosed this condition in the last month, that it would not have made a difference because the outcome would most probably been the same. God is so good to keep her strong and vibrant these last months so that she could live the remaining time as only Meaghan would have done." We also found out the times and places of her viewing, graveside, and celebration of life this day. Communication was finally made with Scott and Michelle, who wouldn't be able to make it home until the following Sunday. 

"And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom,
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger."

Day Four: Thursday.
The day of Megs viewing. It was surreal, almost. I wore my 4 inch heels she loved, and fought for me to be able to wear them in trial. She had a matching pair. I was immediately greeted upon arrival by Josh, Meg's older brother by just 13 months. He had taken it hard. So many flowers...So much sadness. And so much joy. Megs dad, Pat, has a very strong faith. He loved his little girl so much. He was laughing and telling stories about his beautiful daughter. The love a father has for his daughter is amazing. So different that the love a mother has. Both equal, just different. Theresa...When you hugged her, you could feel her pain. I didn't know such pain could exist. And Seth...Oh Seth. Megs 15 year old brother. They were so close. I'm not entirely sure how he's taken it. He seems like the same old Seth, laughing and joking. But every now and again, you can see a shadow cross over his face. And just for a second, you can see all the pain in the world showing through. I gave him more hugs than anyone in the world that night. I can't take Megs place, nor will I ever try. But I can try and love you as much as she did, though I'll fall sadly short. No one had a heart like Meaghan. No one can love like Meaghan could. I finally walked into the room that held her open casket. She looked so...I cant even describe it. Sad isnt the word, but neither is content. Somewhere in the middle.Like she had a secret that she couldn't tell anyone. And she never got to do so many things...But she's living out her dreams in Heaven right now. I know she is.


"So put on your best boys, and I'll wear my pearls.
What I never did is done."
I can't write anymore tonight. Tomorrow, I'll post about Friday. Its the longest, and will take the most effort.

Just For Meaghan

I always told Meaghan that I’d never get married. It was so silly, to spend so much money to show your in love. I didn’t get it.

But she did.

The one thing that she always said was “I used to feel that way too, but it changes as you get older. I promise. Someday you’ll get married and be the happiest you ever were.”

I never believed her.

But tonight, she died. Wonderful, funny, amazingly talented at everything, red-headed Meaghan is with Jesus now.

I cant help but think that tomorrow I’ll wake up, and we’ll be in New York at Empire. This was all just a horrible nightmare brought on by the stress of competition. She’ll be there in the next room over, all chipper and ready to seize the day. Hair, make-up, Starbucks. Life will be the same.

But it cant. And it wont.

Meaghan will never be able to get married. Meaghan will never be able to go to law school. Her dreams are just…gone.

But I will not let what she stood for die as well.

I’ll change my way of thinking. I’ll be more open and loving. I’ll let myself fall in love, and I’ll get married. Just for Meaghan. I’ll bust my butt and get through law school. I’ll make her proud. Just for Meaghan.

Just for Meaghan.
<3

Mounties, Car Crashes, and Second Chances

Wow. Its been a while. A long while. I mean, 6 seasons of Doctor Who long while. 

Yes, on this break I have successfully watched 6 seasons of Doctor Who, and 2 of Torchwood. BBC is a marvelous thing to get hooked on, if you have to choose something to get hooked on in the first place.


A lot has happened in this month or so I've spent flying around in the T.A.R.D.I.S. Mock Trial has started back up for me, as I will be traveling with the team to Empire in the fall for a competition with elite teams from all over the world.

Yeah. Thats right.

I'm going to be competing with British guys. In flipping New York City. Mhmm. Be jealous.

Be very jealous.

But what brings me to the great, magnificent world of blogging today isnt to brag about the fact that I GET TO MEET REAL LIVE BRITISH GUYS (one of which will hopefully have a pinstripe suit that he wears with converse), but its to talk about something that happened a week ago, that I think I'm finally ready to talk about.

I totaled. My car.

My beautiful baby Darcy most likely is dead. Dead, dead, dead. But there is a slight chance that he may live...Hopefully. Maybe. But probably not....

Here what you missed last week on Glee -- no wait...No thats not right...Hold on...

Apparently, you CAN hydroplane going 27 mph. A fact which I found out the hard way. The really hard way.

Coming home from work on a dreary Wednesday afternoon, just like I do every other day of the week, I wrecked. No other cars were involved, just me. Thank God for that. In fact, thank the good Lord I'm still alive at all. But I'll get to that part momentarily. Getting off my normal exit from the interstate, for the hundredth time, I hit a slick spot. At the exact same moment I hit my break.

The two, obviously, do not mix.

That's when things started...happening. The steering wheel jerked viciously to the left, as did my car. I, being only 16, did what any terrified 16 year old would do. I grabbed that sucker and swung it the other way. A bit too hard though. My car span out of control, right at the guardrail. The guardrail that saved my life. And, yes, also could have potentially killed me, but still. It saved me from going off the cliff-type-hilly-thing. The right side of the bumper hit first, increasing the velocity and swinging it to the left, which was when the left side of the front bumper hit. Which in turn, swung me all the way around, crashing the entire left side of my back bumper into the guardrail.

Then I blacked out for a good 15 seconds. When I came to, I realized what happened. I had crashed. The first thought that popped into my head wasn't a ton of flashbacks, like in the movies. That complete bull. No, the first thought that popped into MY head was this:

"Oh God. She's going to KILL ME."

She, being my mother. And KILL ME, meaning brutally murder me, bury me, dig me up, and kill me again. More on that later.

When I came to, for the first 2 minutes, I was fine. A young woman, about 23 or so, had stopped while I took it all in, and asked if I was okay. I was okay THEN, yes, so I waved her on, got my cell phone out, and started calling. First my mom (who didn't answer), then my dad (didn't answer), then my grandma (nope), followed by every other family member I have. No one. Answered.

No. One.

I was petrified. As I was about to call my mock trial coach, because frankly, I had no one left, my grandmother calls back.

And I loose it. 

I break down in the middle of the off ramp, blubbering like an idiot what happened, where I am, and all that jazz. 3 more cars have stopped by this time, to see if I'm okay. A very nice couple in their 50's, a woman in her 30's, and a little old lady in her late 80's. The first thing out of this sweet little old lady's mouth?

"The same thing happened to my grandson just last week. But he had weed in his car. So he's in a holding cell in Tampa now. If you have drugs in your car, you better get rid of them now!"

Yeah. Because I look like the kind of girl how has crates of LSD and crack in my back seat. You know, the one whose blubbering like a baby in the middle of an off ramp. Just let me go grab that and toss it off this cliff-type-hilly-thing.

Unfortunately, he didn't look exactly like this.

Eventually, my grandma gets there. And so does the state trooper, county, and city cops. And I think a Mountie might have been there too, but I could be wrong. Must have been all that LSD, giving me hallucinations.

She handles everything, calls my mom (who I'm too terrified to face at the moment), and everything's calming down. More cars stop, but my grandpa waves them by. Rubberneckers. The usual. And then, the Mountie-looking one asks for my drivers license.

I'm going to have a record.

And the blubbering doth begin. Again.

In the end, I find out that he's not going to issue me a ticket (and I know it wasn't because I was cute. I had teats and snot everywhere.), and soon I'm on my way home in my grandma's Lexus. My blue baby had been towed to a lot, and I was on my way to face the worst part of my day.

My parents.

Which, to my surprise, we're understanding and just glad I was alive. Because apparently, people have DIED on that exit ramp before.

But I'm alive (obviously), and I thank God for that. I was just happy to wake up the next morning. Always be grateful for second chances. They only come along once in a blue moon. God has a purpose for me, or else He wouldn't have let me live. And I intend to fulfill it.

The Strong, the Weak, and the Triumphant

"I live to succeed, not to please you or anyone else."
  - Marilyn Monroe

People always ask me why I constantly wear black. My answer is very simple: Black is the color for power and success.

In all the big cities (London, New York City, Boston, etc.), you see black everywhere you turn. People, garbed in black.

All over the world, at this very moment, executives, C.E.O.'s, and capitol big-wigs are making decisions that have the power to change the world as we know it today. Those people hold that power. Someday, I too want to hold that kind of power and responsibility.

They say that in life, the weak are weeded out, and only the strong will prevail. May I just say, I have quite the experience with going through trials and test, and coming out even strong than before. Take, for instance, starting to look for colleges. I. Am. Terrified. Because not only do you have to write admissions essays, visit the campus, and have interview after GRUELING interview, you have to take the monster of all tests. The A.C.T.  


I get goosebumps just thinking about it.


I've always been a really good test taker. I love tests, and the adrenalin rush you get from them. But the A.C.T.... That's a bit much even for junkies like me. But with each practice test, you get a little bit smarter, a little bit better, and a little bit more confidant. 


But we weren't talking about that silly ole test, now were we?


With success, comes power. With power, comes responsibility. With responsibility, people crack under pressure and become nutcases.  And people who become nutcases end up in a straight jacket. So the moral of the story is this: Discover if you can handle the pressure at a young age, because If you become a nutcase at 16, you can just blame it on the hormones.

I Refuse To Live As A Hater

 Today, I witnessed something truly amazing.

Walking down the street, in no special place or part of town, I saw to guys holding hands.

It was one of the bravest gestures I've seen in a long time.

From across the street, there was a young couple, about college level, doing the same thing. Walking and holding hands. The male half (of course) of the young couple suddenly find the need to shout something entirely uncalled for, and totally inappropriate.

"Hey you fags, why don't you go get a room so we don't have to see you sin!"

And with that, his girlfriend (I'm assuming, I didn't actually talk to them) whirls around, and promptly smacks him right across the face with such force I wasn't aware a little size 2 blonde could muster. She then turns and walk to the two guys holding hands and starts talking to them very animatedly, most likely apologizing for her ape of a now ex-boyfriend.

It was one of those moments when you suddenly regain some of that hope you had lost for mankind. I smiled a bigger smile than I had in a long time. For once, someone other than myself was taking a stand.

Now, if you know me and have actually taken the time to sit down and talk with me (not at me, mind you), then you should know my personal views are very open. I'm a no-judgement zone here. So, yes I'm very pro-gay rights. No, I myself am not a lesbian.

Just because I don't condemn people to hell for what they believe and what they do, doesn't mean I'm a devil worshiping pagan, either. I just don't think that its something they have any control over. If God wanted them to be straight, I think He would have made them straight. I don't believe its a choice. It's who they are, and you cant change your genetic make-up.

In the past, I have had very long drawn out discussions about my beliefs. I've had bible verse after bible verse thrown at me, all about how homosexuality is a sin. And I get that you were brought up to believe that its the biggest sin you could ever commit, and you would be going straight to hell if you even condoned it. But since most of these people who are such homophobes are taught their entire lives to BE homophobes, I don't think they ever really look into the topic much. If they did, they would see that most of the verses they're throwing around to uphold their beliefs are taken entirely out of context. I wont get into them, because if I did, this post would be longer than any other, but I will post a link to an enlightening site I found recently dealing with homosexuality and life in the church. Its written by a pastor who, is indeed, openly gay. You can find it here.

The thing that really gets me sometimes is this: Just because you're against homosexuality, doesn't mean you have to constantly talk about it. I mean really, the fact that you CONSTANTLY call people fags, or call their actions "gay", just makes you look like the worlds biggest douche. So please, please stop saying "It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve", because being a hater doesn't make you straighter.

The people that you call "fags" every time you get the chance have feelings. They know that the majority of the human race are too set in their ways and unwilling to change in order to accept them for who they are, but you know what? They do not care. They still have to guts to go out and face you people who make it your life goal to ridicule them for who they were born as.

And as much as you like to think so, not everyone hates on them like you do. Some of us are open-minded and accepting of people who arent like us. We don't feel the need to hear the sound of our own voices day in and day out, saying crap about those who are different. Prosecuting them, abusing them mentally, emotionally, and sometimes even physically for who they are.

I bet you kick puppies too, don't you?

So do the world a favor, and keep your opinions to yourself. You don't see me standing on a soapbox, proclaiming my views on a daily basis, do you? No. I keep them to myself until I feel a need to stand up for myself, and my views.

I just wish you could extend the same courtesy.

Changes in the Fishtank of Life

 Have you ever looked at the bottom of a fishtank? I mean really looked, past all the beautiful fish swimming about, at the bottom.

The disgusting, yucky, fish poop-filled bottom.

Gross right?

But then you look at the middle,  and you're reminded why there even is a fishtank in the first place. Because its beautiful. The various species of sea life, all in one little tank.

Clown fish, sea anemones, rocks, and various plant life all contained in one tank. A miniature ocean, with thousands of different organisms being represented in one place. Its amazing.

Much like life, everything about a fishtank appears beautiful at first glance. Colorful, serene, calm. But as you take a closer look, you see whats really going on. Its disgusting. Its nasty. And its life. You just have to learn to clean up after yourself, and move on. It takes time, tears, and a lot of work.

Just know that when you set your mind to it, you can and will do anything. Because you're capable of anything. You are stronger than anything life throws at you. You'll make it through. It will get better. But don't live in remorse. You're decision is yours, and you should stick with it. Once you cross the border of Mexico, its a lot harder to get back than it was to get there (especially if you were in the back of some crazy persons car, but thats another story for another time).

In water, fish are very graceful. Gliding along on the bottom on the beautiful Briney sea, they're almost majestic-like. But the moment you take those fish out of water, they become a flopping mess. No longer the graceful creatures we saw beneath the surface, but shown for what they really are. A fish.

If you leave a fish out of water for too long, it will die. The only way to save it is to put it back. Back into its natural habitat is the only place it will survive. A fresh water trout will not survive in the ocean, much like a sea bass wont survive in a river or pond.

Now why am I teaching Fish 101? Not because I actually know the difference between a bass and a trout, but because it makes for one heck of an analogy. When you're a fish taken out of water, you die. End of story. But when you're a human and things abruptly change, you can adapt. You can survive. You may think that it'll break you, but you know that in the long run, its for the better. It makes you stronger.

Change is a good thing. It makes us stronger.

Development is a good thing. It makes us wiser.

Progress is a good thing. It takes us father.

But in order to move forward, sometimes you have to look back. Look back on your past, and assess the damages. Why dont we do that now? Go on, revist you past. I can wait....

What about this crazy weather we've been having, huh? Its like the desert. Cold at night, boiling humidity in the day. And baseball. Baseball season, eh? Yeah...Baseball.

I have a lot of boxes in that rift....

....Okay we're back. Did you do it? Did you revisit your past? What did you find? I found all my mistakes, my bad memories, and burned bridges. Now that you've found all those, put them in a box. And shove that box in the deepest, darkest place you can find. Your closet, under your  bed, in a rift in the time-space continuum....You get the picture.

The point I'm trying (and hopefully succeeding) to make here is this: Out of sight, out of mind. You shouldn't still be kicking yourself for that mistake you made yesterday, anymore than the one you made back when you were in the 6th grade. Because to eff-up is human. We're supposed to screw everything up to the point to where we think we'll never see the light of day again, because we've dug our grave THAT DEEP. But then, something happens. And miraculously, we fix it all. Maybe not back to the way it was. Maybe worse. Maybe better. But things can be fixed.

There comes a time in everyones life, when you have to let go of your past. Of all the baggage you've got stowed away in that overhead compartment, so much so, that the air marshals are planing a take-down. What people so often fail to see, is that by holding on to all that baggage, it's just slowing you down. It's taking away from all the joy you could be having. It's suckling away at your life source, and killing you, bit by bit. To there comes a time when you must loose it in customs, and pray to God that the airport doesn't return it 6 years later.

What was I talking about again? I got too caught up in the analogies.

Oh yes, the baggage.

Cut off the dead arm. It's no longer helping you. Its a hindrance. Once you do, you'll be free. Nothing will be able to hold you back. The world is your oyster. Find that pearl. And so forth.

Bathrooms, Breaks, and British Accents

 What is it about British accents that we as Americans find so appealing? Is it just because its different, or because its sexy and mysterious? I think its just because its so damn cool sounding.

But hey, thats just me.

This past week, I decided to preform a little "experiment", I suppose you could call it. I was visiting a new church with a friend, and was feeling adventurous. So for the entire evening, I spoke like a Brit. Now, the entire congregation (or at least the ones that we're lucky enough to get to talk to me) thinks I was born and raised in Manchester, England, and that I moved to the states in the 7th grade.

I know, I know. I'm horrid human being, and I'm going to burn in hell for lying in a church. But I and proud to say, I made it safely home without God smiting me. No lighting, no ninja throwing stars, no nothing. I'm still very much alive.

But it was all for the sake of science. Wait no, that's a lie...It was all in the name of good fun. No one got hurt, and everyone got a good kick out of it. Besides, I'm a very convincing liar. Not that its something to be proud of, but it surely does come in handy. But thats another blog.

The reason I was at this new church was for a friend. A friend who has a classic case of "I really really REALLY like this guy but I cant make myself talk to him." So, after WEEKS of hearing about how wonderful, amazing, and cute this guy is, I finally agree to go with her to MAKE her talk to him. Rachel, the friend, is extremely shy around guys. Why? I have no clue. I do NOT have that problem. I never have. So I figured if I went, she'd finally talk to this guy that she's so very in love with.

Guess what?

She didn't.

I went all the way to CHICKAMAUGA so that she would finally talk to this guy. And then, I cant get her to.  Not only will SHE not talk to him, she wouldn't let me talk to him either. In fact, she wouldn't let me talk to ANY OF THE ENTIRE MALE POPULATION. Why? BECAUSE SHE WAS AFRAID THAT THEY WOULD FALL IN LOVE WITH ME. I mean REALLY? REALLY????? 

So, I wasn't a very happy camper. But on the bright side, I managed to keep up my British facade for the entire evening. It was truly a fantastic accomplishment. I even used all of the British lingo, such as:

• Across the pond
• Rubbish
• Bollocks
• On holiday
• And my personal favorite: The Loo.

 So, all in all, it was a very eventful, frustrating, and entertaining evening. And I fully intend on doing it more often.

I, as I'm sure most of you are also, am finally on my summer vacation. And you know what? It. Feels. Fantastic. I've been outside more than anywhere else this past week, doing yard work, tanning (yes, I am a hypocrite, no, I do not care), and playing ultimate frisbee with some of my favorite people on earth. So I'm tan as a gingercake, as my grandmother would say.

What else is summer for? Enjoyment, a break from school, stress, and scheduling, but most importantly, a time just for you. To do what YOU want to do. Summer is when dreams are formed. When wishes come true. For some, it may just be lying around being lazy and getting fat. For others, its a time to get into shape or get a summer job. But for me, its a time when anythings possible.

Between tanning, working, cleaning, exercising, and working on not only my own novel, but starting up a new project with one of my best friends, I may not post as many blogs as usual. That much is evident, I think, by the fact that I haven't updated in about a week or so.

I'll try to post as much as possible, but that may not be very often. So don't worry, I haven't died. I'm just out making my dreams come true.

Breakfast Of A Poisoned Apple

 When I look out over the whole of New York City, I can't help but feel as though my other half is somewhere there, somewhere amongst the buildings, perhaps on the subway, or getting a hot dog from his favorite vendor. I don't even know if he exists, but if he does, my very being is telling me he is in the most majestic place in the 'verse. New York City.

Lately, the Big Apple has been on my mind even more than usual. It most likely has something to do with the fact that I actually, maybe, MIGHT have a chance to go there this fall. Hopefully. I've been trying to keep it under wraps, because I didn't want to jinx it. Since I'm not even supposed to know. I just can't keep it a secret any longer.

I've been wanting to do a post about it for so long, its beginning to effect my other posts (as you can tell with my sad attempt at the Coco thing yesterday).

Those of you who know me know that Manhattan is my biggest dream. I've loved it since the first time I saw it at eight years old. Well, on a television screen, that is.

It was way past my bedtime, but of course, little me was up anyways. Hiding behind the couch as my parents watched a movie, I saw it for the first time. My one true love. The New York skyline. Ever since then, I've dreamed of going there. Of living there.

When I hit my teens, I discovered the magic known as Broadway. Show tunes, sequins, dancing, the works. Since I can't sing, it dashed my hopes of being on the stage myself, but to see it...Just once, to see the magic known as musical theater, on Broadway, in New York...The mere thought of it is almost to surreal to handle.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's" only added to the NYC hype for me. And someday, I am going to have my own breakfast at the Tiffany's on 5th Avenue. Coffee cup in one hand, bagel in the other, strolling the length of the marvelous store after a night on the town. The magic of it all is breathtaking. Just thinking about it gives me chills.

 All great love stories are set in New York. Holly Golightly's being only one of them.

When I think of The Big Apple, I picture the skyline first and foremost, followed by many people scurrying from place to place. The screech of the subway wheels, the damp smell in the air, and the lights. Everywhere you look, there's a light one. There's another person out there. You're never alone in New York City.

Poisoned Apple

The screech of the subway,
The shuffle of feet,
Murder on the sidewalk,
Without missing a beat.

Lovers in the park,
A smoggy grey gloom,
Little girl lost,
Impending doom.

Big time corporate,
Attorneys-at-law,
Turn right on Broad Street,
People in awe.

Skyscrapers touch the sky,
And block out the sun,
Democracy is dead,
The Man has won.

They owns us all,
Controlling our ever move,
Don’t do this, you cant do that,
Unless They approve.

Call a taxi,
Get out of town,
Escape the madness,
Before the final countdown.

 - 5/25/11

The Resolute Kiss & Coco Chanel

 At the end of every movie, television show, music video, etc, the hero and heroin, who have built upon all that sexual tension and chemistry through the entire film or series, finally get together.

Now, that can end with them getting married, getting engaged, or even sleeping together (and in a certain television series, the heroin getting pregnant with the hero's love child out of wedlock, when we as the audience didn't even know that they FINALLY Did It), but more often than not, the show ends on a kiss. The kiss that ties everything up in a perfect little
bow, leaving us all with a feeling of closure.


So, as you can clearly see with all the screenshots I have here, one of the topics today is...well, yeah. You get the point.

The main reason I have all these screenshots is to become more comfortable with the idea of kissing. To an intimacy-phobe like myself, it can get a little...too intimate for my taste. So, I thought by Prnt Scrn-ing all these, Pic Nik-ing them, and setting them as my background on my laptop, I would eventually get used to it.

And hows that going for me?

Not too well.

I'm still not all that comfortable with it, but hey, progress is progress.

Moving on.

As of yesterday, we started cleaning out our pool. And it was green. Frogs were everywhere (I HATE frogs), and the smell...ew. But on the bright side, I did FINALLY get a tan. So now I no longer closely resemble Helena Bonham Carter a la Sweeney Todd.

I really fail to see the obsession with tanning. I mean, who would really want to look like an overgrown Oompa Loompa? Really??


With that being said, my I also add to the fact that tanning wasn't even popular until the 1940's, when Coco Chanel cam back from the South of France with a tan. Until this happened, it was considered a sign of importance and wealth to be pale. If you were tan back then, it meant that you we out doing some sort of physical activity, and that you had to do it because you were too poor to pay someone else to do it for you. Southern Belles were NEVER tan. That's why they carried those little parasols. But, after Coco came back with a tan, it was a fashion MUST to have a tan. Thus skin cancer and melanoma was born.

I'm Sorry That I Can't Help It

How many times a day do we say “I’m sorry”?

Those words, sometimes so full of regret, other times a mere filler word when you don’t know what to say.

When someone tells you their problems, all we can do is say “I’m so sorry”, and ask if there’s anything we can do to help.

Last week was exam week for me, as I’m sure many of you may know. Exams = STRESS. Exams week has always been my favorite week of school…after its all over. So, last week I basically got no sleep, and worked 45 or so hours. And yes, I’m telling you this for a reason.

Friday night through Saturday morning, I was at volleyball camp.  And I. Was. Exhausted. You have no idea. I don’t function well without sleep. And I hadn’t had any for the past 5 or so days…so I kinda sucked at camp.

Which is a new experience for me.

Normally, I’m the best. And I like it that way. But this…coach-person was practically obsessed with calling individual people out. Which I personally think is mean, dictator-esk, and degrading to players.

All I did was apologize for being over-tired.

And as of noon Saturday, I never, ever EVER want to play volleyball again. I’ve never felt worse about myself, and most of the other girls agree.

But I do know one thing.

You should never apologize for something you have no control over.

And you should never apologize for being you.

Um, EXCUSE ME???

What do you talk about when you think no one can hear you?

Today while I was out shopping, I noticed two very attractive guys were following me. Since I was in a highly populated area, I didn’t think much of it. After visiting various, what some would term “girly” stores, I noticed the guys we’re STILL following me. Rather nervous now, I turn to head down the escalator, only to have them follow me yet again.

Being in a more secluded area, the din of many voices dies down, and I was able to make out what the guys were saying.

The conversation goes as follows:

Tall Blonde: “You see that chick up there?”
Shorter Brunette: “You mean the hot one we’ve been following around for the past hour? No shit dude.”
T.B.: “She’s one hot piece of ass, isn’t she?”
S.B.: “Yeaaaaaa son.”

I had NEVER felt more violated or disgusted in my entire life. And I am not proud of what I did next.

Me: “You know, its ASSHOLES like you who give guys a bad reputation, you disgusting illiterate miscreants!”
S.B. & T.B.: “Huh? WHAT did you just call us bitch?”

I flipped them off and got away as fast as I could. Normally, if I had any other person with me (Alyssa), I would NEVER have backed down from engaging in a little verbal jousting, especially with those who are too ignorant to understand my expansive vocabulary (“big words”, as most like to put it). But strong and feisty as I may be, I cant take two guys twice my size.

Which leads me to today’s lesson. Even when you think no one can hear you, somebody can.

Have you ever said something that you wish you could take back? I know I have. Many times. When you say something out of anger, more often than not you regret it later. Sometimes you don’t, like what I said today to the guys who were saying vulgar things about me behind my back, but when you say them to a loved one in a blind rage, things don’t go your way.

So, the next time you’re about to say something that you don’t want someone to hear, at least try to put more than 2 feet between you and said person. Duh.

I Can't Believe I'm NOT Doing This

 

For starters, if your reading this...Please please PLEASE like the facebook page. It'd be nice to know that someone is actually reading this other than my friends. Strangers are always welcome.

Everyone has had one of those days. “I’m going to have so much fun at the movies tonight!”

Two hours later: “Oh God….I’m not going. No. No no no no no…I can’t go. It’ll be horrible!”

And then you end up going. Sometimes yes, it was really fun. Other times…You wish you would have stayed home and painted that rendition of Monet’s “Waterlilies”.

Those days happen to everyone. What seems like a good idea at 2 in the morning on a Saturday may not seem like such a hot idea when it comes down to it. (Moral of this story, do NOT express your feelings past 9:30 p.m.)

When I was little, I rarely ever did things that would result in me getting into trouble. I was too scared of the consequences: What my parents would take away from me or ground me from, or even worse…

The timeout chair.

So, I tried to steer clear of activities that would result in The Chair.

Now that I’m older, I know not to do those horrible things that will result in punishment (I outgrew The Chair, but now they can take away The Car Keys, so its just as terrifying). I’m home by curfew, I don’t lie, I don’t do THINGS with boys that I’m not supposed to. All in all, I’m a really okay teenager, considering whats out there.

Why am I telling you all this?

I’m telling you this, because it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy to turn down things that you really want to do (like go see the midnight opening of Pirates of the Caribbean 4, but you cant because, well, its after 11 o’clock curfew). It isn’t easy to maintain a 4.2 GPA. And it REALLY isn’t easy to maintain it with volleyball practice 3 days a week, a job, and ACT studying. But I do it, because if I don’t…

What I’m trying to say here is, I go back and forth everyday, much like Miss Repunzel up there, making my choices. How to manage my time, what I can fit into the maybe-if-I’m-really-lucky 2 hours of free time that I sometimes have. Hanging out with a friend, going to a party or a movie, or catching up on Glee. Managing my money. Clothes are a must, since I don’t have anything other than uniforms from private schools past. Birthday gifts, graduation money, lunch while at work, etc.

Now I know I sound like I’m whistling Dixie here, and that there are far more important things in life that my problems. I’m not saying mine are worse, or more important than yours. These are just my ‘for example’s’.

The time we spend, everyday, deciding. When I Googled to try to find the amount of time people spend in their lifetime, I got nada. So instead, I'll post this wonderful little article I found. 

"Come on, pull the trigger, already!

One of the things that consumes time and bogs people down is being slow to make decisions.

Things You Don’t Have Time NOT to Do: Make a Decision

We make hundreds of decisions every day. It starts with the decision to get out of bed each morning and what to wear each day. It continues with what we’re going to do each day, what to buy at the store, how we’re going to respond to that email, what direction to go on the big project at work, who we ask to fill a critical role, and on and on.

I think if we actually added them up, we’d be amazed by the number of decisions and the amount of time we spend making decisions each day. We all want to make the best decisions possible, but improving the speed of our decision-making is an area where most of us have an opportunity to save time, reduce stress, and create momentum.

Here are 7 tips that can help you make decisions more quickly.

1) Consider the Value of Your Time.

Everyone likes a great deal, but sometimes we spend more times than it’s worth comparing prices. It really worth driving to 3 different stores to get the best price on a $15 coffee maker? Do you really want to spend an hour online researching new earbuds for your MP3 player? On a larger scale, do you really need to do 3 months of market research or conduct 5 focus groups before making that change to your product or service? Maybe, but not if the cost of the research is more than the cost of making the “wrong” decision.

2) Get the Right Information.

Sometimes we get stuck on a decision because we don’t have all the information we need. Maybe you need the latest sales figures. Maybe you’ve got second-hand information and you need to talk with someone who has first-hand experience. Maybe you need to see a specialist instead of diagnosing your condition using online medical websites. Instead of fretting over unknowns, figure out the information you need to make a good decision and get it.

3) Organize Your Thoughts.

Sometimes we just can’t seem to figure out the best decision because we haven’t spent focused time thinking about the decision in a logical way. A simple way to move towards a decision might be to write out a pros and cons list. Then you can weigh which pros and cons are most important or most likely to occur. On more complex problems, some degree of risk analysis may be needed.

4) Recognize the cost of inaction.

We often drag out decisions because we’re afraid of the consequences of a bad decision, but it’s important to consider the cost of inaction as well. Sometimes it’s good to take a little extra time to think about, discuss, or sleep on a decision.  But sometimes every day a decision isn’t made the cancer spreads a little more, a competitor gains an edge, or employee moral gets worse. It may be the kick in the pants we need to make an imperfect decision sooner rather than later.

5) Realize the Momentum that Comes from Decisions

Indecision creates uncertainty and frustration, but the flip side decisions lead to action. Action moves you forward. Moving forward creates momentum. Momentum is positive energy. Which of us doesn’t want more momentum and energy in our lives and organizations.

6) Don’t Try to Be Perfect.

A lot of us drag out decisions because we don’t want to be wrong. First of all, remember that nobody is perfect; even the best leaders make mistakes. Second, rarely does one bad decision destroy a person or organization. Most of the time you can correct for one bad decision. It’s usually a series of bad decisions compounding each other that causes a person or organization to implode.

7) Move Forward with Tough Decisions.

Sometimes we know the decision we need to make, but we’re afraid of the consequences, so we continue to hem and haw over it. You know it’s going to be hard to fire that underperforming employee or break off that dead end relationship or cut back on personal expenses to get out of debt, so you continue to revisit the decision even though you already know what you’ve got to do.

Are there any areas in your life where you’re struggling to make timely decisions?

Do you have any additional advice that can help speed up the decision-making process?"

I hope it helped you as much as it helped me.