tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12027707999418555122024-02-20T05:07:20.550-08:00The Last SevenA tablet of the last seven days of being seventeen...Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10157246080811411804noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202770799941855512.post-19104967617979119082010-10-19T21:08:00.000-07:002010-10-19T22:04:17.355-07:00October 19It's 11:10.<div>I've got fifty minutes.</div><div>I guess this seven day blogging experiment was an epic fail.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-justification: one day of traveling, and two days of a wakeboard competition.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I don't know if Im procrastinating(sociology test), or if I really want to be writing right now,</div><div>but I'm here. </div><div>And there is no where else I'd rather be. </div><div>Solitude.</div><div>Comfort.</div><div>Warmth.</div><div>Nostalgia.</div><div>Beauty.</div><div>I'm feeling it all right now. </div><div><br /></div><div>The nineteenth was a good day. </div><div>I rely on the word good, thinking that it simplistically summarizes my day,</div><div>but truthfully I'm waiting for something else.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now 11:25, I'm very conscience of this test I have tomorrow. I'm not worried; I do well in sociology, but any test acts as a cloud over your clarity of mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>Clarity of mind.....Dad prays for that all the time. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's 12.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got lost in studying. </div><div>I'm too focused to produce enchanting writings. </div><div>But in this moment I'm comfortable. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen</div><div>and </div><div>Comfortable.</div><div><br /></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10157246080811411804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202770799941855512.post-16685507962138718552010-10-19T10:37:00.000-07:002010-10-19T10:40:17.186-07:00October 15th-October 19thThe last five........<div><br /></div><div>-wakeboard tournament.</div><div>-library.</div><div>-epic fails.</div><div>-exercise.</div><div>-insecurities.</div><div>-and just friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be back tonight.</div><div><br /></div><div>..........I need this </div><div>old train to break down..........</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10157246080811411804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202770799941855512.post-35671519355702878532010-10-14T23:04:00.001-07:002010-10-14T23:22:42.859-07:00October 14I'm never in bed before midnight, <div>so I'm always left double checking the date.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm back home for the weekend, and timing could not be better.</div><div>Getaway......I needed one.</div><div><br /></div><div>The lake was good today. I need to start going more than I do. </div><div>I don't know what I've been so occupied with...well I do, but it's not anything I'm going to acknowledge. I took care of it anyway. National qualifiers is on Saturday and I'm definitely looking forward to it. Wake boarding....I missed it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Things I miss....</div><div><br /></div><div>I miss having a piano. I played everyday.</div><div>Everyday. </div><div>No pianos at college...</div><div>The perfect moment when you take a deep breath with the smooth keys under your curved fingers...I miss that moment. </div><div>I do.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is a pretty dry post,</div><div>but I'm tired. </div><div>I'm also a mess of other things...</div><div>but I'm happy to be home,</div><div>and that's all I really care to talk about.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm know it was a serious talk, and I'm not sure if I made a mistake. </div><div>Actually I'm positive I did the right thing, but it's created quite a straight line on my monitor of a life. Unfortunately I know exactly what I have to do... </div><div><br /></div><div>Everything wishes they knew what to do,</div><div>"I don't know what to do"</div><div>"I don't know what to do"</div><div>.......</div><div>Well I just don't think that's true.</div><div>We all know what to do.</div><div>We all know what we have to do.</div><div>But the thing is,</div><div>well,</div><div>what we have to do sucks.....</div><div>It would be nice if we "didn't know what to do".</div><div>But we do.....</div><div><br /></div><div>We all know.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>(I've got to quit posting late at night.</div><div>I'm a cheerful person I swear.....cheerful, no. </div><div>Bright. Fresh. Sunny. Yes.)</div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10157246080811411804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202770799941855512.post-48735182798519112882010-10-14T00:42:00.000-07:002010-10-14T23:03:59.398-07:00October 13Here we are.<div><br /></div><div>Seven days from the big</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">One Eight</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know i'll look back on this someday and eighteen won't be a large number at all...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">but right now, it's a hard number to look at.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Nothing but good can come of it, I know this. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But I'm comfortable... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Being seventeen, well, it's magical in a way. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You've worked your way towards some freedoms, but you're still untouchable.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Your innocence glows.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Your vulnerabilities are transparent.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You're beautiful.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You're more than that...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and you don't even know it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">October thirteenth was, to be quite frank, an all around good day.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It's left me completely satisfied, and much was accomplished today.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In regards to the only negativity that took place today, heres what I have to say to you:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-You have no idea what you are doing. I respect your intentions, and I think your heart is in a good place. Everyone wants the people they love to succeed. But you don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know my family, values, heartbreaks, history, nothing. You literally know nothing about me. So next time you'd like to judge me, I'd appreciate it if you could muster up the audacity to do it to my face. Maturity doesn't come with age, and apparently high school never ends...not even twenty years later so you've shown me. And maybe you'd call me immature for venting in a blog post...go ahead. I'm seventeen. It's appropriate. For me. It doesn't look that great on you however. Don't hold on so tight... she's going to let go as soon as she can.-</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That's a long story.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">and it's been too good of a day to bare specifics. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In closing, today was the perfect amount of old and new.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Bright,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">and worn,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Shiny,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">and torn.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And with the perfect amount of chaos present, I'd say today was normal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">and now....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">it's over.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10157246080811411804noreply@blogger.com0