I’ve completely forgotten about my things to smile about!  I went all the way back to my last one and found out that I last listed #16 way back in “Maximum Capacity For Awesome.”

So. To make up for the ones I’ve lost, here I go….

Reason to smile #17:  Knowing the coolest people in the world.

#18: Having a rockin’ room I love.

#19: Flirting

#20: Chapstick.

#21: Doing something you love.

#22: Witty conversations.

#23: Books.  They just make me happy.

#24: Knowing some one who pretty much always wants to see you smile.

#25: Creating something.

#26: Snow days!

#27: Having no home work.

#28: Dear and the Headlights

#29: Owl City

#30: When some one asks “How are you?” and really wants to know the truth. 

#31: Spending time with Deanna.

#32: College acceptance letters!

#33: Having awesome legos- such as a pirate skeleton, a borg, a cowboy + rifles, two armed Indians, a pirate with a feather in his hat and a parrot, a greaser with a red bandana, a leather jacket, and a knife, and a nice man with a gas mask – standing in a line on your desk shelf.

#34: Not having any clue to what wear, but ending up finding a really cute outfit in your closet.

So SMILE.  =]

       So I did actually go to my school’s Home Coming dance! The theme this year was “Welcome to the Jungle.”  The class t-shirts have my school’s name printed with different animal prints for each year. There’s snakes, cheetahs, zebras, and giraffes. 

       Did you catch that error? Only one of the four animals depicted on our class t-shirts is correct! Cheetahs, zebras, and giraffes don’t live in a jungle! They live in the savanna! There’s a huge difference.

Savanna:

Jungle:

       Yeah, whoever is in leadership should be embarrassed.  Did none of them catch it?  Lol.

       But anyway, the dance was great and I had an awesome dress!  My only complaint is that my hair sucks and doesn’t hold a curl for more than two-ish hours. But I had so much fun.  Way more than freshman year (I didn’t go last year).  

       Ahh… Perhaps I should elaborate.  At that time, things between me and this guy were confusing. He “liked” me and I wasn’t sure if I liked him. My major excuse not to date him was that I am a Christian and he’s not. And I know it’s just high school fun, but I didn’t want to regret anything about my first boyfriend, you know?  Anyway, I spent all day primping and when I got to the dance, when the guy found me, he came up to me, held his hands out to his sides and said “Hey, look! I dressed the part!” NOTHING about me the entire night.  Now, I’m not conceited, I don’t even think I looked that great, but what kind of a clueless idiot doesn’t know to compliment the girl about something when you “go with” them to a dance?

       And he ignored me the entire night and I got swept up in drama, in a way. Because I was the only person who wasn’t involved in drama, so therefore, people all came running to me about their drama. Gr!  I ended up sitting out in the hall quite a bit until my date decided he didn’t want to be alone in front of everybody else for the first slow song, so he came and got me. He didn’t say a word, he just walked out into the hall and held out his hand, assuming I wouldn’t possibly reject him.

       ….I didn’t at the time, but I kinda wish I had. He was a jerk. And the next month to follow, he got even worse.  Ugh, I won’t explain all that here, though.

       But this year was so much better! I went with my best friend (other than my sister) and there was no pressure to dance at all, even though we did. Both slow and… regular(?).  It was a blast.

Thing to smile about #14:  Going to the Home Coming dance with a friend you’re 110% comfortable with, and know that there’s no pressure about anything.  =]

I have a picture of one of my friends “smoking” a candle up on my Facebook. The caption reads: “Smoking fail.”

His response?:  ”Which means Haley has been poisoned with second-hand fail.”

Thing to smile about #12:  Laughing so hard your sides hurt. You’ve all had those times. You know it. 

=D

     Possibly the most amusing thing I’ve said recently:

“Yeah, eighth grade was weird for everybody because we were all ‘BlEhAH! Puberty!’”

Thing to smile about (at least for me) #8: Being happy I was only in middle school publicly for one year. And being able to laugh about it and myself of back then.

     I absolutely love Post Secret. People send in post cards, anonymously, with their secrets on them, and the guy in charge of the whole thing posts some every Sunday. It’s lovely. A couple weeks ago, I saw a secret that is exactly one of mine. Now, I know that I am, by far, not the only one who has experienced this. I found it remarkable that some one else in the world shared the same secret. Exactly. Every detail. 

     At first, I didn’t think anything of it. But then a thought popped in my head. Probably a silly thought, improbable and ridiculous. But, what if I had sent it in? What if I did it without knowing I did? People do all sorts of things in their sleep. But I don’t sleep walk, I sleep talk.                      Another personality? 

     What if I did have another personality? What would she be like? Which part of me? The good, the evil, or the girl struggling in between?  Really, it’d be between the part that hates and swears and yells and insults and fight, and the part that is the innocent, naive, behaved, encouraging, and playful. I am the girl struggling in between. But which personality would win over the other? Or would it simply be like another person?  And if it was, would it be some one I would like or even want to be friends with (if, obviously, she wasn’t the same person as me)? Or a girl I would resent and be irritated by? 

     Yes, I realize I’m thinking too much about it.  I do that.

So here’s to over-analyzing and thinking too much.

Thing to smile about #2: Being home alone but not being lonely.

     At almost this same time last year, on a Monday, I was sitting on the porch of my boyfriend-at-the-time. I was sitting on the cold, cement steps, in an oversized hoodie. His arm was round me and my hair was simply and carelessly pulled back. I had on little make up because most of it had been cried away earlier that morning. It was raining and dreary – appropriate weather for the most recent, tragic happenings.

     The Friday before was a regular school day. I had survived my first hour class, Honors English, and had routinely sang through second-hour Chorale. Lunch was as boring and uninteresting as it usually was. I had, again, not brought anything to eat and had, again, half-intentionally, not brought money to buy food. My table consisted of a few girls and fewer guys, all of whom I currently or previously shared choir with, except for one girl, who I met during the musical of the last school year. Three guys and four girls at my table, usually.

     Two of the girls were inseparable – they still are. They were both energetic and loved everything Disney and musicals. The girl I had met in the last school musical had red hair and played the piano. One guy had moved to America from Mexico before his sophomore year. I had met him the year before. Another was a boy I had gone to homecoming of freshman year “with.” Both were in Chorale. One boy was a freshman (who had come into the high school from the same middle school as I had attended), a bass in my choir, and the quietest one at the table. None of us really went out of our way to talk to him, but it wasn’t as if we ignored him or shunned him in any way. For the preceding couple weeks, he had offered to share a part of his lunch or had offered me a dollar or two. That Friday was no exception. He offered me some of his meal, consisting of a bag of chips, a carton of milk, and a burrito. Not particularly being a fan of any of those, I declined gratefully.

     The rest of that day was normal and uneventful. Or, rather, I assume it was uneventful because I don’t particularly remember anything else happening that day, or even the next. On Sunday, the speaker at my church (which was half an hour away from my home) had commented on the death of two local boys that had died in  a car crash. He named them and, at the time, it didn’t cause any bells to ring or any lit light bulbs to appear above my head. When I got home, I checked my Myspace (as I did religiously). When I looked in the bulletin space, I saw bulletin after bulletin entitled “Tim, we will miss you” and “Tim and Josh” and, finally, “RIP Tim and Josh.”

    Still, no connections were made in my mind.  I Googled the names of the boys and found some blurbs and articles. Nothing stuck out to me. That was until I found a picture of them. One face struck me: the pale skin, short hair, relatively large lips many shades darker and redder than the rest of his skin, the familiar posture.  I couldn’t understand, Tim had just offered me his burrito two days ago and would, surely, be back to offer me more high school cafeteria food the next day. Was it really him and his older brother that had been the subject of all those Myspace bulletins?

     That Monday confirmed my questions. First hour was fine. But, as I entered the choir room, I saw girls hunched over each other with tissues, eyes and noses matching shades of pink, foreheads wrinkled, their shoulders quickly rising and falling. Other girls were comforting them and guys where in their seats, their heads lowered, solemnly quiet. Once class started, I noticed a couple people hadn’t shown up. That class period was when it hit me: Tim was dead.

     Class that day was everyone sitting around my choir director on the floor, talking about Tim, listening to a school counselor, and crying. Lunch was odd. I don’t think any one ate. The girls were crying and the guys were silent. When I got home, I just wanted to go talk to my boyfriend.To just be with him, at least. I was surprised when my mother agreed to drive me a half hour away for that.

     We were sitting on his porch in the rain. I eventually just started feeling bad in general and ended up listing everything I thought was wrong with me or was an example of my dorkiness, excluding physical things. He sat there, responding by taking what I listed and shining a positive light on it. In really cute ways, he explained how my having blonde moments was endearing, or how being a bookworm added to my intellect, which is enticing. The conversation trickled to other topics.

     I loved the cool air and the sound the rain made when it hit the metal roof of the porch and then slid off onto the concrete, into itself. My mother had told him to make sure I stayed dry before she left. Defiantly, I would walk out into the rain. He stayed on the dry porch, watching me. When I stood and looked at him, and he saw I wasn’t coming back on my own, he followed me, wrapped me in his arms and escorted me back under the roof.

     The last two paragraphs were actually all I intended this entry to be. I never meant to write this much. But I felt like I should explain the rest. Hopefully, people will have enjoyed it just as much.

Something to smile about #1: Sitting on porch steps while it’s raining with some
one who doesn’t care what the weather’s like just as long as you’re with them.

Rest in peace, Tim, Josh. You have been, by no means, forgotten. Never will be. See you later.

=]