Growing up

Do you remember when you were little and in Elementary school, and at least twice a year the teacher would ask you what you wanted to be when you grow up? I remember very well. Every time I was asked that I had a totally different answer:

"I want to be a ballerina!"

"A Paleontologist!"

Or most memorably, "A marine biologist!" 

Yes, I got teased for that. The strange child who liked spinach and math, plus planning to live on a houseboat in the middle of the ocean to study fish. Weird wasm't a strong enough word.

After Elementary school I changed my mind at LEAST six times. I finally settled on being an Author. But then I thought, "Why settle on just one?". So add 'Concert Pianist', 'Jeweler', and 'Teacher' to the list. I think it is healthy to have many interests. So I am learning how to play piano from an amazing teacher and friend, and practicing making jewelry, and learning knowledge and patience to become the world's best teacher.

When I first started writing, I was twelve, almost thirteen. My first attempt at writing stories resulted in a 36 page manuscript(unfinished) that I gave to my parents on Christmas morning. I read it to my family while we were all still in our pj's, surrounded by heaps of torn wrapping paper and scattered gifts. When I read I was so nervous about having my work, my inner thoughts really, bared for those I loved to see, that I stuttered on every other word. After I finished reading, my parents praised me so much that I blushed with pride, and told me that I could be a writer if I wanted to, that they loved their gift. I am sure that that is one of the happiest days in my memory, among the top five. The reason why, is that looking back at that old manuscript, which I kept, I realize that it was terrible! The font was huge and impossible to read, the grammar a mess, and the story was barely a pamphlet in length. But my parents loved it because I put my heart and soul into it, honestly giving my all to please them. They saw the needle in that ramshackle haystack, rather than a pile of cow fodder. And for that I am forever grateful.

I have been amazingly blessed with the resources, family, and friends that I need to fulfill my dreams. I am also trying to be open minded about it though, because I know that plans change on a dime according to circumstance, and circumstance is something I cannot control or predict. I know that despite all of this, I still need help. Yet another reason why I love my parents, because I do not know anyone who could ever lead me right as they do. They are the reason I am the way I am today.

Happy Mother's day Mom. I love you. :)

Love,

Your devoted writer,

Cody

'Baby, I love you.' aka, the flirting game.

 I can chock at least half of social awkwardness up to flirting. It presents to other girls a standard of how to act and what gets noticed, and as time goes on most guys are completely desensitized to the normal and far more subtle interest of some pretty amazing girls. I know at least a hundred such young women. When I see a girl flirting, I am caught somewhere between 'She is going to blind the guy with that smile or the hurricane force winds off those hummingbird-speed eyelashes', and 'Why do guys notice that and not me just being me?”'.

          Don't get me wrong-flirting has it's place. When a guy flirts with you in a non-creepy-just-trying-to-make-you-smile kind of way, then it is fun and innocent, as long as that isn't the normal behavior. I cannot speak for the young men-why, I know plenty who look like they love the attention. And maybe this is just the ramblings of a silly girl, but I think that we should all keep to the age-old saying, 'all things in moderation'. Throwing your attention around is TOTAL overkill, likely to kill. Either through the breaking of sincerely interested souls or through actual maiming. I have seen some killer flirting in my few years!

        Imagine for a moment that there is a country called 'Flirtasia', filled with amazing people all going about their days with their eye-catching ways and beautiful clothes. You have to be noticeable to be noticed. Off the shore of this country is an island called 'Uncharted', populated by people in robes and sandals, always looking for ways to better themselves and ways to help others. The people on this island are without contact with the mainland, except for those rare occasion when someone from the mainland takes a chance and goes beyond themselves to make contact.

        That small island is where I live most days. It gets lonely sometimes, and other times I wish I could move to the mainland and be just like all of the other girls. But most days I remember who I am, and I think of how much Heavenly Father loves me, that he made me the way I am for a reason and especially for someone special. That one day, maybe, that person will leave the mainland to find me. When I remember this, I am happy again. So as with most things, I will just, wait.

As always,

Your faithful writer,

Cody