Chicken, HuggerMugger, and my Grammie.

It's not very often that I get to spend time with my Grammie and her friend Natalie without my younger cousins clinging onto them like needles on a pine tree, but last night was one of those exceptions. We all had quite a time not having to occupy the younger kids, and it felt really good going out as a group of adults. Don't get me wrong, I love having my younger cousins around, but sometimes it's nice to just jump ship and swim freely for a while, not tied down by the pestering and hounding that accompanies all young children. And let me tell you, the water was definitely fine.

After working an impromptu shift at my job, I gathered up my things and we headed off to Windham for a bite to eat and stop at the Pet Store, all in celebration of my birthday! (Which, of course, already happened.) With our stomachs a rumble, we pulled into the driveway of Rustlers, a fairly new restaurant, our minds swimming with food. Right when we stepped into the restaurant, Western paraphernalia attacked us, and I knew I was going to be digging into something delicious. Us three opted for a wooden booth, and we made ourselves comfortable before ordering our food. 

It really was a fun time eating over plates of chicken parmesan, steak, and potatoes, and not to mention, satisfying! After a celebratory dinner, we zoomed over to the Pet Store and ogled at all of the animals for sale. One group of ferrets in particular caught all of our eyes, and we found ourselves watching them for what had to be about twenty minutes straight! There was about five of them, and one of them was going around and biting the jugulars of the others, sparking a feud between all of them. Some were fighting in their water bowl, others were brawling on the ground, and a few were begging us to save them. It really was quite a sight, and got me thinking: What if humans were put in their predicament (trapped in a glass box with four other humans, sharing their water and food for all to see)? Would one of the five humans attack the others, or turn people against each other to benefit himself? I can imagine at least one human would go completely mental before too long—I know I would. I can't stand being forced into places for long periods of time, especially if I know I'm not able to escape (not that that has ever happened).

We eventually called it a night after a few games of "HuggerMugger" (which my Grammie calls "HungerMunger"), and boy was I glad. I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow, exhausted after a long, exciting day. Despite having to work the next day, I had a blast—easily one of the best outings of my memory. If there is anybody who knows how to have fun without having to spend a lot of money, it's my Grammie for sure. She really is one of the most creative and loving people I've ever met, and that's why I love her. She is willing to do for others even if others don't do for her, and that's a quality that I one day hope to obtain. She truly is one of my biggest role models in life, and I cherish every day with her.

It's like I always say, "I'm never too old to be with my Grammie." Because I don't know what I'd do without her.

Salem.

On this glorious snow day, I woke up with a clear goal planted in my mind: Read. All day. It is a very rare occasion that I actually have the time to plop into a cushy position on my bed, engulf myself in fluffy blankets, and crack open a good book, seeing as I'm usually so overwhelmed with my studies and other after school activities that I neglect my hobbies. But today, however, was a completely different tale, one that I am happy to say went according to plan. It felt so refreshing to finally take a day off for just myself—and the characters in whichever book I'm reading, of course—that I've decided that I must do this more often. Perhaps weekly, or even daily (if time allows).

The novel that stole my attention for the day was written by my favorite author, Jodi Picoult, and is about a man that gets accused of committing a heinous crime against a teenage girl that had taken an interest in him. Set in Salem Falls, New Hampshire, Salem Falls is a dark, spellbinding novel that took me through a loop, every new page unfolding another part of the mystery. Picoult really knows how to attack the heart of her readers, making her characters so unbelievably real that you could pass them on the street tomorrow without even thinking twice. She delves so deep into the storyline that the reader gets tied up, forcing him/her to continue reading to untangle him/herself from the mess Picoult left behind. She is, by far, the most detailed and elaborate author that I've ever read, and I'm so glad that the characters in Salem Falls were able to wind their way into my life today. If you haven't read any of her novels, I highly recommend them. You seriously will not regret picking up any of her novels, all of them dealing with such delicate topics that you won't be able to put them down.

Not to mention, the endings of her novels leave you craving even more. Just when you think you know the ending, she pulls a lever and sends you spiraling into uncharted territory, leaving you utterly speechless. I know I've never been able to predict a single one of her endings, and that's what makes them so enrapturing. She truly is a phenomenal author.

I can't help but to wonder if I'll ever be as good as her, considering I want to be an author. I know she puts so much time and effort into researching, and that's something I don't know if I'll ever be able to tackle. My goal in life is to write a novel that leaves my readers speechless, just like Jodi Picoult. I can honestly say she is one of my biggest and most influential inspirations for my short story writings, and I hope to be as good as her someday. And maybe, just maybe, I will be.

A Little TLC.

The discussion of packing, painting, and money is always a hot topic in my household, especially in such a poor economy. We're always pressing our noses into the local newspapers or snooping on the internet to find our next home; the right home. But who's to say the 'right' home isn't right where we are? I happen to like the house my family and I are currently calling our humble abode: It's in town, conveniently located next to just about everything, it's nice and cozy, though a little crammed, and it's got a wonderful view of the quaint town of Bridgton, something that I find myself marveling at from time to time. To me, it's just right for our family. But, then again, who's to say what the 'right' home is?

Over the past 6 months, or so, my family and I have scoured the streets of downtown Bridgton for 'For Sale' signs taped in the darkened windows of abandoned homes, wondering which one would suit us perfectly. A quick call to a realtor answered that question. In total, I believe we've inspected about 5 houses, all of which were accompanied by "This may need a little work", and "Oh, I like this room" phrases. I remember one particular house I was very fond of, and could see my family living in easily. No, it wasn't because it had a ridiculously large bathroom, or that it had a living space above the garage, it was because of this little room that had a bookshelf that stretched from one side to the other. My mind instantly swam in potential at the sight of it. The room had an emerald green, carpeted floor, and the walls were light brown, vertical panels – so it wasn't overly appealing – but there was just something about it that 'clicked' inside my brain. The second I walked into the room, I could see myself reading in a bean bag chair by the window that exposed the surrounding forest, soaking in the natural sunlight while getting lost in a good story. It just felt so right. That's why I've decided that, in my first house, it is mandatory to have a small, study-like room to read books in or just to relax in.

Though I don't think the most previous house we looked at contained anything as special as that room. Located directly across the street from the house with my favorite room, this house sounds like it may just be our next address. My father, who get's all gung-ho about these sorts of things, especially thinks that this house will be ours, though it does need quite a bit of TLC. Unfortunately, I was at school when my parents went to check out the house, so I wasn't able to get a hands on feel for the place, leaving me without an opinion. It really is too bad, too, because house-hunting is something that I've grown quite attached to. There's just something about seeing a bare house, an empty canvas, with loads of untapped potential that really excites me. I love being able to go, "Oh, I bet this would look great here," and ,"Hmm...what would go in this room?" because it sort of gives me that feeling of inspiration (without all of the hard work that usually follows). But I am a bit nervous for our potential move.

However, I'm sure that wherever we end up, we'll be where we should be. Though it may not be the right place, it'll be our place. And that's all that really matters. 

Amish You.

As I sit here, on my comfortable, leather couch, typing rapidly on my Macbook Pro, watching mindless television by the dim, electric light of the lamp in the living room, I wonder what it would be like if all of this just disappeared? If the couch disintegrated into a handmade, wooden rocking chair, if my Macbook Pro morphed into an ink pen and a piece of parchment, if the television converted itself into a pasture, and if the electric lamp downgraded into an oil lamp. How different would everything be? 

Personally, I’ve always wanted to, at least, attempt to live an Amish-based lifestyle. There’s just something so enticing about living off the land that you thrive on, knowing that you’re the one that grew the vegetable being consumed at the dinner table, knowing that you’re the one that tended the cows for the milk that night. I think that it would definitely be a technologically sobering experience, and would really open my eyes to see just how dependent the world really is on the electronics swarming around it. We’ve leaned on our cell phones during emergencies, relied on our computers to send that vital message, and we’ve tuned in to our favorite news station to gather the latest information on the happenings around the world. But what would happen if we were stripped off all that? What if we were — and dare I say it — forced to have actual face-to-face communication with other human beings?

I would seriously love to experience the lifestyle of an Amish person, for maybe even a year, just to see what it’s like to live in a place that is almost alien to the current day person. I would enjoy documenting my time as an Amish person to later reiterate my knowledge into a book, spreading my journey for all to see. I think it would be such a great experiment that I’d love to test out one day, though I’m unsure on when that day will come (if it ever will). Perhaps it won’t, but it’s a dream that I’d love to fulfill.

So get prepared butter churners, well pumps, and pastures, because I’m coming. Some way, some how, I’m coming.

"Finally," he sighed.

Honestly, it’s been way too long. Though I doubt my calculations are accurate, I’m going to say that I’ve somewhat fallen off the face of the earth for about a year, now. What, with my school work, after school activities, and weekend job, I’ve sort of brushed writing to the side of the things that I thought were most important. Yes, I’ve been doing excellent at school, yes, I’ve been injecting myself into many after school events, and yes, I’m making my own money, but I’ve forgotten about what I love most. Sitting here, in the darkness of the earth’s shadow, I realize just how neglectful I’ve been. Sighing, I, hesitantly, pick up a pencil and begin to write.

Though I haven’t a clue where to begin. Perhaps, despite it being winter, I’ll talk about my adventurous summer! Man, it sure was jam-packed with tons of wonderful trips, outings, and love (provided by my family, of course). Out of everything I wrapped myself up in, my absolute favorite event was when my Grammie, her friend Natalie, and my two cousins Liza, and Jonnaka, wandered  through the magical gates of Story Land. We had a grand ol’ time together, reminiscing, laughing, and loving. 

It truly was an experience that I will always treasure, seeing as we’re never all together at the same time. I am so grateful that all of our unique and distinct personalities were able to shine that day, every one of us pulling something different out of it that will stay locked away in our hearts forever. I know that, for me, it was not about where we went at all, it was just about spending time with the people that I love and cherish the most in the world: My family. For all I cared, we could’ve been cooped up by the air conditioning at my Grammie’s house, fiddling with a deck of cards or flipping hastily through the channels on the television. It wouldn’t’ve mattered to me one bit.

Because my family is the one thing that I’ll never grow out of.

Timing Is Everything.

I often speculate about the timing of having a baby. Throughout my lifetime, I have noticed a pattern about the terrible timing of conception. My two sisters were born in a time where my mother and her then husband were constantly feuding and battling about their problems. My brother was born when my mother and my brother's father were also fighting, and he left her before he was born. My youngest sister had both of her children at times where she was not financially stable, or permanently in a home. My oldest sister has yet to deliver her future son, but she found out about her being pregnant at the lowest point in her life, not just financially, but physically, emotionally, and mentally. The baby just seemed to be the icing on the cold, icy cake. Then, there was me. I was born into an already crazy and unstable family, and I witnessed first hand the highs and the lows. I was born when my parents were constantly bickering about their parenting styles, and not to mention, they weren't financially stable for a family of six at all.

I always wonder if the egg knows when the women is at a low point in her life, and decides that now is the time to give her a child. It definitely seems like when you want to have a baby, you're never able to get one, and when you don't want one, you always do. It sounds like a vicious cycle to me, and I'm not sure if I want to be apart of that at all in my lifetime.

Today I was contemplating how my life would be if I suddenly had a child to care for. This idea was triggered by a previous conversation with my mother after we found out my sister was having a boy, making that three grandsons and no granddaughters. We dove into a conversation about how we'll never have a granddaughter because that's what we want. It was then that I told her that I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to have children. They just seem like a hassle to me, though they are cute and chubby. I just don't see myself as a good parent. I'm lazy, I like to be alone and keep to myself, and I'm really not a people person. Raising a child with that personality just doesn't seem to mesh well to me.

Then again, why am I so worried about what's going to happen, if ever, in the future? I should be focusing on the now, and what I want for myself. I'll focus on my career, goals, and aspirations, and once those are completed, maybe I'll think about babies. But for now I'm just a baby myself, and still need time to grow and fend for myself, and only myself.

The Perfect Life.

Why is it that people ask: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Are they really curious as to what your life-long ambitions in life are, or is it something people expect you to already know? Lately I've been pondering my options, but just can't seem to find a clear and concise conclusion to my life yet. I guess the truth is, nobody can find that conclusion, and that's what makes life so worth living. It's not having the perfect family, the perfect job, and the perfect life that makes life seem so worth while, it's the struggles, the ups and downs, and the strives towards success that slowly but surely bring you to your perfect life that do the trick.

One of my long time aspirations is to become an author. I'm not planning on becoming this rich and famous author who arrives from his limousine wearing only the finest, but if the opportunity arises, I may just have to pounce on it. My plans were to write a few books in my hometown, wherever that may be at the time, and to just be a small-town author living out his childhood dream. I would wake up in the morning to my favorite cup of coffee, listen to the bird quietly chirping "Hellos," and "Good mornings" on their daily commutes, breathe in the fresh air and savor every moment. Then, I would set myself down in a cushioned chair and let my thoughts explode onto the paper until a prompting idea showed. That idea would quickly transform itself into a novel, and then the process would start all over again. What a life that would be!

One of my more recent dreams is to be a lawyer. I've always treasured the thought of winning that oh so vital case, or putting up such a convincing argument that the jury had to think twice before convicting my client for the sadistic murder of his family. It's really the thought of being able to twist and manipulate someone's wording in order to exploit them that really catches my eye. I love being able to latch on to the smallest of details and elaborate upon them in ways nobody has thought of before, and to really utilize the evidence before me in order to win the case. Derrek Schrader, Attorney at Law. Eh, it needs a little fixing, but it'll have to do for now.

In the end, it truly makes no difference to me whether I'm an author, a lawyer, or any have any other occupation, just as long as I am happy. Whatever my inconclusive and unknown perfect life will bring me, I'll know that my true perfect life was the road that lead me to wherever it is that I ended up. The rest is just an added bonus.

A Good Story.

I'm nosy. Meddlesome. Curious. Use whatever adjective you like. The facts are still the same. I enjoy prying my way into someone's life not to know what's occurring, but to suffice the lack of excitement in my own life. Without other human beings having lives, I myself would not have a life. I rely on those juicy stories about troublesome kids, or the joyous tales of a vacation to make my own life exciting.

My parents constantly remind me to leave my door open during the wintertime because there is no source of heat in my room. I have to thieve the heat from the hallway to keep me cozy, just like I have to do to have some sort of sane life! Even when it isn't cold, I find myself persistently leaving my door wide open to expose my perked ears to a good story about anybody's life but my own. I listen intently for the sound of my father's loud and distinctive laugh, or my mother's trademark "Quiet!" while on the phone, signaling to me that I may be missing an anecdote.

I suppose I inherited this gossip gene from my mother, who is also a sucker for an intriguing story. She is constantly gossiping on the phone to one of her friends about a late night account, or just tid-bits from her day, and I'm always listening in on those conversations. I even find myself following her around the house like a puppy while she gabs, and she always makes a comment about it to me after-wards. I may just have to mark listening down as one of my many hobbies.

My advice to you: When you're bored with your life, move on to someone else's.

Decisions, Decisions.

The truth of the matter is, I just don't know where to begin. I could choose to bore you with my typical teenage school problems that have flushed me of all my strength for the evening, or how I hope for snow for the selfish reasons of a snow day rather than for the beauty it brings, but I guess I'll choose how happy I am with the family I was given from birth.

Isn't it funny how we always want to make our own decisions in life? Whether they be as small as what kind of bread you want on your peanut butter sandwich, or as momentous as selecting which college you'd like to attend, you always want them to be your own decision! The funny thing about this is, the biggest and most life changing decision is one you never have a say in: Your family. The family I was born into is one I probably would not have leaned towards if I had had the choice, but now that I'm here, I wouldn't have it any other way.

They always find a way to make everyday just a little bit better without even trying. Take today, for instance, my father, step-sister, and my nephews went out for a day of bulk shopping, something I rarely take part in, and I actually enjoyed myself. I usually avoid the hassle of listening to my parent's complain that they can't afford something, but today I just had a strange inkling that it would be okay. And it was. In fact, it was much better than okay, it was absolutely fantastic to spend time with my sister and my father in lights I don't necessarily spend time with them in. I feel like it has brought me closer to them, and they didn't even have to try.

I suppose it truly is the little things in life that make me smile on a bad day. They tend to cling to my thoughts like raindrops on a window long after the storm. The decisions we make on a day-to-day basis significantly impact the decisions we make the next day, and the decisions I've made today are ones that I will never regret.

Ready. Set. Action!

Ever since my brother left for college, I've been center stage with the spotlight drowning me in bright light. My parents have finally been able to focus on just me, playing games with me, and making sure that I fit into their busy schedules. I'll admit, it felt pretty good. Like they were raising me high on a pedestal and gazing at me with wide eyes as if I was some sort of exotic and rare species, rather than a shadow. You see, I've always been cloaked in my siblings' shadows because of my maturity and self-discipline. I've never been the one they've needed to focus their attention on or worry about because they already knew I was alright. Often times, I find myself pondering situations in which would worry my parents, but I know I will never actually act upon those thoughts. 

This winter I've been wearing the cloak of concealment yet again because my brother is back home on break. He is transferring from one college to another, and my mother is terribly worried about the neighborhood he is about to move in to. Not to mention the lack of transportation, prolonged distances, and obvious carelessness on my brothers' behalf. Dinner tonight was one of those times. My parents were attempting for the umpteenth time to convince my brother that he should just stay at his old college, but he was dead-set on moving, and I knew that nothing they said was going to suddenly make him have a change of heart. I finished eating my food and left the dinner table, unnoticed by my family.

I'm not upset, angry, or disappointed in my parent's actions, that night or any other time, I know that they don't intentionally see through me. I guess I just have to get accustomed to always sharing the spotlight with my family. I'd like to think of them as actors in my story, but we're really one big spotlight sharing story for the world to see. And in our story, the curtains are always open, and the stage is always set.