I Do Dare!

Don't ask.
But here it is: the blog post we've all been so desperately waiting for! I know its been forever, but regardless, I have a fairly decent excuse. Yes, it is a good excuse- having the unabashed menace of Ben and Kaitlyn flying about for two weeks can leave a person incapacitated at best- at least, enough so that updating a blog becomes a distant dream, and all you can hope for is sunny weather, or maybe that the chicken burger supply might not dwindle precariously low. (Thank heaven, it did not.)
What was I doing that kept me so busy? To make matters simple and clean (more for myself than anyone else) I will present my answer in list format.

THE ANSWER.
1. I was desperately trying to catch a few z's. You see, if you ask any teenager (or 12 year old boy, as we learned on the legendary "prank night"), night is the prime time to do pretty much anything. Painting your nails? Do it.....at night. Watching a terrifying movie? Wait for.....darkness. And, in our case, talking about who exactly manufactures those delicious little sour patch candies? ONLY IN THE LIGHT OF THE WANING MOON! You see, this whole manuever makes us feel far more sophisticated than we are, for in any adolescent fantasy, night is the time when parents drop their universal remotes and sweater-vests to go party at some unnamed nightclub among the elite, then (depending on who you ask) engage in high speed car chases after criminal drug lords, or vice versa (a la Grand Theft Auto).
2. I do believe in swimming. *somewhere, a fairy dies* Now, most believe I simply loathe such recreation, but that would not be the case. More than anything, I need a reason. I can't just jump into a pool for naught! No, I need motivation. In this case, a Washingtonian who looked ready to fall over, and did, on the stairs, leading me to believe that acclimation is in fact a real phenomenon that I may have experienced at some point in the ten months I've lived here. Go figure.
3. And last of all, I was doing stuff. Lots and lots and LOTS of stuff. Theme parks, historical parks, and the entirely indescribable spectacle that is a teen-girl-plagued rock concert- this is what I was doing for two weeks straight.
And then, I just needed to start living again.
Its not such a crazy request. I'm entitled to it! Constitutionally bound to my right for a happy existence. At least, until the big 1-8 hits. But for now, I can get away with sleeping in til 10, assured in the knowledge that I need not worry about the bear-infested world outside my front door. Sweet ignorance.
But not for long, according to the NEISD School District, 2701 Tesoro Drive, Suite 8. I know, because this party in question seems to send my mother emails on a weekly basis, all reminding us of the one inevitable door at the end of the smore-littered-hallway that is summer.
High school is a-comin.
And oh man, is it a high school. The largest I have ever seen. Its a wonder I don't wake up screaming at night, thinking about the commute from theater to biology. But hey, one great thing about having a whole new school to yourself- no one can say they've been there. Even the seniors will step foot in the hallways of Johnson the same day as us lowly freshman, one as equally unknowing as the other. On level ground, you might say (though, standing next to any freshman guy I know, I'm guessing they'll blatantly swear that they're on the downhill side.)
And while I wouldn't say I'm terrifically excited for the experience of high school, I will say this much: I did sixth through eighth. It doesn't get any worse than that. And knowing how far I've come in this year alone, my fears are few. New legions of texan schoolchildren are no unfamiliar sight. I can safely say I have seen loony teachers at their very least level of mental function. But more than anything, I have no doubt that the challenges I may face will be nothing more than that- challenges. The building blocks with which experience is made. And as a wise fellow once said...
Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him.
Aldous Huxley

So true.