help?

It's been a long time since I've written on here, and I am sorry about that. Things have just been so hectic lately, starting sophmore year and everything. However, I find myself in a bit of a predicament and I'm not sure what to do about it. 

Here's the story:

This summer, I was on vacation and having a party on the lakefront like we always do. I hung out mostly with this guy and we talked forever then ended up hooking up. Was it good? Ohhh yeah. His stepdad is my dad's best friend, so I see him about once a summer but didn't know him all that well, but loooove his  family. I went over to his house the next night and played cards with him and his entire family, and things were fine. We joked maybe a lil more than normal, because I actually sorta knew him now, but nothing was weird, thank God. He left the day after that to go back home to LA and I thought that was the end of it. A couple days later, he called me and we talked for almost two hours. Then I called him a week later and we talked for almost three hours. That was in August. Since then, we've texted a few times (me initiating) and messaged a few times (him initiating). But nothing major. 

Cute summer story, right? Here's the problem: I can't get him out of my head. And more importantly, I can't figure out why. I've had some summer fun before and have never had an issue with leaving it. I'm not one of those girls that gets attached or pines away for a guy, it's just not me. But for some reason, now it is. Next thing: I'm not a phone talker. My maximum limit is usually about a half hour (even to my family or my best friend that I've known my entire life). But I looooved talking to him, he had such a passion when he was talking about things he cared about. We covered so many topics, and sure there were awkward pauses, but nothing I couldn't handle. 

I realize that there is obviously nothing on his side, considering he hasn't called since August. And I get that I sound like one of those crazy chics. But this isn't me. I want to stop thinking about him. And I want to know why I can't. This is a new experience for me, and I'm not enjoying it. Any advice on how to get over it?

growing old

The other night I was on the phone and the person I was talking to told me that my response said that I was intelligent but young. To this, I replied, "Well good, I'm like Peter Pan, I never want to grow up." I was more defending myself than being honest. Truthfully, I do want to grow old.. However, I plan on enjoying life along the way.

You see, in about a month,  I turn 19. Young, definitely. But old enough to have experienced some aspects of life. But obviously, not all. Except, that just took me off track. I'm only going to be able to say that I'm 18 for 34 more days. And then, I can never say it honestly again. I like being 18, I like that I'm old enough to vote and know what's going on in the world. I like that at 18, I still have enough naivete to believe that I can change the world. I know there are bad things happening, but I still think I can make a difference. I'm excited to turn 19, then 25, then 40, then 75. But I'm in no rush to grow up. Think about it, we only have 365  days to be each age. At times, it seems like an eternity. But thinking back on it, it's really no time at all.

Yes I'm young. Yes, I can still see things through a child's eyes. Yes I'm old. Yes, I can understand the importance of decisions. I'm in no hurry. I'm not afraid to grow up.  Obviously, I have fears. I don't wanna disappoint my family or friends, I don't want to fail. And I keep changing my mind on what I actually want to do with my life. But I have decided that I want to change the world. And I hope that for the rest of my life, I keep my 18 year old perspective that I can.

nine days..

I cannot believe that I leave here in nine days. Nine days and my freshman year is over. I feel like I have been counting down for so long, but now that it's finally close, I'm freaking out.

For the next three months, there will be no more:

- midnight bronco runs

- staying up till 3 to finish papers, because more time is spent talking than actually writing

- blondies 

- taking a shower at 6 am, because it's the only hangover cure I know

- jumping on Jodi's bed

- late night convos about anything with my roomie

- doing the 4 30 dash to the bathroom

- taking keys to the bathroom

- trying to use up all our food points

- crazy adventures on the weekends

- in n out in movie theaters

- photobooth sessions with the girls who made them legendary

- DJ Checko

I came here, scared as can be, to live among all these strangers. And then, these strangers became my friends. And now, I feel like I'm leaving my family. It's weird how quickly one can adapt and your whole life can change. I have built a place for me here, with everyone. And now, I have to leave it. Trust me, I am ready to go home. I miss my family and friends, but just as much, I will miss my family and friends here.

B E A U T I F U L

Okay, when has the word beautiful become extinct? Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, breath-taking. Any of those words will do.  My ex-boyfriend called me hot, sexy, or fine. Now personally I do not see myself as these things. It's not a lack of self-confidence, I just don't feel that I have that sexy look. Now I appreciate that he thought so, but just once I would have liked to hear pretty or beautiful. I do not know what happened in our culture to make gorgeous or breath-taking out of our vocabularies, but I think that all men should bring it back.

When I am dressed up in a low-cut shirt or party clothes, please feel free to call me sexy or hot or whatever adjective comes to mind. When I am going somewhere more laid back, that's what I try for. But when I am dressed up for whatever reason: a formal dance, a special night out, a friend's birthday to a nice restaurant, please don't say, "dang girl, you're fine." I dunno, maybe some women prefer that, but I'm not one. When I put that much effort into it, I want to hear stunning or beautiful. If you don't believe it, then don't lie to me, obviously. But if you do, please tell me. When I know that you think I look amazing, it boosts my self-confidence that much more for the night. 

If a man says sexy or hot, he's only talking about me physically. But if he says beautiful, I feel like he's talking about all of me. My emotions and my looks directly affect each other. When I look good, I feel good. And  when I feel good, I look good. Now, everyone may not be with me on this. But as it's my blog, I get to say what I want. And I want to be beautiful. Like I said, if you don't think it, don't say it. And if you don't think it, don't expect me to stay with you. Because out there somewhere, there is the guy who thinks I am the most beautiful girl in the world... and he will say it to me.

Relay For Life

"We Walk because we can't Walk away and we will keep on Walking until we don't have to Walk anymore"

This past weekend, I worked Relay for Life. It was the most amazing experience. I focused mostly on the survivors and making sure they enjoyed the event. There was a little boy there, 14 months old. How can he have cancer? He's too young. Yet, he didn't let it phase him. He was giving out high fives and smiling and running around with his brother and sister. There was a girl who could not be much older than I was. Her mother and her walked together, both surviving of this awful disease. There was an older survivor who made egg rolls and handed them out. Many of the survivors joined a team, and stayed throughout the entire event which was awesome. I saw teams out there filled with college students, 12 year olds, older people, business colleagues, friedns, survivors. It was uplifiting to see everyone out there, walking in order to battle this disease which claims so many lives. 

Cancer can affect anyone: best friends, worst enemies, mothers, fathers, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, teachers, CEOs, the homeless, children, and retirees. It is a disease that does not discriminate. Cancer does not affect one person, it affects an entire community. And it must be stopped. We must continue working until we can find the cure, and give these hard-working fighters some reprieve. We must let them know that they do not fight in vain, that we will support them always. And that is why I Relay. I walk to let the survivors know that I care. To let their families understand that I am here for support. I walk because it's one thing I can do to raise awareness. I walk to shed light on the situation. 

The survivors were the most amazing people I have ever met. Some had literally been on death's doorstep but fought back. Many lose the battle, and they will always be remembered for their bravery. One day, I hope the world looks back on cancer as a disease in the past. I hope it is like the plague or polio, in which we found a cure then a vaccine. I hope that people will look back and wonder if cancer was just an urban legend. The survivors made this event worth it. To see the smiles on their faces, the sweat on their brows, the determination to keep walking and keep fighting. 

I had to wake up at 7 in order to be there by 8 30 to help set-up. I was sunburned to a crisp because I forgot to put on sunscreen until 2. I know, ironic. People were cranky, I was tired and sweaty and it was only 9 45. And then 10 AM happened and the survivor lap began. I bawled as I watched that 14 month old lead the survivors. Tears slid down my cheeks as I watched these 50 survivors walk around the track. They were inspirational. They had all lived through it. It's because of these men and women that I Relay. 9 45 on Sunday morning was the second most inspirational. Many had left by then, tired from being in the sun or they had other things to do. But about 75 people stayed in total, and we did the fight back lap. It is the final lap of Relay for Life. It is meant to inpsire and incite. And trust me, it did. 

If you have a Relay for Life, I encourage you to form a team and go. It's a life changer. If you can't do 24 hours then don't. Give 1 hour, 2 hours, 10 hours. Do what you can.

The Cubs

I'm not really sure what I should follow up the last post with so I figured I would lighten things up with a joke:

Little Tommy went to kindergarten one day wearing a Chicago Cubs hat. The teacher asked him why he was a Cubs fan. He said, "because my parents are." His teacher said, "That's not good. What would you do it your parents were hookers and drug dealers?" Little Tommy replied, "Well then, I would be a White Sox fan."

My family is originally from Chicago and we are all huge Cubs fans. I guess you would have to be one to get this joke, but personally I find it hilarious. It's my favorite one out there. And for those of you who may think it's inappropriate to put this after my last post, you should know that Liz is from Chicago too, and she loved the Cubs so I'm sure she's laughing right now too.

And now for my favorite Cubs shirts:

1908. 

This 08's gonna be just like the last one.

2008.

got fukudome?

I support two teams:

The Cubs

and whoever beats the Sox.

I would rather my sister be a prostitute

than for her to be a White Sox fan.

Cubs Fan..

a glutton for punishment.

That's all for now. 

P.S. We swept the Cardinals today.

Liz- My angel

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. I'm sure all of you know that, and if you didn't, then you should have. What manyof you don't know is that it was also someone's birthday. Well, I'm sure it was many people's birthday... but I'm thinking of one in particular. The beautiful Elizabeth Meyer. 

You see, it should have been her 20th birthday. She should have been excited that in one more year, she would no longer have to use a fake. She should have been celebrating with her family, or sitting at school and celebrating with her friends, missing her family. Instead, she celebrated in Heaven. This spectacular girl will forever be 18. 18 years, 1 month, and 21 days to be exact. She died too young, really it is just that simple. She was amazing, just straight up amazing. She was, is, and always will be my hero. I'm not quite sure why God saw fit to take her out of this world so soon, but one day I will ask Him. 

Liz was my teammate on my high school soccer team. She was a year older than me, and it's safe to say that I worshipped the ground she walked on. She played sweeper, and I played left fullback. Obviously, we argued. She thought I should handle a situation differently, I thought that she rode me too hard. We were both competitive and wanted to win. We didn't fight out of hatred or anything else, we both wanted to see the other work harder. No matter how bad it got on the field, it never went off the field. She was just like that. She did not hold any grudges. Before I could drive, I often went from school to practice in Liz's car. She was the type of person who did anything to make someone laugh. Often, we would play the Barney soundtrack and sing at the top of our lungs as we passed another high school to see what the kids would say. She had zero embarrassment level. 

I will never forget the day that I found out she had died. I was babysitting a couple houses down from my own and my friend Melissa had left a voicemail saying to call her back right away, she sounded urgent and upset. My best friend Missy was calling as I walked out the front door and she asked if I had heard anything about Liz. Listening to this, plus the voicemail, the first thing I thought was car accident and that maybe she was in the hospital. But no way, it could be worse than that. I mean, it was Liz. She was so full of life and laughter that it would be impossible for her to be gone. I hung up on Missy and called Melissa back who told me that Liz had passed away in a car accident. It had only happened 12 hours before so no one really knew details. Missy came over right away, knowing that I needed her. We both sat in front of the TV, flipping through the local news stations in hopes of any information, any small detail. It never came.

I met up with my soccer team later that night. Together, we went to Del Taco where kids from the school were meeting up. Some brought flowers, some brought candles, some brought signs. At first, we were going to go to the crash site, but her mom asked us not to. It occurred on a highway and she didn't want anything else bad to happen, so she invited us to her home. I will never forget her strength through everything. The saddest site to see was when her younger sister, Steph, also on the team showed up at Del Taco. She told us her mom's wishes so we all went back to the Meyer Household. There were over twenty cars. We set up a vigil outside of their house. Her mom got food and orange soda (Liz's favorite). Not even a full 24 hours after it occurred, her mom was trying to cheer us up. She was not focused on herself but on the 100 or so students in her house. I know where Liz got her amazingness from. Obviously, tears were shed. But surprisingly, just as many, if not more, laughs occurred. We did everything we could to commemorate her in a way that she would appreciate. We drank orange soda and ate cereal, two of her favorite things. 

That August, soccer and school started up again. We were certain that we would win state for her. We had come so close the two years she was with us, that we HAD to win it this last year. Every game, we wrote "play for her" on our hands and our cleats. We had warm-up shirts with her picture on them. "Play for her" became our theme, everywhere there was a soccer player, there was this statement. Unfortunately, we did not win. We came so close, only to lose it again. That is my last regret. I wanted to win it for her. That's all I wanted. 

Liz taught me how to have fun. I never saw her without a smile. She had a strong faith. She rarely talked bad about others. At her memorial, the priest likened her to a shooting star: shining brighter than the rest, but for a shorter amount of time. I have never before nor since heard a truer comparison. Liz was not perfect, by any means. But you see, she also was. She was the perfect Liz. She cared about others, going on mission trips to Jamaica and working at orphanages. She knew how to have fun and she knew when to be serious. I feel bad for every person that never got nor gets to have contact with this beautiful soul

I can honestly say that Liz was an angel on Earth, and that it is only fitting that she is an angel in Heaven now. I'm sure she is playing practical jokes up there and cheering up the children who are without their parents. For my entire senior year, I lived by the phrase "play for her." But for the rest of my life, I will "live for her." Everyday I miss her. Every night I pray for her and her family. I was blessed to know her, even if for just a short time.