A Poem

I didn’t want to leave
I didn’t mean to forget
I didn’t mean to leave You
But I did

I want to come back now
Please open the door
I’m screaming my soul out
I’m saying, ‘I want more’
Father, I miss You

My sins are a garment
I reluctantly put on
Remember Your Son’s blood
And give me a new heart

Questions for Jeannie

Questions for Jeannie:
1. Do I have to fold my hands every time I talk to God?
2. Because I used the Ouija board, was interested in witchcraft, etc. before will it effect God’s decision for me? Would I be left behind? Even though God is the most important thing to me?
3. Should I fast?
4. I keep praying and I don’t get better. Does God want me better? If so, why?
5. Why fear God?

I’ve asked God, but I don’t think I’ve gotten an answer yet. Maybe I’ve got to figure this one out on my own. But even that would be with God, so never mind. Hey, I’m new at this.

The thing is that while I am moving forward in my relationship with God to where obsessed is an understatement my family and (most of) my friends are pushing away. The only ones who seem interested or at least not bothered by my Jesus talk are Michael, Nick and Gramma. Now it is God, through Jeannie, who turned my life around. Mom used to see Jeannie, how come she wasn’t turned around, too? She never talks about Jesus or God, she doesn’t pray or read the Bible or go to church. She won’t even take me to church. I also get the feeling that she doesn’t like going to the Family Christian store, which I love. Ginny is no better.

Jessie doesn’t pray, read the Bible or go to church, yet she says that she is a Christian. Her parents do too, and they are the same. [Note: This is a false statement. Tim and Laura have never professed to be Christians.] I asked her if she wanted to come to church with me and Gramma this Sunday and she said yes. I told her we were going at 8:00 AM. She still said yes. If I know Jessie, she won’t make it, but I’ll ask God to give me faith in her. She said she wanted to start going to First Plymouth because it was pretty. I’m sorry Lord, but I wanted to shake her. A pretty church is nice, Jessie, but don’t you hunger for unity of people and knowledge and worship of the Lord?! I’ll have to pray for tolerance of her as well.

I am getting better and better everyday at being a Christian and I thank God for it.

Feeling Insane

Note: I was on a seriously high dose of Prednisone in the summer of 2003

The drugs they put me on…I dunno. My mind is so messed up. I feel insane. I am not myself. Sometimes. Sometimes I want to hit the walls and scream. Sometimes everything swirls and I am lost in it. Its like morphine.
Then I wig cuz I can’t eat. Everything hurts. And then I get this feeling like I’m gonna throw up, only it goes over my heart and brain, and under my face. I am so totally delirious. I feel like I’m living in a dream. I want to cry out. To wake up. I can’t.
I pray to God that He give me my body, mind and life back. I hope he listens cuz I’m trapped and someone needs to pull me out.

Taking It With Me

I feel icky. My stomach and (especially) my head hurt. Please, God, make it stop. If I am going through this suffering there has to be a reason. Why? I want to know why God has made me sickly. I suppose I’ll find out in time. I am tired. But I am writing and that makes me feel good. And I’m at home. I’m happy because what I’m doing makes God happy; its what He wants me to do.

What would I do without Jeannie? I mean, really. I would be just as lost as I would be without Harry Potter. I gave her Roses and Bones today. I hope she likes it. I got two books for teens from the Christian store today.

The world is so full of temptations. Its one big temptation. I should just stay home and at school and places like that where temptation is zip. Wait. What am I saying? There are different temptations that covetousness. Like peer pressures, and being mean. In other words, disobeying God. Oh man, I never want to disobey God and I can say that from the bottom of my heart.

Later…

Sorry, I had to go for a minute because Gin came in. I was closing my eyes just now and I think I could hear the Lord telling me to put my mind at rest and just relax. I kept trying to change positions, not because I was uncomfortable but because it’s a habit. And that voice said no, just relax. I am pretty sure it was the Lord and I felt such tenderness from Him and I feared nothing.

I thought I should write this down and I opened my eyes easy as pie and wrote. Okay, I’m still tired, but a bit better.

Anyway, I have no father here and I desperately need one. Here is the Lord, my real Father.
Things that are important to me, like writing, cannot be taken with me that I die, but hopefully they are read by the living and effect them in a positive way. Please, God, let this happen. You know what I miss? Rainy Sundays at church.

10:33 PM

It is the strangest sensation to be in Ambien (as I am now). I sound sane right now but Ambien world has me in its clutches. I can think anything. It is just like being in a dream. Can’t pay attention to anything.

Torture

Torture, if I may be frank. Actually, I may be Becca, but you never know. Ha ha. Anyway, torture is what picture taking/locker check out is at Southeast High School for losers with no friends and a personality type the accounts for 4% of the world. And I don’t like most teenagers. I mean, in the name of Harry Potter, these girls were talking about how the hall smelled like a penis. Get a life!

Andrew is still cute, but as he is a loser and was talking about butt cracks with his friend I am afraid that he is out of the picture. Good thing I am on an anti-depressant, huh? Can anyone in the world read my hand writing? I only write like this for things no one but me is gonna have to read.

Skinny

If I were skinny life would be perfect. It seriously would. I sound like an anorexic psycho, but I am far from being anorexic, even if I am a psycho. Anything that goes wrong in life-hey at least I’m skinny. I think about how I look in every sentence my brain thinks. I am consumed by it and I admit it. Sometimes I sit and pretend I am skinny. Going out in public is awful. I can never fully enjoy it because even when I suck in I look like a fat pig.

I see the doctor on Monday. If she says my stomach is all fat then I will demand she make me skinny. If it is inflammation then I will demand that we deflate. I almost wish I were anorexic. I wish I could go outside and run and run until sweat and fat and calories leave my body and I am pure.

I hate myself for being fat. My fingers pull at my stomach and double chin and I try not to cry. Someday those tears will come, and when they do I hope that they carry fat out with them.
I think if I were skinny I would be really pretty because other than my fatness I look good. God, all the guys I could get. I could be so much more. I would know and be and live my body and it would not be contaminated by so much damn fat. I want to rip it out. I dream of a knife that comes down and slices it all off. I feel disgusting.

That is what takes over my brain these days.

The Desire to Be Productive

I am possessed with a desire to be productive. I can only conclude that this stems from being caged in my house for so many years. I love my house, I love it with all my heart, but I know it would do me good to get out more. Also, I cannot so easily fulfill my human need to be doing things. I am a hyper person as well and the sickness I have steals that away from me.

Even when I don’t feel well, if there’s a chance to go out and do something-I go. At home I get that sense of completion from writing a chapter or reading a book. So that’s what I do. I clean also and have started sewing a quilt. Most of my activities must be slow and quiet, not physically demanding. It gets extremely frustrating when I am too ill to do much of anything. And yet, day by day, I am growing and can feel it. And I am happy. I miss out, but I am happy. I would love not to miss out, though. Perhaps some day I shall not.

I Dreamt

I dreamt I was reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night. I had somehow gotten it before the release date. While reading it my mind wandered from boredom and I began to wonder if it were a fake. I reread chapter one, trying to immerse myself because I knew something big happened in chapter two. I woke up before I got to the second chapter (entitled something like ‘Stations 100-200’). I really wonder sometimes…

Mr. Homebound

I am beginning to like the morning more and more. Perhaps it has something to do with summer on its way, but I would rather rise with the sun than lie down to it.

I hung a Gryffindor chain in my window yesterday. I saw it this morning when I woke up, illuminated by the sun and excitement for Harry Potter gripped my heart hard. I think that waiting for something is often more fun than the thing itself. I don’t believe I can apply that theory here: the entire package is wonderful. The waiting is full of excitement, reading is full of the unexpected and afterwards there are all the wonderful discussions. I cannot wait for another damn minute. But I will.

Writing has been going well, though I would not blame people who think that I have given up on another story due to lack of momentum and plot. I believe in taking my time with writing. Now that I have an audience I am writing a bit more carefully. The parts that are done I am happy with.

I have decided to dedicate ‘Alice’ to Michael. He was one of the inspirations for it. He is also a big part of my life and I felt that I wanted to write something for him. The book I am now writing I am writing for myself, but it started out for him.

I think I would be right in saying that there is some skepticism among people I know as to whether Michael and I are just friends. I don’t blame them. I talk about Michael an awful lot.
I question myself often. Do I like him as a friend or more? Truthfully, honestly, the answer would be more, but not by much. If we really were to get into a relationship I think there would be problems. First of all, we live on opposite sides of the country. Second of all, I am having a lot of fun just being his friend, without having to worry about a relationship. So really, I just like things the way they are. For the record, if anyone is reading this, that is true.

Later…

Mom often talks dirty about dad. When I say, ‘talks dirty’ I mean that she says bad things about him. She has just done this. Why? Because my dad accidentally left his wedding ring here and now we are sending it back to him. She just went off talking about how careless he is. I didn’t like it so I said, “You know that anything bad you say about dad I am immune to because he’s my dad, right?”

“Yes, but you know he’s scatter-brained. You know he takes off that ring and plays with it.”

Well, sure. I’d play with it, too. And all the insults were making me mad. All I could say was,

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Be quiet.”

Later…

Mr. Homebound

1. “Its not like reading an Encyclopedia”
2. “Doesn’t look like Career, uh, Hel’ is gonna work out”

Listed above are some of the idiotic things said by my homebound teacher. I don’t think I’ve met a homebound teacher in Nebraska who has any brains. Now he his telling my mom the story about the leukemia girl…AGAIN! Hello! We know!

1. Encyclopedias are easy to read. First graders do it.
2. Career hell? Oh yeah. NO! It’s Career ED! Jeez, he has REALLY bad diction and so when he says ‘health’ it comes out ‘hel’.

Time for more idiotic things said by Mr.Homebound (Steve).

“Use an umbrella when you go outside, those are my words of wisdom” Um, yeah. Before he said that he said:

“Any questions? Any words of wisdom you have for me before I leave?”

What I would like to say:
“Yeah, why are you such a moron?”

What I really said:
“Um, yeah. What should I do with my text books?”

You know, I don’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and I give lots of fake smiles. I am always forced to say "sounds good” or “sounds like a plan” which I would never say in real life.

Nothing! Well, I suppose he got a kick out of getting a test with the answers on it. Idiot. He thought he made some funny jokes…but he didn’t. But that was it.

Morning: My dream

There was a lot that happened before this, but here is where I will start:

I have to go and see this guy who has made this new cartoon that is now in the papers about two genius babies (though they don’t look like babies). The style looks Simpson-like. I see that in one of the cartoons the babies are in straight jackets.

Anyway, I’m gonna go see the creator of this comic strip with mom so that I can get started on some art stuff (sort of like a lesson since I have nothing else to do). Looking back, I realize that the artist guy was pretty awesome. I’ll have to use him in a story sometime. He was about mom’s age, black hair, kinda shy, sometimes wearing glasses ( I think).

He had just moved into this new apartment. It was a large space with a modern look. It was sparse and all the walls where white. There were some abstract paintings on the wall, mostly in red, blue and yellow (primary colors).

There was a large set of glass cabinets set into the wall separating the kitchen from another room. You could see through the cabinets into the other room. It was like a really big version of grandma and grandpa’s house in Michigan. You could see dishes stacked by color in the cabinets. All very organized, very cool.

For minute I am the artist and I try to get something down from the last cupboard. I break a large glass wine glass in the process. This happens a few more times and I say, “Oh, I know this apartment looks cool, but I keep breaking things, so I don’t think its gonna work out.”
What the artist guy is trying to do is get art supplies from the glass cabinets. Mom and I help him get it all down and look at all the cool stuff in these bags and containers. Billons of brand-new, unsharpened pencils, watercolor sets, and so on.

Then we go into the kitchen and sit down at a long, white table by a floor-to-ceiling window. He starts drawing and telling me about the various art supplies that mom and I are still curiously inspecting. He gets out his watercolors and starts painting and mom says, “Hey, Becca, look! These are Tracy Sands’ watercolors! She makes these!” (Tracy Sands is my sister’s cello teacher. As far as I know she has no talent or history in the watercolor business.)

“Really?” said the artist. “You know the person who makes these watercolors? I love them! Never use anything else.”

They were your average watercolors. About seven colors in a plastic case. I said, “I don’t like to paint my sketches. I never did until last summer. It was okay, I guess. I prefer a pencil sketch, though. I notice you have smudgers! I am addicted to them!”

He gave me a look that plainly said that he didn’t like smudgers.

[The dream went on but I never recorded it. I remember that there was something about Michael and a few other kids walking on Irving Middle School’s roof. I don’t usually comment on my journal entries but I must comment on this one. Turned out a couple years later that I, like my grandmother, have a knack for watercolor. It is my favorite medium to use and is where I exceed.]

He was embarassed,t quite pleased when Mrs. Wesley gave him an extra hug.

I didn't write about school yesterday cuz, 1-I was busy and 2-I didn’t really feel like it.
Anyway, Christina was back at school yesterday and I really got into what was going on in the class and not so much into my work, though I did finish my packet. It was funny cuz one guy tried to fight Mr. Hollman and Mr. Hollman beat him each time and everyone said funny things that I could repeat if I wanted, but I won't. I had to leave health early to talk to Mrs. Sass about doing NovaNet.

I met Becky after school. She always looks so tired and stressed out. I'm over here carefree, hyper and having the time of my life at school. I always feel like I'm talking too much when I'm with her. But whatever, I'm going to ask her today if anything is bothering her. I actually finished my walk home yesterday. It was a very nice, inspiring walk, especially cuz it was raining. Then I went to see a demonstration by Fosse at Chase that was awesome.

So anyway, I could get into a lot more detail, but I don't feel like it. Today I have so far been listening to music and drawing, and exercising and doing homework and junk like that.
So I am going to go to school now, though I am actually really tired. I've been waking up from these Harry Potter dreams at five lately. Go figure.

Tom? Tom Riddle?

It's only 12:00 (AM) and I've already had quite a day. I had my voice lesson at Janene's new house. Her new house is very nice and big. Her family really deserves it. There are three kids, Janene and her husband, Bill. It made me happy that I was going to my lesson and we could do anything we wanted because we weren't preparing for any shows or competitions. Not that I don't like shows and competitions, but it's nice to have a relaxing lesson where you can just sing whatever and there's no pressure. I didn't feel like I had to stay longer or anything. It was a nice day and I was perfectly content to do warm-ups. Lots. I wanted to. We are going back to basics now.

Janene said, "Now if we are going to go back to getting you all trained up to be an opera singer we are going to do a lot more scales and things like that that train your voice and not so many songs"

"Good," I said

And she went on to tell me that sopranos have a reputation for being stupid.

"Kind of like blondes?" I said.

Janene laughed. "Yes, exactly"

Sopranos sometimes can't read music because they don't have to harmonize.

So they are called stupid.

"But we are going to make you a smart soprano. Learning to read music is
no fun, but we want you to know your craft."

I was glad to learn music. I like how Janene calls it my craft. I love what I do and I want to know all about it. I left feeling proud about what I am.

When we were doing warm ups and I was getting to the high notes (even with my cold. Yay!)
Janene said, "Kid, you are always going to be a soprano. Wow."

YES YES YES!

She also said that I am too young to tell if my voice is fit for opera. But I said, whatever, I am always going to be working for my goal and I'm always going to sing. If I can't sing opera I'll sing something else.

Then I had homebound. God, I hate homebound. But it actually looks like I'm going to stop homebound and do algebra by myself in an independent study. Praise the Lord! So soon I have to go to school and face the nuts guy, but at least health will be fun.

And who knows, maybe I'll make some chocolate dipped strawberries at grandmas. I also really want to do more writing. God, I love who I am. A writer, a soprano, a dancer and a hyper little short person with all these talents. I know that sounds vain, but everyone has to love themselves, but not too much and I really don't think I love myself too much and don't take anything for granted.

Do You Use Yours Powers for Good or For Awesome?

Today was interesting. That is probably the best way to describe my life these days. Interesting. I didn't have homebound today because I was feeling a bit off. It was probably because yesterday I did a lot of walking at school then went to physical therapy, then went to ballet and then stayed out late eating Mexican with the Tidballs for Tim's Birthday. Yeah, that's probably why. Oh and I woke up at 2:45 in the morning and stayed up for about half an hour. Anyway, all in all I wasn't feeling all that great this morning so I didn't do the homebound thing. But hey, I ain't complaining. Homebound, aside from getting you an education, completely sucks. I mean, the teachers never bring anything to do so they sit and watch you the whole time, and if you have never had someone just sit and stare at you...you're lucky because it is probably one of the most annoying things on this earth. So I sit there doing Algebra and he's watching me and I mess up cuz he is making me nervous and then he acts like I'm some stupid kid who has just committed a sin! I mean geeze, do these people all belong to some sort of club where their goal is to ultimately freak people out?!

So anyway, I did want to go to school. So eventually I dragged myself out of bed and took a shower. Resource is always interesting though never much fun. But at least no one is mean to me (like Harry: Potions), just disrespectful, especially the teacher. But whatever. It's livable.
Christina wasn't there so that left me being the only girl in the class. Not that I'm complaining. No, wait, see none of the guys are boyfriend material, it's just that I'm used to being around big delinquent seniors. This one guy comes in holding his, um, crotch in his hands and says, "Whoa, ouch, I just got hit really hard in the nuts" I just sort of rolled my eyes and went on working. But he just keeps complaining about his poor, bruised "nuts". Ew. I tell ya, no respect. So he goes to the nurse and comes back with an ice pack over his "nuts" and gets on the subject of his criminal record. Somehow in these kind of classes this always comes up. He says that he knows how to break into two different kinds of cars easy and went on about all of the things he's stolen. I push my backpack further under the desk because it has my CD player in it with my brand new Pete Yorn CD. About three fourths of the way through class that nuts guy comes up to me.

"What are you doing?" meaning, what am I working on.

"Health," I said "I mean Career Ed. It sucks."

"Oh," he said "Yeah, I had to do that shit last semester"

I gave him a sympathetic look and went back to my work. So eventually I got sick of Career Ed and busied myself with peeling the paper off my pencil. Then we were finally let out.

The only reason I put up with Resource is because I get to go to health. Health completely cracks me up. Everyone in there is nice but they are all, um, a bit dim. But it's the heart that matters most right? So there's this one guy called Josh who is like, half retarded or something and annoys everyone but makes me laugh. It's so hard to keep a straight face. Like today the phone rang and Josh says, "Mrs. Lloyd line one please. Mrs. Lloyd line one"

Poor Mrs. Lloyd. She got all mad at him telling him he could never go to college saying things like that. We played Uno at the end of the class and we kept having to say, "Josh, its your turn"
And then when we were going to take a quiz Mrs. Lloyd said, "Josh, could you please move to that seat behind Becca?"

And it took him, like, forever. He put his stuff in his bag like he was going to move, but then stayed at the desk to write his name on his paper. "JOSH! MOVE!" the whole class said. I couldn't help but laugh then.

It's things like that. Mom says I should record them all. They are the kind of things that no one (except for me) finds funny, but if you read them in a book or something they would be hilarious. I think that being away from school so long has given me this new outlook on life because I never know when I am going to be confined to my bed for months, so if I feel good I plan to live each day like my last.

I was walking home listening to CDs feeling pretty good and getting exercise when my mom pulls up.

"What are you doing here?" I said, though not ungratefully.

"Oh, I just noticed you weren't home yet so I decided to come and see if you wanted a ride"
I got in the car and we went to grandma's to get mom's cell phone. we ended up staying for some tea before going to get Ginny.

I'm glad I don't have to do anything today (aside from homework), but I have to tell you about yesterday's ballet class. Each class with Melissa is incredible. It is dancer council, comedy, health class and of course ballet all in one. You get so much out of it. It is such a learning experience. Not to put any of my other teachers down or anything, because they are all wonderful, but Melissa is extraordinary. She is a perfectionist, she won't move on until everything is perfect, which is such a relief, because some teachers move on before you are ready. I look up to her a lot. There are a lot of things I could say about yesterday's class, but I'm tired and I need to do my homework, but I will say this: The best thing Melissa has taught me so far is to love and not be ashamed of your body. You hear this all the time from books and things like that, but when it comes from someone you admire you really take it seriously.

I think Melissa is a lot like me. She's short, likes perfection, is hyper and outgoing and isn't afraid of the unspoken. She had us do this exercise where we put our hands between our thighs and pushed our thighs together for two minutes.

"You feel those muscles now don't you?" she said "Women have muscles here that men will never have. See? that's why women have labor and men don't. There's a reason for those muscles"

And she talked to us the whole time, making us laugh and a few girls for the lyrical class came up and here we all are with out hands between our legs with our faces screwed up and Melissa, feeling the need for a explanation said, "We're giving birth over here." We all totally cracked up.
So tomorrow I have singing at nine thirty in the morning at Janene's new house. YAY!