Well yes, I supposed we could say that senioritis is in full throttle.  I claimed I had senioritis as a freshman, but that was before I did crap like this morning when both me and Rachel managed to sleep through our alarms and miss first hour.  I've done 20-minute research presentations in English, confusing packets in econ and watched over 50 review videos over the past few weeks in preparation for the AP Biology Test.  Luckily I've kept my mental sanity in check by seeing cheesy chick-flicks with my mom at the movies and hanging out {not late} with friends even on school nights.  In 9th grade I wouldn't have dared, but I guess in 9th grade I actually cared {JK, I still put forth every effort to keep up my GPA, but an accidental poor grade on an assignment won't leave me weeping}.
     On a good note: graduation is in 2 weeks, Photography I is over, the puppies like to cuddle, and THIS GIRL RIGHT HERE GOT THE DAVID O. MCKAY SCHOLARSHIP!  I wrote the essays more to humor my mother cause it was show week of Footloose and I figured there was no way I would be the special one to picked... but I was!  That's half-semester tuition right there, and since I saved all my money from working last year I could have the other half payed for no problem.  Then, BYUH also has a program where, after a semester of straight-A's, the next semester is payed for!
  In honor of surviving the long, rushed freeway trip to the community college twice a week after fifth hour {one time the Saab started hydoplaning in the rain and another time a shredded tire smashed into the front of it}, here are some amateur photos.  Interpret them as you please:

  Hello, I am in fact still alive.  Surprised?  So am I-- I've stayed up between 11:30-3:30 every night for the past week, between "hell week" rehearsals lasting till 11:45 and duh, three-day weekends in which I'm obviously going to stay up because that's the only way to get my me time.  OK, I love the show, it's just the school part that sücks.
  It just occurred to me that today is my half-birthday.  It kind of freaks me out because as a kid I always thought of 19 as "old"/mature/self-sufficient-adult/last-year-of-being-a-teenager.   
  Last week I attended the Mesa Temple's famed Easter Pageant twice, once with some people from the cast and once with Dallin's family.  It was so exciting to meet his older sister who had just gotten off of her mission.  I knew I liked her the second she saw me and jumped to give a hug.

    While Danielle was on her mission, the boys installed subs in the truck.  So of course we had to show her the sick base with the hit music she's missed out on.  We drove out to the abandoned freeway overpass and started rocking out, innocently enough with just little old me, Dallin, RM Danielle, their step-brother Cooper, their cousin, and Danielle's mission companion who was going to be flying home the next day.  Other cars came and went, including one car which we called "idiots who're going to pop their tires" when they backed into the even-more-secluded area in the rocks.  That's why we thought nothing of it when another vehicle parked right behind us, the headlights blinding as we thought was the intention of some obnoxious group of kids.  For a second I kept dancing, hanging off the side of the truck and trying to ignore them.  But the moment our eyes adjusted and we could see the shape of the car, Cooper and I realized this was not just some annoying teenagers.
    I ran around to the side of the truck and shook Dallin.  "Turn it off!" I shouted over the music.  "There's a cop!"   I'll admit I was pretty worried, since I wasn't from this part of town like they were and had no idea if we had trespassed private property or broken some other law.  And it was six months since I'd had the excuse of being a juvenile.
   Immediately the officer took Dallin by the arm and forced him, Cooper and I into a line.  Then he saw the other three inside the truck.  "Who else is in there?!  Get out, NOW!"  He forced us into a sit on the dirt and towered over us.  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  ARE YOU ON DRUGS?!"
   "No, we just got here, sir!"
    And then he shone the flashlight right in my face.  "WHY WERE YOU RUNNING?!" he yelled.
   I'm sure I melted into the very definition of dear-in-headlights.  Little 5'1" blonde-haired goodie-two-shoed  me getting yelled at by a cop? Little Katie Lady who will obey any parental rules to avoid getting in trouble,  who doesn't drink drink soda much less alcohol and wouldn't know the difference between dope/coke/meth, getting in trouble by law enforcement?!  "I wasn't running!"
    "YES YOU WERE!  WHY WERE YOU RUNNING!"
    "She wasn't running, sir!  We only just got here!"  Was he perhaps mistaking us for one of the other groups we saw earlier?
    He shook his head angrily.  I winced under the interrogation light as this time he made motions around the truck.  "WHY DID YOU RUN OVER TO HIM?!"
    Finally, some sense. "I was trying to tell him to turn off the music and come over!"
    "But why were you RUNNING?!"
    Danielle piped in.  "She was just scared sir."  And how about the fact that Cooper and I were the only ones to notice that there was a POLICEMAN getting out of his car and that policemen don't usually appreciate people lolligagging?!
   "Geez, that's how you makes a cop's blood-pressure shoot up!" Let's not mention all of our blood pressure.  "What are you people doing here?"
   Danielle spoke calmly.  "I've just gotten back from a very long trip, and my brothers wanted to show me the new stereo.  We decided it would be best to come out here where it's secluded rather than wake up our neighbors."
  He nodded, seemingly believing her story.  "I appreciate it."  Then he shook it off.  "ARE YOU ON DOPE?!"
  "No, sir!"
  "You are welcome to search the truck," Danielle answered patiently.
  And so he did.  While we were still sitting in the dirt, the cop looked through every purse and under every seat.  Finally he came back around to us. Now, realizing that we were totally innocent, the 20-or-30-something cop switched into this cool-kid-from-the-hood voice as he explained himself.
   "You are such a good cop, staying out late to make sure there isn't trouble in our city."  Danielle said.  "I just came back from a mission in Colorado, so I understand how frustrating drugs are."
    Boy did this launch him off into a string of stories.  Meanwhile we remained squirming on the ground.
    It took a while, but finally, "Nah guys, get up!"
    When the officer left, we hopped in the car and just took off back home basically freaking out.  Dallin seemed slightly disappointed that he didn't get tell people he'd been handcuffed, since the brash copped sure acted like he was going to shackle him when he pinned his arm.  The six of us collapsed on the couch and relayed the story to their parents.  A few minutes afterwards their stepbrother Parley walked through the door, and his mom asked where he went for his date.
  "We just went to the overpass."
  "You are such a liar.  We were just there!"
  Nope.  Turns out that the whole time we were being interrogated, he and his date were the people we had called "idiots who're gonna pop their tires."  They hadn't even seen a thing.

We most definitely slept in.  I just love those magical certains that obliterate all forms of light so you can pretend it's still nighttime even in the morning.  Once we finally managed to drift off, we slept like babies.
  Once we finally got up and ready, we ate a quick breakfast chilling out in the sunlight of the balcony and then headed out for shopping.  Shopping centers in rich cities like Scottsdale never fail to amaze and mock me with how tragically adorbable expensive things can be.    But it's still fun to look around, find those cute $3 earrings with the cuffs that make you feel like you're actually cool, and join in with Linds to be that rebel who lies down for a potential nap on the cushions in the mens section of the Nike's athletics store.
  I felt fat by the time I got home.  Does that sum it up?
  But seriously, I had such a blast and I can't wait to party some more with these wonderfully fantastical girlies.

  I can never decide whether I like going to bed/getting up early or staying up late/sleeping in better.  That fresh accomplished feeling... or that partyish/screwit/summertime teen rebel feeling...
  As you can tell, it is 1 AM and this week my melatonin has refused to kick in till quite late.  Thus I guess it's the second. But it's OK.  There's nothing better to do in the middle of the night than blog, sketch, edit photos, play my electric keyboard with earbuds, write short stories for my BF/read the ones he sends me, eat, or watch scary movies {three this week alone} so that Rachel and I have to share her obnoxiously comfy bed for protection.
 But seriously, sleep?  Pshhht, though be proud of me: the sleep I've gotten is good enough that I'm actually remembering my dreams.  A rare thing.  This summer I've had dreams that it was still the last week of school, that I was Katniss Everdeen, that I was pregnant for absolutely no reason at all and was totally chill about it too.  Though I guess that's not as bizarre as Rachel's dream that she was pregnant with elephant twins and only a pregnant woman could activate the dishwasher.
  Life's good. I've had super fun datenights doubling with his parents for dinner and icecream {oh I am too clumsy, but pool stores are good time killers}, datenights with others minigolfing and watching the sunset from Hole in the Rock...  I've had plenty of rehearsals for the show I am in and am loving...  I've hopped the wake and posed a peace sigh wakeboarding... I've decided that I like going places with my mama cause she too likes to go out to eat and shop for cute things, but she is also not afraid to splurge while Daddy's at scout camp with Adam...  I've been home alone with Rachel at night when suddenly there was a pop and we were plunged into total darkess...  I've jumped on the trampoline at midnight and attempted to sleep in a two-man tent with three siblings before they remembered that Arizona is a desert and that a desert can be quite hot...  I've learned not to say Adam's name in Pig Latin... I've not even contemplated school...
  You know, though I've become slightly lonely deprived of friends who scatter for vacation, I do like summer.  A lot.  

    I think there's a point of exhaustion one hit's where they no longer feel tired.  I'm talking, staying-up-till-two-AM-on-a-school-night-doing-homework syndrome.  It's a high school thing, and basically sleep-- wait, what does that word mean again?  It's a price to be paid willingly, though.  I knew what I was signing up for when I had to stay after school for cheer.  We had to wait before for tumbling coach, then tumbled for an hour before waiting for the freshman basketball game to finish.  That went into overtime, so our own didn't begin until over a half-hour past the normal time.  Our game was a blast, but it also went into overtime with more timeouts than possible to count.  My voice was probably destroyed by the amount of screaming for our Highland boys.  At least we won!  But then I didn't get home till past 8 {an hour-and-a-half late}.  Finally, homework!  Basically, I was high off my lack of sleep today.  I literally could not stop laughing in silent classrooms or bouncing in my seat or just plain demonstrating the effects of being four hours short of pulling an all-nighter.
    Three weeks from Christmas.  I don't care if December 21st is the end of the Mayan calender.  I will survive if only to see true relaxation!

      Oh wow.  I think I should just hold a competition with myself to see how many nights in a row I can stay up obnoxiously late.  I mean, midnight doesn't seem that bad compared to my friend Anthony's going to bed at 3:30 last night {for the same 19th century literature assignment I also spent many hours working on tediusly} but honestly, it's catching up to me.  Is it possible for a sophmore to be diagnosed with senioritus?  I swear, this is ridiculous.  How long will it take for me {and apparently all my sophmore friends} to realize that even procrastinating down to the very last hours will not stop teachers from heaving mountainloads of work right onto your shoulders?  {Though I was very shocked last week.  Chelsea jokingly suggested to our English teacher to postpone that assignment I mentioned earlier to Wednesday instead of Tuesday, since we might forget it over the three day weekend.  I tried to pitch in, of course being totally half-hearted because why would our teacher want to move the due-date?  But, just like that, she bumped it to Wednesday!  I guess miracles do happen.}
      I thought fall break would mend my school frustrations.  That just made it worse, cause it felt like I was returning to summer, but I wasn't.  Then I thought a half-day followed by a three-day weekend ought to do the job, but apparently not.  Maybe the thing is that my bomb-diggety friends and I anticipate hanging out too much, since we are constantly meeting up on the weekends, in the hallways, and even playing the question game & oozing romantic daydreams via txting.
      Or maybe it's just that awkward time called Thanksgiving Season.  Smack dab in the middle of Halloween and the Holidays, everyone tears down the cobwebs & tombstombs and then doesn't know quite when it's okay to pull out the tree, the lights, & the Nativity sets.  Yes, that must be my problem, because you know how freaking bad I want to blast those darn fantastical Christmas tunes?      

  Yet another week filled with crazy- five tests crammed in two days as well as a game to cheer at {we won!} and staying up till 1:30 AM studying- except what's the fun in discussing this?
  No, I'm more excited about the weekend.  Freakin happiness!   Though I've probably gotten a little bit too much sleep, I've also gotten to swim {is it bad that it's September and still over 110 degrees?}, watch scary movies, act dumb with the challenge games {it was interesting to watch my Unlce Dave have to put on bright pink lipstick}, and play with the puppies.
   Cute.  Anything more needed said?

  Happy spring!  We had a day off of school today, and I think the sun is almost as psyched for summer as I am.  It definitely had fun zapping the energy right out of me, so I'm gonna go sleep.

  I used to brag that the latest I could possibly sleep in was 9:30, and that happened only occasionally.  "I hate sleeping in!" I would tell people.  Which is still true.
  But my body seems to disagree. Today I slept in till 10:15!  Ugh...   And it's not like I went to bed at 4- I closed my book at midnight!  I don't know what's up with me.  Hopefully it means I need rest so that I can grow just a bit more than 5 feet tall.
   At least I don't sleep in till 2, like some people I know.
   But gosh how spoiled I still feel!